March Hare (A Pokémon Fanfiction) - 3.7 Foundation

May

 

I almost can’t believe Maylene went along with this.

Across from me stands Raphael’s partner Croagunk, my other choice for teammate in fourth-badge matches back in January; now my opponent in the semifinals of the Veilstone Gym Showcase Tournament. The semifinals.

In no other year could I have hoped to make it this far, but this year—for the first time—the Gym introduced a Little Cup division, unevolved Pokémon only; all it took was Luca’s enthusiasm and a decent pitch on my part. In theory, it allows the recently recruited Gym Pokémon for the next year to see what they can achieve by training here, even without evolution. In practice, it almost guarantees that either Luca or I will make it to the finals. The televised finals.

With Luca’s victory in the other semifinal, all I have to do to ensure our team wins tomorrow is beat Croagunk.

Maylene agreed to give us our debut. It’s up to us to make it count.

“Planning on evolving too?” Croagunk asks. Her head nudges in the direction of the newly-caught group of Machop at the side of our ring, a few grabbing the ropes as if to jump in before being thumped in the head by the resident babysitter Machoke. “Give them the full show? We already got a Machoke swinging dong before Helen managed to put the panties on him.” Croaking chuckles vibrate the poison-sacs on the frog’s cheeks.

The evolution in the middle of Luca’s match was pretty entertaining… especially watching him flail aimlessly as Helen paused the match.

“Even if one of us did, we’re not exactly… equipped to match him.”

Croagunk’s grin widens, and her hands grope at the air in front of her chest. “Might grow a nice rack, though, hmm? Hehehe…”

“That’s not really how Lopunny work.”

“Are you sure? ‘Cuz I saw some interesting images on Raph’s phone that say otherwise…”

“Ok, I really didn’t need to know that!”

“Cleo, Croagunk, are you ready?” Raphael calls out from the referee’s perch, unaware his browser history is currently being exposed.

“Yup, ready!” Just start it, before I’m privy to any more cursed knowledge.

Croagunk gives an eager nod. “Some Braixen apparently have them too… And Gardevoir, damn! Biggest ass I’ve ever seen, hehehehe…”

“Arceus help me, you need to stop.”

The orange flags come down. “Begin!”

“Not your taste? Into the more moist types, Cleo? You thirstin’ for this Croagussy?”

AGH! Shut the fuck up! I fly forward in a Quick Attack. Kick her in the throa-The Suckerpunch catches me straight in the nose. A flash of purple makes me flinch backward, barely avoiding the Poison Jab. Croaking laughter chases me as I disengage to the other side of the ring.

A snort clears my airway, a trickle of red beginning to flow into my mouth. I shake my head to dispel the unnatural anger I only now notice has been planted within. “Why are you Taunting me? I know you can shrug off my Thunderwave.” It’s gotten less and less useful lately, as my opponents have gotten stronger and tougher; my measly shock is no longer enough to make them lock up. Luca now fights it off more often than not. If only it was as broken as in the games.

“Hehehe… It’s a matter of principle!”

Unbelievable…

We begin to circle each other, estimating reaches and searching for openings. She’s slightly taller, and her purple-and-black arms are long, but proper kicking posture makes me lean away to balance my weight… It’s close. Would she Suckerpunch again?

I step into her reach. Croagunk threatens the Suckerpunch. I keep going, ignoring her to force myself inside of her reach, almost bodychecking her. The Suckerpunch was a feint, as I’d thought, and whatever slower punch she was preparing—banking on me flinching back no doubt—flies over my head as I duck, head to her chest. My ears snap up into a Double Hit to the chin, pushing her back a step. I glimpse her eyes as she swings a knife-hand in a Brick-Breaking chop. She’s watching my feet.

She never sees the Thunderpunch coming.

My sparking fist lands directly in her eye, sinking slightly into the viscous orbit before Croagunk closes it reflexively. The Brick Break is thrown off-course—but still impacts my left arm with jarring pain. We both stagger back.

Her smile gone, Croagunk closes in to keep up the pressure. I need space. A half-somersault onto my ears lets me threaten a kick to ward her off, then I propel myself the rest of the way to land at the far corner again, back on my feet.

