A farmers diary

by Garbageman1

In the shadows of a tranquil town, hooded figures with pokeballs infiltrate under the cloak of night. Ashs' family grapples with the invasion; his father, a former leader, becomes a victim. The family home, once a haven, now echoes with uncertainty. Ash shoulders newfound responsibilities amid changes in his mother and the harsh realities of a world. M , graphic. Part One!

Giovanni's men arrive

They came in the night. Must have traveled all of yesterday. The men are hunched with red eyes. They came marching out of the forest, formed attacklines when the mark laid before them, and they outnumbered the villagers ten to one: Though most seemed to carry few, if any, pokeballs.

They're still marching on, heading to the town square. It lays half an hour south of our long meadows of yellow crops; on the other side of Pallet Town. Noone is fighting them. There are no alternative ways of travel; only by foot or by pokemon. Their officers are riding pokemon, such as: Ninetales, Nidokings and Arcanes, also I see Scythers and Pinsers patrolling on the far sides.

I hear shutters bang as homeowners close them, none of the locals are outside. I can faintly hear the troops footsteps now; there are no other noises.

My mom didn't close our shutters, she says:

"Stay here. Don't go outside, I'm going to talk to dad."

I wait in the kitchen, my hand cupped around a pokeball. My mom starts talking. I hear only mumbling, so I tiptoe to the living room door, crouch, and listen through the keyhole.

"You can't go down there. I saw them; they are too many, looking menacing, the whole bunch. I think it's starting. The war has begun."

My dad says:

"And you think the good men of Pallet Town will lay down before them? Kiss their dirty boots? You think wrong, we shall act."

My mom says:

"Think about the message that it sends. We have old people, children! Think about the children."

My dad says:

"I am. They need to grow up in a world of peace and prosperity, but most of all a land which is free: Free of tyranny."

My mom says:

"I do not demand you protect me, I can handle myself, but this … we have a child. We have fields and pokemon to take care of, responsibilities."

My dad says:

"Pack. Take Ash and the pokemon we can spare with you. Go to your sister in Cerulean City."

My mom says:

"I am no coward, I will not flee."

My dad says:

"Then there's nothing else to say. Stay, keep Ash safe. I will muster the free men of Pallet Town. And if they do not seek out violence, we will not respond with violence."

My mom says:

"There's being brave, and there's being stupid."

My dad says:

"Which am I?"

I hear my mother half chuckling, half sighing. Mom says:

"Both."

My dad responds:

"You're my girl."

My mom says:

"Since when?"

My dad says:

"Since the day I first laid eyes on you … and then the morning after, too."

He laughs. I hear them smooching, and then footsteps closing in. I back away from the door and try to look nonchalant.

My mom says:

"Daddy is going into town to see what the men want. We are to stay behind. Do you have the pokemon he gave you?"

I raise my hand. The side of the red and white ball shines in the sunlight bouncing off the window.

My mom says:

"Good. And how is Raichu doing in there? All fed and rested?"

I nod.

Our home

Our house is the furthest one north of our small town, and sits on a small hill. From the front there are meadows and farmlands for leagues, until craggy gorges fall steep into the sea. Behind us the mountain's towers majestically and inhospitably, with steep valleys plunging down from thin, clouded peaks.

Our house is encircled with newly cut grass, but now there are two guards patrolling on it, making the green muddy and brown with their boots. They have electric batons and night vision goggles.

In the backyard there are all kinds of vegetables growing: potatoes, carrots, onions and other root crops. We also have a mill to grind grain by the river. And grain is everywhere. We are not hunters, but sometimes there strays wild pokemon past our house – and we eat them.

My dad catches pokemon, trains them, and sells them to rich farmers as farmhelp. It's tedious work, though he's good at it, the farm owners used to say before we were invaded. My mom sells vegetables and pokemon meat when we have surplus, and I chop wood and deliver it to those who are too old to do it themselves.

My mom also owns a home in Cerulean City with her sister, who lives there, but she hardly ever speaks about it.

We don't use electricity after dark now; we don't want to draw attention to the fact that we have electric-pokemon in the house. My mom is often sobbing, and she always locks the bedroom door so she thinks I can't hear her. My room is on the first floor, but it stands empty, since I've moved my bed to a room in the back of the house: There's a door directly to the backyard.

After the invasion, we've started rationing our food. We have loads for now. Still, times are changing.

There's an attic, too, but the stair which is supposed to come down from the ceiling member, has been burned to a crisp long before I was born. When the sun shines, I see tiny holes where light passes through, and I think it might be a good place to hide – if the guards try to barge in.

I visit the blacksmith and get keys made for every room in the house – just to be safe. I want to tell my mom about it, but I don't. Not after what happened to dad.

Dad

My dad was a certified pokemon trainer in his youth. He has always been close to me, all from the day I was born.

He tells me he loves me more than once a day; I sometimes reply with, 'I love you, too'. Though not always; still do, it's just awkward to say sometimes.

People called my dad a born leader, a savior and a fine man.

Now the invaders call him a traitor, a killer and a prisoner.

It didn't go as planned. There was an altercation between our men and theirs; they won, and I saw my father bound to a beam in the square on his knees. A soldier cut his shirt down the middle with a knife. That was the first time I saw him bleed, then came the whip, and soon after I could not unhear his screams.

After that they dragged most of the men, including my father, away.

I am not allowed to search for my dad, mom says. She thinks it might get me in trouble, though she sometimes asks our neighboring wives if they've heard something about the prisoners.

My dad is a real man's man; when he's hungry, he eats; when he's thirsty, he sticks his head in the river by our house and gulps until he's out of breath. He works for long hours and wakes up at the brink of dawn, and never goes to sleep until it's dark out. But he's romantic, too, mom says, and, apparently, he's quite the dancer. Mom misses him a lot at dusk, and she flinches when the soldiers are knocking on the door.

Raichu is really my dad's pokemon, although he gave him to me when I turned ten. He promised me one of the starters: Charmander, Squirtle or Bulbasaur when I turned eighteen. That was a week ago, last Friday. Two weeks before they dragged him through our town as an example of what they would do to us if we resisted. I still see the bloodied flesh of his open wounds when I close my eyes.

The man of the house

Now that father is gone, mom is demanding I contribute more to our daily chores. I find it tedious, but Raichu is helping and our bond grows stronger for every chore we complete.

I don't like how mom has changed; she yells and gives me beatings when I rip ripe potatoes out of the ground on accident, or if Raichu burns carrots with his tail – he sometimes needs to release electricity from his body, so he doesn't overcharge.

My mom always wakes up before me. I study how she inspects the vegetables before plucking them. She never greets me when I join her, and more often than not, she grunts to herself – or leaves to sob.

At noon we have a cart filled with malted grains and surplus vegetables. Since we don't have other pokemon than Raichu, my mom drags the cart to town to sell our goods. By the end of the day she comes home with some coins, a bottle of milk and some flour. For each day she goes, our cart is filled with more and more goods, but she returns with less and less. And she cries a lot now.

