The country boy got his rest. From the constant chattering in his ear from the font of endless inane topics that seemed to not have an end, with the suspicion that tired topics would get revived once Lane forgot the ones that he brought up earlier. It was a rest from the busy cities and leaving into terrain he was more familiar with—not literally, of course. Most of the region was virgin lands to Red. What he meant was the lazy crawl where pokémon didn't try clawing your eyes out and the fauna would start melding together with the infrastructure; it was the people who were wandering the path as if lost, having places to be yet knowing that optimizing their time to the hour was an even worse waste of time; where people eating at the side of the road would lay out another sandwich for him, giving his pokémon berries as a snack while they chatted. It was where Red was most comfortable and could be found anywhere in Kanto. Besides the obvious exceptions, most routes were comfortable places where the pokémon brave enough to approach humans were friendly and there were constant characters who'd gladly battle, chat, or even travel alongside you for company. It was how it was back in Pallet Town. Red was very glad that even on an obscure route on the other side of the region, people were just as friendly.

Exploring Kanto was making him learn more about himself. He loved Kanto, but he loved his home the most. Visiting cities was nice, but it didn't compare to the love that burst through the seams of his heart when traveling with his pokémon.

It's perhaps this attitude which made him divert back towards Lavender Town in the first place. Forget about getting all the badges! Beating through the gym leaders was merely a single goal. For too long he'd been laser-focused to the point where every other aspect of traveling was ignored. So for every niche carved into the mountain, for every copse of trees that hid a fairy ring (rumored to hold Clefairy on full moons if it were a specific type of mushroom), for every part that had been glazed past when he was walking through with a new chain to his ankle, Red spent a little time sightseeing. He'd sit next to the route and appreciate the smell of the wind. For meals he'd actually sit around to play with his pokémon before continuing onwards.

From when they decided on splitting up, Red went the other way that Lane had gone. It was partially pragmatic. It was mostly to avoid the boy. The pragmatic part was trying to reclaim the Kanto ethic, that which animated his parents and drove the region into its languid pace of life: what is worth doing well should be done well while that which doesn't need to be done yet can be done slowly. So instead of going down the familiar route, the one which he'd already pegged as boring, he went a little south to the route which laid at the lowest curves of the foothills, Route 11. From then on to the coast were intermittent forests that even he knew about. Rumors bounced around the kids that the whole forest wasn't even mapped out because of how dangerous the pokémon there were. Whatever monsters lived there didn't bother the people who ate with their backs to the gnarled trunks.

Implying that the route was even much of a route was misleading. Very thin bricks once made a straight shot towards the coast, though long bangs of grass laid over their stone foreheads, making the visible remnants more an implication of where to walk. Tall grass freely grew on the path and made Red weave his way through the place unless he wanted his legs to get scratched up. Charmeleon was out the entire way, taking care to keep his tail upright so it wouldn't light up a stray string. Not that the fire would carry very far through the blinding green and damp earth which sucked in his feet. Charmeleon would every now and then sniff out a pokémon from a bush, forcibly challenging it to an extremely short fight. A massacre of Rattata happened that day.

With how slowly Red was tackling the route, they had to make camp somewhere inside the tangle. Grasses shot up like corn, reflecting the orange glow of his light as he divided his pokémon's food into different bowls. Each of them lost their individuality when eating. The second the bowl was in front of them, the pokémon started chowing down as if their pellets were disappearing. Eevee was the first to finish, sending a superior look behind herself before leaping onto his lap. Squirtle was the last. He'd been disgruntled the whole day, actually requesting to spend his time inside the ball instead of running around. It must've been an instinctive fear of green areas, Red reasoned. Furtive glances kept being thrown back as if the roots were going to snatch him.

Generally his pokémon liked to sleep together. Only Eevee was a snuggler, happily curling onto his chest as he waited for sleep to overtake him. The moon slowly trailed overhead. Red felt himself proud of his accomplishments thus far.

