Chapter 9

The child wakes frantic from its mother’s nightmares, looking up into a predawn sky framed by Titan’s wing. It feels the rise and fall of the charizard’s side beneath its head, listens to the counterpoint of Rats’ snoring. The raticate is a solid warmth curled against its side, and Togetic roosts not far away, between Titan’s shoulder blades. For a few minutes the child lies still, letting the presence of its friends calm it, but it can tell there’s no point trying to go back to sleep. Instead it gently moves Rats aside, then gets up and stretches. The raticate grumbles dozily and wiggles closer to Titan, and only Duskull, ever watchful, sees the child leave.

The cold shock of the water brings it to full wakefulness, and for awhile it hunts with eyes closed, following the tickling of movement against its skin, feeling for the sparking of frantic muscles darting through the still-dark ocean. Only after it’s sated its hunger and taken to lazy trolling for fish to bring back for the others does it have any thought for the day ahead. By the time it leaves the ocean, shedding gills and webbing as it goes, it’s ready to take up its burdens for the day.

The sun is rising as the child shrugs into its new skin and the clothes that go with it. It sits a while with the pokédex, reciting its litany.

You are Nathaniel Morgan. You’ve been a trainer for almost six years now. And how long a member of Team Rocket? You neither know nor care. What matters is that when you were twenty-two years old, you–lived. Unfortunately.

In the end Rats’ insistence drags you back into the moment, and you spit a few fish for her and bury them in the coals of last night’s fire. Titan devours his share in eager, blazing gulps. Meanwhile, the other you is still out cold in his sleeping bag. You give his mind a light flick, but it rings hollow as an empty cistern; he’s not dreaming at all.

You shove at his mind again, harder this time, and he wakes up choking, blinking around in confusion. “It is time for you to get up,” you say, and skin one of the blackened fish with a quick movement of claws. “Here is your breakfast. We will be leaving soon.”

Maybe he’s disoriented, or maybe still uneasy after last night’s conversation, but one way or another the human accepts the skewer without comment, moving slowly and gingerly. His hand is looking better this morning. The swelling’s gone down, though the injury’s still bruising up interesting greens and purples.

You forget about the great Nathaniel Morgan completely in the confusion of breaking camp, hands full with the usual tasks: get Togetic to stop teasing Duskull, put the ghost to work picking things up so he’ll stop hanging around looking bored, sort out who’s coming with you, who’s staying in their pokéballs.

“I think I’ll go on ahead,” Titan says, stretching his wings and neck and looking out over the ocean. “It’s been a while since I flew as far as I did yesterday. I liked it.”

“Sure, Titan.” You dig an item pouch out of your bag. “Here, I’ll give you some money so you can get something to eat. We probably won’t get there until the afternoon.”

No sooner has the charizard slipped the pouch around his neck and hurled himself into the air than Togetic starts demanding your attention, saying she wants to stay out with you today. You wouldn’t mind, but you doubt War will tolerate her for long. While you’re dealing with that, Rats gets into an argument with the tentacruel, who is waiting for you at the water’s edge, and they nearly come to blows before you notice and rush over to break them up. But in the end all is sorted, pokémon in pokéballs and supplies in pack. The Great Nathaniel Morgan, who dozed off sometime during the proceedings, is roused and prodded onto War’s bell again.

The exercise gives him his voice back, but you cut him off before he can really get going. “It is not even far to Cinnabar from here. You will be fine, unless you continue to bother me with your nonsense.”

“All I’m saying is, no more fucking stupid detour battles, okay? Give me a fucking break already.”

“I will battle if I want to,” you snap, mostly so he doesn’t think he’s getting his way. War sets a good pace, paddling along in a smooth, constant dance of tentacles, and truth be told you’re looking forward to reaching Cinnabar yourself. You won’t be able to challenge Blaine today, not with junior trainers to get through, but impatience drives you forward nonetheless.

So the journey passes unbroken either by fucking stupid detour battles or unwelcome comments from your guest, who looks every bit as queasy as yesterday and stays beautifully silent. It’s not until you’re both standing on Cinnabar’s beach that he finds the strength for conversation.

“Hey. Where the fuck’re you going?”

“The gym, of course. I will defeat the junior trainers and book a match for tomorrow if there is a spot open. Then I have preparations to make.”

“Sounds fucking boring. Look, can I just hang out by my fucking self for a while? You don’t want to put up with me, and I sure as hell don’t want to deal with your shit, neither.”

You open your mouth, ready to explain on no uncertain terms why he can’t and that he’d better not whine about it, either, when an idea occurs to you. And that’s how the human ends up shoved in a room at the pokémon center with Thunderstorm on guard under strict orders that the man shouldn’t be allowed near the phone, window, or most especially, door.

You’re grinning and refreshed from a day clear of the other great Nathaniel Morgan when you come barging back into the room to find Thunder hovering near its middle and the other you sleeping on the bed closer to the window. “And did he behave himself?” you ask the magneton.

Thunder throws off irritated sparks and says, “Yes. It was boring.”

“Sorry, Thunder. I won’t ask you to watch him again. Look, I brought you a present.” You hold up the new pokéball, and Thunder goes cross-eyed trying to get a look at it.

“What’s wrong with the old one?”

“It’s registered to your old trainer’s pokédex. I need to release you from the old pokéball and capture you again with this one so I can register you on mine.” You tap the device in question.

The magenton hums to itself for a few seconds, then says, “Yes. I suppose that makes sense.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. You just won’t be able to fight in the gyms. Or, I mean, you don’t have to let me catch you again at all, but…”

“No, no.” The words work their way around the periphery of the magneton’s body in dazzling little arcs of light. “It’s no problem. I was surprised, that’s all.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.” You bring the magneton’s pokéball out and pop it open. Inside, mirrors gleam like the facets of an insect’s eye.