I have food ready for her upon return; a soup with whatever we could spare, usually potatoes and onions. It tastes as though it needs salt, but we can't afford that sort of luxury item right now. Though on fridays she comes home with a bottle of wine and drinks it straight from the bottle. She doesn't like the look I give her when she drinks, and I don't like the fact that we could buy a cow for the price of these bottles she drinks.

She scoffs and laughs when I mention this. And as the weeks go by, I do more and more of the chores while she thinks it's friday on both saturday and sunday.

Mom says:

"You little shit, if you only knew what I had to do to get the food and the wine."

And don't understand what she means by this, seeing as it is the food which pays for it. Though I feel a sting in my stomach, I wonder why.

I say:

"I get that it's tough since dad left."

Mom yells:

"Left? He didn't leave. You saw him yourself. He was dragged away as a wimp while leaving us to fend for ourselves. Did you know that the guards wanted our men to work the fields, same as before the invasion, only to serve a new master, of course. But, still, they had paid fairly, they say, but because of the riot, they felt forced to remove them. Rendering us without the proper aid to reap what we had sowed. And that's what we call a lose-lose situation."

I say:

"How do you know that?"

Mom scoff:

"Soldiers talk."

I say:

"From now on, I will take the supplies to town and sell them."

Mom says:

"Don't be ridiculous. You're a child."

I say:

"I will, and I swear to God I will uppercut you with one of your bottles if you test me."

From now on I do most of the chores, while my mother drinks and helps as much as he can. I'm surprised how quickly mom deteriorates after dad is gone.

The mountains and the forest

The mountains behind our house lie to the east, and goes wide, and stands tall, from north to south. Raichu and I find a stony channel in the river where it is possible to cross. Though Raichu doesn't like getting wet, sometimes he sticks his tail into the stream and electrocutes the water: Dead fish come belly up and I catch them in a net I've placed further down the stream. We avoid over usage of this method, since the soldiers get uneasy when I bring a lot of food to the square – if they have to report that I have a lot of surplus, our home will be ransacked, or at least our wares taxed. That will not aid me, nor the soldiers, though I dislike selling anything to them.

Today I came home with no less than twenty fishes. My mom guts them and says:

"This is good. The two of you did good. We can have fish today and tomorrow, and then we smoke them, to avoid worm eggs. Where did you say you caught them?"

I tell her. She frowns.

"I don't like you going up that far. The foot of the mountain is treacherous, many men have fallen for the temptation to explore the ridges and boulders."

I say:

"So? Isn't it a good thing? Maybe there are pokemon or mushrooms within the clusters of trees."

Mom says:

"Many men have fallen for the temptation; many men have fallen to death."

Every afternoon, after I've sold my wares at the market, Raichu and I explore the deep forests surrounding the foot of the mountains. We go down valleys and to the bottom of hills, where the fog is thick and the air is perfect for the tastiest mushrooms. Up we venture on to new hills, where we cross streams of blue water or bogs of muddy water. After a while we take a break. I try to light a fire, but without a fire-type it's impossible, so when dusk comes about, we head back before curfew.

Both Raichu and I carry bundles of wood back; we don't need it now, but winter is coming.

Training body and mind

When I demand fair pricing for our wares, the officers often beat me or whip me with a stick. They yank my ears, and I make a mental note of their names: Grenich, Robert; Henry, Troy; Piorier, Darius.

Their unjust whippings stings, though as time passes, I learn to endure it – yes, even be molded by it. I need to train my mind to tolerate the injustice; and train my body to endure it without provoking further harm to myself, Raichu or the wares.

Sometimes, if the officers are too kind to me, I provoke them. One time it went a bit overboard with the new officer: Trym, Zack. He doesn't like being told that he has a receding hairline, though it is true, they look like shaded coves.

It's friday, my mom is waiting for her bottle. She sees my swollen and bruised face from the porch, and says:

"What has happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"But you're bleeding, come here. Let me check if there's any deep cuts."

"Don't touch me. I need this."

"Need this? What are you talking about? Wait, don't just go, talk to me."

"I provoked him deliberately, the new officer in town, Trym, Zack. Foreigner, I think, he spoke with a funny accent. I didn't intend it to go so far, but I need to be able to take a punch, mom. I need to harden my body and sharpen my mind. This war is far from over."

"It's not your fight."

"And it is yours! And look at you. How long did it take for you to become an alcoholic after dad was taken? How long did it take for you to give up?"

She turns away as she passes me. The door slams shut and the living room falls uneasily quiet. I release Raichu. We cuddle, I miss dad, but Raichu cheers me up. Later that night I slap myself harder, punching the weakness out of my body. I need to harden. I need to be greater.

The days come and pass; I keep hitting myself until it no longer hurts, it's working, my body is becoming numb to physical pain. My mom thinks I'm losing it, and she often leaves late at night – when she thinks I'm sleeping.

She doesn't speak to me, we eat in silence. When I'm not working, I'm reading one of dads old pokemon books. He has them all: How to catch pokemon, How to train pokemon, How to abuse the type system to your advantage. I'm a slow reader, haven't read much growing up, but slowly and steadily I find my rhythm.

When we're out in the forest in the afternoons, we fight every pokemon we come across, and though Raichu is weak against rock and grass, he learns to dig and to paralyze foes with an electric web – finishing the job with his razor sharp tail. Sometimes at night I think about stealing pokeballs from the general store, but it's not owned and driven by the officers.

The Officer

When mom is out, I rummage through her bedroom and other doors which are usually locked with the keys I've duplicated – the ones I didn't tell mom I had the blacksmith make.

My dad has a lot of crates, which have heaps of dust on them, and I doubt mom knows what's in them. I open one and find his old pokemon trainer outfit; in the next there's more outdoors stuff, like sleeping bags, cooking tools, flint and steel; in the third one I find tents and plugs. There's a pokeball, too, in the bottom. And a letter addressed to me.

It reads:

"Dear Ash, happy eighteenth birthday. When you read this letter, I'm probably out plowing the fields, though I'll be home soon. A Bulbasaur is sleeping in this pokeball. I hope you don't mind that I picked for you, a grass-type is a valuable asset for us farmers."

I read it again. This time liquid drops fall and smudges the ink like tiny puddles. Bulbasaur is the one I would've chosen, dad knows me well, but I want Charmander and Squirtle too. Water is good for droughts; fire is always a gift in winter times.

I wonder if the old laboratory is under siege, too, or if it was left alone. I make a mental note to check it out when I have the time, perhaps I must sneak out after curfew. In that case I need a pair of night vision goggles … and some warmer clothes, winter is approaching.

I grab my dads old pokebelt, attach the two pokeballs on it, and head out. The pokeballs are hidden under my sweater. I meet my mom at the front door, she looks disheveled and her clothes are dirtier than normal (we don't wash ourselves or our clothes as much as we used to before the siege).

Mom whispers:

"I've done something – I mean … You have to play nice, okay?"

I say:

"What have you done?"

A man enters in the light of the outside lamps, I see it is the new officer:

"Hello. I new to this land. I Zack. You be the son of fine woman?"