Back to circling.

“Not cool, Cleo. That was my winking eye.” She tries to open her left eye, but it’s swelling shut fast.

“Pretty sure my arm’s broken, so we’re even.” The radiating ache builds and builds—I’m sure it’s at least cracked.

Despite her protests, I think I came off worse in the exchange. My nose is still bleeding, and Fighting moves hurt.

What do I have?

Without Thunderwave a Bounce is too risky, and Acrobatics is unfinished. Croagunk’s resistance to Fighting moves really screws me here…

She must be thinking the same, because she rushes forward to finish this before I can figure something out. Her fists glow with Fighting energy amply telegraphed, not that it really matters. She wins the slugfest. I watch her reckless approach, the Gym’s spotlights creating a four-fold shadow at her feet, her skin glistening in the light… her Dry Skin. Oh.

Lightning-fast I snap into a Doublekick position, countless hours making the motion almost unconscious. My readied right foot sparks for a moment. Croagunk twitches, the memory of thunder in her eye causing her to panic-switch to a Suckerpunch at the last second to interrupt me.

It fails.

I hold my pose, watching the poisonous fist pass a hair’s breadth from my face; only then do I twist. The electricity is discarded to let my foot ignite in a beautiful spinning-Blazekick. All Croagunk’s Anticipation lets her do is flinch before it comes, too overextended to stop it.

The flaming hammerblow launches her into the ropes.

She struggles to stay standing, holding her lifeline tight, half her face charred and blistering. Her fragile amphibian skin needs moisture, making it particularly vulnerable to Fire moves.

After a few shaking seconds… she slumps.

The flags come up.

“Croagunk is no longer able to battle! Cleo wins!”

The cheers of Pokémon and a smattering of humans wash past me while I rush to check on Croagunk. A soft, chiming Heal Pulse is already instilling its cool relief.

“You good?”

“Aaaagh…” She touches the side of her face gently, prodding the burnt spots, before the laughter returns. “Hehe… Yeah, I’m good.” Her smile curdles for a second. “Lost the mental battle in the end… What a joke.”

I extend a hand to help her up. “Hey now, none of that. You were great! Just focus on what to do in the future.”

“Yeah yeah, don’t worry ‘bout me. Worry about winning tomorrow, fluffbuns—I ain’t losing to a loser.” Long fingers clasp my small hand. “Luca has that fancy Black Belt too; it’s not gonna be easy.”

“I know,” I say, slowly pulling Croagunk to her feet, “the mall has some good stuff if you can afford it.”

She puts on a look of innocent surprise. “The mall? I was told he got it at Sawk-Con…”

…

I drop her.

-0-

Still sore from the day’s battles, I prepare to announce the results of my apprenticeship with the Hitmons. My three months of intensive training are… done. It’s over. Looking back now, it seemed to pass in an instant.

Still a whole month until the circuit begins, and already it feels like my time here is coming to an end…

I shake the thought away. No sense in being prematurely nostalgic.

“So? Out with it!”

Chan and Lee lean forward over their plates, eager to hear my verdict. Once more the Hitmons have opened up their meal-circle for me, this time for an early dinner—without an eavesdropping Infernape, thankfully—and I take a deep breath, before giving them the bad news.

“I’m sorry to say this guys, but I think Top wins.”

“WHAT?” Hitmonchan’s face falls into her hands, while Hitmonlee pats her gently on the back. “Is this about Icepunch? I’m sorry I couldn’t explain it any better…”

“No, no! C’mon Chan, you know I don’t blame you for that! It’s just… Top’s philosophy is so vague that it’s impossible for him to lose!”

Lee cocks his head for a moment, before nodding with a resigned air.

“Look, Chan, I loved working with you, and Lee too, but ‘the way to be strong is to use what’s right for you’ is kind of unbeatable. Your diverse toolbox works for you because you can learn many different types of Punches, Lee’s focus on technique works because he’s incredibly strong but his options are more limited, and Top’s style makes perfect use of his body to fight in a way only he can.” I shrug. “I learned a lot from all of you, and I’m really thankful for all your help, but how I fight now is not really how any of you three fight. That makes Hitmontop right.”