Pokéballs, even cheap models like this, are built to last–but not against something like you. You seize the top of the ball in one hand and the bottom in the other and pull until the hinge gives way, then stab steel-reinforced claws through the protective shield inside each half, stirring metal and glass into a shredded tangle. Then you trap the remains between your palms, knit your fingers tight, and incinerate them with a sudden burst of heat. One of Thunderstorm’s eyes spins around to watch the slaggy lump sail into the wastebasket, but it makes no comment, and when you hold the new pokéball out to it, it doesn’t hesitate to bump one of its magnets against the button, disappearing in a flash of red light.

In a second it’s floating there again while you scan the pokéball and add Thunder to the Great Nathaniel Morgan’s account–your account. “Thanks, Thunder. You can take a break now if you want. We’re not really going to be doing anything until tomorrow.”

“Not that I’ll be doing anything tomorrow, either,” Thunderstorm muses in a low drone. “Unless you decide you really want to try your luck against Blaine.” The magneton drifts towards the small desk at the far end of the room, where a charging station bristles with ports of all sizes and shapes.

“No, I guess not. But you’ll get your turn against Blue, right?” you say as the magneton plugs the end of a magnet into one of the larger outlets.

“I hope.” Its voice trails off into nonsense static as electricity starts to flow, and Thunderstorm slumps into half-conscious repose, all but one eye sliding shut.

It only gets a few seconds’ peace and quiet; you release your other pokémon, and they fill the room right up, all chattering at one another, investigating the furniture, fiddling with the curtains.

“I liked my old pokéball,” Titan says wistfully, looking down at the new one clutched between his claws. “I had it since I was hatched.”

“Speak for yourself,” Rats grumbles as she scrambles onto the free bed. “I was looking forward to getting out of that grubby old thing. Which is why I said I wanted my new digs to be a luxury ball, huh?” She shoots you a meaningful look. “Luxury. But look, that? That’s pretty much the opposite of luxury.” She swipes at Titan’s new pokéball with her tail.

“I know, Rats.” You reach out and take the ball from Titan. “But like I told you, I don’t have enough money for one right now. I’ll buy you one after we beat Blaine tomorrow. Then I’ll have plenty of cash.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re poor and crap. And whose fault is that? Hey, loser!” She launches herself onto the other bed and lands with a gleeful bounce that wakes the Great Nathaniel Morgan immediately.

“Oh come on, Rats. He was being quiet.” The raticate sniggers and slides back to the floor, pursued by your glare as well as the human’s.

“Ugh. It’s like a fucking zoo in here,” the Great Nathaniel Morgan grunts, rubbing his eyes and blinking. He must have bathed while you were gone, and without all the dirt it’s much easier to see his remaining injuries, the cut across his nose standing out red and livid.

“Hey! Who’s hungry?” Rats scurries past on her way to the door.

“Rats…”

“Food! Food! Yay!” Togetic is after her in a moment, twirling enthusiastic circles.

“I wouldn’t mind something,” Titan admits, offering you a sheepish grin. You sigh and dig out the remains of your petty cash. “All right, Titan. Here. That should be enough for all of you to get something,” you say, handing him a few bills. It’s a good thing real meals are free.

“Hey, come on, what’s this?” Rats says as Titan crumples the money between his claws. “Where’s the goods? Where’s the dex?”

“I’m not paying for you to buy out the whole machine again, Rats.”

“Ah, come on. You know it was awesome!” She snickers and shoots out the door with Togetic on her heels, yelling for Titan to keep up as he lumbers along in their wake. The door slams shut behind them, leaving you in abrupt silence. It can’t last.

“Where the fuck is that lot going?”

“Vending machine.” You shuffle morosely through the last few bills in your wallet. “I wanted to buy them something nicer to eat, but after paying for supplies I did not have enough left. Why did you have so little money?”

He’d been staring at the door, but now he turns to look at you, very slowly.”Why did I have so little money? As in used to?”

“Yes. In your trainer account. Obviously Team Rocket took everything in your pockets, but–”

“Are you telling me that you’ve been fucking using my money to buy shit?”

“I was. Until it ran out.”

“It–you–” You watch with interest as his face reddens, and he clutches helplessly at the air. Finally he manages to choke out, “You spent all my fucking dough? All of it? And now you have the fucking nerve to ask why I didn’t have more for you to steal?”

“It was not stealing.”

“Like hell it wasn’t stealing! That’s what you fucking call it when you take someone else’s money without asking!” He actually stands up, good hand clenched into a fist, and you take a step forward, making yourself just the tiniest bit taller as you do. “Where the fuck do you get off?” he snarls. “Why the fuck would you–?”

“It was ill-gotten, was it not?” It takes him a second to register what you said. He frowns and leans back a bit, staring at you in confusion. “The money. You got it as the result of some illegal activity, am I right?”

“You–what? What the fuck does–well, yeah, but–”

“So you stole the money from somebody else in the first place. Stealing is bad, so you should not have gotten it at all. The right thing to do would be to give it back to whoever you took it from, but I do not know who they are and have no way to find them even if I did. But at the least you should not be allowed to benefit from it, so I used it instead. It was the right thing to do.”