It's obviously his second language; he speaks as though he's a child, almost stuttering. He places an arm on my mothers back, which then slides low, and he pinches her buttocks. He laughs; my mom giggles and looks endearingly at him.

He says:

"I bring coffee. Food: Milk, sugar, flour, what you call?"

He holds up a bag of sweets.

"Kandi?"

I say in a neutral voice:

"Candy."

"Ah, yes. C-a-n-d-y … for you. Take, please. Me sorry for what did to you."

I nod, take the bag, and bow slightly. I never stop looking him directly in his eyes. I see a dead man walking.

"I live here now. With you. Where our room?"

My mom says:

"It's just up the stairs to the left. Ash, maybe you can help move out the old boxes?"

I nod; I show the officer his new room, his new bed, and his new closets. He helps me with the crates downstairs. We put them in my old room. The last crate is small and I can handle it on my own. The officer lays resting on my dads pillow, and my mom doesn't look at me when she passes me in the staircase. She locks the door behind them.

After work I release Bulbasaur for the first time. She smiles at me, and heeds my commands effortlessly. I train her and Raichu in combat, as described in Dad's books. When it's dark, we go back. The bedroom door is still locked, and I hear noises. I tell Bulbasaur to lift me up to the open attic, even though she's newly hatched, she does it with ease. I crawl slowly so the beams don't creak. My mom and the officer lie in bed, naked.

He says:

"You good. You do good to me. I be good to you."

My mom says:

"Be good to my son as well. He's a kind kid, but he likes to wander. And wants good prices for our wares."

The officer says:

"Of course. I be good to the boy. Me tell soldiers to buy from him. Maybe he call me dad soon?"

I expect mom to defend my father, and to tell him no. But she doesn't say anything; she takes a big sip of wine and smokes cigarettes afterwards.

Mentality and women

The officer calls me 'son'. When I head into the square there are lots of hanged men with warning signs above them. The soldiers run up to me and compete for my wares, and I sell everything at once.

Most of our men, like my father, are either in prison camps, the soldiers tell me, or hanged. Then the women are left alone in big houses with vast fields, which they are not equipped to farm.

I see some of them working in taverns and bars; I often hear them screaming in the night.

The officer tells me:

"No worry. They not hurt mother. I here to protect."

"I am not worried."

"Good."

The officer flexes muscles, and says:

"It only my men who need good time. They here long time. Wives home, but men needs good time, you know. Keeps moral."

I never stick my fingers in my ears when I hear them screaming. By listening to them, I become aware of the injustice that is taking place. But I don't do anything about it. Yet. Over time this hardens my mentality, and sometimes, when patrols stroll too far into the woods, or near the mountains, they disappear for good. I'm learning to be cruel this way. And my pokemon are learning to fight battles, not just run our fields, although Bulbasaur grows in strength with both.

When the officer drinks, he touches mom. If she refuses him, he becomes vile. And when I intervene, he calls me words like 'shithole' or 'child of dung' and 'brain dead'. And he tells me that I will hang like many of my countrymen in the town, but then mom calms him down, and she takes him to the bedroom.

Many of our women are skittish, and I overhear some of them talking about boats that come in the night to rescue whoever can pay. I've never seen these boats, even though I sneak out frequently now – since the officer moved in, there are no guards around us, and the patrols are scared of the mountains and forests – but when morning comes, many of the women are gone.

The neighbors kid

Our neighbor is a girl. She turns eighteen today, but there's no party. Her father was appointed mayor of our town right after the invasion; though everyone hates him for it, I understand why he did it: To protect his daughter and wife. The soldiers do not break into their home and steal jewelry or worse.

He never goes to work, only sits on a rocking chair with a shotgun in his lap all day. The girl is named Sabrina, and when I pass their house on my way to town, I give her some dried fish and potatoes.

She curtsies, and says:

"Thank you, but this is too much. There's no way we can repay you."

I say:

"I don't want you to repay me. Share it with the family. You all look a bit too scrawny."

She looks down at her dress, it has dirt stains on it, and looks to be two sizes too big. Although that is true, she's sadly two sizes too small. And winter is coming. For the next few days I chop wood for them, and put the wood up along the wall where the patrols can't see them. Bulbasaur is superb at lifting; Raichu chops wood with his tail or with cheeksparks, like a champ.

At twilight I'm bathing in the river at the foot of the mountain, when my pokemon alert me of danger.

Sabrina pops out of a juniper bush. She doesn't notice me at first; but I'm already out of the water, dripping wet – my two pokemon ready to fight. When she sees me, she covers her face with her palms, and says:

"I didn't see anything."

She adds:

"I mean – it wasn't nothing. It's not nothing. I mean, I don't want to offend. It was …"

I look at her. This is the first time I've really seen her up close since the war broke out, and she's even thinner now than when I last saw her, just a few days ago – and I tell my pokemon to stand down.

I say:

"Why are you following me?"

"I didn't."

I look at her; she tries to smile. Her teeth are yellowing, but still nicer than mine. She continues:

"Okay, fine. But it wasn't because I was spying on you, and I didn't know you were washing, I didn't mean to see your … thing. My dad says thanks for the food, he told me that I owe you."

"I don't care that you see me naked. It's just a body."

"For you it is. You're a man."

We both know what she means.

"You owe me nothing."

"He said that I was in debt to you, and he doesn't want there to be a debt."

I don't answer her. She passes my pokemon and comes closer to me. She touches my chest with her soft fingers.

"He told me I should do what you wanted."

I back away, it's not that I don't understand – nor that I don't want to – but this feels wrong. Like a favor for a favor, or a transaction. I'm no soldier.

"I didn't give you food or wood to get something in return."

She tries to move closer, but I step into the water again. She says:

"We know. And I don't mind the food … or the wood."

"Sabrina."

"What? Don't you like me?"

She tilts her head, then looks down at her own body.

"Am I too skinny?"

I say:

"People, even my father, used to say we'd make a good match. That we should've been together."

She laughs and nods:

"I have heard that too, and you know what, I expected it, too. I used to watch when you walked past our house."

"I know. I saw you."

"But what can I do? I need to repay the favor, or else my dad will be mad at me… he's a proud man, he's just been misguided since the invasion. His head isn't right, but his heart is – it's just bleeding right now."

"There's nothing right now. Maybe something will come up later."

She steps back and accidentally steps on my clothes, and says:

"These are filthy. Do you wear these? Let me clean them for you, then my dad will see that I'm repaying you. But it's too little, I know, however, I beg."

"Okay. I'll give you some clothes to wash from time to time."

"Good, and thanks. That means I will see you more, too. That makes me happy."

She smiles and heads back.

Training for pokemon battles

Raichu and Bulbasaur are so in sync, it's crazy, and no wild pokemon stands a chance.

I handed my clothes to Sabrina a couple of days ago. Now, I wear my dad's old battle outfit. I like how they smell, manly, like a true father. In one of the crates I found two, empty pokeballs. I caught a Metapod, and evolved it into Butterfree. However, Bulbasaur used vine-whip too hard and chopped both its wings off – the pokemon whimpered and I had to end it.

