PART 1: BEGINNINGS

Chapter 2

~~ Ethan, Lily, Anthony, Gerald ~~

Lily figured she looked quite the sight. Arms elbow deep in mud, a face coated in sweat, hair frizzed everywhere… Her once blue blouse now had mud splatters all over the front. Now that she only had two mareep left, she decided that the shack that held them should go. Months ago, she had plans to expand the shack. It was a project she always had in the back of her mind that she was now fortunate not to act on. She had anticipated purchasing more mareep from the Viridian shepherds – they had finally seemed to get back on their feet after the Kantonese Civil War, and more mareep meant she needed more cover from the winter rains.

But the Viridian shepherds never came, and then the winter rains never came, and then the shepherds still never came. Then the Silver Prefecture tax collectors came and took nearly all the mareep with them. Now she had no reason for a mareep shack; the pokemon could hide under the large oak tree in the pen for all she cared. The extra wood would be perfect for future projects, whatever they might be, so Lily decided to disassemble structure.

Grunting, Lily pushed a beam out of the dirt and tossed it on the ground, then ran a mud-covered hand over her sweat-stained face. She had been digging the foundation out around the beam for about an hour, and by the weariness had set into her bones and taken root. But she was not close to finished. Earlier in the morning, she removed the shack's roof. That was the easy part. Now, she had to pull the wooden beams out of the ground, a much more laborious task. A graveler or a machoke would be handy, but she was determined to do this task herself. No pokemon help for her, not ever again. Her favorite hat – made of brown straw, wide-rimmed, and with a green ribbon wrapped around - kept the blistering sun off her neck, but she could still feel its relentless heat in the air.

Despite it all, she didn't mind. Lily often found the most enjoyment in the simple things, such as labor on a hot day.

Yes, it was the simple things that kept Lily sane. She had defined her life by two tragedies, and with the recent chaos that had descended upon New Bark, the best course of action was to stay the course. Maintain the mareep pen, cooking a nice dinner each night, spending an evening at the Loyal Sentret… those all helped her stay sane. Staying the course had helped her in past crises, such as her second tragedy eight years ago when Gerald had disappeared on her and Ethan. At one time, she called Gerald her husband; now, he was known only as 'that piece of shit' or 'that walk-out bastard'. Gerald had a fiery temper and stubbornness that would make a tauros blush. Lily did not know why he left, but she figured that he simply found something better.

The months after Gerald left were hard. Lily found solace in the mareep pen and, increasingly, Ethan. The boy had that same stubbornness as his father, but in a different way. Whereas Gerald was always relentlessly pursuing his next scheme or venture, Ethan seemed relentless in his desire to help others. She admired him for it.

A year after Gerald left, Lily had considered marrying again. She certainly did not lack suitors, and there was one particularly attractive option: Toby Mrances. He lived on a small farm on the southern edges of New Bark. Like all New Barkers, he was a farmer. Tanned and muscular from working, Toby was only ten years older than she, which was on the younger side for her bachelors. More importantly, he had a graveler that could be handy.

"Why don'tcha marry me, Lily, and we can combine our farms together. You ain't have to worry about the farmwork no more," he once told her. With a smile, Toby added: "I'll whip that brat of yours in to shape, too."

Lily was close to taking his hand, closer than she would like to admit. But, something seemed wrong; Toby was handsome and had money, but over the year, she learned to appreciate the freedom she had of being single. The course had been set, and Lily was not one to rock the boat, not anymore. She said no to Toby Mrances, and the man still hadn't forgiven her, even after all these years.

And despite her best efforts, Lily felt the turbulent waters rocking her boat again. Across the pen, she saw Ethan shearing one of the mareep. A knot formed in her stomach; he was up to something, she could feel it in her heart. That same aloofness and shiftiness that Gerald displayed before he disappeared was now present in her son. He had acted suspicious when he came home a few nights ago, so suspicious that Lily decided to fake going to sleep. After a few hours, she crept up the stairs to his room. Ethan was fast asleep by that point, but she knew how to move with stealth. She scoured the room, looking in dressers, behind dressers, in drawers, behind drawers. Everywhere that could be a hiding place, she searched. Finally, she peeked inside his backpack that was hiding underneath his bed, and the sight nearly brought her to tears.

