The hands of Doctor Hashida were skilled at many things. But carrying groceries wasn't one of them. The wizened man was making every effort to avoid stumbling as he approached the door of his home. He slid one hand into the pocket of his dark brown slacks, torn between selecting the keys or the phone that was shaking constantly and had been for a minute or two. He chose the first and opened the door. "Hitomi! Come give me a hand," He called, looking briefly at the staircase. There was no answer. He placed the bags on the counter with a sigh and reached at last for the little black phone in his pocket. "Hello? Ah, Ichiro. I expected you'd call. I've got everything packed just about. You can stop by tonight. I should have dinner ready by then. There are lots of good places to dine in Saffron City but nothing beats a home-cooked meal."
Soon the spacious home was filled with the scent of exquisitely spiced meat. He had just finished setting the table when there was a knock at the door. "Already?" Hashida mused. He checked his beige sweater for wrinkles and opened the door. "You're a bit earlier than I expected Ichi—Oh. Hitomi."
"Don't look so disappointed. " The young boy remarked. His usual listless expression became slightly annoyed. "And don't call me that, it isn't manly."
"It's your name."
"That's not my fault."
"Nothing ever seems to be," the old man replied. "Anyhow, come in. We're having guests as you might have guessed."
"It's Ichiro right?"
"Yes, and you should at least look presentable before he arrives. It won't kill you to wear something other than a Kendo Uniform for a few minutes."
"I'm not even wearing the whole thing. Keikogi; Hakama. A perfectly presentable combination." He seated himself at the table hoping that their guest would arrive soon and stay long. The Hashida Household had been a little lonely for his tastes and it was anything but organized save for an almost endless collection of books on just as many shelves for the same.
"Yellow isn't even a suitable color, Doctor Hashida said as he made his way back to the kitchen, " And any skilled swordsman would be able to chop that ponytail of yours right off."
"Stop giving me a hard time. Besides, it's already too late to change. He's here." Hitomi pointed toward the door he'd neglected to close.
"Sorry to be rude Mr. Hashida. It is a little cold out. " Ichiro said.
"It's no trouble, young man. Seat yourself."
A moment passed before the teen obeyed.
"Is Renji coming? Hitomi asked, "I haven't seen him since everything happened and things have been kinda dull ever since Kori's Parents shipped her off to school "
"Sorry. Mom isn't ready for him to come back to the mainland just yet, much less a huge city like this."
"I guess I understand. Gramps wouldn't let me do anything for a while either after that run ln with Kangahskan."
"That baby Pokémon was almost the last thing your eyes ever saw," Hashida said, walking over to the table with the main course. "These days, Pokémon can certainly aid the blind but experiencing that firsthand isn't something anyone wants. And you couldn't have hated the recovery time too much. You've been a fixture around here ever since. Those parents of yours haven't so much as called me. "
Ichiro's icy gaze was fixed on the plate before him. Anyone who met him was likely to say that there was a fantastic mind beneath the shock of undercut cherry-red hair—a mind that was able to analyze and calculate in an instant. However, the expression on his face was an awkward one.
"I know you don't eat meat so I've made you a salad. " Hashida revealed.
" I don't blame him. It's the tenth night we've had Farfetch'd. Even I'm starting to get sick of it." Hitomi said.
"Leave an old man his simple pleasures."
"This looks delicious. Thank you." Ichiro replied. "Remind me to give you your clearance card before I leave."
"You've got to battle me before you do.." Hitomi decided. His dark blue eyes were filled with determination. It's the least you can do since you didn't bring Renji with you."
Any air of politeness faded when Ichiro heard the request. He chuckled a little, "Gar and I don't have time to battle snot-nosed little punks."
" That figures. You've only got time to dress like one. How much leather can one guy wear?"
"At least people know I'm a guy," Ichiro muttered. He crossed his arms. "Honestly Hitomi, you act like a six-year-old instead of someone twice that age."
"Don't call me that."
"Why don't I just call you 'punk' instead?"
"Just eat your food and ride away on that ugly bike of yours." Hitomi decided.
"Ugly?! That's it. You've got yourself a battle Hitomi. When I'm through, you'll have to pitch a tent at the Pokémon Center. "
Hashida smiled slyly. The more time Hitomi spent fighting, the less time he spent eating. "Simple pleasures indeed." he thought to himself as he swallowed. All hope for a second helping was gone. He wiped his mouth and examined the screen of his phone. "Speaking of challenges, have you battled Sabrina?"
"Nobody has been able to lately. Apparently, she's been called away to deal with some sort of emergency." Ichiro answered. "It's fine though. Gar and I need a lot more practice and I'm supposed to visit home in a couple of days. "
"I know that much. Finally his birthday eh? I'll be sure to keep things brief. Time with family members should be cherished to the fullest extent. That's one of the easier lessons we can learn from all this."
"That reminds me, here's your Clearance Card. Forty-eight hours of access to everything at headquarters. Wouldn't want to keep you away from your work on what amounts to a house call." Ichiro slid the metallic slab across the polished table. "I'll help with the dishes. We'll be able to battle faster that way."