“What? What the fuck are you even talking about? That’s the most fucking–” He breaks off with a shake of his head, then stares at you for a moment, teeth bared in a grimace. “So that’s how the fuck it works, huh?” He snarls at last. “Let’s see if I’ve got this all fucking sorted out. Your stupid little plan is to drag me around for however fucking long, leave me alone some place, without my pokémon, without any supplies, and without any fucking money?” He counts them off on his fingers as he goes, glaring at you all the while.

“Well, not ‘some place,’ Indigo Plateau, but–”

“Oh, right! Very fucking nice! So some tourist deathtrap in the middle of the fucking mountains, surrounded by the most fucking dangerous monsters in the entire goddamned region? That’s your fucking idea of the right thing to do?”

You frown at him. “Yes. I do not know why you are getting angry at me about it. I am being generous by not turning you over to the police as soon as I can. This is your fault. If you had not decided to be a criminal, you could have avoided all this.”

“Oh my God. How the fuck do you even fucking exist?” All the anger’s gone out of him, and he winces a bit as he slumps back down on the bed. “Just fucking kill me now and save me the pain and humiliation, Jesus.”

You frown down at him as he stares at the carpet, running one hand back and forth over his bare scalp. “Well?”

He gives you a tired look, then says, finally, “Well what?”

“So why did you have so little money?”

He clenches his fist again and turns away from you. “I dunno, maybe because being a Rocket grunt is only one step up from flipping burgers? The fuck did you think?”

“I thought stealing stuff would pay better. I thought that was the point.”

“Yeah, you think a lot of stupid shit, don’t you?”

“You are the stupid one.”

He shakes his head and goes back to staring at the carpet, and in the quiet you can hear Duskull chuckling to himself as he bobs in circles overhead. Satisfied, you flop onto the free bed and scrabble the remote off the nightstand.

You flip on the TV and bring up the guide channel, watching hungrily as the listing scrolls up the screen. It’s been two whole days since you’ve been able to watch anything–you’ve missed so much! Let’s see, it’s Wednesday, going on six… Too late for cartoons. There’s always the news, of course, but oh, that channel is halfway through Castelia Summertimes. And meanwhile, the guide itself is playing a trailer for some kind of action movie…

“What the fuck are you doing?”

You blink, then turn a glare on the Great Nathaniel Morgan. You’d almost forgotten he was there. “I am watching television. Obviously.”

“No you ain’t. You’re watching a bunch of fucking words go by.”

“Fine. Then that is what I am doing.”

The human’s laid back down and dragged a pillow over his head, and his words come out half-muffled. “You’ve been sitting there for like five fucking minutes. Just pick something, for God’s sake.”

“Why do you care what I watch?” But any answer he might have is cut off as the door flies open and the room is filled with the jabber of your returning pokémon, Togetic at the fore. She shoots up in front of your face, waving a bag of fruit candies at you.

“Yes, very nice, Togetic,” you say, but she’s already on her way, whirling around Duskull in teasing arcs until the ghost drifts off to resentfully haunt the alarm clock.

“I got you some cookies,” Titan says shyly, holding out a bag.

“Just lemme know if you don’t want ’em. I’d be happy to take ’em off your hands.” Rats must have already eaten whatever she purchased. She hops onto your bed and makes a beeline for the headboard, curling up amongst the pillows.

“Thanks, Titan,” you say, and take the snack. “Thank you, Rats, but I’ll be fine.”

The charizard grins and trots around to the other bed, holding out another package of cookies for the Great Nathaniel Morgan. The Rocket just stares at him.

“He got you food. Take it.” You can’t keep the disapproval out of your voice, but Titan doesn’t notice. He smiles when the Great Nathaniel Morgan takes the bag, then wanders off and starts in on his danish.

Togetic demands you let her watch something, and after a bit of surfing around you find a channel showing Tiara the Trainer reruns. “It’s spelling!” Togetic chirps as though she can’t even imagine a more exciting prospect. Most cartoons are too much for Togetic–she can’t handle bad people, even the mild sorts of bullies seen on most children’s programs–but she’s more than happy to settle in, eat her candy, and learn how to spell “Silph Company” with Tiara.

“Human words are so funny!” Togetic says with her mouth full. “How come they keep working even when there’s nobody around to say them?”

“I don’t know, Togetic.” It is a strange thing, but you’re feeling too lazy to think about it right now. You half-watch the TV with Togetic as Tiara is replaced by some sort of science programming about research at the Oak Pokémon Laboratory. Titan leans in to watch this one too.

Lulled by boredom and cheerful fatigue, you pay less attention to Togetic than you should. You don’t notice her fiddling with her empty wrapper, fidgeting and humming to herself. You jerk out of your stupor only when, during an innocuous commercial break, Togetic shoots into the air, squirming and bouncing with boisterous energy. “Why is everybody being so boring? Come on, let’s play!”

“Togetic, I don’t think now is a very good time–”

But it’s too late. Togetic dives and drags the pillow next to Rats into the air, the normal-type herself raising her head sleepily. “Come on! Pillow fight!” Togetic chirps.

Titan, who is watching the proceedings with bald confusion, snorts and jerks his head back as the pillow hits him in the snout. Togetic is beside herself with cackling delight, and you can’t help but smile despite your exasperation. “Not now, Togetic. We’re trying to rest before the gym battle tomorrow. Why don’t you–?”

Your perfectly reasonable suggestion is cut off when the pillow comes down squarely atop your head. Titan gives you a sheepish grin as he twists the squashy weapon between his claws. “Umm. Defend yourself?”

And of course there’s no way you can turn down a challenge like that. “Hey. Hey! What are you doing?” Rats yelps as there is a sudden rush towards the headboard to claim a weapon. “No! Leggo!” She clings hard to the pillow she’s been sleeping on as Togetic tries to fly off with it. Moments later she joins the fray herself, laying about with a bit more force than strictly necessary.

