Dewford Gym was a big, bulbous, orange-roofed structure located at the edge of the city with a magnificent cliffside view of the ocean. The field surrounding the cliff was covered in marked areas for various activities, such as a large standing net that two pairs of humans were hitting a ball over, a bunch of...cages(?) that people were tossing discs into, and of course, pokemon battle arenas—all of which were occupied. The cliff itself had a wide set of stairs carved into it, leading all the way down to the water line where a miniscule beach had been created and subsequently populated by surfers.

Astra looked up at the gym as she, May, and Brendan drew closer, shielding her tired eyes from the mid-afternoon sunlight as they raked over the structure. Feeling herself starting to flag, she took a deep breath and shook her head, clapping herself on the cheeks. All told, it had only been maybe four hours since they’d hopped on Briney’s ship back on the mainland and Astra was already feeling pretty drained. Winter’s Eye had already harried her deeply on the trip over to Dewford, and while she’d been able to regain her spirits in the aftermath, the burning hatred in Town Hall had left her struggling to even keep her shoes on. If she had to put words to the feeling, it was like she’d played a sporting five round game of rebound as the ball.

But as burnt out as Astra felt, she still had a badge to get! None of them had been able to find anything noteworthy about the gym in the Town Hall, but Brendan had been happy to tell them what he knew from when he’d last visited.

“Brawly really likes surfing,” he started, smiling in reminiscence. “Which makes his Fighting type specialization a little dissonant. You’d think he’d have a bunch of Water pokemon, but I guess Wallace in Sootopolis had that covered already? Well, Brawly’s pretty straightforward, I recall; no mind games, just straight up physical assaults. He claims his ‘fighting spirit’ lets him connect to people on the battlefield, so he gets kinda philosophical sometimes?”

“Oh great, he’s a surfbro with a side order of shounen,” May groused, sighing. “Well, if he’s that simple, I doubt we’ll have any trouble.”

Brendan looked at her, frowning. “Simple doesn’t mean battling him will be effortless, May.”

“Well, here’s hoping it won't be effortful,” Astra hummed. An easy badge would be a fantastic way to make up for the awful day she'd had so far. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

Stepping through the doorway, she blinked as she was hit by a wave of brisk air. A brief shudder ran down her spine as the cold breeze brought back memories of her time at sea. Ugh, hadn’t she been chilled enough for one day? Blinking away the staleness, she took her first look around the Gym. The first floor was incredibly open, and she could see clear to the other end of the building. In front of them was a wide arc-shaped desk manned by a few receptionists, but what really caught her eye were the strange devices littering the entire rest of the floor.

Wall-to-wall, the gym was absolutely crammed with strange machines that seemed designed to mimic regular human activities. There were multiple rows of some device with a rolling floor that people were walking or jogging upon, but no matter how fast they ran they never actually seemed to move. What looked like multiple wheelless bicycles were also set up near the walkers, and there were innumerable other strange contraptions that seemed to do nothing but allow people to pointlessly exert themselves in increasingly bizarre ways. Another human thing for the pile, Astra supposed.

May strode up to the desk, giving a woman behind the counter a cocky grin as she clapped a hand onto the surface and leaned in. “Hey.”

The receptionist gave her a very unimpressed blink, then plastered a smile across her face. “Hello there!” she false-cheered. “Welcome to the Dewford Gym. How can I help you today?”

“We’re here to fight Brawly,” May announced.

The receptionist hummed, eyes flicking to look the three of them over. “All three of you? Very well; are all three of you newcomers, or have you participated in the Dewford Challenge in the past?”

“We’re new,” Astra said.

“Ah,” Brendan said, raising a hand. “Actually, I’ve been here before. Brendan Birch,” he added.

“Oh, welcome back!” the receptionist said, flashing him that same fake-smile from before. “So that’s two new challengers and one returnee...May I see you girls’ trainer cards? Yes, thank you. You two have one badge each...all right then! Would you like to attempt the low-light gauntlet, or is this just a normal challenge?”

“Low light gauntlet?” Astra asked, blinking. A gauntlet was...some sort of endurance test, right? She hadn’t known gyms could issue other types of challenges. “What is that?”

“Brawly enjoys seeing other trainers follow his footsteps in training in pitch-darkness,” the receptionist explained, typing away at her computer. “So we’ve set up a course in the basement to mimic the Granite Caves. If you can defeat a few resident trainers in a row while blind, not only will Brawly make accepting your challenge a priority, he’ll also throw in an extra prize.”

Huh. That sounded...really easy. Astra didn’t need sight to tell where other living beings were, and her ability to share that with her pokemon would negate the darkness very handily. Earning a prize might be nice as well. Still, they really had to find Steven today, and spending the whole afternoon fighting trainers when they could just be going straight to Brawly sounded like a poor use of time.