Inside was a pokeball and a map of Cherrygrove. By Arceus, where did he get a pokeball from? It surprised her how perturbed she was by the sight of it. It reminded her deeply of her first tragedy, one so horrid that she repressed the memory over years. Every now and then, something would trigger the memories, such as gazing over the mareep in her pen or the spearow that flocked around town. But, that life was behind her, and the past would remain the past.

Professor Elm was behind this; there was no doubt. The thoughts fueled her anger, and Lily dug more furiously into the ground. She did not know why the professor had given her son a pokeball, but she knew that he did, and he was sending him off to Cherrygrove for some reason. The bastard!

She pushed another beam out of the ground, her bubbling anger giving her a second wind. Ethan was her son, not the professor's. She did not know what drew Gerald away from her, but she knew the reason Ethan grew distant, and she would not let Professor Elm get away with it.

Ethan was in high spirits. After shearing the mareep, he quickly made his way to his room, whereupon he reached for his backpack that he stashed under his bed. Inside sat a pokeball. Each time he looked at it, a swell of amazement grew, and the feeling never got old.

It was such a simple thing – roughly the size of his palm with a red and white shell – but its power was palpable. Every time he held it, Ethan felt in control: over his life, over his future.

Getting a pokemon was always a dream of his – it was always the dream of every kid. Having one meant that he was no longer bound to New Bark. Traveling the routes was dangerous without a pokemon; ferals and bandits were known to roam the lawless lands between the cities. The warlords, claimed that not to be the case, but Ethan had heard enough horror stories from travelers passing through.

But with a pokemon, he had protection; he had freedom; he had power.

At first, Ethan was afraid that his mother would catch on. That was why he stashed his bag underneath his bed. But, his mother never said anything, and he was confident that he was in the clear. At least, for now. There would be future problems down the road, such as how he would come up with an acceptable excuse for his trip to Cherrygrove, but he was working on that. Reaching into his bag, he grabbed a transcription of the telegram Professor Elm gave him, the one from the so-called Mister Pokemon.

~ E.,

Rumors swirl. Old allies turn on each other, and new ones wait in the wings. Come at once; we have much to discuss.

Mister P. ~

The message was as cryptic as it was short. Furthermore, it sounded urgent; it was three days since Elm gave Ethan the message, and who knew how long the professor had held onto it beforehand. Ethan could not delay any longer; he would have to gamble and inform his mother that he was leaving for Cherrygrove. With or without her permission, he would leave tomorrow morning.

There was another task Ethan wanted to attend to. He put the pokeball and message back into his backpack and swung it around his shoulders. After shearing the mareep, he told his mother that he was going to town to pick up another bag of rice – a new shipment had arrived from Blackthorn yesterday. He was going to do that, but first he would make his way east to the Kanjo River.

With a hop to his step, he left the house and travelled down the road. The heat was blistering, and the dust floated in the air, making it feel that much hotter. His house was near the eastern edge of New Bark, so he only passed a couple more houses before arriving at a grove of trees that marked the town's boundary. After a short walk further, the canopy opened up to a small field and the greenish-blue waters of the Kanjo River beyond.

He stood there for a while, thumb hovering over the centerpiece. A slight breeze blew off the water, and when it passed, Ethan clicked open the pokeball, releasing a red miasma. He crinkled his nose at the smell; a stench like that of sulfur always seemed to waft from a pokeball releasing its contents, and he had yet to grow accustomed to it.

The form coalesced into a creature about as tall as Ethan's knee with black fur on its back and tan fur on its belly. The pokemon took a second to gather its bearings, sniffing and pawing the ground. Then, the quilava noticed Ethan, and its back erupted into fire.

Ethan remained calm, speaking in a soft voice, and dropped to eye level. He was far from an expert trainer, but Elm had taught him some aspects of training in the months leading up to this.

Despite the flames, the quilava remained calm, too, and slowly approached Ethan, snififing the air. He and the pokemon had already been acquainted a couple of times over the past three days, which gave Ethan enough to learn a little bit about his pokemon. For starters, the quilava was a male, and he really liked burnt oran berries as snacks.

When the quilava drew close, his flames died down. The pokemon sniffed Ethan's hand, then curled up by his leg.

"I'll have to train some fight into you," Ethan said, smiling, as he scratched behind the quilava's ears. He would also need a name; when he chose the quilava, Elm said his name was Doresey. "But that name won't do. It's not tough enough."