Blows are traded and battle cries yelled, and after a few minutes you’re lying sprawled on your back, laughing uncontrollably, with Rats and Titan collapsed in giggling heaps nearby. Togetic perches on the headboard, wracked with laughter. A fine drift of feathers fills the air from a pillow that caught on one of Rats’ incisors.

The moment stretches long as you float on a wave of exhilaration. Then, “Jesus fucking Christ. What the hell was that?”

You tip your head back until you can see the Great Nathaniel Morgan and grin at him upside-down. “What the fuck is wrong with you? How old are you, fucking five?” He’s pulled himself into a sitting position, one hand braced against the headboard, like he wants to be ready to move on short notice.

“No. Eight.” You roll onto your stomach and flop your arms over the edge of the bed. “Or twenty. It depends on how you count.”

“God-fucking-dammit. It depends on how you count? Why the fuck can’t you answer a goddamn question like a normal person?”

You’re feeling too good to do more than laugh at his rudeness. “I used to be twelve. Then I died. And now I am eight. So. Eight or twenty.”

He rolls his eyes. “Ugh. Forget I even fucking asked. Fine. We’ll go with eight, because you sure as hell don’t act twenty. Eight with fucking mental problems.” He grimaces. “Whatever. But could you lay off the nutcase shit already? It’s creepy as fuck seeing me bounce around like a fucking retard.”

You stick your tongue out at him, and he glowers. “I cannot help it that grownups are boring. If you do not like it, do not watch.”

“I can’t fucking believe it. I’m getting pushed around by a fucking elementary school kid.” His brows draw down together as he frowns. “That explains a lot, actually.”

You sit up and investigate the torn pillow, which puffs more feathers into the air when you slap your palm onto it. You toss it at the Great Nathaniel Morgan out of lazy curiosity. He manages to get an arm up and swat it out of the air, but not without a wince of discomfort, his movements stiff and jerky.

“Fuck off already. God, I never thought I’d say it, but I think I prefer you when you’re all pissed off and breathing fire and shit. Now you’re just being fucking annoying.”

You smile and bounce a little on the bed, eliciting a grumbled complaint from Rats. “You are just jealous because you are old and soon you are going to get all wrinkly and die.”

He stares at you. “What the fuck. And you’re not?”

“Nope!” Bounce, bounce. “At least Absol does not think so. Since I never get any bigger and my mother does not, either. And she’s been around a long time. Longer than, than Professor Oak, even. And he’s old!”

The Great Nathaniel Morgan doesn’t act suitably impressed. In fact, he’s not even looking at you as he mutters, “So, what? You’re going to be like… that… forever?” He waves a hand vaguely in your direction.

“Yup!” He’s so slow.

“Huh.” To your annoyance, all he does after that is stare at his knees for a while.

“Jealous,” you conclude. The pillow fight’s ironed the last of the energy out of your team, everyone but Togetic, and even she settles down after a vigorous bout of tickling. Then you can put on an old kung-fu flick while she sleeps atop the television. But while everyone else drifts off you’re up late, late, late, past the comedy shows you don’t understand and into the realm of reruns and ads for sleeping pills and counseling. Your eyes ache and your head feels heavy and filled with sludge, but you can’t calm down–not that you really want to.

After all, you have a gym battle tomorrow! You’ll win your first badge, you’ll get your prize money, and you’ll be on your way to Viridian City. And you’ll prove to the Great Nathaniel Morgan what a good trainer you are. If he’s not jealous, he should be. Because you’re awesome.

---

And that next day, standing in Cinnabar Gym’s main arena, you’re not even tired. How could you be? You can hear your heart hammering even over the roar of the crowd as you stand in the glare of sunlight shining down through the gym’s open roof. Once, challengers would have stared up at the walls of a caldera, stood suspended over a pool of lava pumped up from the volcano’s heart. The new gym is at the foot of the mountain, and now Blaine only aspires to the illusion of fighting at its summit. Maybe even he has grown wary of the volcano’s temper.

It’s less impressive than you’d expected, as is the ardor of your fans. The stands are largely empty, holding just a scattered collection of family and friends of other trainers who will be battling today, maybe a couple hopefuls scouting Blaine’s strategies. They didn’t come here to see you, sure. But by the time they leave they’ll know there’s a hot new trainer to watch for at the Plateau, real champion material come out of nowhere. You grin up at your audience and shade your eyes with your hand.

At least a couple of people are interested in your battle. Togetic is beside herself with excitement, bouncing up and down on the bench, and when she catches your eye she waves so hard she nearly overbalances and falls off. The red glow of Duskull’s attention is trained square on the arena, drifting neither left nor right, and Thunderstorm watches with all three of its eyes. The Great Nathaniel Morgan is sitting on the very far end of the same bench, leaning so far away from your pokémon that he looks like he’s going to tip over sideways any second, but he, too, is watching.

You wave back to Togetic, then turn to your opponent. Blaine waits on the far side of the arena, leaning on his cane and grinning at you from the shade of his hat. “Well, then,” he says. “How about we get started?”

There’s a pokéball in his hand now and one in yours, too, and before you can even think about what’s happening they’re in the air, the pokémon taking shape on the field.

War balances on the jagged points of his beak, his tentacles taut with the effort of holding up his bell. He raises a couple of them, holding them at the ready as he stares down the rapidash Blaine’s sent into the fray.

“Challenger moves first,” says Blaine, and you start, realizing you’ve been staring and leaving the pokémon to wait.

“Use hydro pump.”