Waking up and making breakfast allowed him to see the area under daylight. Other than the gargantuan plants which raised above his head, they were in pretty much the only clearing without ankle-high grasses that somehow kept getting stuck underneath his pant legs and itching. Was it even a question why this place was a bad area to train? Charmander's fire aside, his pokémon were liable to knock themselves around. One strike from Eevee would make Squirtle disappear into the abyss of nature and, considering how Charmander easily kept finding fights, would most likely land on top of a pissed off grass-type. Not training made Red feel weird though. So for each of his pokémon he divided up some weights that he bought off from a girl. Eevee got one laying on her back. Charmander sniffed the clamps that clung to his biceps. Squirtle just seemed annoyed by the bulky helmet. Pikachu was completely fine with the red blocks that almost looked like pants.

"Alright, you guys. I want you to purposely go out and pick fights with those on. No other special orders. Just fight as you normally would. Stay nearby so you don't get overwhelmed. I'll come in and out of fights to individually help you."

Just to double-check, Red discreetly looked down at the manual. Calling it a manual was a bit much. The thing fit in the palm of his hand, text tiny enough that he had to squint to make out the little lines. 'Wear for battles and while walking to get the best benefits! Do it anytime, any amount of time you want! 10 hours of training recommended for the best results!' it claimed. Red still wasn't sure about it. Humans lifting weights for an entire day would probably kill them, probably.

Finding fights was simple enough in barking out challenges into the thick foliage. Pikachu couldn't last a tenth of the time. Within three fights he was collapsed in Red's arms, legs dangling and soft whines coming out from every movement. The pitiful display was cute. Red decided to amp up the training if a little extra weight made Pikachu impotent.

Out of all of them, Squirtle was the last one that he expected to last the longest, the tiny pokémon fiercely knocking down one last Pidgey before collapsing onto his back when they were reaching the end of the route. They were recalled in their balls for the rest of the day as Red picked up the pace. Smelling the roses was fine and all, but Red quickly got tired of the place. It stank like mold. The bricks which initially seemed so quaint started tripping him. Even when the grass shrank down to normal height, the tangle of it remained, making it somewhat hard to walk. Seeing the checkpoint between the routes when the sun started going down was genuinely relieving.

There were places in Kanto which were so famous that everybody saw them once—or so his television programs said. Red agreed however. Everyone in town either saw or was going to see certain landmarks around their region. Ranking them was even possible. Say that the most important was Saffron, as of course it was. It was the capital. Besides that were the sheer breadth of landmarks which outcompeted every other city. Then came the Indigo Plateau, which had such a massive presence that even their little corner of the world got visitors who'd gotten lost when the Elite Four were having a fight. Most people had at least hiked up the easiest path at Mount Moon. The cycling road was a new one yet already a bragging point that they used to jab at Johto for not having any equivalent. The Pokemon Tower too, though Red thought that one was overhyped. Finally, the least important yet still more important than the other scenic nowhere towns, was Silence Bridge. The ominous name was just because the sailors around there wanted complete silence. Red thought it was cool regardless.

It wasn't a landmark just for being a cool name. Walking past the checkpoint made him stop just to appreciate the area. A fresh breeze dabbed away at the thick layer of sweat that had built up on his forehead. Waves gently brushed against the straight drop into the ocean, the sharp line of land being a man made barrier reinforced by intermittent concrete pillars. The 'bridge' was actually laid as hundreds of planks in a swirling maze of boardwalks. Some jutted out into the ocean while others smacked straight into the mountains that were far ahead. Different paths snaked off into the forests into strange places that were listed as 4 size font words on his map. Places which Red had never heard before were helpfully inscribed on the sign that was immediately introduced at the checkpoint. Behind was Vermillion, to the left were towns he never heard of, to the right was a restaurant, more and more proper names which he would forget by the end of the day. It was a place that spread out through half of Kanto's height—and this wasn't an exaggeration. From the top which connected to Lavender Town to the bottom where the last pier was a stout series of red planks which was used as a fisherman's wharf combined into 90 kilometers! Including every single dead-end and long piers that jutted through the tide altogether into the true length of the boardwalk was never done. The only person who'd made it their hobby to measure it out had moved away about a month after Red passed through.