It's important for me to be able to take life, as well as preserve it; that's what makes me tough. Each pokemon I catch dies, but I learn more and more. One evening Bulbasaur evolves into Ivysaur, and even in her new form, she listens to me. For that, I am thankful.

With Ivysaur on the fields, we can grow larger and more robust vegetables, which yields profits beyond my wildest imagination.

The officer sees this and says:

"You make good food. Soldiers big bellies – me very happy."

He caresses my cheeks with his rugged hands.

"Very kind son, you are."

I don't respond. I just shrug.

"And good with pokemon, yes. I see how you evolve. Maybe join battle with guards? We earn money on side?"

I shrug again.

"Your mother drink lots. Expensive."

He laughs and pretends to take a big sip of a bottle, and then he playfully wobbles daintily, like a woman.

"Sure, when is it?"

"Day after tomorrow. At square. We go together. I set you up with Tom, he idiot. You win, I bet you, we split money."

"What pokemon does he have?"

"Poliwhirl."

I make a note of the name. Later, after I've sold my wares and all the work is done for the day, I find my fathers book on the subject. It states that Poliwhirl is a water-type, and that grass-moves are strong against it: Perfect.

In the evening, after curfew, I wash again. Not because I need it, but I try to wash away his caresses. When I'm back, I find my mother hunched over the kitchen table. She looks up at me with a big, blue bruise around her eye. The officer isn't here. With the help of Ivysaur, I head up to the attic – where I stash valuables: Coins, dried food, pokeballs and books. All for the coming winter. This is also where I hatch a plan.

Sabrina

We walk over to the laboratory on the other side of the town. I see Sabrina running into the woods behind the concrete building. She doesn't see me or my pokemon. I follow.

I don't hide, and I see her just as she sinks down in a pool of water. The dirt washes off her and floats away as she ducks under, her hair floats like golden straws on the surface. At first I think it's she who whistles, but then I see two guards strolling up to the stony waterside. She sees them and covers her breasts with both arms. One smirks; the other bundles her clothes and tosses it away.

The smirker grabs her upper arm before she has time to cleave up on the opposite side.

He says:

"John, look what I've found."

John says:

"That's the best catch you've ever gotten. Reel her inn, nice and steady."

Sabrina splashes and screams; the smirker grabs her tighter and covers her mouth with the palm of his hand.

"A real treat, feisty and all. This one hasn't had many courtships. Or what do you say Derick?"

Derick says:

"I think that since I fetched her, I will get the first swim."

John says:

"I'm a fair man. You go ahead, I'll be right over there to take a leak while I wait."

John stops dead as Raichu catches him in a thunderous net. He makes squeamish noises before blood seeps down from his nose, then he drops to the dirt shaking wildly.

Derick says:

"Who's there?"

He drops Sabrina on the grass; he shakes his head this way and that, and then I step forward.

"You? But you're just a kid."

He draws his knife, but Ivysaur has already vine-whipped. They coil around him over the waist, lift him up and drop him into the pool. Still coiled, he's held forcefully at the bottom while air bubbles pop on the surface, for a short while – then it stops.

Sabrina seems to forget that she's naked, she stares at me in fright, but with a hint of awe, I think. It's visible, like tiny glints in the eyes.

Sabrina says:

"You did it for me. I know that, but how are we going to explain it?"

I say:

"Explain what? Looks to me they ran into wild pokemon and was outsmarted."

Sabrina dresses while she thinks, full dressed she says:

"You're right. No one saw me go in, except for you it seems."

She smiles.

"And if no one saw you either – that means the officers will conclude with a pokemon encounter. But will that be believable?"

"It's not rare, Sabrina. It does happen quite often."

"You're right. Dad says many guards have died or vanished near the mountain. Behind your house."

I say nothing. She starts to cry.

"This isn't how I pictured it, you know."

"Picture what?"

"How – how you would see me. You know, for the first time."

We run out together, and on the country road she kisses me on the mouth. I reciprocate. She heads home. I rummage through the abandoned laboratory; it's small, five rooms, and in the second room I find the starter pokemons still in their pokeballs. I grab a Charmander and a Squirtle: The former is a he, and the latter is a she. I head out, but stops under the doorframe, then heads back and grabs a second Charmander – a she – which I plan to give to Sabrina later.

When I pass their house I knock on the door. From within I hear loud banging, and fast feet running up and down the stairs. Sabrina comes to greet me as I knock again. Her hair is all over the place, but she smiles, and her clothes smell fresh and clean.

Sabrina says:

"I was hoping you would stop by. I need to speak to you."

She turns around.

"But not here. Go behind the house. There's a door. Wait for me there."

She shows up a few minutes later, carrying a bag with my clothes in. They smell of lavender and grass.

I say:

"Thanks. What is going on?"

"We're leaving. My dad has just received a letter for a new job in the big city. Saffron City, I think. He's to be the ambassador for Giovanni."

I think I must have had a sour look on my face, because she jumps on me and kisses me all over.

"I wish I could stay."

"I do, too."

We hold each other. Then, as the darkness descends from the mountains, we let go, and I hand her the Charmander.

"I'm not allowed."

"But do you want her?"

"Yes."

"So keep the ball. Train her in secret. When she evolves to Charizard you can teach her to fly, and fly home to me."

"I will. I promise. This is the greatest gift I've ever gotten."

She kisses me more, then her dad yells for her to help him with something, and she vanishes inside again.

Giddy and light-headed, I go home. The officer is slouching about on the porch with a cigar. And in the following weeks, my mom often pukes and holds her stomach.

Our first pokemon battle

The officer says:

"Ash. Come now. We go to battle now."

I go to his side, and follow him down the country road, but at Sabrina's house, which is occupied by foreign soldiers, I saunter behind the officer and wipe my eyes with my sleeve. He doesn't bat an eye, and I remind myself I have to punch the weakness out of me later tonight. I cannot go on feeling like this.

"They have good job in City. Big City."

He laughs.

I ask:

"What's so funny?"

"He, the mayor, stupid head. He no good. He pushed away, but wife beautiful … and daughter, too."

I clench my fist, but don't strike him down where he stands. I breathe and am able to control my anger – but just barely.

He says:

"What you see when you look at small town?"

I say:

"I see endless fields, clothed with yellow straw overhanging craggy boulder cliffs. They are plunging into an eternal sea. It turns black, and glitters like stars in the moonlight. I see our houses lying in the shadow of the mountains; and the mountains creeping over our houses: I see an everlasting forest, where young trees sprout while old trees tower towards the clouds. I see wild pokemon running free."

His eyes are red now, and they become watery; he wipes himself with his sleeve, he says:

"That was beautifully described. You must love your village. I no good man, but I want to be a good man. Your mother, she carries my child."

The square has been cleaned for the occasion. There are lines in the gravel road where the battle is to be held. Tom stands on the opposite side; the officer pushes me to a spot. We release our pokemon: Poliwhirl and Ivysaur.

A commentator yells to the steaming crowd of soldiers and workers:

"The Poliwhirl uses water gun on Ivysaur, it hits the plant on her back! The effect seems to be less than Tom had hoped. It looks as though he's tearing his hair out in frustration. This doesn't look all too good."