"Okay, let's start!" Ethan jumped up, and Doresey followed. Memories of textbook pages detailing the cyndaquil line came back to him; omnivores; highly intelligent and quick learners; their burning quills on their backs signified aggression, although Doresey seemed anything but.

Opening his bag, Ethan pulled out a couple sticks that he grabbed along the way. The quilava looked on attentively.

Ethan turned and chucked the stick over the river, and then whistled in two quick bursts. Doresey jumped up, his back flames exploding to life, and shot a fireball at the stick.

It missed wide right.

Frowning, Ethan chucked another and whistled twice. Doresey missed high. The next one missed high again, and the fourth missed low.

"Well, at least you can follow directions," Ethan said. The whistle trick was something he had worked on, at Elm's suggestion, over the last few days. Ethan was pleased to see Doresey respond well to the commands themselves. Quilava might be good learners, but not all pokemon of any species were born natural fighters. He grabbed a couple oran berries from his bag and dropped them on the ground. Doresey coughed some embers on them, burning them, then devoured berries. "We'll work on the aim later."

Doresey seemed too interested in his berries to listen. Suddenly, his ears perked, and the quilava jumped up sniffing the air. His ears then lowered, and he started growling. Smoke hissed from the pokemon's mouth.

Footsteps came from the treeline, and Ethan's heart raced faster as the steps grew closer. He stood tall, his fingers near his mouth, waiting to issue a command.

A blue furball rolled from behind a tree and stopped on its haunches. It looked up, spotted the quilava and Ethan, and smiled, chirping gleefully. Shortly after, a woman with brown hair tied into pigtails followed. She looked at Doresey, then at Ethan, the back at Doresey. Ethan groaned in exasperation.

"Well, this is unexpected," she said.

"What are you doing here, Lyra?"

Lyra Otkin was not someone Ethan called a friend. A neighbor, perhaps an acquaintance at best. They had known each other since they were born, having frequently attended the same classes in school. For whatever reason, there was a magnetism between them, but one that sparked argumentation rather than friendship. At one point, he had accused the school board of directly conspiring against him since they shared so many classes. The charge was not received seriously by the board, and Ethan was laughed out of the room.

There was also that situation at the graduation party two years ago. Both Ethan and Lyra were quite drunk, as was expected. A conversation started between them, and that conversation broke into an argument about – well, about something; Ethan was too browned out to remember. One thing led to another, and Ethan and Lyra started…

Ethan shook his head violently. No, no need to recall that memory. Not with Lyra standing right there.

"What are you doing here, Ethan?" Lyra retorted, standing with her hands on her hips, a knowing smirk on her face.

"Training my pokemon." Ethan sighed. "Yes, Doresey is my pokemon. What are you doing here?" He tried to copy that smarmy tone she always used.

Lyra laughed. "Doresey? Its name his Doresey?" She shook her head. "You should think of a new name. Anyways, I'm just taking a walk. Azure likes to play in the river." The marill yipped in response and jumped into the water.

The two stared at each other, each waiting for the other to speak. Finally, Ethan said, "Okay. Stop staring and ask."

Lyra exhaled, feigning relief. "Okay. Where to start, where to start… Oh! Why do you have a pokemon?"

"I wanted to be a trainer."

"Okay." Lyra stroked her chin in thought. Her actions were pronounced and exaggerating, as if she were on a stage. "Who gave it to you?"

"Not answering that."

"That's fine, I already know the answer." Lyra mouthed 'Elm', then smirked. "Does Lily know?"

Ethan's frowned deepened. "Not yet, and you won't be the one to tell her."

Lyra put her hands up. "Whoa now, I wasn't going to snitch! Although, that doesn't mean I won't hold it against you!" She walked over to Ethan and sat down on a nearby rock. "But seriously, your ma' hates pokemon, besidesmaybethose mareep of yours. Everyone knows that. Why did Elm give you one?"

"Elm never gave me anything," Ethan said through gritted teeth.

"Sure." Lyra drawled out the word as much as possible.

"Alright, I've had enough of this crap." Ethan grabbed Doresey's pokeball and aimed it at the quilava. But before he could press the recall button, Lyra was in front of him, her hand blocking the centerpiece.

"Hold on, hold on." Lyra looked more serious now. "Like I said: I ain't a snitch. I just wanna know…" She looked side-to-side, as if she were afraid of what she was going to say. "Are you actually planning to leave New Bark?"

Ethan paused a moment, weighing his answer. "What makes you think I'm gonna do that?"