Even from the place where Red stood, he could see the slight differences of the neighboring port in the wood grain. They were slowly built up generation after generation, eventually connected together for some reason or another. On the path that led north up to Lavender Town was a gigantic lump of fat blocking it. There was no way that the Snorlax was comfortable. Even with the bridge being pretty wide, its head was lolled slightly off the wood and was a bluff against the waves.

He made sure that he had as firm a grip on the monster's belly as possible before putting a foot onto the pokémon's shoulder.

"Hey!"

The shout nearly made him slip off backwards. One of the fishermen had crept over while he'd been preparing to scale. The typical getup of a fisher was at complete odds with the scraggly gray beard that reached past his heart. The way that his eyes were slightly shut made it look like he had a permanent glare.

"What're you doin' there? Don't you know that's dangerous?"

Red made sure that they were talking about the same pokémon by pointing at it. "The Snorlax?"

"Yes! You can't climb a pokémon like that! Don't you have any sense?"

"Snorlax are docile." Red frowned, thinking hard, before giving up on finding the name. "A friend that used to live in my town played with a Snorlax in the wild."

"Well the parents should be arrested for child endangerment!"

Red found himself taking off his cap, scratching his head. Ignoring his elders wasn't very Kanto of him. But so was not obeying his elders. Yet he had to get to Lavender Town. What a conundrum! He found himself trying to swallow the annoyance, a skill that he was learning from too much quality time spent with Lane.

"Snorlax are completely docile pokémon. It's only when they're refused food that they become angry, I think."

"You think?" the fisherman urged. His hands were tightened around his fishing rod.

"I'm sure you can get them angry another way. There's multiple traveling troupes that entertain kids by letting them hop on the Snorlax's belly. I should know since I've personally seen two."

"Well I haven't seen any!"

Waiting for him to go on, Red nodded. He hoped that it didn't seem patronizing. "Well, I have. They're fine pokémon, especially when they're sleeping. There's not much that'll wake it up like this. Maybe a pokéflute? Otherwise it'll stay asleep until it's hungry."

Or attacked, though even that wasn't a guarantee. There was actually a fun story from his dad's journey where the man's route was blocked by a Snorlax too. Frustrated, he actually sent out a few attacks to try waking up the big lug and got chastised by a pokémon ranger for not being sporting attacking a sleeping target. Consent for battling, respecting the peace, lessons that Red's dad made sure to firmly plant into him through story telling before he could get yelled at by a ranger. Not that it did anything good, Red thought to himself, waiting in dread as the older man's mouth started revving up by licking his lips.

The man was gesturing to everything by pointing his fishing rod at them. It's only when the plastic black rod was pointed right between his eyes that Red was starting to get actually annoyed. "And what makes you think that this Snorlax is nice too? The first thing they teach you about pokémon safety is that wild pokémon are not your friends! They are wild, dangerous, and are more than willing to hurt you. Touching them is asking for trouble!"

"But this is a Snorlax. Even if it wanted to hurt me, it's not going to wake up."

"And what if it rolls over in its sleep?" The man crossed his arms and nodded like they were done. "Exactly. You should go home. You aren't meant to be traveling if this is how you treat wild pokémon."

Red was now openly rubbing his forehead. It gave him time to think, though he recognized that the way that the man's eyebrows were dancing meant that he was beyond mad now.

"If the Snorlax rolls over, then I'll try falling into the water."