In dads book it says to use abilities such as growl, stun spore, poison powder, or others that can shock or paralyze the enemy pokemon. But I feel as though Tackle would be better, so I command Ivysaur to Tackle.

The commentator yells:

"A big mistake from the young boy. Ivysaur Tackles Poliwhirl but the water-type uses his fighting gloves to Pound. Ivysaur wobbles, but she stays on her feet. The young boy needs to be sharper than this."

The officer is screaming at me, and when I look at him, I see that his forehead is glittering with sweat.

I think about what else the book says, and I say:

"Use Leech Seed, then follow up with Razor Leaf."

Ivysaur doesn't move faster than Poliwhirl, but she dodges wonderfully. The commentator yells:

"Look at her go! First she builds up health with Leech Seed, then her big, beautiful Razor Leafs glitter as they cut the tadpole pokemon and gashes up his skin. Can the water-type get back up?"

The crowd still holds their breath as the man speaks:

"THE BATTLE IS OVER! IVYSAUR won! The kid is victorious."

The officer falls on his knees to the ground while he holds both hands above his head. Dirt trickles into his eyes, but he doesn't seem to notice: He's smiling from ear to ear. I return Ivysaur to her pokeball, and the officer is handed a large pouch that rattles before we leave the square.

Mom

I bump into my mother at the creek bed. She has been waiting for me, and she's taken aback when she sees I'm with Raichu, Charmander, Ivysaur and Squirtle.

She says:

"I didn't know you had four pokemon. They've gotten big, and Raichu looks tough."

I say:

"There's a lot you don't know."

She says:

"I feel as though I don't know you anymore. You've changed much in such a short period of time."

I say:

"I haven't changed at all, but you on the other hand – is my father dead to you?"

She looks away, her eyes gaze up into the misty mountains. She finally says:

"He died a long time ago. I received a letter shortly after he was dragged away, that's why I started drinking. I didn't have the heart to tell you, and I needed you – wait, don't go. You need to hear this."

I stop, but don't turn around, my face is hard as a rock and I gaze into the curving trunked forest.

"You were doing so well at the time; helping me with the fields, around the house, hunting. Ash, you became a man in those times, and I was afraid that you would crumble or shatter if you knew. I thought I was protecting you.

"You thought wrong."

I've always clung to the hopes that my father is alive, now that I know it isn't true, I stand before my biggest test yet. I must push the weakness out of me; I must feel nothing. After a few deep breaths, I achieve my goal. My mother stands up, and says:

"Will you not even look at me?"

I turn to look at her. She's shaking.

"Is it true?"

"Is what true?"

"Are you with child?"

"He told you?"

"The officer said something about it, yes, but I wasn't sure. Not until now."

"Don't hate me, please, you don't understand how it is to be a woman during wartime. We don't have the luxury of abstinence. You've heard the screams at night, when the soldiers raid houses, first for gold, secondly for women. This is the evil of war men will never understand. I protected myself, but more importantly, I protected you."

"Bullshit."

"You think the officer was going to let you off the hook? You stepped over the line big time when you provoked him. He was on his way to our house when found him, and was able to calm him down."

I turn away; I was wrong before, this is the true weakness test. I am on the verge of crying, my heart pounds, a gross taste sticks to my tongue, but somehow I keep the weakness contained. I pass this test, too, though just by a thin thread.

A ghost

We meet a woman in the forest. She frantically scratches her ears as she wanders; she doesn't see us at first so I have Ivysaur wrap vines around her body.

I say:

"Stand still or I'll send Squirtle after you."

She says:

"Please don't hurt me. I'm lost. I'm afraid of men; I don't want trouble. I've run away, but I don't know who I can trust. Why don't you have a uniform? All young men are dressed in uniform."

"I'm not a soldier."

"But are you a good man? I've met too many soldiers. I fear them."

I say:

"I'm not a soldier."

I walk closer to her and look at her warily. This could be a test, I think. Maybe the guards are trying to fool me somehow? Is she bait? For what? She has auburn hair that falls in curls over her shoulders. Her face carries a hint of horror, and I think she – once upon a time – might have been very beautiful. The robe is so torn that the torso is visible between the tears in the fabric. She looks thoroughly confused. But it's her eyes that I notice, they are in a way present, albeit shrouded in a bygone era.

I say:

"I can be trusted. Do you trust me?"

"Do I have a choice?"

I shrug, then say:

"Listen. Ivysaur will release you now. You can go wherever you wish."

"I haven't eaten in many days, my legs are shaking, I have nowhere to go."

"I have food. I can feed you, but I cannot take you home. There's a bad man there. But I know of a cave close by; I haven't explored it yet, but it seems to be cozy."

I guide her to the entrance of a cave I'd discovered a few weeks ago. She's hesitant, but she leans her body to the side of the cave wall, out of breath, and is unable to go any further.

For weeks, I feed her with my attic food. For each visit, her body grows bigger, yet her mental faculties wane.

One day I can't find her. I release Raichu and he uses flash; the cave walls spark to life. However, I must crawl because the electrical currents shoot like lightning about in the stone vault. At last I do hit a wall of stone, and in the shadow of an overhanging cliff I spot her lifeless body. I hear a sinister sniggering. The mountain creaks and the vibrations bounce from wall to wall.

There's a black lump in one corner. I have Raichu shoot a lightning bolt at it. It bounces around and giggles.

I remember a chapter in one of my dad's books, there was something about ghost pokemon

Dad's voice comes to me, he says:

"You need a Silph Scope to see ghost pokemon."

As a precaution, I release all my pokemon for protection; their diligence forms circle me like watchful scouts. I loot her body; in the inside pocket inside the lapel I pick up a Scope. Through it, I see a small ball of shadow, two eyes, and a sinister grin.

Charmander and Squirtle fires together; water and fire entwine, creating steam that disorients the pokemon. Ivysaur stomps her feet so hard that the pebbles jump and shake, and Gastly laughs subsides. I throw a pokeball; it rolls a bit on the ground, but then it stops dead: Gastly is caught!

The officer doesn't allow me to eat

The officer has learned a lot of our language, he informs me:

"You're not eating today, no food left for you."

I clench my fists in response, he sees it and slaps me across the face with a flat hand. I do nothing. My training has served me well.

I'm more upset for my pokemon's welfare than my own. Gastly refuses all the food I offer, and he rarely grins anymore. He sighs when I hinder him from licking the other pokemon.

Later that night I say:

"You cannot refuse me food. I, and my pokemon, are the ones who farm and ration it for winter."

He shrugs:

"I don't give a damn about that, but they still have to perform in the games. I've put a lot of money on you."

"Of course. I haven't lost yet. But you must cook enough food for all."

He slaps me again:

"I am not kitchen lady. I no cook. Your mom cooks. I am man of the house."

The next day, when i'm plowing the fields, my mom yells:

"Food is ready. Come and eat."

I wipe the mold off my shoes on the stairs, then go inside. Their soup bowls are filled to the brim; in the iron pot there are only congealed vegetables remaining.

