Thursday, June 1st, 1978, 2000
"AH!"
Sula jerked awake in utter confusion as she tried to make sense of the unfamiliar surroundings. She was lying alone on a small cushion in an otherwise empty space, grasping at the fragments of a pleasant dream devoid of any man-eating Seel. In it, she had been tanning on her Lapras as they coasted through beautiful emerald waters. Not that she needed the tan, but still. Her skin was sun-darkened from many hours hiking during her many summer adventures.
Sula wiped the drool off her face, feeling a flush of adrenaline hit her relaxed system as she remembered what she was supposed to be doing, besides falling asleep on the comfortable inn floor.
"Shit, ShiT, SHIT, what time is it?" Sula muttered, looking around for a clock. She stood up, attempting to bring her disheveled clothes into some semblance of order. A wave of wet Seel and body odor hit her, and she crinkled her nose in distaste until she realized it was coming from her.
Disgusting, she thought, jerking her face away as she gave herself a sniff.
Her panic was momentarily interrupted by the soothing scent of green tea and a comforting, maternal voice that chased away the rising sense of anxiety, at least for a second.
"Hey, you, you're finally awake! You looked so comfortable it didn't feel right to wake you up like that," the elderly proprietress chuckled as she sat in one of the cushioned chairs across from Sula.
"Here, have a drink of this—you look like you need it." The woman carefully passed Sula a steaming mug of what she could only assume was responsible for the heavenly scent she had just caught wind of.
Sula accepted it gingerly, doing her best not to spill it as she aggressively blew the steam away from across the surface of the scalding liquid.
"Thanks, but I gotta go! Or very soon, anyway. Do you know what time it is? I'm super sorry for falling asleep like that. I promise I'll pay for a room when I return! I would normally never do that, but today has been quite a day so far," Sula said as she readied herself to take a sip.
"Take a moment and drink the tea, honey; rest assured you need it. I know how the first day of the circuit can be for you young ones. As for the time, I believe it is currently…." The owner looked down to check her watch, "Eight o'clock! Just about on the nose. I do try to make sure my watch is right on time. Not good for business to give customers the wrong time, you know," she said with a knowing smile.
Without a thought to the steam emitting comfortingly from the mug, Sula brought it to her lips and drained the entire cup in one fell chug.
Hothothothothothhotshithothothotohfuck, thought Sula as she dashed out of the inn in an attempt to make the critical appointment she had just missed, fanning her burning mouth all the while.
What a strange young woman, mused the inn's owner as she watched Sula run off without a word. She even left all of her belongings. It must have been an important date. The innkeeper shrugged her aging shoulders before conscientiously setting Sula's bag behind the counter to await her eventual return.
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Sula's lifelong training came in handy; she ran back to the gym the entire way without breaking a sweat, slowing abruptly as she approached the gym entrance, making sure her long braids were in order and that all her pokéballs remained clipped to her belt. As expected, it was secure, and she breathed a sigh of relief as she ran her hand over the six gleaming metallic devices.
Sula took a deep breath before making her way in. She was immediately confronted by the woman she had met with before, although the receptionist seemed significantly less patient than earlier, with a large frown pasted on her face and tapping her foot erratically.
"Miss Seiichi, I was beginning to think you wouldn't make it!" The receptionist greeted her with a strained smile as she set a clipboard up on top of the front desk. "If you would please sign here, I'll take you to the lift for your match. I'm afraid to say everyone is waiting for you, and Blaine is not pleased in the slightest."
Sula bowed her head in forgiveness. "Allow me to apologize for my absence and any inconvenience I may have caused."
"Please, dear, save it for later; you have no time! Sign this so we can be on our way," Miss Shalke said with a gesture to the forms on the desk. "There is a media release form to give your permission for this match to be both televised and broadcasted nationally, as well as a waiver denying any liability on our behalf if you or your pokémon are injured. You have the honor of being this circuit's first challenger of this nature throughout the country. Congratulations."
Sula signed both documents without batting an eye; she had been briefed on how the process would go from her mom and wasn't surprised at either document. These would be standard for the remaining matches—assuming she won this one.
"Alright, I'm ready," she grinned as she followed the receptionist her through the gym's expansive space. Things had changed a lot since she was last here! Sula was impressed; in stark contrast to the dojo-style gym at home, this state-of-the-art facility was dark, sleek, and steely, without any wood to be seen.
I guess it makes sense since we're literally next to a volcano, realized Sula as she kept pace with the aging employee.