"Just goes to show that you aren't meant to be traveling around. This here water has some of the worst water-types that you can imagine slithering below. Krabby'll snip off your legs, ohoho! You don't want to see the injuries that those'll give you. If you're unlucky, then it could be worse. There could be a Seadra right there that'll paralyze you and you'll drift off into the ocean unable to scream for help. There could be a Tentacool in there that wraps around you. You won't die, but you'll wish you'll be dead. You see? Getting up on that Snorlax is just plain dumb."

Red raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. To be frank, he didn't recognize two of those pokémon, but it sounded dangerous enough that he was willing to concede.

"Alright, sir. If the water is that dangerous, then I shouldn't chance it. I'll just go back and walk on the land."

"What!?"

The exclamation was so loud that Snorlax grunted, rolling its shoulders before falling back into a silent sleep.

"What, what?" Red asked.

The man started pointing at the entrance. "Over there?"

"Yeah." Red made a show of looking around. "There doesn't look to be any other land around here."

"The land?"

"Yeah."

"So you'll hop the fence?"

"I guess."

"Don't you think that fence is over there for a reason?"

Red now once again started rubbing his forehead. "Listen, sir. I—"

"I don't have to listen to you. You have to listen to me." The man rested his fishing rod in the crook of his elbow with a grimace. Red made sure that his back was straight and no nonsense was visible. "I don't know who raised you, but you don't talk back to your elders. You hear me? You're being disrespectful and I'd like an apology."

"I'm sorry for being disrespectful, sir," Red said. He was genuine. He genuinely wished that he never took an alternative route.

The man grunted. "At least you sound honest. But that's not enough because whoever decided that you were ready for a pokémon journey didn't know what they were talking about. We don't poke around wild pokémon and we especially don't walk off route. That's the easiest way to get hurt, no two ways about it. So you're going to go home and forget whatever trainer dreams you were having. Tell your parents sorry for not listening to them."

"I'm going to Lavender Town. If you have any alternative route to get there that doesn't require me to backtrack all the way to," and it was extremely hard to not roll his eyes, "Vermillion because then you're suggesting I had at least three days to my traveling."

The man tapped his foot on the boardwalk. It sounded like he knocked on a very thick tree.

"You could wait here for the Snorlax to wake up."

"They can sleep for days at a time," Red said incredulously.

"Remember what I said about listening to your elders," the man said simply, making Red once again straighten up. "Best to be safe or don't do it at all. It ain't my problem that you're wasting your time."

'But it's my problem that you're wasting mine,' Red wanted to say before holding his tongue. The quip was nice, cute, but he felt like it could be even better and he wasn't willing to be yelled at for a middling comeback. So he just waited for the man to finish before laying it out straight.

"Aren't you a fisher? What if you used a surfing pokémon to get me around?"

"Are you kidding me? Now you're suggesting that I help? Don't you even know that you need to properly be taught how to ride on any pokémon that you want to surf on or else it could hurt either you or the pokémon. I don't want any of my partners to be hurt just because you grabbed their fins wrong."

Red felt his own eyebrows start dancing. "Then can you teach me?"

"Why should I teach you?"

His fingers played down the pokéball. "Because you're telling me that—"

Red was going to continue until the man's lips already started parting before he'd even finished the thought. Finally fed up, Red brought out his pokéball in challenge.

They finished the battle within five minutes. Even though the man had a full team, it had folded under the might of a tired Eevee repeating the same move over and over again. The pokémon treated itself by riding on his shoulder as he scaled over the Snorlax. True to his words, it didn't even react when he was crawling over its belly. Each movement made the fat ripple slightly underneath him. It almost felt like an inflatable bouncy castle, though a strange one that made him ascend and descend like the waves below. Landing on the boards made the pokémon behind him do another heavy grunt before rolling onto its side.