“We’ll just fight Brawly,” May said, having come to a similar conclusion as Astra. “We’ve got other places to be today.”

The receptionist nodded. “Very well. Give me a moment while I contact him,” she said, picking up a nearby phone.

“What did she mean by ‘make our challenge a priority’?” Astra asked, turning to Brendan. “Aren’t gym leaders supposed to accept challenges?”

Belatedly, she recalled that Norman hadn’t accepted her challenge back in Petalburg, so she’d already seen an example of this. On the other hand, Norman was a huge jerk, so...?

Thankfully, and as always, Brendan had the answer.

“Gym Leaders do a lot more than just fight trainers, Astra,” he said. “They also have to run the gym, take on any pokemon-related issues in the community, train their team, and, well, have a life. They only have so many hours a day to face challengers. If he doesn't have time for us today, we’d just have to try again later. This gauntlet is just Brawly’s way of letting people cut the line, so to speak.”

“I see. Wait,” Astra paused, furrowing her brows. “What are we going to do if he’s busy?”

“March up there and kick his door in?” May suggested perhaps a little too eagerly.

“No, May,” Brendan sighed. “We can probably still see if there's any mundane appointment slots available, spectate someone else's match and talk to him between rounds, or maybe catch him coming or going from the building. Worst case is that we delay getting the badges until tomorrow. We could try out the gauntlet, even.”

“Fortunately,” the receptionist cut in, “it appears that Brawly is available and willing to accept your challenges. You can find him on the third floor.” She pointed at an elevator and stairwell to the side, flashing them that plastic smile. “Please enjoy your visit to the Dewford Gym.”

“Thank you for the help!” Brendan said, nodding. May had already started toward the elevator, Astra and Brendan not long behind.

Astra glanced at the elevator uneasily, then grimaced and headed for the stairs. She wasn’t particularly keen on stepping into one of those deathtraps again.

May glanced at her as she walked past the elevator, brow furrowed in confusion. “Eh? Astra, where are—oh, right,” she sighed. “Yeah, okay. Stairs it is. Last time she tried an elevator she nearly hurled,” she explained to Brendan.

“Oh,” Brendan said, “That’s...not great.”

Ugh. “Yes, yes, it’s awful; now are you two coming or not?” Astra groused, giving the two an irritated look from the top of the landing. Did they have to talk about her when she was right here? She shook her head and started ascending the steps once more, two pairs of footsteps trailing behind soon afterwards.

Astra didn’t spare more than a few moments to look, but took note of the several unusually small square arenas on the second floor. Didn’t they already have a bunch of arenas outside? Well, maybe they were for inclement weather. Still, they looked pretty cramped; even at opposite ends of the space, you could get within arms reach of an opponent in a second.

Perhaps that was due to the gym's typing theme. Thinking back to Roxanne’s lesson at the school in Rustboro, Astra recalled that Fighting types were very predisposed to direct physical combat; perhaps these small arenas were meant to emphasize that.

Soft, arrhythmic thwacking filled in at the edges of Astra’s hearing as she ascended to the last floor. It sounded like flesh hitting thick padding, each strike accompanied by a flash of exertion and a type of focused joy she recognized from when Grandpa was fully absorbed into his art. How peculiar. Was that Brawly? It had to be; Astra couldn’t sense anyone else nearby who could fit the bill, and the presence felt just a bit stronger than most. It reminded her of Roxanne, in a way. And Steven, though he had been much more intense. Were all Gym Leaders like this?

Astra reached the top of the steps and came to a halt. A larger, sunken version of the odd square arenas from before dominated the room, with the rest dedicated to a great number of tiered benches for spectators. Inside the arena was a man, tanned and blue of hair, grinning fiercely as he hammered his gloved fists into a patched up cylindrical leather bag. Sweat formed a light sheen across lean muscle on his bare arms and legs, uncovered by his orange and black T-shirt or blue shorts. Hopping back, the man’s leg rose, and his—his uh.

Um.

Was...was he wearing foot-shaped shoes?

Astra stared at the shoes. They were black with orange highlights that made them look like sandals, orange toenail decorations(!?), and individually molded toes(!?!?).

Aside from May’s epithets, Astra had never been formally introduced to the concept of gods. If she had been, it would be at this moment where she would know in her heart and soul that they were dead.

"Is that another boxing ring?" May asked, coming up from behind. "Oh, it’s a big one. Are they using them as arenas? Makes sense, I guess, but it’s smaller than the other arenas I’m used to—oh, nice roundhouse," she observed, watching the man in the ring kick the leather bag. "He’s got some moves—what in the hell is on that man's feet,” May said, her eyes and voice deadening to a flat, empty monotone.