They passed what Sula could only assume was a designated area for students and professionals to use freely. It was empty now, but she could easily envision quiet crowds of focused young people working on their studies. It was complete with computers, chairs, and even a small electric kettle to boil water for tea or coffee. As they moved further into the facility, Sula spotted the standard arena where she had battled against Blaine for the past two seasons.
It was a regulation-sized arena with the stylized flame logos that Blaine was so fond of. Personally, Sula thought it was gaudy and attention-seeking, but it definitely caught the eye. Back at Fuchsia, her mom's gym lacked any personal touch, and she preferred it that way. No need to call attention to yourself if you just let your skills speak for themselves.
Usually, gyms were bustling with staff going about their day-to-day obligations, but this evening, the gym was nearly silent, even beyond what would be expected considering it was outside normal hours. Sula could only hear the quiet hum of the many computers scattered around the facility. Cinnabar Gym definitely lived up to the hype as the center of tech development in Kanto outside of Saffron, displaying a dizzying array of machines that Sula could only guess at what they did.
As if reading her mind, the receptionist pointed out the reason. "All of our auxiliary employees, except for myself, were sent home for tonight. The gym trainers and local students are usually out by six at the latest, as well. Blaine doesn't like anyone to watch any of his personal matches directly. He only allows for the matches to be released after they have been cut and edited by our professional staff here. He's afraid if he loses, his staff might lose their respect for him," she explained with a wry chuckle. "Not that it's a well-founded worry. Blaine hasn't lost a personal match in the five years I've been working here, and I doubt he's going to now, even if you're Kiriel's daughter."
Sula smiled, brimming with the type of confidence only borne from long years of praise and attention. "That's great! I'm happy that I'll be able to provide you with a new experience!"
An tense silence descended upon the pair as they finally arrived at the gondola that would bring them up to the volcanic arena overshadowing the well-lit city. Sula didn't mind, as it gave her a well needed chance to calm herself before the match.
The receptionist smiled awkwardly. "Here we are, Miss Seiichi. I notice you didn't take my advice about the water bottles, but I wish you the best of luck nonetheless. I'll look forward to the results of your match." She waited patiently for Sula to enter the lift, which she did without hesitation, waiting patiently while the attendant fiddled with a couple of buttons near the edge of the door before a loud clicking sound could be heard, and the device hummed to life.
Sula waved goodbye to her guide as the lift grumbled its way upwards, taking the fleeting moment of calm before the battle to take stock of her situation and settle her nervous system after the rush to get over here.
Ah shit, I forgot to change into my kimono, realized Sula as she looked down at her clothes, regretting her current outfit. She wore her standard travel gear: knee-height leather boots, dark canvas pants, and a blood-red sweater with a woven black scarf. Simple and effective, the outfit would have to do. Next time, I'll be better prepared, but at least Blaine won't be able to smell me through the literal volcano. I would die if he said something, especially since I know he'd make sure it was included in the final recording.
The ride-up took longer than expected. In contrast to the sleek modernness expressed by the rest of the gym, the lift was a relic of the past, as evidenced by the fact that it was rust orange—which unfortunately appeared to be a result of actual rust—not an intentional stylistic choice.
This can't be safe, she thought while nervously looking out the window of the open-air gondola, which gave an expansive view of the city as the rider headed upwards. The sun had already set, and darkness had largely descended over the island. Hence, the only thing visible were the abundant lights emanating from the tall buildings clustered around the city center. Sula looked in wonderment at the size of some of the buildings; in Fuchsia, the tallest building was only a few levels high. It made her feel very small indeed.
As Sula gazed in quiet wonderment at the idyllic scene, the minutes passed by, and, before she knew it, found herself docked in a small reception bay at the edge of a metal platform stationed on the volcano's rim. Ominous steel doors were accompanied by two large sculptures of an Arcanine and Ninetales, respectively. The statues were impressive pieces of art, carved out of glassy obsidian. They were so realistic that Sula gulped at the thought of being so close to such magnificent beasts, even though she knew that exact situation was potentially only a few minutes away.
Sula felt her heart begin pounding in anticipation. This is way more exciting than the typical gym challenge.
There was no one else there to guide her, so she cautiously continued through the intimidating gate into the arena, where her breath caught in her throat; there was a gigantic rock slab easily stretching fifty meters in either direction suspended over an enormous pool of roiling lava. It was inscribed with rudimentary markings outlining 'boundaries' to the arena as if the magma below wasn't sufficient.
I definitely need to talk to mom about upgrading the gym, she concluded while making her way onto the platform before her. We could do a steaming vat of poison! That would definitely do the trick. We wouldn't have to deal with all the annoying Fuchsia nothings constantly challenging us, especially if one or two fell in.