I say:

"This isn't enough for me and my pokemon."

The officer smiles and says:

"Then you have to make a tough choice: You or them."

"No."

"Are you talking back to me?"

"Yes."

He stands up, the chair screeches as it slams back:

"Your mother worked hard for this food. Can't you smell how good it smells?"

The scent is irresistible, like summer in a bowl. I stand; he sits down again. Demonstratively, he begins to eat with lavish slurping. When the bowl is almost empty, he lifts it and drinks the remains, licking his fingers and wiping his mouth with his uniform.

Mom says:

"We can share, Ash."

The officer says:

"No. You are with a child. My son must grow big in belly."

"Why are you two doing this to me?"

"Do what?"

He smirks; my mom stares up at the ceiling. That's when I figured it out – they're kicking me out.

I say:

"I will not battle anymore."

"You must!"

I release Gastly, and say:

"Use lick!"

Gastly disobeys me immediately. However, when I point at the officer, the pokemon nods and grins sinisterly. In a flash, he has soared over, leaving a strip of black cloud behind him; the officer is left paralyzed and his cheek is wet with ghostly powers. I serve my mothers bowl to my pokemons; she's too stunned to refuse me.

This is the first time I'm practising fasting. My stomach growls fiercly.

I am gruesome

My mom finally catches on to what I'm planning, she says:

"You can't do it. What do you think they will say when he's found?"

"It doesn't matter. If he wakes up, he'll hang me for what I told Gastly to do."

"You're right."

The soldiers' boots rumbled as they marched along the country road while we spoke:

"But what will you do about him?"

"He's not the man of the house, mom. I am."

"Clearly. But that doesn't answer my question."

"I'm going to kill him. Hang him from the poles in the main street. What do you think about that? The father of your child?"

She thinks for a short while, then looks down at her belly and says:

"I don't care about him, do as you will, but it's your funeral. I don't want this child. It is not a blessing. Though it is my burden, and I intend to fulfill my duty."

Throughout the day, the officer wakes up, but each time Gastly uses his ghost powers to invade his mind; which send him into nightmares of unspeakable evil.

I do not intervene. Gastly grows hungry too, and now he eats willingly – even from my hand – and when I inspect Charmander and Squirtle, I can clearly see that they have doubled in size since I stole them: Both look to be close to evolving.

After curfew my mom says:

"I have changed my mind; you can't do this. They know where he lives, they know I can't hang him from a bay window or a light post. They're coming for you; I can't lose you. Let me talk to the officer, maybe I can persuade him not to press charges? Or at least give you a mild sentencing."

"I need to be gruesome."

"Why?"

"It's a part of my training. I intend to become the strongest man in all of Kanto, but I can't do that if I don't have the balls to act."

"That's … I don't even know what to say to that."

"This sends a message."

"But also a warrant for your arrest. Perhaps even a death sentence."

"So be it."

I use the path I made that runs through the woods, to drag the officer's body into the center of the village. I avoid the guards, it's not difficult, they're quite loud, and I'm vigilant. Also, I have my pokemon spread out about me, and with ease they slaughter wild pokemon we come across. Halfway down the slope at the foot of the mountains, where the birch groves mingle with the pine clusters, Charmander evolves into Charmeleon. Luckily, the mist from the mountains is so chilling that it lay over us like a cloak, shrouding his bright white light.

We arrive in the square without anyone noticing us.

With Ivysaur's help, the officer is hanged as he has hanged my countrymen. As he hangs like this, he grows longer, his legs reaching down towards the ground. They twitch, he shakes as if in a convulsion. When he doesn't move anymore, I return everyone except Gastly – he sniggers like a menacing wind. Then we go home, just the two of us.

Back home I pack the essentials for the journey up to the cave. When I arrive, I find the darkness soothing, and I fall asleep on the spot. The next day I sneak down to the pool for a refreshing bath; and I get help from Squirtle, who heats the water to a comfortable temperature. Thus, when I am clothed, I hear that our house is being invaded by foreign soldiers, almost a whole troop barge in.

Between thick fir bushes, I see my mother being dragged away by two soldiers. She looks tired, but I don't think she or the child are hurt. Perhaps she took the fall for me.

Home for the winter

After a few days, soldiers move into the house. I count four men. Some with pokemon, some without. The soldiers don't care about the field behind the house, so I harvest the last remnants of the vegetables, and pray to higher powers that they don't find the surplus of food in the attic.

The soldiers drink a lot in the evenings. They often joke around with those of lower rank; when the officers come by, they're not too kind. If they have women there, they are chased away.

Often the soldiers beat each other. They organize pokemon battles, which are not always fair, and those who lose, lose everything — even their clothes.

They beat the losers with belts, and humiliate them too, especially if the soldiers have the lowest rank. Some learn the game and never get into trouble again.

I train Gastly to channel his fiendishness; he's very bold, but it sometimes backfires on him, especially when Squirtle splashes water on him — he doesn't like that.

I train the pokemon until they become deadly good: Raichu reaches new heights in speed, and he climb trees with ease; Charmeleon's flame burns relentlessly beautiful, Squirtle can make both ice and water, and his rapid spin paves the way when the snow falls thickly on our secret path; Ivysaur learns to absorb sunlight from the winter sun.

One morning it's very cold. I dream of being inside with a crackling fire, instead of freezing in my sleeping bag under the mouth of the cave. Some of the men who live in my house walk towards me in the snow. It is almost windless. The cave entrance is on a ridge above them. They stop by the frozen river below me, I hear them talking:

"Why don't we have water pokemon?"

They chop ice and shovel it into buckets.

One says:

"Because they're damn hard to catch."

A third says:

"And pokeballs are expensive. The women here are cheaper."

All of them laugh, and the first says:

"Yes, and theirs are pretty cheap, too. I heard something about a young woman who used to live next door. A Sabrina something. Apparently she is a real beauty."

The other hacks halfheartedly at the ice and says:

"Wouldn't mind a bit of her."

Everything happens fairly quickly; I climb out of the sleeping bag, walk closer to the men by the ice swells and flank them.

The first turns and sees us, he says:

"Crap, guys, we gotta go. That's her boy."

The third says:

"Are you crazy? There's a warrant for his arrest, with a hefty finder's fee."

The first says:

"The boy has captured a Gastly. Can't you see the black lump which is hovering over his head? That kid is dangerous."

"Dangerous, are you an idiot? He's just a youngster. We'll grab him and tow him to the station. Hold the bucket, I'll fix this one, guys."

He comes towards us, doesn't see that Charmeleon is readying a flame breath, or that he fires. The man is now ablaze; I am impressed by the intensity of the flame. While he burns, Raichu leaps from a tree and cuts him in half with iron tail. The man falls. He lies lifeless on top of snow. The other two stand like sandbags. The second guy trudges towards me slowly.

The third one says:

"Listen kid, we don't want trouble. Roger was an idiot, he deserved it, but let us go please. We promise not to report you."

My pokemon surround them; I go up to their faces and say:

"I want my house back. You are to move out, but patrol there so that the other soldiers don't know that I live there. And stop mistreating women. Never ever mention Sabrina."