“Oh good, it’s not just me,” Astra sighed in relief. “I have no clue what they are, but I do know that it is wrong.”

“What’s wrong now?”

May turned to the now-arriving Brendan and pointed back at the man in the ring. “That guy,” she announced, “has the worst shoes I have ever seen in my now forsaken life.”

Brendan blinked. He looked at the man and the atrocities he stood within and had the audacity to only be confused.

“You mean barefoot shoes?” he asked, uncertainly. “I mean, they take a bit to get used to, but they aren’t—”

“You’ve worn them?” Astra asked, shocked and betrayed.

“I mean...yeah?” Brendan said, glancing between her and May in hesitant bafflement. “They give you better grip when you do things like surfing, or—”

“They’re a crime is what they are,” May huffed, leveling a glare at the boy. “I don’t give a shit how good they are for whatever; whoever makes shoes with individually molded toes needs to get tossed in the deepest, darkest part of the arctic.”

Astra frowned, suddenly noticing a distinct lack of leathery impacts. Craning her head, she saw that the man she was tentatively identifying as Brawly had noticed them, looking over with mild perplexion written across his features. He peered down at his shoes, twisting them around as though he’d only just now noticed he was wearing them. Shrugging, he turned toward them and started walking closer.

"I just don't see how they're that awful," Brendan objected. "I've never heard anything about them before, and I used them my entire time here when I was younger."

"Brendan, you are wearing a pair of shorts over your pants," May said, poking a finger in his chest. "The day someone like you becomes the most fashion-conscious person in the room is the day my eyes melt out of my skull."

“Are you still on about that!? My pants are fine!”

“I beg to differ. Besides, it’s not just the pants, your hat is weird too!”

“Wh—what's wrong with my hat!?”

“It looks like hair! I don’t even know why it’s like that, but I swear to fuck every time I haven’t seen you for a couple hours I think you got your head bleached, and it’s always there!”

“Oh, says the girl who constantly covers up her eternal bedhead with a bandana! What, do you wake up every morning and headbutt a power transformer?”

Brawly came to a stop next to Astra, the man towering over Astra by at least a solid foot, putting him at least half a head above Brendan. He stared at the two teens, quirking an eyebrow in amusement as they carried on and completely failed to notice his approach. He caught Astra's eye and jerked his head at the squabbling questioningly.

Astra looked upon her friends quietly, and turned to Brawly with a sigh. "Yeah. They...they do this, sometimes."

She did too, but this time she just...didn’t really feel like it.

Brawly considered this nugget of knowledge, nodding sagely. He examined May and Brendan carefully, his face splitting into a massive grin as he stepped forward.

“Well,” Brawly said, his voice casual and brimming with latent humor, “I think he looks way tubular.”

“Nobody asked you!” May snapped, whirling to face Brawly. “So shove off and...” she trailed off, looking up at Brawly in squinty-eyed, open-mouthed disbelief.

“...Tubular?” she repeated, too baffled to be offended. Brendan, for his part, seemed to be feeling like he just got caught hurling grass balls at sleeping guards as he stared at Brawly in shock.

“Brawly!” Brendan stammered, confirming Astra’s suspicions. “Ah, we were, I mean, I’m sorry—”

“Yep, that’s me!” Brawly cheered, cutting Brendan off with a flashing smile. “You guys my challengers? Nice to meet ya. And I didn’t say it to be nice, either,” he added, clapping a hand on Brendans shoulders. “Don’t mind the sketch your lady friend was laying into ya’, you’re dressed up rad, little man.”

“Uh.” Brendan blinked, seemingly unsure how to take the earnest praise. “Thank you?”

May rubbed at her forehead, sighing. “He even uses slang,” she muttered, putting on her usual dramatics. “My ears will never recover.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Astra said, putting on a smile of her own. “You’d be right; we’re here to challenge you for your badge.”

“Right on!” Brawly nodded, stepping back to look at the three of them. “But first things first, can a man get some introductions? Name’s Brawly, and I’m Dewford’s Gym Leader, but you probably already knew that. I've been churned in the rough waves of these parts, and I've grown tough in the pitch-black caves! Now, who are you three?”

“Brendan Birch,” Brendan said, stepping forward. “We’ve actually met before, when I visited the gym a few years ago.”

Brawly tilted his head, brow furrowed. “Birch, Birch...” he muttered, peering at Brendan. He snapped a finger, eyes lighting up. “Oh, your dad’s the professor in Littleroot! Yeah, I remember you, that squirt who got lost in the cave!”

“Yeah...” Brendan winced, scratching his head as May choked back laughter beside him. “That uh, that was me alright.”

Brawly grinned. “Alright, nice to see you again! Grew up quick, didn’t ya? And got some friends too!” he added, glancing toward May.