“The best for you is what’s best for you,” Top comments sagely. I point to this incredible pearl of wisdom.

Chan sighs, conceding to the unassailable might of circular logic. “What was I expecting? It was always gonna turn out this way…” An amused smile emerges, and Chan ruffles Top’s coarse hair. “You’re an enlightened soul, little brother.”

We enjoy our dinner for a bit, before Lee grabs my attention with a wave. He signs a question, the commonly used motions familiar after a month together. What. You. Learn. Future? Even Top perks up at that, the three of them seeming interested.

“Uh… I’ll probably be consolidating what I’ve got for a bit. A lot of new moves in a short time, and I’m still working on Acrobatics with Hawlucha. After that, though…” I think back to my earlier match, Croagunk’s Taunt having prevented only Thunderwave. “Some utility moves are in order. You guys gave me the tools I need to fight effectively, but a lot of non-damaging techniques are incredibly useful; I don’t intend to be some idiot who only uses attacking moves. With that in mind… Agility would be great, as would Protect.” Agility was learned naturally by Buneary in the game renditions, though I’m not sure how that translates. Protect is just good—an eternal staple of high-level battling. Both are easy choices.

“Yeah, those are pretty standard,” Chan says. “You could ask Lucario for tips—he’s great at those kinds of moves. If you’re going to be traveling with his son, he might actually answer!”

“C’mon, he’s not so bad. Kind of… austere, maybe, but he’ll help out if you ask.”

They give me faintly disbelieving looks. Do they really think of him like that? Trying to recall interactions Lucario has had with others… none come to mind. He never seems to leave Maylene’s complex. Huh. I guess he is kind of reclusive.

I was luckier than I realized to be paired up with Luca back then. Not that it matters for this.

“I won’t have time to learn them anyway… not at the Gym.” Other incredible things I’ve seen here come to mind. “There’s also Circle Throw, Power-up Punch, Close Combat—hell, Drain Punch! I can’t even do the Gym’s signature move yet! I’m excited for the next step, don’t get me wrong, but…” I’ll miss this too.

Lee’s hand lands on my head, and he gives me an understanding nod.

“That’s what the book’s for.”

“TOP! That was supposed to be a surprise!”

Lee’s eyes drift toward Chan, then pointedly to me, then back to Chan. My head swivels between them. Book?

“…Yeah, alright. She brought it up, so now’s as good a time as any…” Chan stands and makes her way to the bunks. “I’ll get it.”

After rummaging under her thin mattress, out comes a dog-eared leatherbound notebook. All three siblings stare at it for a bit, lost in thought.

“What… What is it?”

Chan weighs it in her hand for a moment, before nodding to herself. “It’s yours. Our old Trainer wrote this, before he… passed. Call it an early graduation gift.”

“Oh… But this-This is clearly important to you! I can’t…”

“Take it. It’s been sitting here for years gathering dust… Unused.”

Lee nods encouragingly, while Top still seems to see only memories. “Theodore taught us all we know,” Chan sighs. “It’s time to… to pass it on to the next generation. Share it with Luca and any Fighting friends you make along the way.”

The notebook is set down in front of me with care. Chan gives it a last lingering touch… then sits back down, nestling between Lee and Top—one arm around each of them.

“I… don’t know what to say… Doesn’t Maylene want this? For the Gym?” Despite my protests, I can’t help but look within.

Pages and pages of techniques fill the book, looking more like a manual than anything; the right side is crammed with tiny handwriting detailing every step, every motion, while the left side is populated by illustrated diagrams—black brushstrokes on thick, yellowed paper expressing the powerful movements of a stylized Hariyama, Mienshao, Hitmonlee. Even… Holy Arceus… The last pages feature an Urshifu.

This is a treasure.

Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

“Theo and her grandfather were good friends. Maylene has everything in there and more.” Her lip twitches upwards. “Just promise me one thing…”

I’m clutching the yellowed book to my chest before I know it.

Chan tightens her hold on her brothers, all three looking to me with anticipation. “Save our Gym for last, would you? We’ll be waiting.”