The second guy puts a hand on my shoulder and says:

"This is getting too silly, you can't order us around."

A dark cloud of poison glides silently through the air and up his nostrils. His head jerks back as if possessed, his eyes turn white as snow. He falls to the ground shaking.

The remaining one says:

"Is he dead?"

"No. Just passed out. But he won't remember anything, so you have to do as I say."

"No problem. I don't want trouble. I don't even want to be a soldier. You are not my enemy; I am not your enemy, but I was forced into service by Giovanni."

"How's the war going?"

He thinks, and then he says:

"Some places are doing well; others not so good. Cerulean City resists and Pewter has a strong leader in Brock. I actually heard that Sabrina …"

He stops abruptly.

"Eh – I don't mean any disrespect, but I did hear that she has joined the resistance in Saffron City. Her Charmeleon is infamous."

I pretend this news doesn't affect me. However, I see her face in my mind and feel her kisses on my chilling cheeks:

"And how is it going down south?"

"We have Cinnabar Island, as well as Fuschia. Vermillion City was our ally from the start. We do occupy Celadon City, but the problems are piling up there. The army has little food, and the commanders are not happy with how little we harvested here. To be honest, I think a lot of people were happy when the officer was hanged. Especially the ones higher up. Then they didn't have to do it themselves; they got an enemy in you instead, which united them."

"Who says that I hanged him?"

"Your mother. She made a deal."

"How do you know that?"

"It was me and my squad who escorted her past the prison camp where they are holding your father."

"My father is dead."

"When?"

"Last fall. After he rebelled. Mom got a letter."

The man's forehead curls, and he says:

"That cannot be true, for I saw him on my way back. He was very thin, but worked well."

Winter, it's getting cold

It keeps getting cooler, the beams creak as the temperature drops. Sometimes I see lifeless bodies strewn along the roads. The positive aspect is that the excrements from the bodies doesn't stink. A silver lining, I suppose.

The soldiers struggle enough as it is, they say:

"We can barely take care of ourselves. Why should we look after the local population?"

The wind blows against the walls of the house. I look in the closet for extra clothes, and I wear almost everything I find there. What I don't use, I give away to the neighbors. A young girl who lives three houses down from me is slumped over the kitchen table. At first I think she's dead, but then she straightens up, turns her head around, and smiles at me. For a second, it's as if all the cold dissipates, and a sudden warmth gushes from my heart.

But then my body freezes again, and reality hits hard. She's maybe eight years old, and so I decide that I will share my food with my people.

Quite quickly, and with good help from the pokemon, we manage to collect all the food, which we then stash away in tunnels or secret snow pockets near the edges of the forest.

Now it's the soldiers who fall in droves, while we're doing fairly well. I have started to write a diary; mostly focused around pokemon battles, like what works and what doesn't, but now I fold over to a blank page, at the top of the sheet I write: The Winter of Altruism. I chew on the pencil while I think about how the book will outfold: I foresee a future of freedom.

The sky is often dark, and the streets have become a graveyard, even the paths in the snow are snowing away, and several days a week I eat only one meal. The Pokemon are more important, they do the job of keeping the house warm, shoveling snow off the roof and making sure we have enough water. One evening the neighbors come to visit, they know that the guards turn a blind eye when it comes to me, even though leaflets with my picture on them are occasionally hung on house walls.

They say:

"Without you we would have died this winter."

I say:

"Nonsense. You guys are tough as stone. They don't make the likes of us anymore, but we're still here. We're fighting on."

Charmeleon boils a pot of water with its tail flame. His flame is steadfast, large and burns with eternal power. I pour in coffee grounds, and serve several steaming cups of coffee – although we can see the bottom of our mugs through the blackish liquid.

They say:

"We need you to teach us how to catch pokemon."

"And how to train the ones we catch."

"Also, how to fight back like you do. I think we have a good chance of getting rid of the soldiers."

"At least if we wait a few months. Half the guards are sick with red and cracked skin with many blisters."

I say:

"Just saying that out loud is dangerous."

They say:

"You're the one who killed the officer. You're the one controlling the guards controlling this outpost. Still, you're the one who chooses to give your surplus of food to us. You're a good man. Your father would be proud."

I say:

"My father is alive."

They gasp, then say:

"How do you know?"

"The guard told me a few weeks ago, but I haven't had the opportunity to break him out of the prison camp up north."

It becomes almost embarrassingly quiet for a short while, then they say:

"That's insane. You knew your father was alive, yet you chose to prioritize us. You should be mayor of our town."

I raise my hands and say:

"Slow down. I think many of our countrymen are imprisoned there; and I'm working on a plan to get them out."

Just then I realize it: I release Gastly from his pokeball. Again they gasp, now with shocked eyes.

I say:

"Gastly, listen to me. Somewhere up north there's a prison camp. I want you to find it, then scout about and see if there's some way to break in and get everyone out."

Gastly sniggers and glides out like a cold and dark wind.

I train the locals. After a few weeks, several of them have caught pokemon and started bonding; some have even evolved.

Mail is delivered to me; it's an envelope from Sabrina. I open it quickly, my legs are shaking, and I have to hold on to the back of the chair to avoid falling. A picture of her falls out. She is as beautiful as I remembered, but her hair looks a little darker, and a faint pink glow envelops her otherwise blue eyes.

It must be the camera flash that does it, I think while caressing the photo – as though she was my wife and I were still at war, albeit with a fleeting heart.

The general store

I rub dirt all over my face. Pull the hood tightly over my head. This way the soldiers won't know it's me: Hopefully.

The general store is the only store open. It's run by the soldiers and it is not very popular. The shelves with food are sold out; the words 'scarcity of goods' is appropriate to use – there's almost nothing except for summer clothes. The proprietor, one of the officers whose name I do not remember, sits on a stool behind the counter. Behind him he has unfolded his sleeping bag, so he sleeps here. Soldiers and women lay entwined in the back room, shivering and shaking.

I make eye contact with one of the women, she follows me to the other side. There's a stowe, though oddly not in use.

She stutters:

"What can I offer you?"

I say:

"Nothing."

"Then why send me a look?"

"Because I wanted to speak to you."

She rolls her eyes, and says:

"Is this a joke? Are you being funny? We're freezing, starving, too!"

I say:

"Lower your voice. I wanted to talk to you because I assume you and the other girls don't want to be here."

She sighs:

"We have little choice. They'll kick us out if we don't …"

I whisper:

"Tonight, take the girls who want to fight out of here. Come to my house. I will feed and clothe you. And my house is warm all day."

She nods and says:

"You're that kid, aren't you? The one who killed the officer?"

I say nothing.

"You know – there's a delicious sum of coins for whoever finds you."

I say nothing.

"I could scream right here, right now. I will be rich. Albeit, there's no sense in having coins now, I can't eat those, can I?"

It's a rhetorical question, so I don't answer, though I say:

"You have a choice. I can help you catch pokemon, feed you and take care of you."

She smiles at first, but then frowns and says:

"What's the catch? Do I have to do favors for you too?"