“Agility, Rapidash.” There’s laughter in the gym leader’s voice.

A second later a thick column of water gushes against the energy shield that separates Blaine from the arena. He would’ve been a goner without it, smashed against the far wall like a bug. But the shield’s there, rippling with blue light as it dissipates the force of the attack. It’s the rapidash that isn’t, his hooves clattering a rapid-fire beat as he darts around the hydro pump and accelerates to be so fast even your eyes have trouble keeping up.

“Now double-edge. You know how this works,” Blaine says. Before you can even open your mouth, War is sent skidding across the floor, tentacles flailing and slapping at the ground as he tries to stop himself. Rapidash canters away, waiting for his next order.

“Good. Now double team.”

Rapidash flies around the arena, chased by flickering afterimages, while War labors to right himself, dragging his bell, heavy and sagging without any water to support it, off the ground.

“Just hit him with surf,” you say. The rapidash can’t dodge forever, and once War gets him with a couple good attacks he won’t be so ridiculously fast. No reason to worry.

But even as War coils and twists his tentacles in complicated patterns, calling up water, Blaine says, “Not so fast. Give it a good bounce, Rapidash.”

The fire-type’s hindquarters bunch, and he hurls himself into the air just seconds before pipes under the arena burst open and a sheet of water comes jetting out of the floor. War sends the improvised tidal wave surging upwards, but it can’t catch the Rapidash, who soars on, impossibly high, trailed by a herd of illusory comrades.

The surf attack crests, then comes crashing down over the arena, followed by Rapidash, who lands on War’s bell hard enough to drive the tentacruel’s beak a hand-span into the packed clay of the floor.

“Now, War! Quick, use–” The tentacruel isn’t listening. The springiness of his bell sends the rapidash bouncing up again, but War strikes out with his tentacles, snaring limbs and pulling his opponent back down. The rapidash bucks and struggles and tears himself free, but the graceful arc of his leap is broken and his clones flicker and die, now that War’s managed to find his real opponent. The tentacruel’s tentacles have taken off long strips of skin, and lines of swelling mark the path of War’s stinging touch. The rapidash stands out of War’s reach for a moment, bleeding and catching his breath.

Meanwhile, War strains frantically with his tentacles, trying to wrench his beak out of the ground. “Great. Stay out of sight, Rapidash. Hit it with stomp until it goes down.”

“Quit struggling, War! Just use surf.” He can hit with that even if he can’t see the rapidash.

The tentacruel begins gathering the attack, puddles left by the previous surf merging and flowing towards the center of the field, but Blaine says, “Bounce, then, Rapidash. Just stay out of the way.”

Again War sends a tidal wave roaring up, the wall of water wrenching him free of the floor at last as it carries him high above the arena. And again the rapidash jumps, sailing clear over the reaching wave and leaving the surf attack to collapse across an empty field.

Rapidash is still rising, but any moment now he’ll reach the top of his arc and start to plummet. “Quick! Grab it when it lands, like before. Wrap. Use wrap!”

“Overheat.”

The rapidash falls, mane and tail streaming out behind and legs braced for impact. This time he lands in a nest of waiting, upraised tentacles that snap taut around his body even as his hooves drive War’s beak into the floor a second time.

You can’t even see the rapidash anymore, his body completely wrapped in War’s tentacles. But even as you start to relax and consider how best to finish this, the tentacruel lets out a shrieking curse and starts unwinding his tentacles as fast as he can. Light streams between them, and the rapidash slowly reappears, glowing white-hot. He jumps down from atop War’s bell and gives himself a contemptuous shake, sending off a final wave of heat that flashes the puddles beneath his hooves to steam.

War is cursing fluently now, slapping singed tentacles into puddles and trying to drag his beak free with angry strength. The rapidash lashes out backwards with a hoof, nearly knocking the tentacruel over on his face. At least the power of the attack snaps half War’s beak free, and he pulls the other half out with a loud crack, rounding as fast as he can on clumsy tentacles and sending a water pulse at his opponent.

Rapidash sidesteps, not at all to your surprise, but his movements are sensitive now, ginger. His sides heave from exertion, and he sweats and shivers where he stands. War must have poisoned him earlier, and now at last the spring’s gone out of his step.

“Come on, War. One more surf!”

“Get on top of it and stay there,” Blaine counters. He’s noticed too, then. No more bouncing.

The water on the arena floor ripples and trembles, then rises to War’s call. The rapidash jumps onto the tentacruel’s bell, and as the wave takes shape, buoying both pokémon up, War tries to lash a few tentacles around his opponent’s legs.

The fire-type gives an angry whinny and kicks off, evading the tentacruel’s attack as he soars into the air. This time, though, his jump isn’t as powerful; it can’t carry him high enough to escape the rising water. Rapidash sees what’s going to happen a second before it does, and his cry of distress is cut off by a boom of water flashing into steam as the wave catches up with him, pulling him down with it as it crashes back to earth. The rapidash is nearly washed out of the arena as the wave spreads and drains away, coming to rest on his side with his mane and tail reduced to guttering flickers. Blaine recalls him without even waiting for the referee’s verdict. “Good work, Rapidash. Now, Arcanine, finish it off.”

You should be celebrating. You have the lead, after all. To win, you just need to hold it. But you’d expected War to carry you all the way through the battle, and he’s barely upright, sagging and bruised. You will win, of course. Your pokémon are the best, and you’re the best, but this is turning out more difficult than you’d expected.

“Arcanine, start with wild charge.”