 

I raise myself to stand as straight as my body will allow, then bow until my forehead almost touches the ground.

“I promise.”

-0-

“Woof, what a match! I am light–headed, folks! Give it up for Heracross, just barely winning out against Gallade to earn a spot in this year’s finals!”

Packed bleachers shower their support onto the field, already being telekinetically cleared of the rubble created by two top-level fighters. The resulting field is pockmarked with gashes and small craters, briefly bringing to mind my tricky duels with Rayn among the forest’s roots.

I’ve been thinking of him a lot lately; the approaching deadline of our accord brings back the faint anxiety I remember from our arrival at Veilstone.

I hope you watch this, Rayn. I’m giving you my answer early.

“But Do. Not. Go. Anywhere, ladies and gentle’mons! While we let our big boys rest for the finale, we have a new category this year! The Veilstone Gym Showcase Tournament: Little Cup Division Final!”

A smattering of applause follows the announcement, nowhere near as much as for the A-listers. I don’t mind. If they think we’re giving them a Tacklefest, they’ve got another thing coming.

Looking across the field to Luca, hidden from the audience in the entrance tunnel, I give him a relaxed smile. He immediately reciprocates.

“Now don’t let the name fool you; the only thing little about these fighters is their size! These two have been making waves here in Veilstone, especially toward the end of the year! While neither has participated in badge matches, I’ve seen their gauntlet fights and let me tell you: buckle the f-frick up, ‘cause if you blink you’ll miss it!”

Ever since Maylene agreed to this, Luca and I have been preparing this fight during our training time.

It’s not about winning or losing here. We’re showing who we are, and what we’re capable of. My feet keep hopping in place with anticipation.

“Please welcome to the stage, from home-side, The Son of Lucario: Luuucaaaaaa!”

He emerges from the tunnel heading straight for the field, but can’t stop himself from looking around. It’s the first time on the big stage for both of us; I only hope I don’t develop stage-fright at the last minute. Luca waves woodenly to the crowd, cracking a smile when he looks in Maylene’s direction. From the side of the field, serving as referee for the tournament, she gives off a relaxed and comfortable air, like this is just another day of practice.

“And from guest-side: She’s spawned rumors from Trainers and Gym members alike, and I have a sneaking suspicion they might be confirmed soon!” Well don’t spoil it! “Forget everything you think you know about Buneary! Let’s hear it for Cleeeoooo!”

I step out.

The overhead lights of the arena are bright, but it’s the shift in sound that rocks me back before I resume my hopping march. While the applause is nothing compared to what the Elite ‘mons got, it still wallops me from all directions.

To my right are the people who paid a premium to watch one of the few off-season tournaments in the Region live, looking curious but not particularly excited. Hopefully that’ll change.

To my left are the newly-recruited Pokémon for the year—mostly Machop, with decent Meditite and Makuhita representation, a pair of Croagunk, and the twin Chimchar Maylene brought back from the Battle Zone—sitting at the front. Above them are the aspiring Trainers going through the Gym’s preparatory course; half thirteen-year-olds and half sixteen, with the exception of a middle-aged guy going through what seems like a midlife crisis. The top three scorers in theoretical and practical tests will receive a sponsorship from the Gym and their pick of starter Pokémon, meaning most are watching with rapt attention.

At the top sit the staff and regular Gym-goers, Mags included. She gives me a thumbs up and points to center-field on the opposite side of Maylene. To the cameras.

One is large and mounted on a tripod, piloted by a man in a backwards baseball cap, the other a photography hand-held carried by the woman who interviewed Maylene at the beginning of the event. It’s a local network, not exactly Rotom-drone levels of production, but that will come in time.

A Chimecho watches calmly, floating above.

I give Maggie a nod.

Reaching my spot across from Luca, we adjust ourselves to the distance we’re used to, then take a breath in unison.

Maylene clears her throat. “This will be a one-on-one battle between Luca and Cleo. Standard League rules apply. For the purposes of this match, I will assume responsibility as Trainer for both Pokémon.” Annoying, but necessary bureaucracy. “The battle ends when one side retires or is no longer able to battle. Luca, are you ready?”