Sula fully took in her surroundings as she stepped onto the steel platform. She spotted various cameras spaced intermittently around the arena, positioned around to catch every angle. The platform she was on was separated by about ten meters from the arena itself, and there was a small pedestal with a mic for her to use to communicate with her pokemon—a common feature for gym matches, especially in larger arenas.
There were many small cubbies scattered around the area filled with League-trained Kadabra and Hypno to manage the required psychic containment field. Usually, for most gym matches, only one Kadabra was required, but since they were on an active volcano, it seemed like an eminently rational precaution.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Sula promptly grabbed the device and attached it to her scarf, ensuring it was firmly secured. As she absently wiped a wet strand of hair off her forehead that crossed into her field of view, she became aware of the fact that it was hot. Really, really hot—fully deserving of the double adverb. She plucked at her damp sweater, which was quickly becoming saturated with acrid-smelling perspiration unique to stressful situations.
The thought of some cold water was appealing, but Sula pushed the thought out of her head, already regretting not taking the receptionist's advice to heart.
It's too late now. We're here to win; I don't need any damn water—had enough of that on the way here, thought Sula stubbornly. At least my own scent might finally drown out the damned smell of Seels.
"I see you've finally managed to arrive." The voice was nasal and condescending, as if the speaker could hardly bear to respectfully address anyone. "I feel so blessed that the Seiichi wunderkind has finally deigned to grace my humble gym with her presence. I wouldn't want to inconvenience you. I know your time is so, so valuable."
Blaine's words were heavy with sarcasm as he stepped onto his side of the arena. He was wearing his trademark lab coat and floral shorts underneath. His greying hair was styled with a classic combover in a painfully obvious effort to conceal his increasingly barren pate.
Shoulda stuck with the hat, thought Sula, recalling the ridiculous straw hat Blaine had been wearing for her match last year. At least it matched those tacky shorts.
"Hi, Blaine! Long time no see! I'd apologize for my lateness, but I get the feeling that it's no use crying over spilled milk, so let's just get this show on the road. I need a nap," said, Sula dismissively as she checked her nails, frowning as she noticed they weren't looking great. Blaine is too easy to provoke. Embarrassing for such an esteemed war-hero.
"Foolish, arrogant girl. For as much battle prowess as you might display, you certainly fall far from the tree. Kiriel would never disrespect her opponent so. It's unfortunate to yet again encounter the entitled offspring of the great generation. You sniveling whelps are weak—a hollow shell that spits upon the sacrifices of your betters without any gratitude or consideration," seethed Blaine. "But indeed, let us 'get this show on the road,' as you say."
Sula stood silently, waiting for the barebones rules she expected for a private match like this, having been briefed by her mom. Blaine was never one to stand on ceremony and there was nothing she could say to change his opinion. Every year he gave some speech that only slightly varied from the one the year before. Always something about how the younger generations were lacking. It got old after the first time.
"This match shall have no referee. I will make any and all calls as needed. The match will be a six-on-six battle. There are no switches. Since I am the challenged, I shall lead with the first pokemon," said Blaine matter of factly.
"Rapidash, go."
As Blaine made his first move, a flash of crimson light materialized in the form of a large, flaming equine creature. Blaine's Rapidash was the stuff of legend, and seeing her in the flesh didn't disappoint. Standing closer to three meters than two, the fierce pokémon pawed impatiently at the ground, waiting for a command.
Sula knew that Blaine had used the Pokemon to blitz enemies in the war, using her speed to catch them off guard and annihilate them with the rest of his team. Blaine had been an expert in maneuver warfare, and this pokemon was the one who made that method viable at all. It was exceedingly rare to have a commander capable of operating on the front lines in such a way.
The pokemon pawed the ground impatiently. Sula knew it was pretty old, but there would be no way to tell by looking; the pokemon was covered with layers of rippling muscle that gleamed in the magma light, and its eyes shimmered with unabashed violence, ready to unleash brutal force on whatever happened to stand in its way.
Knowing she had sixty seconds to decide on her pokemon, Sula took full advantage of the time to analyze what she knew about Blaine. For as much as he financed technology development, the man himself was simple enough, as most fire-type specialists invariably were after years of exposure to an element that only knew how to consume.
It was intrinsic to the nature of the element, and the 'Fire Master' himself was no exception. Not that she could say much, either. Her style was hardly different—preferring overwhelming power to any tactical advantages that might be gained by bullshitting around. She abhorred trainers that manipulated the arena to avoid a full-on confrontation, even if she could recognize the tactical value behind it.