"By Arceus," Lyra muttered. "I'm tired of you playing dumb with me. Like I said, I ain't a snitch; just give me an ho – Azure! Stop messing with the wingull!"

Glancing over the Kanjo, Ethan saw the marill bobbing and splashing in the water. Wingull, many of them, flew overhead, squawking angrily at the blue-furred pokemon. He frowned. Wingull were passive and weak pokemon, not very useful in a fight, but they usually traveled in flocks. There should be a flock-head somewhere nearby…

Ethan turned back to Lyra. "I don't know if I'm leaving yet." He began to walk away, beckoning for Doresey to follow.

Lyra grabbed his wrist. "New Bark's a hick town with nothing going for it. You know that as much as I do." She sighed.

"Okay. And?" Ethan shot back, shaking his arm free.

"And? When you leave, take me with you. Please?" Lyra stepped back. "I don't need to follow you forever. Just 'till I get my feet set. I've always wanted to see the Olivine Lighthouse."

"And why should I do that?"

"You know as much as me about surviving in the wilds. Which is to say, nothing at all." Lyra pointed a finger at Ethan. "Two people in the wilds are better than one. You better think about it. I'm holding you to it."

"And what do you know about surviving in the wilds?" Ethan looked back at the marill, splashing water at the wingull. "Is that blue thing going to protect you?"

"Leave Azure out of this! Besides I know more about roughing it on my own than you!"

"Oh yeah? Based on what?"

"Based on – aah!" A thick vein popped on Lyra's forehead. "Why do you have to be such an ass?"

Ethan put his hands up, shaking his head. This was already halfway beyond an argument, and he had no desire to continue it. Too much was on his mind already. "Fine, sure. You can come along." Of course, he had no interest in keeping his word. "And remember: this conversation never happened!"

Lyra gave a thumbs up, then turned her attention to Azure, who was spouting water guns…

"Azure! GET OUT OF THERE!"

Ethan followed her gaze over the Kanjo, and his stomach curdled. The marill was dashing through the water at a speed that belied its size. The wingull squawked angrily, hot on its tail.

Those birds weren't the issue. At the center of the flock was a massive pelipper, the presumed leader, and it was angry. It honked, the sound of it sending waves over the water and a chill down Ethan's spine. Doresey's backflames shot to life, and the quilava stepped slightly between the young trainer and the oversized pelican.

The water-type dove into the water just deep enough to fill its beak pouch. Rising into the air, it circled around and started firing at the marill, at them.

"We'll talk about this later," Lyra said. Water guns splashed all around.. Azure rolled past at high speed, and Lyra dashed after the buoyant pokemon.

Wordlessly, Ethan nodded and recalled the quilava. The fire-type disappeared in a red cloud that shot back towards the pokeball centerpiece.

Heart-thumping, he ducked down to avoid the errant water guns. They hit all around him kicking up mud and grass, and leaving large divots in their places. He turned and ran into the trees.

After running for a few minutes, he stopped and look back. The pelipper and wingull didn't follow which wasn't that surprising. They likely only wanted to defend their waters and had no interest in a chase. Breathing deeply, the event washed from his mind like the tide; you weren't truly a New Barker unless you pissed off wild pokemona at least once. Instead, his mind thought back to the conversation with Lyra.

She had made a good point: surviving with two people in the wilds was better than going it alone. Ethan's knowledge of roughing it was somewhat inadequate. It was just not a part of Elm's teachings. Sure, he could build a campfire and set a tent, but those things were easy. Perhaps it wouldn't be such a bad idea to have a companion, if only to watch his back. But it wouldn't be Lyra, no way. Perhaps if he could find someone else in town, someone that was making their way to Cherrygrove…

His mind full of thoughts and plans, Ethan left the woods and headed south down the dusty road to main street.

Silver had visited many of the coastal cities of Johto; by far, Goldenrod was his favorite. The sheer opulence of the city was astounding, and the rediscovered radio technology made the newly constructed radio tower that much more spectacular. Much to his surprise, radio hadn't quite caught on in the other prefectures, as most still relied on telegram for communications. Olivine was nice too, especially its lighthouse, but Silver found the smell that pervaded the city too fishy for his liking. Cherrygrove was simply uninspiring.

By far, New Bark was the most backwater town he had visited, and there were a lot of tiny farming villages between the major cities. The only thing that separated it from those nothing farming towns were the biannual trips from the Viridian shepherds. What started as a general store, post office, and saloon grew into hotels and more saloons. Soon after, there was a main street with some stores – all selling clothes of mareep wool, of course.