"I am no soldier."

"What does that mean?"

I say again:

"I am no soldier."

She shrugs, then says:

"Fine, though I don't know what you mean. However, I need to know what the catch is."

I whisper:

"When the time comes, there might be a war against us and them."

I nod towards the soldiers.

"When it breaks out, I need everyone to stand up and fight: With or without pokemon."

"You're telling me that you're going to fight and kill soldiers?"

"Yes."

"Count us in."

She smiles broadly, this time I see her eyes shining, too; her teeth are yellow and with spots of black.

The owner gets off his ass and comes over to us, he says:

"Are you here to buy anything?"

I wait a bit to see if he recognizes me.

Then I say:

"I'm looking for shoes and warm clothes for my family."

"Unfortunately, we don't have any left. You are several months late, and I doubt you would have had enough money for more than one jacket, anyhow."

I pull out a pouch of coins, they discreetly clinks. He stares at it with eyes of thirst.

"However, if there's a will, there's a way. Clothes and shoes, was it?"

"I have a big family; I'll take everything you have."

"It will cost you..."

I interrupt:

"You'll get the entire pouch, along with your discretion. Understood?"

"Certainly. I'm a business man first, soldier second. Where shall I deliver all of it to?"

"Get Sven to carry them to me, he patrols my family's house. He knows where we live."

"Good, then I won't have to do it myself. But I won't share the money with him."

I say:

"You don't have to. I'll fix it."

"Good. Then you'll have the wares at the first opportunity, but before you go, it was just clothes and shoes? No matter what size, big or small?"

"Yeah. No summer outfits, though. Only clothes with fur sewn in, or at least a fleece. And some pokeballs."

He looks at me brusquely, almost watchingly, and I fear I've gone too far. He says:

"You can't have pokeballs, you know that. It's illegal for villagers, hence the new law."

I show him a new pouch which clinks with even more coins.

He says:

"But we can always solve that problem ... under the table."

He smiles, takes both pouches and returns to the stool to count them. It's like he's too obsessed with the shiny coins to see how abysmally redundant they are in the current state of the world.

Training for war

The first few crates come in the morning after. The rest comes in heaps throughout the week. Three women came to me last night; Angela was the one I had talked to. She had passed on the information to Johanna and Tyrill.

On the porch last night, Angela said to me:

"I don't trust the other girls; they're rats."

With warm clothes and decent footwear, the villagers wander about in the forest or under the mountain, hunting for food or catching Pokemon. The villagers become strong and hardy, and although the soldiers still outnumber us, we are in much better shape.

We combine pokemon training with everyday tasks: such as gathering firewood, hunting for food, or gathering heather and wild berries where the ground is bare under fir trees.

Johanna catches a Growlithe, and together with Charmeleon they burn paths in the snow or dry the wood we chop. One day I take a detour down to Sabrina's old house, where Sven is now; he sits crouched on a stool with the baton like a cane in his grip. In the sleeping bags all around the floor of the room, frozen men are resting in a breathless sleep.

I ask:

"What has happened?"

Sven says:

"The proprietor ordered us to give you all the surplus clothes, now we have no more than what is absolutely necessary."

"Is everyone dead?"

"I don't know. I don't dare check."

I order Charmeleon to light their fireplace; soon, it smolders well, the heat and cold mingle and turns into steam. While he does that, I check on the soldiers; they've all passed on to the afterlife.

Sven crawls to the fireplace and lies down in a fetal position around the fire.

I say:

"You didn't want to be a soldier?"

He shudders and says:

"No. I was an artist before, painted pictures."

"Were you good?"

"I wasn't bad, but it takes time; practice, a lot of practice, too. And also the little extra."

He pauses as he grinds his teeth.

"They said I had that 'little extra', but now I'm going to die out here. A completely senseless death, born of a tyrant."

"That doesn't have to be true. You can join us, but then you have to work, and at some point you'll have to betray your soldier friends."

"I can't do that."

He begins to sob, thus he cries for a while longer while Charmeleon keeps the fire warm.

"I'm giving you a chance here."

"They're going to kill me."

"Not if we take them first."

He has no more tears left, but snot flows out of his nostrils, and he says:

"You don't understand. We are outnumbered, by hundreds. I know we look weak now, but Viridian City has armies on standby. Perhaps the rebels will be able to take Saffron City, but it is a hollow victory; soon Vermillion will come with their electric army, led by Lt. Surge. Furthermore, Giovanni has decided to send more soldiers down here, to farm, but not until spring."

"How do you know this? And what else is said about Sabrina?"

"Sabrina? I don't know more about her, but it is said that a dragon knight hovers over the city at night, that he or she watches over their newly acquired city. You must understand, the war is far from over."

"Then we have until spring to prepare for battle. Are you with us, or against us?"

He trembles:

"I can't."

I say:

"Then we're leaving. I'm not coming back."

He doesn't say anything. I walk out of there without turning around.

The next day I return only to find him frozen next to the dead fireplace. Thus ends the senseless death of Sven the painter.

Sabrina is WOW!

One morning in February, Sabrina lands right outside the steps of my house. The snow flies sky high before finally falling back down. Her Charizard roars like a dragon. She returns her to the pokeball.

Sabrina knocks on the door: She peeks her head in and sees me coming towards her; she beams when she sees me, and my heart pounds so hard it almost hurts.

Sabrina says:

"You haven't changed at all, except for the bushy beard."

She scratches my beard playfully. I say:

"Sabrina, your hair is pitch black."

"I know. It's a long story. I will tell you later when …"

Sabrina stops speaking, she sees the three women behind me. They smile and wave to her. Sabrina says:

"Are all three yours?"

"What do you mean 'mine'?"

"Are they your wives or concubines?"

"Absolutely not."

Sabrina pulls away, a coldness develops between us, and I come anxious that this misunderstanding may create a lasting iceberg between us.

I say:

"I shelter them because they relied on the guards for warmth, which provided little, and I wanted to liberate them from slavery. Don't be jealous."

She snorts and says:

"Jealous? I'm not jealous. You're a free man, handsome too, you can be with whoever you want."

I say:

"Then I choose you."

Sabrina can't help herself, she smiles slightly.

"I've thought about you."

She says:

"I've dreamt about you."

She kisses me firmly. I return the kisses with such lustful intensity that it feels like my soul is leaving me and becoming one with hers. How can something as simple, something as mundane as a kiss, be so meticulously all-consuming and universally heartwarming.

She stays here all day, laughing and enjoying herself with the women and me. In the evening she has to leave, but she promises to return soon. I don't get to know how her hair went from golden to raven black, nor if she participates in the liberation of Saffron City. But she will return, she said; she will come back to me.

As I stand on the trestle and she saddles Charizard, I bombard her with words about how lovely she is, with each compliment her eyes twinkle and her cheeks smolder and blush. She says nice things about me too, and she hints at other things. It becomes difficult for me to stand without support when she whispers about intercourse in my ears; in that regard, this is the best conversation I've ever had.

She whispers:

"I'll try to come back to you tomorrow, then we can …"

Her words make me dizzy.