He could hear the man screaming from behind the Snorlax. Even though his voice had turned emotional (watery, as if he was descending into tears), Red couldn't even be bothered to listen for another second. He just went to find a good place to set up camp and fell asleep without eating. The last thought that he had was that this incident must be covered up; his mother explicitly told him to expect a walloping if he ever used a pokémon battle to shut up an adult no matter the reason. The shivers weren't because of the ocean's chilly breeze.

Going down the bridge thankfully didn't have nearly as many characters. Most of the fishers were content ignoring him as he walked by. This unfortunately didn't extend to anything that made noise. Even his pokémon's heavy breathing or thumping footsteps were given cold glares, which made Red give up and let them rest inside their pokéballs. They deserved it anyways. Charmander couldn't even lift his tail with how tired he was.

Red added in his head that it wasn't even a great place for training either. Perhaps one of those side roads, cloaked in thick brush with tongues of thorns laying out on the little visible dirt that stuck out, had a fantastic clearing for him to practice just off route, or they were where a dragon-sized Ariados was waiting with a trap to gobble him whole. Ignore the fishermen who would gang up on him for even attempting to train. The boardwalk was wide enough for a Snorlax to relax on it and for a fight to be had, but it wasn't wide enough for Red to risk his pokémon falling into the infested waters.

He scratched his chin. Then again, wouldn't fighting in precarious environments be training in itself? The thought bounced around his head until he decided that he'd make his pokémon try balancing on a beam while fighting. Eventually they'd fight while balancing while wearing weights. Maybe he'd also have another pokémon randomly throwing rocks! Then eventually they could fight on real precarious footing instead of simulating it to add to the feeling of danger. Red's mind was alight for hours as he thought of fun training regimens.

All the tiny pretty sights that he saw came together into a beautiful whole. It wouldn't do to talk about the pretty girl fishing, who giggled when he walked by faster. Fog rolled over that made the whole place seem like he was floating far above the clouds for the ten minutes it lingered. Every so often on the long straight pathways he'd close his eyes and just let the coolness leak into his nose. Mist pricked his back. Sea spray licked his arms. It took another day before he could see the tower peaking far above the foot hills that rolled out of the tide. Camping on the bridge was a novel experience that he cut short when a violent spray splattered over the back of his head. Fishing was attempted at the last stretch. He felt as though the reel didn't have enough leverage to properly catch the pokémon in the water, which is how he coped with the whole rod getting dragged into the water. Watching it spin around for a few revolutions before dropping straight down into the water was like getting spit on.

It was only when leaning against one of the buildings in Lavender Town that Red recognized the amount of stress that came from the journey. Traveling was fun though sometimes you just needed a protracted break from the craziness. Especially himself, Red mused, since he had pretty much been getting pressured by something ever since Mt. Moon. First was the Team Rocket ambushes. Then came the thorn in his side, Lane. Just thinking about the word 'champion' made him feel ill. His hands patted against the building before getting back up. As much as he'd like it to be so, he had commitments. The psychic gym was around the corner. The Pokémon Tower was ahead. As much as he wanted to take a break, Red felt something pushing him forwards. Ambition? A sense of duty? Even when pressing himself, Red felt like he was lacking the vocabulary to explain.

The place was the largest building in the town by far. Other than the region-famous landmark, Lavender Town was a boring place whose only claim to fame was being built in the only place of the extreme mountains in Kanto's north-east that could support long term human survival. Red had heard that there were more towns further north with around 50 people each, and were the subject of a popular comedy where they were all depicted as Glooms who were content planting themselves and pretending to be flowers for the rest of time. Lavender Town was close enough to the major cities that it still saw outside traffic while remaining rather isolated. Fog regularly rolled in, making the early lamplights look like spirits hovering above the streets.

The behemoth which hung over the town was still visible through the wall of noise. Red stood at its entrance, looking up at the seven floors that rivaled the mountains around. North were mountains, south the bridge, and east extremely harsh mountains jutting into the sky before dropping off like a line chart of a stock market. It was practically the only reason the town had visitors besides hiking. Red never got his explanation as to why they decided to make a tower of graves. During his first visit he asked multiple times and got evasive answers every time. Learning defeat, he just decided to drop it.