And yet, New Bark never let go of that hick town image; it was very much sleepy. The fact that it was a part of the Silver Prefecture, which was ruled from Blackthorn over 50 miles north, and not a part of the Violet Prefecture, which was ruled from Violet City about 30 miles away as the pidgey flies, was a testament to the fact that nothing ever happened there; it was simply not worth fighting over.

And it was here, in this hick town, that Silver found himself. It wasn't by accident; amidst the dusty roads and mareep shit, a very special person had set up shop in New Bark.

The famous Professor Elm.

New Bark could have been the perfect place for the pokemon professor to hide in secret, but he couldn't help but draw attention to himself. Despite the man's supposed elusive nature, he had a surprising penchant for flamboyance. The professor's laboratory was larger than any other building, with an ostentatious three stories, and it nearly twice as wide as the next largest building in New Bark – a saloon called the Mareep's Milk.

Silver lazed underneath a tree across the road, hiding from the sun. His red hair was tied in a top knot so that the wind – what little there was – wouldn't blow it in his face. From the shade, he watched closely as the professor's aides walked in and out of the laboratory. There weren't many of them; it was usually one of the same three. One was a man with jet black hair wearing glasses. He seemed in a hurry when he left, and he headed east towards the main street. He hadn't yet returned. Another was a woman also with jet black hair, and she seemed more deliberate. She went behind the laboratory and returned almost an hour later with considerable more dust on her white lab coat. The third was an older man with a brown beard. He was only outside for half a minute as he released a pidgey into the air which promptly flew away. Silver wasn't certain from his distance, but he believed he saw a letter tied to the pidgey's leg.

Even though Silver seemed to be casually lounging in the shade, his anger welled greatly. Whenever he had a tantrum as a child, his mother – Yveltal rest her soul – frequently commented that his anger was just like his father's. Subtle to imperceptible eyes, but it was quick to swell and would explode in an instant. In fact, it was his father's once-relationship with the professor that brought Silver here. He had met Elm once, but that was a long time ago when Silver was a child and went by another name.

The flood of memories of his mother and father swamped Silver, further darkening his temper. That was to be expected; the past was only anger and resentment. But there was always a chance for a new beginnings. He had already started on that path by changing his name. But to continue on, Silver must briefly face his past again, if only a seemingly minor part of it. Such was the paradox of life.

Silver stood up and wiped the sweat from his brow. Then, he turned down the dusty road towards the main street. There, he had rented a small room above the Loyal Sentret. He had much to plan for; as soon as the moment presented itself, his new beginning would truly start.

Ethan rushed back home as fast as he could, despite the heaviness of the bag of rice on his shoulder. By the time he reached the front door, he had completely sweated through his shirt. It wasn't the bag of rice that made him rush; it was only mid-afternoon, and his mother wouldn't start cooking dinner for another few hours.

One of Professor Elm's aides had bumped into him as he walked down the main street. His jet black hair was messy, not combed as it usually was, and his wide-rimmed glasses sat loosely on his nose. The man always seemed in a rush. His name was Aiden, and today he seemed in more of a rush than usual.

"Elm doesn't know what's taking you so long to get moving, but he demands that you head to Cherrygrove now." Aiden wheezed as he spoke.

"Whoa, whoa, hold on," Ethan had said, laying a hand on the aide's shoulder. "I'm planning on heading over tomorrow. There's a caravan that's leaving for Cherrygrove; I plan on joining them." He had run into the caravan driver while purchasing the rice. The driver was a balding, fat man from the west named Dontin, and even better, there were three others travelling alongside.

Four perfectly suitable companions for the trip to Cherrygrove. And none of them were Lyra.

Aiden brushed Ethan's hand away. "What, are you waiting for your mother's permission or something? Perhaps you shouldn't be working with us if it takes you this long to get moving."

A moment of silence passed, and then the professor's aide disappeared behind some buildings. That interaction cycled through Ethan's mind as he walked home. He was moving too slow; if he messed up this opportunity, would Professor Elm give him another? "The moment comes and goes in a blink of an eye, and if you miss it, it may be gone forever," Elm had once said. Ethan shivered at the thought of messing up, so he moved with a little fire in his step.