A fast electronic beat rises from the speakers around the arena.

WE GET BATTLE MUSIC!?

Luca closes his eyes momentarily, consciously relaxes his shoulders, then nods. “Yes!”

“Cleo, are you ready?”

“Yes!” I call out, loud and clear.

The audience jolts at my declaration, and I look toward the cameraman to see him clearly zooming in on my face. My lips turn up in a quick smirk.

The flags come up. Focus.

“Begin!”

Luca and I lock eyes, then bow. Let’s go.

We rush toward center-field as our coordinated dance begins. Slowly at first, or what passes for slow between us, I throw out ears and kicks. Luca deflects most with open palms and dodges the rest, retaliating with his own thrusts and improved mastery of his Palm style, now with tricky elbows and chops added in.

No moves are used. This is our display of technique.

Duck, kick, step, punch, hop- our tempo accelerates steadily, each step faster than the last. Faster.

Faster.

Faster.

The world fades as we go back-and-forth in our fighting waltz.

It’s not really a battle—not yet—but there is a challenge in our display. Who will misstep first?

Sweep dash knee axekick weave strike!

Hops and steps turn into lunges and somersaults covered by whipping ears as I flit around, trying to get behind him. Luca struggles to track me. He stands his ground, forced to be stationary simply because he needs all the time he can get to turn and intercept my rain of strikes.

His refined style slowly grows frantic and rushed. My manic grin grows to match.

Faster!

Vision starts to fail me as I snap out and dash too quickly to be able to see Luca’s form. My body begins to outperform my senses. Lowkick-uppercut-dash-frontkick-jumpover-ear-heelkick-

A split-second glimpse of my friend’s perfectly focused face sharpens the frantic beating of my heart.

FASTER

 

I slip.

A hand smacks into my forehead, sending me to the ground.

 

He steps back to make some space.

…Luca wins the first round.

The arena enters my awareness again. It’s dead silent.

No. I want that focus again.

The singing adrenaline in my blood demands more. “Good job, Luca. Now let’s get serious.”

His wide eyes and uneven breaths settle as a faint pink corona shines through his skull. He inhales deeply. When he exhales, it’s with a Calm Mind.

Then he throws out a Vacuum Wave.

Go

Quick Attacks propel me side-to-side to avoid the barrage of near-invisible ripples tearing through the air.

Give me MORE

I Bounce forward and watch him limbo below me as I fly past. A Blazekick from behind is Detected and his duck turns perfectly into a Lowkick. I hop-and-twist onto my ears. Machine-gun Double Kicks rattle his forearms—too fast to deflect now. Come on, Luca!

A burst of Aura blasts me back, skidding on the dirt until I fall into a left-behind crater.

Yes!

The instinctive non-move stuns him for a moment, which is all I need to get back up and rush into the fray.

The one Wave he throws out before I reach him is easily dodged—then I’m on him.

Fake the Double Kick. He Karate Chops down to break a leg that will not come.

My supporting leg jumps to join the other—both tight against my torso—for a primed blast of kinetic energy.

And then I see it.

The Karate Chop is aborted, a familiar orange light appearing in Riolu’s left fist.

Feint into Drain Punch.

His hand flies forward, straight into the path of my dropkick. We lock eyes. I’m so proud of you.

Something in him hesitates when he looks at me, and Luca’s heightened nerves break past his Calm Mind. The Drain Punch flickers.

ZAP KICK!

My legs explode out with bright lightning—a short-circuit crack almost blowing out my eardrums—and I feel fur ignite and a sternum fracture.

Luca is catapulted into the wall below the bleachers.

 

…

He slowly stands, coughs, then shakes his head, looking frustrated. With uneven steps he rallies forward, only to be interrupted by a shrill whistle.

“Luca is out of bounds! The winner is Cleo!”

He stumbles to a stop as Maylene’s words register. Another thunderstorm of sound bursts into being, but the applause fails to drown out Luca’s murmur.

“I ruined it…”

I throw myself into a tight hug around this idiot’s body. “Stop it. You were incredible.”

My little arms squeeze as hard as they can, and his pained groan tapers off as Chimecho’s Healing Pulse relieves our aches.