None of the features were really visible with the dense fog other than the blinding beams that shone through the door's windows. Vague figures drifted in the void but Red couldn't make much out inside the lobby. Heat rushed past as it swung open. Few noticed there was another visitor. Most were contemplating, looking down or moving their hands in strange movements. Red knew better to disturb those and went towards the staircase that led to the second floor.

A miko, an older one, was kneeling at the foot of the staircase while her gohei swayed. The receptionist was playing solitaire on his desk. The whole place was a blinding white reinforced with every choice made. The furniture was white, the tiles were white, the walls were white, while the lights were the most eye-searing beams they could find. Those came from little recessed circles punched into the ceiling. Every person stood out—the man wearing all black who was pacing in the center of the room, the little girl with her pink bow praying in the corner—against a strange style that Red could definitively say he wasn't a fan of.

Next to the shrine maiden was a guy wearing a black turtleneck. The purple scarf he had hung loosely against his chest, unkempt hair held back by a purple headband dangling loosely as he kept a lazy watchout over the room. He leaned against the wall, face slack like he was about to fall asleep while standing up. It was only when Red had approached the door when he finally regained life. A hand pressed against Red's chest. It was wholly unappreciated.

The man's voice was slightly nasally and high. It scraped against the perfect walls and drilled into Red's head.

"Slow down there, cowboy. There's a whole incident going on up there that we're trying to get a handle on. If you need to visit somewhere, then just offer 'em a prayer down here." The man's face turned into what he assumed to be too common: a sardonic smirk. "Wherever they are, I'm sure that they'll still hear you whether you're in front of their grave or not."

Red casually looked back at the crowd milling about. About fifteen people—he was too lazy to accurately check. Regardless, it was a large number of people who were doing their prayers while a single miko had started spreading salt around at the bottom step before continuing to evoke whatever power that she was tapping into.

"It's been weeks. I was here around two weeks ago and this problem had been going on for a few days. I'm guessing that it's going to come around to a month and all that's going to be done about this problem is getting another person to guard the staircase. What's even the plan? Are there people up there?"

Wisps of smoke twirled into itself as the incense sticks burned. The wooden board laid vertical from the staircase as the woman raised her hands up. The man pushed off the wall and crossed his arms.

"Wasn't expecting a kid from Kanto to be this aggressive." Before Red could apologize, the man continued. "Look, it's a bit of a situation up there. I was supposed to be the one to solve it and look at where I am. Relegated to guard duty. I've sent a request to the League for backup, but who knows when they're going to get off their butts to help."

Somewhat mollified, Red tried calming himself down. He wasn't even sure why he was frustrated in the first place. Snapping at random adults who didn't even wrong him was not okay under any circumstance. The incense started spreading around the room as the lady waved her hands around. It certainly reminded him of magic, but there wasn't any effect other than the smoke being brushed around.

"Sorry about that. I've had a weird few weeks. Though I'm not going to be as good as a member of the League, maybe I could help?"

The man tilted his head slightly. "And who are you?"

"Red."

"Morty." Now that he looked closer, Morty had thick bags under his eyes. They were accentuated by the pale skin that melded into the wall behind him. Soft chanting came from the woman. "Here's the situation as far as I can tell: somebody had disturbed the ghosts that live in the tower and sent them into a frenzy. Everybody's either scared off or possessed, still up there. Don't ask me how they're still alive. Point is that we're dealing with angry ghost-types, y'know? Kind of a city-destroying disaster that's only contained here for reasons we don't know."

"You don't sound too sure about any of this," Red said.

Morty's grin widened. "That's just how the business is. I'm guessing that you don't know much about ghost-types. Seems like nobody this side of the range does. Ghost-types are fickle, kid. They come and go as they please. The only reason that they are usually visible is because they want us to see them. This is exactly what happens when you make one of them mad. Even calling in a ghost-type specialist doesn't do much when there's a whole army of them."