His strategy now and in the war, if her mother was to be believed, was to hit things fast and hit them hard when they least expected it, burning them to a crisp before they could even cry out.
Sula knew this would be a different experience than the last two gym run-throughs, however. The pokémon Blaine used for his regular gym challenge were mainly there to test trainers rather than subdue them. A Charmeleon there, maybe a weaker Magmar, and plenty of Growlithe. Blaine's personal team?
They were killers, having been baptized in pools of steaming blood through Kanto's many altercations.
And to fight a killer, you needed to avoid dying, thought Sula with a quiet giggle to herself at the stupid thought.
"Grumpig, get out there," Sula called out, flicking one of the balls from her belt to the field close to her side as she settled on which pokemon she thought would work best to start off the match.
In an almost comical contrast to the fierce horse opposing him, Sula's choice mirrored it perfectly: dark, where Rapidash was bright. Thick, where Rapidash was slender. And no one would dare call Grumpig beautiful.
The diminutive Suidae bounced in place as it waited attentively for Sula's orders, an eager look in his eyes despite the intimidating setting.
It was oddly quiet. Most matches were accompanied by a screaming commentator or a roaring crowd, crying for the blood of whatever trainer happened to have lost its favor. Kanto was an intense place, after all.
On this serene summer evening, all that could be heard was the bubbling of molten earth as the two pokémon faced off.
Blaine moved first, capitalizing on the fact that this match hardly had any rules.
"Rapidash, use Agility and get warmed up. Hit it with Stomp as many times as you need to, using your speed to avoid any retalitation," said Blaine calmly. "Avoid fire moves. That pokemon is quite resilient to them."
Rapidash whinnied in confirmation, shimmering with a pale pink light as it took a deep breath before slowly exhaling a cloud of superheated steam. It blurred towards Grumpig, looking for any openings. The arena literally cracked from the force imparted by its sudden movement.
"Oh, Blaine, you shouldn't have!" teased Sula with a grin. "Grumpig, Trick Room," she ordered, although she privately regretted having to rely on such an annoying move in a match that should have been determined by brute force. Based on the horse's speed, Grumpig would just barely have enough enough time to get the move off.
"Tsk. Stop it from finishing! Get in there quick and hit it hard. Make it lose its focus," ordered Blaine with a wave of his hand. "Go for the head if you can."
Rapidash bolted into action to disrupt Grumpig, but was caught just short as a subtle violet aura briefly flashed along the arena floor before fading out of the visible spectrum.
The charging pokemon lost all momentum like she had floundered into a tub full of thick molasses. However, in the instant it took for the move to activate, the pokemon had already more than made it close enough to lash out with one of its front hooves. The hit connected, sinking deeply into Grumpig's thick belly with bone-crunching force, sending him shuffling back a few meters as he tried to maintain his footing.
Sula's pokemon grunted in pain and heaved for a moment but seemingly maintained the psychic field, exhibiting a newfound spryness as he enjoyed the handy boost from his opponent's Agility, jumping back and forth experimentally as he acclimated to the swapped attributes.
"Shake it off, Grumpig! Keep the Trick Room up; otherwise, you're screwed. Hit it with a Zen Headbutt before it can get out of range!"
The now much faster Pokémon immediately lowered its head and coated it with a sheen of pink energy before gracefully closing the gap and crashing into the slowed Rapidash, who appeared to be struggling as its body ignored its commands.
The pokemon attempted to dodge, but due to its proximity, it couldn't avoid the hit.
Although it might be small, Grumpig's significant mass sent Rapidash reeling across the arena too, although she was able to gain her bearings and slam her hooves down to avoid an outright crash into the porous floor of the arena. Chips of igneous rocks flew off the edge in wide arcs, landing with a hiss in the hungry lava below. Rapidash shook herself off with a threatening look in her eye. The pokemon didn't look much worse for wear externally, but Sula could tell the hit had done damage as evidenced by the slightest of limps as it warily awaited another command, newfound respect in its eyes.
"Use Fire Blast! Keep your distance, and don't let it get close," yelled Blaine, not reacting in the slightest to the hard hit. "Wait until the Trick Room wears off to move in and finish it. That species doesn't have much offensive capability. You should be able to wear it down from range."
"Fuck that! Get in close as quickly as you can and hit it with your head again," shouted Sula, knowing that the battle would get far harder if Grumpig wasn't able to maintain the attribute altering move.