“I screwed up our big reveal, Cleo. I’m sorry…”

“No you didn’t, Luca. It’s good to not want to hurt a friend; you’re a kinder person than me.”

“This was important!”

“Shh. Listen to them.”

The cheering is dying down by now, but still it jolts him. I push his hand up into the air, and the crowd makes their thoughts heard with renewed enthusiasm.

“WHAT DID I TELL YOU? WHAT. DID. I. TELL YOU, PEOPLE!? Give Cleo and Luca your love for an incredible match, and stew in anticipation of the day we can see them fully evolved! Let’s hear it!”

His bewildered look makes me burst out in laughter.

“Great work, guys!” Maylene takes a knee next to us. “Cleo, if I didn’t know you, I would ask you to apprentice for my Ace team right now. That’s how far you’ve come.”

The swell of emotions drowns out any coherent response. All I manage to do is nod.

“And you got her with the Feint, Luca! You should be proud! It’s incredible how much you’ve grown.”

The words don’t seem to register. “…Beautiful…” He’s staring at my chest, seeming enraptured with something.

“Uhh… Luca?”

A jolt. “Sorry! Sorry, I just… I can see it. Your Aura.” He gazes out at the people around us, taking them in with wonder. “Everyone’s Aura… their feelings, they’re… They’re happy. Excited.”

“You can see people’s feelings!?” Flashes of Pokédex entries appear in my mind. It’s true, then. Some of them are too ridiculous to trust the rest.

“So that’s what that was!” Maylene pulls him into a hug of her own. “Congratulations! Lucario knew you were getting close!”

“Wow… thanks. I didn’t… I was starting to get flashes but… Everything’s so clear, now!”

“Gym Leader!” The woman from the network butts into our huddle, practically salivating with excitement. “Gym Leader, please, can we get a comment from the winner of the match!?”

“Be proud, Luca. You deserve it,” I whisper in squeaks and trills. “But it’s not over yet.”

“I don’t mind,” I say to Maylene. My smile struggles to stay composed.

In a lightbulb moment, rapid-fire realizations pass over the Gym Leader’s face. She’s just now figuring out why we did this?

“U-Uhm… sure. If that’s ok with Cleo…”

“Great!” The reporter waves us forward, in front of the mounted camera. The cameraman is already digging through their bags to hand her a foam-covered microphone wired to some manner of recording device.

An announcement from the speakers breaks the flow of their preparations. “There will now be a thirty-minute break before the VGST Finals, everybody! Give another big hand to our Little Cup finalists, and prepare for the Grand Finale of this year’s tournament, already a classic! Get a drink, stretch your legs, and prepare your heart for more!”

A few people begin to make their way out… but most stay. They watch us, about to be interviewed, and they’re not thinking about what’s coming next. They’re listening.

The reporter checks her microphone and gets a thumbs up from the cameraman—lowering the tripod a bit to get us straight-on—then steps into frame. Following Maggie’s instructions, I drag Luca a little to the side, framing us in front of the people of Veilstone, beside Maylene. Associated with her, but not under her.

“Charlie, are we set?”

“Yup.”

“Great. I’m calling the studio after to push the schedule. We need to run this.” In a white dress-shirt and jeans, crinkled from taking low-angle photos on the ground, the woman quickly dusts and straightens herself as best she can. “We’re cutting from the hug straight to when I start.”

“Oh I’m leaving in your dusty-chic look for sure.”

“Shush. Ok, three, two, one… Wow! What an incredible match! We’re here with the two finalists of the Little Cup division of this year’s VGST, who’ve just shown exactly why this category was introduced! VCTV has the exclusive, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to talk to the competing Pokémon THEMSELVES!” She clears her throat, wrestling to appear calm. “Cleo, Luca, let me start by congratulating you both!”

A red foam blur rockets in front of my face. I take a quick settling breath. Here we go.

“Thank you! We’ve worked extremely hard with the help of the Gym’s Pokémon and Trainers to represent the Cobble Badge as best we can.”

With every word from my mouth, the reporter’s professional smile grows more and more unhinged. She looks like she’s struggling to stay still.