He also had a brief interaction with Toby Mrances on his way back home. It wasn't much; the man gave him the evil eye as Ethan walked by. He always gave Ethan the evil eye whenever they crossed paths, an occurrence that Ethan still couldn't understand the reason behind.

As he walked through the front door of home, he noticed his mother wasn't inside. Perhaps she was still outside, tending to mareep shack. Or, what was left of it, at least. She had spent all morning disassembling the shelter. He dropped the bag of rice on the table and went upstairs to his room.

Ethan spent the next few hours lying on his bed thinking. He had Doresey's pokeball a few feet away – he could take it with him outside, show it to his mother, and say, "This is real, and this is how things are going to be." And that would be that. He was sure his mother would argue and beg, but at least he would air his intentions. Better to rip the bandage off quickly rather than slowly peel it away, and all that.

But, he found that he couldn't remove himself from his bed. It should be so simple; Cherrygrove was only a two day trip west at most. He wouldn't even be gone that long or be that far from home! But the thought of facing his mother, seeing the overt disapproval on her face, the welling of tears in her eyes, paralyzed him.

After some time, he heard a door slam shut downstairs. Ethan looked outside; it was getting dark. How long had he sat in bed thinking? He walked downstairs to find his mother standing in the doorway, wiping her boots on the entrance mat, all muddy and sweaty from outside.

"Do me a favor dear and fix up dinner for me. I need to wash myself." She walked into her bedroom and closed the door.

Obliging, Ethan lit the flame on the stovetop and started boiling the water for the rice. Separately, he took out the last of the salted mareep chops from the cupboard, and started cooking them on the stovetop next to the rice. And as he prepared dinner, he thought about what he would say when his mother sat down. He thought about how he would breach the topic as rice cooked and the chops sizzled.

And then Lily walked out from her bedroom, her gray hair dripping water. She smiled as she watched her son prepare dinner. "Thank you, Ethan," She said as she sat down. "It has been a long day."

Ethan's mind froze.Do it,he thought to himself.Say it now! Get it over with!Instead, he said: "It's been a long day for me, too."

They ate dinner, and Ethan managed to make small talk during the meal despite the turmoil raging in his head. At one point, concern etched his mother's face. "Is something wrong, Ethan?" Lily asked.

It was another opening for him to announce his plans, and yet he couldn't force himself to say what needed to be said. "No, I'm just tired is all," he said, shaking his head.

Soon after, dinner was finished and the table was cleared and they each went to their rooms. Ethan laid in his bed, sleep unable to come, feeling a failure. Why was it so hard for him to speak honestly? He told Lyra his intentions with no issue, and yet, like a coward, he couldn't face his own mother.

He had to admit that her life had been tough, and she tried her hardest to make Ethan's life easier. But, he found the pull of adventure alluring – even more, the fate of all of Johto, and even all of Nihon, possibly rested in his hands. I am leaving for a good reason, he reminded himself. For the betterment of the world. Yet, acting on it would crush his mother. Then again, Ethan didn't want to be smothered by his mother forever, regardless of her best intentions.

Damn it all, those circular thoughts were of no help. He needed to make a decision, and after a long sleepless night full of tossing and turning, Ethan knew what he must do.

It was the right choice, yet it still left a sinking feeling in his stomach.

It was still dark out when Ethan rose from his bed and grabbed his bags. He packed a spare shirt, pants, underwear, and socks, and then quietly walked downstairs and out the front door. Once outside, he paused a moment, listening if anything stirred inside the house. After a minute, he headed down the street towards town, heart full of sadness. The moon was low in the sky, but still shone brightly. He didn't understand why now, of all times, leaving home hurt so much. He had snuck out at night multiple times, usually to play with friends when he was younger and now to visit Professor Elm. But this time was different. Now it was real; he was really leaving home to actually go somewhere else. He had never done that before, not without his mother.

"I'll be home soon, mother," Ethan whispered. "Please forgive me."

Only the rustling of leaves in the wind answered him.

Pokeball Miasma: the stench that is associated with the red cloud has been described in many ways, none of them pleasant. Sulfuric is the most common, but other have described it as burning rubber or metal. Although miasma is often used to describe odor, it is now common to also use the term to describe the sight of the red cloud.

A/N: I just realized that the previous version of this chapter had some weird formatting glitch. Sorry for all of you that had to read it like that. My bad!

A/N 2: I made some grammatical fixes.

A/N 3: Just some more fixes.