Not that Red could know. Visiting the tower once had given him enough of an idea. The very little time that he'd survived up there had been a harrowing experience dodging the twin attacks from possessed people's pokémon and invisible limbs trying to twist his nose. Thinking about it clearer, he could even agree that was the exact problem: they didn't know if there was an army. It was just an educated guess. It very well could be five or a million floating around the tower.

Though Morty didn't say it out loud, he was impressed that the kid was even thinking it through. Newer trainers generally either were meek—unconfident in their ability—or bold enough that only nailing them down stopped them from running in like a kamikaze—which also wasn't correlated with their ability.

Red finally caught on a part. "Did you imply that you don't know why the ghost-types are angry?"

"Good catch." Morty jabbed a thumb back at the staircase, nearly poking the miko who started standing. Her arms were waving around like seaweed anchored to the ocean floor, finally getting an odd look from Morty before he continued. "Thing is that there's no kind of magic that's keeping these things in place. Our good ol' spiritualists are doing their best but I'm certain that the ghosts are sticking to the area because they want to. No idea what's motivating them and I'm not gonna start guessing. That's only what idiots do."

"What do you mean?"

Morty looked around to double-check that nobody who he didn't want to listen in was near enough. There was a helpful perimeter that the people had unconsciously formed around the staircase. Even those who wanted to be near the graves had set themselves closer to the center of the room. Out of respect for the miko, following what others were doing, and trying to be far away from the only exit from the second floor was the order of how stupid each of those options were. These were ghosts. They could float through the ceiling and body snatch anybody before Morty could stop them. It's why he was more concerned about the surroundings rather than blocking the staircase.

"Because if the ghosts came around and ravaged the entire town leaving behind only pottery plants, then the people investigating would probably have to conclude that the motivation could've either been that a person insulted a trainer's name who had lived two hundred years ago or that they ate a sandwich that the ghost had been eyeing. They're fickle beings at the best of times. Even mine like to—"

He was interrupted by a mouth coming out of his shadow. Red couldn't even fully explain it. What was once a normal shadow, slightly dimmer because of the bright lights, had suddenly grown a white silhouette—more accurately popped into existence. More detail quickly formed as the ridges between the teeth grew and slight imperfections dragged tiny indents. It rose from the shadow with the blackness stretching behind like it was punching through stubborn plastic wrap. The mouth gleefully opened, letting Red see the pink that was inside, and bit down on Morty's thumb.

Morty struggled keeping quiet. His cheeks blew up, face turned red, as he tried keeping the same cool. The mouth sprung back towards the shadow. Instead of fading back, the teeth flew backwards as if flying off into the distance. He lost sight after a little while but got a good view of those gleaming white teeth. That whole interaction was so uncomfortable that he was starting to get second thoughts about helping out. Little angry marks the shape of chain links wrapped around the thumb's base.

"Son of a—and then he just leaves!" Morty seethed to himself for a little longer before violently rubbing the injury. It didn't help. "Look, what I've gathered is that you're new to dealing with ghosts. Good trainer or not, I'd rather like backup that knew what they were doing and wouldn't be complete dead weight. No offense."

None of the information dissuaded Red in itself. If anything, he became even more convinced that winding back to help was the correct decision. From his sack came the complicated machinery that he looted from the Team Rocket base. Let it be said now since it wasn't said earlier that Red wasn't a thief. He didn't consider himself a thief in any way, even one which did so with righteous causes. The only reason that he looted the bases was because it basically wasn't anybody's property. Ill-gotten gains being used to buy things pretty much made the items ownerless.

The thing was surprisingly heavy. It dangled from his hand freely, with the scopes facing the floor. Morty's face lit up in realization.

"The Silph Scope! You went and got this for the town?"