“Hydro pump,” you say reflexively. There’s no time to wonder if you should have made a different move; the arcanine is already charging forward, splashing heedlessly through puddles with sparks crackling in his thick fur. War’s moving, too, raising his heavy bell and aligning himself with his opponent.

The hydro pump is a direct hit–but the arcanine charges right through as though it weren’t there, slamming into War and toppling him over in a twitching heap.

The tentacruel tries to pull himself upright again, slapping at the floor with spasming tentacles, but after a few seconds he falls back, exhausted, and lies like a deflated balloon. The referee declares him out of the fight.

The arcanine turns and walks back towards Blaine, flicking water from his tail as he goes. You recall War and stand there at a loss for what to do next.

“You didn’t really come in here thinking you could sweep me with a water-type, did you?” Blaine says with a laugh. A laugh. He’s laughing at you, like you’re some pathetic newbie trainer who doesn’t even know their type chart. “What kind of gym leader would I be? You’ll need to do better than that if you want a badge!”

What kind of gym leader would he be? Maybe not the kind who only beat War because he spent most of the battle running away.

Your face feels hot, and it’s all you can do not to sprout talons and fangs and show the old man what he’s really dealing with. Nobody laughs at you like that. Nobody.

But not here. You can’t–not with people watching. All you have to do is win this battle. That’ll show him. It will be enough. More than enough. You squeeze Rats’ new pokéball extra hard to relieve some of your irritation, then cast it to the floor. “Come on, Rats. Let’s go!”

The raticate shakes the last sparks of energy from her fur and glances around the arena. “Oh, so War’s not getting all the fun, then?” she says. “Nice. Too bad he can’t stick around to watch how it’s done!”

The arcanine on Blaine’s side of the field crouches in a ready stance, while Rats remains relaxed and unconcerned, looking around with casual interest. “Could ask for a bit of air conditioning or something, but hey, it’s not so bad. No lava or open flames or nothing. Damper than I expected, too.”

You watch the referee with hungry intensity, Rats chattering away just below your notice. The very instant the flags drop you’re ready to blurt out, “Quick attack!”

“Extreme speed.”

Rats blurs out into a long streak of motion, but an instant later the arcanine simply vanishes. Rats skids to a halt, glancing around an arena suddenly alive with furious splashes. Bursts of water leap from puddles on all sides, the arcanine moving so fast that he seems to be racing through all of them at once. Then the fire-type snaps back into view when he collides with Rats, slamming to a halt in a feat of impossible deceleration while Rats goes bouncing and rolling away across the arena.

“Keep her at a distance, Arcanine. Flamethrower.”

The arcanine roars out a long cone of fire, and Rats rolls sideways to avoid it, then drops flat on her stomach to dodge another.

“Get in close and use bite, Rats,” you say. The arcanine’s flamethrowers are powerful, but Rats doesn’t have any problem dodging them. She weaves ever closer, skipping easily around gushes of fire, until–“Extreme speed!”–Arcanine disappears, and Rats pounces on empty air. She spins around, spitting curses, but can’t get her bearings before she’s engulfed in flames, the attack coming even before the command, “Another flamethrower, Arcanine. Keep it up.”

“Rats!” She rolls frantically on the ground, trying to put out the fire, but has to stop and leap away lest she get hit with even more fire. The air fills with the sour smell of burning fur. And you? You’re starting to panic.

The arcanine is too fast. He’s too fast and Rats can’t even hit him without getting close. She’s going to get tired of dodging before the arcanine runs out of fire. If she can’t hit, she can’t win, and if she doesn’t win then all the rest is up to Titan. Titan is strong, but–no, you have to win. You aren’t going to lose. Master trainers don’t lose.

“A little help here, Boss?” Rats darts away from another burst of fire, but her movements are pained, her skin mottled red and white in patches of burnt-off fur. The twang of panic in her voice sets your heart racing. You open your mouth but can say nothing because the only words in your head are What if I can’t win?

But wait. Wait, this is stupid. You close your eyes half a second, make a change you can’t feel. When you open them again there is nothing but a raticate and an arcanine on the field in front of you, fighting. You look and struggle for a moment to remember, and then the way is obvious.

“Rats, use sucker punch.” She’s coming up out of another roll, and the moment her back paws hit the floor she’s gone, no more than a flash of shadow as she tears across the arena. The arcanine tries to move, too, but he’s already started to gather fire for another flamethrower, and he can’t concentrate on an extreme speed at the same time. Rats is there even as his muscles start to tense, and the arcanine takes a punch to the gut that has him inhaling his nascent flamethrower, then hacking up smoke and little bursts of flame.

“Bite him and hold on.”

The arcanine roars as four-inch fangs lock in his stomach, and he drops into a roll, trying to throw Rats off, trying to aim a flamethrower into his belly. “Overheat now, overheat!” Blaine says, and for a moment you’re thrown by something in his voice, some emotion you don’t recognize.

You shake it off. Whatever the gym leader’s feeling, you don’t care. “Super fang.”

The air around the arcanine starts to ripple with heat, but Rats just closes her eyes and holds on tight. Her own fangs start to glow, red then yellow then white, and she bites down harder. The arcanine squeals and rolls over again, kicking madly at Rats. She’s yelling while she chews, scissoring her teeth deeper and deeper into the arcanine’s flesh even as the fire-type starts glowing himself, like an igniting star.

And then, suddenly, it’s over. Rats tumbles free, screeching breathlessly with pain, and the arcanine curls in over his gushing wound, spitting fire blindly. Rats’ fur is alight, up in flames just from contact with the blazing arcanine, but somehow she still feels his attacks, still tries to crawl away from them.

She can’t. She collapses. The arena is loud with the arcanine’s strangled panting.