“Now, Cleo, I hope you don’t mind if I ask you what we’re all asking ourselves: How are you speaking right now?”

I produce a short chuckle. “Not at all! It’s a mix of luck that my anatomy allows me to do this, and a lot of practice. But let me make something clear: all Pokémon speak. All of us. I’m just lucky enough to be able to communicate with humans too.”

“So other Pokémon could learn to talk!?” The microphone whips between us so fast it’s a wonder she hasn’t hit me yet.

“Of course! I don’t have any special power or anything. In fact, I encourage others to learn and improve understanding between Pokémon and humans. Hopefully by this time next year, many more will have followed in our footsteps.”

“Amazing! Gym Leader Maylene, how did you recruit Cleo to the Veilstone Gym, and is she going to be featuring in badge matches next circuit?” Maylene glances toward me nervously, seeming unsure of herself. I shrug. The truth is more than enough to segue into what I really want to say.

“Uhm… She recruited herself, kind of. Cleo came to us asking for training until the end of this circuit, and in return I asked her to test challengers of the Gym gauntlet. This is what we usually do for low and mid-level badges anyway, so I was happy to accept.”

“So she’s not staying at the Gym? What’s next for you, Cleo?” The microphone materializes before me once more.

“Glad you asked! Starting in June, a couple of friends and I—Luca included—will be going on a Journey through the Region! Our vision, our dream, is to show the world a new kind of relationship between humans and Pokémon, and open the eyes of Pokémon everywhere to the infinite possibilities that lay untapped!” And a few other things that wouldn’t sound so great on TV.

“Are you aiming to compete in the Conference?”

Did you hear nothing I just said? “…Yes. As we’ve hopefully shown here, we have an interest in battling, and competitive battling is no different. But that is not our primary goal.”

“Who’ll be your Trainer, then?”

…

“There will be no Trainer.”

Luca squeezes my shoulder gently. “Relax. Get your message out, like Maggie said.”

“…Pardon me? What do you mean by that?”

I take a breath, tapping my cheek against Luca’s hand as a thank-you. “I mean there will be no Trainer. Luca and I have learned a great deal from this Gym, and have many Pokémon and Gym Trainers to thank for helping us improve, but I meant it when I said we’re championing a new kind of Pokémon-human relationship. We will be competing as a Pokémon team in the truest sense.”

I look toward the camera, my words now meant for all to hear. “Pokémon are sapient, intelligent beings. With the communication barrier finally overcome, we can be much, much more than what we are today.”

The reporter flounders for a follow-up. “I… Wow. And…”

I guess I didn’t give her a great lead-in. I glance up towards Mags. She leans forward at the edge of her seat, focused. Spotting my call for help, she gestures widely in an encompassing circle, then brings her hands together in a tight clasp.

Wrap it all up. Got it. “Ahem. With that in mind, I would like to make a… a declaration.”

“O-Of course!”

I grab the microphone, dragging it down toward my mouth and making sure the rest of my face isn’t covered. The reporter has to lean forward to avoid letting go of it.

“To the humans that listen to this: Take a fresh look at your partner Pokémon, and ask yourself if you would be happy in their place. Ask yourself what they would say if they could speak as I speak. I guarantee you that they think as I think, feel as I feel.

“To the Pokémon that listen to this: Look around you. Do you eat, or are you fed? Do you play, or are you played with?” I may be going a little far on this one…

Fuck it.

“If you battle under a Trainer professionally, do you enjoy the fruits of your labor? Of your sweat, blood, and broken bones? Or do you split the rewards ‘money to the Trainer, pat on the head for you’? If you work with humans in a business or industry, are you a partner? An employee? Or an appliance?

“My friends and I will travel throughout Sinnoh for the next year. We will go to every major city, travel every Route. If you want your life or the life of those like you to change, come talk to us. If you need to make your voice heard, speak to me and I will shout it as loud as I can! This is our mission!”

My breaths are measured, but my heart vibrates in my chest with frightening strength. Luca’s hand holds tightly onto my shoulder.

“Finally, to Rayn: If you’re listening…” I miss you. “Here’s my answer. This is my path.

 

“What’s yours?”