He'd seen it on the floor behind Team Rocket's head honcho. Initially he assumed that it was a doomsday device that they made. A convenient advertisement that he'd seen when leaving the jail informed him that he was stupid.

"Yes," Red said.

Morty was tapping his chin in thought. Granted, using the Silph Scope himself most likely would make solving the incident a cake walk. It was the opportunities that opened up with having a partner that he was interested in. Perhaps if their invisibility wasn't working, then they'd become visible anyways. Then he'd have a second trainer which was altruistic enough to get an expensive piece of equipment backing him up. That was a good point too. Getting that amount of money meant he was making serious winnings.

Just to make doubly sure, he asked, "how many badges do you have?"

"Four."

Morty pounded his shoulder. "Alright, kid, you've gotten your chance. You're on the team. Me and you are going to tear through this place like heroes. Heh. Yeah. That's exactly what it's going to be like."

"And me!" the miko said, popping up. "When do we start?"

They both stared. Even some of the people who were praying glanced before conscientiously looking down.

Morty nodded, looked back at Red, and then nodded again. "You know what? Sure. You'll come too. Why not."

"Why does she get to come that easily?" Red asked.

"Because I'm tired of arguing and tired of being in Kanto. I'd like to wrap this up and go home, thank you very much. You guys don't even have service up here."

Morty seemed like he was going to continue before shaking his head, ascending upwards. The miko was practically glued to his back as she followed right behind him. Before Red took the first step, he double-checked the room. The smoke from the incense was powerful enough that it looked like a veil hung over everybody's head. There certainly was a haziness now in the room, particularly dripping down from the ceiling lights. If you squinted it looked like the room was plunged underwater, with the same murkiness and invisible rhythms that came with it. Tiny strands weaved together into great plumes of clouds that brushed against the windows. Nobody stood out underneath the filter.

The next floor was ironically much more comfortable than the lobby. Some people would call him macabre for enjoying the decrepit stone that revealed itself as the true nature of the tower, or the tombstones that rose to his neck with names engraved on them, with the last wisps of incense twirling out of the way as he walked. Even the lighting had changed. During the times of prayer, it allowed for peaceful contemplation. Each niche hidden by the tombstones became that much more prominent under the dim lighting. He liked it all, the mystery, the quiet. Red breathed deeply, appreciating the atmosphere before strapping the bulky scope on.

The world didn't look much different. Some parts were shimmering. The incense was particularly uncomfortable to look at, almost becoming a solid block of light that faded into tinier blocks breaking off from the main mass. It wasn't as if it were a telescope. Staring directly into the lights didn't hurt, but they did turn into plain colored domes that he couldn't see details through.

"That looks even more stupid on you than off." Morty bent down, tapping one of the lenses. "You see anything?"

"I see your face," Red said bluntly.

The man backed up with a laugh, glancing back at their hanger on. She was facing the staircase that went higher, completely still. He slightly leaned around, waving a hand.

"Hey, you see anything?"

She started screaming.

A/N: Shoutouts to FrozenFox96 for the beta and all the people who've already reviewed or DM'd! Going to slowly edit all the suggestions that have been given into the story. Probably better to do that earlier rather than later? There's a bunch of little formatting errors that are coming from porting my document over into the site. Please have patience with these. I'm still not used to all the little problems that come with this kind of stuff.

Originally for reasons that I'll say a few chapters later, this little segue was going to be completely different and way shorter. Just in the interest of preventing even tiny spoilers I won't mention why until I can.

You have to love the vastly different depictions of routes between the different media. In the games it's just a giant field while in the manga there's a road. I decided to take some liberties with it as I will do with most of the routes since I'd like to imagine that they're interesting in themselves rather than being just roads.

Solo Red chapter! I like Red and I hope that I depict him in a fun enough way that he's entertaining to read even when he's alone.

And that's it. Rate, hate, interrogate, and I'll see all of you later!