Just like that, you’re down against the gym leader. You don’t think more on it, just recall Rats and pull Titan’s pokéball off your belt.

The charizard takes shape, craning his neck around as he takes in the arena. Blaine speaks. “Oh ho ho! Fighting fire with fire, are we?” Your eyes flick away from the battlefield to the human standing just beyond. That noise he’s making. Laughter? Why?

It doesn’t matter. You look back to the battle.

Titan is standing poised with his wings half-spread, staring down the arcanine. The other fire-type has managed to pull himself into a sitting position, but the thin layer of water spreading from still-gushing pipes is dark with feathery tendrils of blood. Arcanine won’t be doing any more running this match.

That doesn’t mean he isn’t dangerous, of course. You need Titan to finish this quickly, so he has as much strength left as possible for Blaine’s magmar.

“Keep your distance, Titan. Use dragon rage.”

“Dragon pulse.”

Titan circles the arcanine, his tail flame dancing with streaks of turquoise while he spews wave after wave of blue-green fire at his immobilized opponent. But though the arcanine’s face is contorted in pain and he turns slowly, barely able to keep up with Titan’s steady movement, he does not hesitate to launch his own attacks. Titan is forced to duck around the arcanine’s blue-glowing globes of energy, once needing an awkward hop and flutter of wings to get away in time.

Finally Titan slips up, and a dragon pulse catches him in the side, bursting with concussive force and knocking him backwards with a sharp “oof!” You frown. The arcanine’s on his last legs, fur smoldering from the dragonfire and his movements ever slower and more pained. But dragon rage is simply taking too long to do its work, and Titan’s getting tired out as well. You need to end this.

“Titan, get in close and finish him with slash.”

“Got it!” The charizard ducks under a dragon pulse, then charges before the arcanine can launch another. Arcanine pokémon roars in pain as Titan lays open a long gash across his shoulder, but even as the charizard turns to deliver another blow, the arcanine sinks his teeth into Titan’s side.

“Thunder fang!” Titan jerks back, and now it’s his turn to roar as electricity snaps through his body, his muscles shivering out of control. But then he lashes out again, smacking his opponent across the face with his tail.

Arcanine rocks back from the force of the blow and teeters a moment, gasping for breath. Then finally he concedes, slumping to the floor in an exhausted heap. Titan straightens up and fusses with the wound on his side while Blaine recalls the arcanine, cauterizing it with delicate little bursts of flame.

“Good work, Titan.” He flashes a grin at you over his shoulder, then turns at the sound of an opening pokéball. Blaine’s magmar stands at the far side of the arena, inspecting Titan with a critical eye.

“Let’s get this over with,” she says in a bored tone, cracking her knuckles while she waits for her first command. Titan leans forward and lets out a deep growl, the flame on his tail leaping and dancing.

Charizard versus magmar. You hadn’t expected it to come down to this, or not as far as you can remember. It’s fitting, though. You know exactly what move to use here. You taught it to Titan yourself not long ago, while you raced each other through the sky above your island home. “Titan,” you say, “seismic toss.”

The charizard launches himself forward with a kick of his wings, angling up over a flamethrower from the magmar, then swoops down on her with claws spread wide. She tries to slip away, but Titan grabs her, pinning her arms behind her back and hauling her into the sky.

The open ceiling is working against Blaine now as Titan soars ever higher, to scattered applause from the audience. You keep your eyes trained on the battle while Titan does loop-the-loops far overhead, building momentum.

It’s only when the charizard comes shooting down again, diving straight at the ground, that Blaine gives his command. “Magmar, use thunder punch.”

Without your enhanced vision, it would have been too quick for you to see. Magmar wrenches her tail around, shoving it in Titan’s face. The charizard jerks his head away, closing his eyes, and the clean line of his dive is broken. In his moment of surprise Magmar manages to get an arm free, then lands a thunder punch square in the charizard’s stomach.

Titan lets go completely now, twisting in pain, and the magmar shoves her way free of him. She rolls as she lands and comes up in a crouch while Titan crashes to the ground behind her in a mess of flailing limbs. The applause is now much, much louder.

“Fan of Red, eh?” Blaine asks while Magmar straightens up. “Ever since he came through here I can’t tell you how many people’ve tried to pull that stunt on us. Better luck next time! Magmar, confuse ray!”

Magmar snaps around to face Titan, who has only just sorted out his appendages and is getting to his feet. She spreads her hands, a flurry of golden lights dancing between them, and as Titan turns to look, she releases them in a humming cloud.

Titan raises his claws as the attack whirrs towards him, peering uncertainly at the little glowing specks. They circle his head in a nauseating swirl, dancing in an intricate pattern perhaps only Magmar can appreciate. And then, as one, they wink out. Titan wheezes and lurches to the side, shaking his head.

“Titan. Titan! Come on, snap out of it. Use slash.” The charizard looks left and right as though wondering where your voice is coming from. His eyes are wide and unfocused, and when he tries to take a step forward he trips, hammering his wings to keep himself upright.

“Thunder punch.” Magmar walks forward, unhurried, arms at her sides. She stops squarely in front of Titan while the charizard looks everywhere but at her, moving his head in short, jerky bursts and puffing out perplexed little clouds of smoke. The magmar stands there for a moment, watching, then lashes out with a punch that catches Titan square on the jaw.

“Come on, Titan. She is right there. Get her with slash.” The charizard tips backward, wings flapping as he tries to right himself, and Magmar sends another punch into his exposed gut. Titan thrashes around in a lopsided circle, striking out at random and ignoring your every attempt to get his attention. A wing slaps Magmar across the face purely by chance, and she falls back, trying to stay out of the charizard’s way, only darting in with a punch when she has a clear shot.