" I get it. You're checking up on Renji aren't you?" Hitomi asked excitedly, fixing his eyes on the old man.
"He can be taught," Hashida remarked, slipping the card into his pocket.
" If that means yes, then I want to come along too."
"That isn't up to me. Besides, if you cared at all about taking journeys for any purpose, you'd be well into your Pokémon Journey by now."
"Maybe he just isn't sure how he wants to go about it. " Ichiro suggested over the sound of running water. He winced a little from the heat. " I've done a little bit of everything."
"What if I beat you Ichiro? Would you magic up another one of those cards?"
"I can't do exactly that, but you can come with Mr. Hashida if you do."
" Take it outside and keep it brief. It's cold out and these old bones have seen better days" Hashida chuckled, scratching the back of his head.
Hitomi raced towards the back door and flung it open with a laugh. "Let's battle already.!"
Ichiro's first thought was that the backyard wasn't much of a stage. There was little more than a patch of grass. Even so, the night air was strangely invigorating. He selected a Pokéball from the pocket of his blue jeans. " The rules are simple. A one-on-one match. You already know what will happen if you win, but when you lose, you'll have to apologize for saying those awful things about her. "
"Who?" Hitomi asked with a puzzled look."
"My bike, you punk! Don't think I forgot!" With the press of a button, the Pokéball expanded. There was no need to tell Garchomp that it was time for action. Battle was something for which he was always ready. A simple throw called him forth from the Ultra Ball. Already his eyes were steely and searching eagerly for his opponent.
"Meganium. Time to show this loser who's boss!," Hitomi commanded.
The Pokémon nodded, brimming with anticipation. It had been long—too long since he experienced the thrill of battle. He fixed his eyes on the hopeless boy who was his trainer and waited for a command. "Vine Whip." It rang out over the usual din of Saffron City.
"Dodge!" Ichiro commanded, "then use Flamethrower."
Garchomp obeyed, smirking as best it could as it meandered from side to side. With a raise of his odd head, his throat became hot with flame—a flame that sought above all else to devour the one who would dare challenge him. His opponent was a worm—one that tried to vanquish him with the same and now it would pay.
"His Garchomp knows Flamethrower? That figures. " Hitomi thought to himself. There wasn't any need to tell Meganium to dodge. It. "Frenzy Plant!" Hitomi commanded. Meganium 's eyes narrowed as roots sprang forth from the ground. For all his hubris, Garchomp earned only a relentless lashing from the thick and spiky plants. Meganium was smiling. It seemed his trainer had learned a thing or two since his lengthy captivity in the Great Ball he called home. The happiness was short-lived. After dealing out their punishment, the vines receded and Garchomp disappeared
"A substitute!"
"That's right and since the move you used takes up so much of Meganium's energy, you won't be able to dodge our next attack." Ichiro boasted with a shrug.
Hitomi's first thought was to ask where the real Garchomp had gone but as the earth shifted beneath his feet he understood. The Pokémon leaped from the bowels of the ground and sent Meganium flying.
"Finish him with Flamethrower!" Ichiro shouted. The flame roared forth and found Meganium before he could hit the ground.
It was only when Hitomi returned the poor Pokémon to its Pokéball that he bothered to speak at all, "Meganium… Just like that, huh?"
"That was splendid. " Just what I expected of you, Aoyama Ichiro," Hashida said. He'd been leaning in the doorway and observing everything the entire time.
" Thanks, Mr. Hashida. You too, Gar." Ichiro replied. The battle had made him noticeably happier. He returned his Pokémon to the Pokéball with a deft flick of his wrist, "Hey Punk! You may have lost but that battle put me in a really good mood. I don't think Mr. Hashida would mind if you came with him after all. "
"It is the most effort I've seen you put into anything in a while, Hitomi. I wouldn't mind If you accompanied me at all," Hashida agreed.
Hitomi sighed. He would normally tell them that he'd lost fair and square—that he didn't want or need their pity and would spend the next day or two battling like there was no tomorrow, but the invitation was too tantalizing to refuse. " Thank you for your kindness Ichiro, I shouldn't have called your bike ugly."
" You sure shouldn't have. Let that be a lesson. If you come inside I'll fix your Pokémon up good as new."
"That won't be necessary, Ichiro. I'm a surgeon for people and Pokémon both. It's about time for Meganium's check-up anyway. No time like the present," Hashida laughed.
"Oh, right. Well, I'd better be going." He walked towards the front door, smiling at some unsaid memory as he stepped into the night. Saffron City was the perfect place to ride a motorcycle and it was something of which Ichiro Aoyama took full advantage. He mounted the Red oversized chopper and took a deep breath before speeding off.
"It'll be…nice to visit an island. I wonder which gift I should bring ."
"Sleep on it, " Hashida replied dismissively. "And give me Meganium before you do." Several moments passed before Hitomi placed The Pokéball into the aged withered hand that waited to accept it. "Losses are part of life, Hitomi and they're a terrible thing to endure. That's why it's best to avoid them as much as possible."
"You're telling me." He ascended the stairs, biting his lip thoughtfully as he walked down the hall. There was nothing like the feeling of losing a battle; he could only hope that a little sleep would help.