Before Grumpig could even begin to close the gap, Sula's ears popped painfully as an enormous wall of fire roared towards the surprised pig. Usually, fire pokemon took a second to charge up such a large attack, but apparently Blaine's Rapidash had enough mastery of fire type-energy to ignore well-accepted rules.
"Grump—" the pokémon began, before being consumed by the attack, which swirled around him for a few long seconds before dropping out of existence like it was never there. In its wake stood a slightly worse-for-wear Grumpig, trying to catch his breath after the oxygen was so rudely ripped from his vicinity. His already dark coat was just a touch darker, but other than that, the pokémon looked relatively unscathed.
Sula slumped in relief, fearing the worst, but this was the very reason she picked Grumpig to start things off. His thick layer of protective fat was working overtime to keep him protected from the intense heat she expected from all of Blaine's pokemon.
"Grumpig!" he cried, tearing across the arena in search of his opponent. He had barely managed to maintain the Trick Room and used the speed to close, dropping his head into the evasive equine pokemon when he was close enough. Rapidash, whose attempts to create space failed, didn't have the breath to protest as she was unceremoniously slammed into the psychic barrier on the edge of the arena, falling unconscious in a spray of vibrant sparks as the barrier struggled to against the force.
Sula breathed a sigh of relief, glad the aging horse was out of the match. Contrary to popular belief, many high leveled matches were actually much shorter than amateur matches, where the pokemon often lacked enough power to seriously hurt each other. Inherent differences in natural armor, affinity with type-energy, and diet became deciding factors when relatively lethal moves were traded back and forth like paper airplanes. In this case, blunt force had likely slammed the poor pokemon's brain around in its own skull—hardly something that was easy to resist for more fragile pokemon not built to take such abuse.
After using two Zen Headbutts consecutively, Grumpig couldn't maintain the passive Trick Room and slowly made his way toward Sula's end of the arena to await orders and recover. He was breathing hard. It might have looked effortless from an external standpoint, but she knew he only had a few focused attacks like that in him, especially after expending enough energy to weave a psychic field around the entire arena.
Blaine recalled the downed pokémon and looked at Sula consideringly. "For all your bluster, it does appear as if you've improved since the last time I saw you," he admitted. "Let's see how you deal with this! Ninetales, I need you."
A beautiful kitsune flashed into existence dead in the center of the arena at Blaine's call for aid.
If Rapidash was fierce, then Ninetales could only be called terrifying, yet in a different way. If Sula were only going by appearances, then Blaine's Ninetales might be the most stunning pokémon she had ever seen. Her golden coat shimmered with an otherworldly luster, and her luxurious tales fanned out hypnotically behind her in a dazzling array of reds, whites, and golds. Sula wanted to bury her face in the fur and take a nap if she could. There was only one problem.
Her eyes. Her creepy, Arceus damned eyes, staring Sula down like she was less than an insect, ready to be crushed underfoot like the nothing she was.
Consumed.
Sula wasn't afraid of much, happy to storm into predator infested areas with a grin on her face, but she shivered involuntarily at the Ninetale's chilling gaze, which shone with an intelligence beyond humankind's understanding entirely. Sure, all of Blaine's pokémon had left fields of dead soldiers, but she had heard horror stories about this one in particular.
Although there were some loosey-goosey 'ethical considerations' in the War of Unification, they were officially codified in the latter half. Before that time, however, Sula knew that Blaine had made liberal use of this particular pokémon's ruthless psychic prowess to rip information out of Johtan soldiers' minds without even the barest hint of consideration, leaving a line of broken men behind her.
Blaine had officially been pardoned by the League for his actions in the war, but not before Ninetales had earned one of the most downright menacing monikers she had ever heard.
The Reaver.
Sula's bedtime stories had consisted of listening to Kiriel tell tale after tale from the war, but the story of this particular pokemon had always stuck with her. There was something profoundly disconcerting about such a mystical pokémon brutally breaking people until they were drooling, slobbering messes on the floor, incapable of even eating or shitting without aid, destined to either be put down or exiled into some padded cell to waste away. And, when they had to be 'put down' Blaine and his Ninetales were the ones to do it.
Sula had to remind herself that although Blaine might be an annoying old man now, he had undoubtedly been imperative in Kanto's military success and had not hesitated to do his duty when it came down to it.
Bracing herself for her run in with the mythical pokemon, Sula wiped away the sweat pooling on her brow and calmly rolled up her thick sleeves as if that would magically calm her down. Her pulse was racing, but she couldn't tell if it was from fear or excitement. Or dehydration, she thought. Either way, she was coming out of this with a win, no matter what it took.
"Get ready, Grumpig, this might be a rough one."