There’s nothing you can do. It’s only when a fortuitous punch jars something in Titan’s head, knocks him far enough askew to turn him the right way round again, that he comes to his senses. The charizard lets out a roar of frustration and pain, but then his eyes focus, finally, on the magmar, and she takes a step back as she realizes it at the same time you do: the charizard’s back in business.

Titan lunges at his opponent with an angry shriek. Magmar fights to get away as he tears into her with claws, teeth, wings, attacking in a mad flurry of blows. “Go on, Titan. Use rage.” You doubt he’s actually paying attention to you, but you might as well throw a command out there for the look of the thing.

“Another confuse ray.” Magmar has her hands up over her head, trying to fend Titan off with one lightning-crackling fist while shielding herself with the other arm. The charizard’s still forcing her back, shrugging off her punches. If anything, they’re making his advance more furious. Now the magmar stops punching, splaying her claws and scattering golden lights.

Titan rears up, screaming outrage as the confuse ray engulfs his head. This time Magmar rushes to get away, not even looking for an opening to attack. She hovers at a safe distance, her expression neutral but her fists raised. Her flame-licked body shows little sign of injury, but you can see the droop in her tail and the tension in her muscles as she works to keep herself steady. She’s not going to last much longer–but unfortunately, she’s in better shape than Titan.

The charizard staggers to and fro, clawing and biting at nothing, roaring out angry bursts of fire. He doesn’t notice his injuries, doesn’t seem to care when he goes after his own wing with his claws or gets his tail tangled in his legs. Magmar follows his weaving progress, waiting for him to fall, maybe, or simply run out of steam so she can rush in and finish him off.

But the charizard’s erratic movements are hard to predict, and a sudden lunge sends Magmar skipping back, then scrambling, then turning to flee when Titan doesn’t stop coming in her direction, propelled by momentum, or blind luck, or some fragmented sense that he’s found his opponent as last. He crashes into Magmar, and the two of them go down in a struggling heap. You and Blaine are both yelling commands, but it’s no good; the pokémon are deaf in their panic.

Titan struggles simply to rise, though his reaching claws and flailing wings do plenty of damage to his trapped opponent. The magmar, crushed by his weight, doesn’t have the leverage for a proper punch, but she’s laying to with sparking claws and gouts of flame. Every time it looks like Titan’s going to make it up, she manages to get under his feet or land an attack that knocks him off-balance, sending him crashing back to the floor.

The undignified tangle goes on until Titan comes to his senses again, and finally the pokémon extricate themselves, Magmar backing away in weary alertness while Titan stands where he is, huffing to regain his breath. His tail flame blazes high–too high. He’s starting to lose control of his fire. It won’t be long before the strain gets to be too much and he simply collapses.

Titan lets out another bellow and charges, bloodied jaws wide. “Seismic toss, Titan. Get her away from you.”

Maybe he’s actually listening to you. Maybe he just intended to do it anyway. Either way, he swats aside Magmar’s punch and grabs her, hoisting her over his head. No fancy aerial stunts this time–there’s no way he’s getting airborne on his shredded wings. He simply throws Magmar as hard as he can, sending her skidding across the floor.

“Now fire blast. Don’t let her get close.” The magmar can respond with fire of her own, but she won’t be able to match Titan’s power, not while he’s blazing up like this.

No sooner has Magmar gotten back to her feet than she’s knocked down by a huge, five-pointed star of flame. “One last thunder punch, Magmar. You can do it,” says Blaine.

Magmar rises to her knees and braces herself, head lowered, arms raised, letting another fire blast break against her and dissipate. Then she’s up and running, rushing straight into another unfolding fire blast. She skirts around it at the last second, keeps coming.

“Stop her, Titan. Dragon rage.” The magmar’s close now, one fist alive with lightning, and she takes the burst of dragon-fire right in the face. She stops only a moment, shaking her head, but Titan is following in the dragon rage’s wake and snatches her in his jaws. He lifts Magmar straight off the floor and shakes her, then throws her to the ground and goes at her with his claws. Then the magmar glows red, brilliant laser-red, and is gone. It’s over.

The referee’s announcement is drowned out by a furious roar from Titan. He flexes empty claws and glares around the arena, which is very definitely empty of magmar. His eyes settle on Blaine instead.

The charizard sets off in a stomping run, head low and neck extended, wings scooping at the air to give him extra speed. He roars a challenge at the puny creature standing so boldly in his way. A moment later, his pokéball’s beam finds him. “Return, Titan.”

“Now that’s a fiery charizard you have there,” Blaine says, with another of those absurd laughs. You’re barely listening. The battle is over now. The least you can do is let yourself enjoy it.

You close your eyes in another too-long blink, then flinch, disoriented as the noise of the crowd hits your new awareness. Then it all comes back to you and your heartbeat surges as you realize what you’ve done, what you’ve finally accomplished. Now you raise your arms and laugh in delight, and Togetic, unable to contain herself, fairly rockets down out of the stands.

You forget to pay attention to Blaine’s post-battle speech, lost in the ardor of victory. Togetic flies rings around you, babbling delight and pulling a sparkling contrail of joy dust behind her. The applause is scattered, polite, but it doesn’t matter. You hear behind it the roar of filled stands, the fathomless capacity of Indigo Stadium. Soon, now. You’re finally on your way. You’ll find your brother. You’ll save your mother. And you’ll be standing in that victor’s ring in Indigo Stadium, listening to the whole world cheer for you. It’s only a matter of time.