“He’s tolerable enough,” May shrugged, smirking. “Name’s May.”

Brawly’s gaze shifted towards Astra. Oh, was it her turn?

“Astra,” she said, putting on a weak smile of her own. Brawly paused for an instant, everpresent grin flickering with uncertainty before resuming its prior cheer.

“Great!” He clapped his hands, grin abruptly fading into a more serious expression. “Now, before we get on with your challenges, there’s a snag we gotta work out; I only really have time for maybe two fights before I gotta scram for the day. Can’t do all three of you right now, so someone’s gotta sit this out.”

“What!?” May exclaimed, blasting outrage and irritation. “Really!? Can’t you just—ugh,” she rubbed at her forehead, eyes squeezed shut in sheer exasperation. Astra was inclined to grouse right alongside her. Someone had to be left out? Another stars-forsaken roadblock! Couldn’t anything go right today!?

Brendan glanced at them, the edge of his mouth twitching upward. “Well, I did warn you,” he sighed, before raising a hand. “I’ll sit this one out,” he said, looking at Brawly.

“Eh?” Astra said, looking up at Brendan in surprise as May perked back up. That had been awfully quick; she’d expected to have to argue her way into one of the spots. “Are you sure?” she asked, “you don’t have to sacrifice your place just by default—”

“Man’s made his choice, Astra!” May interjected, cheerfully clapping Brendan on the shoulder. “Let’s honor his sacrifice in the ring, yeah?”

Brendan rolled his eyes, shrugging off May’s hand. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not that big a deal to me if you guys go first; it’s not like we can’t come back later, and I know both of you have been looking forward to it.”

It was fair reasoning, but the speed of it was still a little odd. Well, in the end it was his choice. She smiled, nodding at the taller boy before turning to face Brawly again. He looked at them, his grin having returned to his face.

“Got all that sorted out? Rad. So, who’s up first?”

Ah, right. If she remembered correctly, she and May had bet on a coin toss to figure out their order back when they’d challenged Roxanne. Astra still wasn’t sure what rock paper scissors was, but maybe they could just do another flip—

“Yo,” May said, raising a hand. Astra blinked, staring at the other girl.

Or May could just outright claim it, apparently.

“Huh?” Astra asked. “Why don’t we just flip a coin like at Roxanne’s gym?”

“Nah,” May said, waving a hand through her bangs. “You won that time, so now it’s my turn.”

What in the world was happening today? First Brendan backing out, and now May doing this? Their logic was sound, sure, but that didn’t mean they could just skip to doing whatever they thought was best. “I mean, that’s fair and all, I guess, but we didn’t even talk about it. You just went ahead without me!”

May shook her head. “Well, it’s no big deal, right? We’re both fighting him anyway, and hey, this time you get to see how he battles ahead of time like I did! Honestly it’s more like I’m giving you the advantage here, really. I think you could use it; after all, you only scraped through Roxanne’s fight by a hair, yeah?” May nodded to herself, looking pleased. Both Brendan and Brawly were giving her looks, one flat, and the other oddly neutral.

Astra stared. “I...yeah, but...” she said, wilting. She wasn’t wrong, but...that wasn’t really...

“Great!” May cheered, turning back to Brawly. “Alright, I’m ready when you are!”

“Bit of a barney, aren’tcha?” Brawly observed, raising an eyebrow. “You got some mean aggro in you; let’s see if you can match that in the pit.” He jerked a thumb backwards toward the compact arena.

“Hell yeah!” May cheered, pumping a fist into the air. “Time to kick some ass! I better hear you guys cheering for me,” she added, shooting Astra and Brendan a wink before jogging off toward the arena, an eager grin plastered on her face.

“Will do,” Brendan sighed, watching her go. He turned to Brawly, scratching the side of his head nervously. “Ah, sorry about that. May can get a little, uh...” he trailed off.

“Bogus?” Brawly asked, amused.

“Right, bogus,” Brendan agreed. He paused, brows furrowing. “Uh.”

“Ayy, no sweat off my back,” Brawly said, waving him away. “I see all sorts around here, and I can’t blame someone for having such a ferocious fighting spirit! You two can sit wherever you’d like,” Brawly added, grinning at Astra and Brendan again as he started toward the ring. “It’ll be quite the show!”

Despite his semi-jovial tone, Astra could tell he was a little unimpressed with May, and got the feeling Brawly wasn’t going to go easy on her. Not that he would in the first place, Astra supposed. But she wouldn’t be surprised if May was going to get exactly the fight she picked.

“At least it’s not crowded this time,” Astra muttered, following Brendan toward the spectator seats. “Roxanne called the whole gym over to watch us fight.”

“I think Roxanne’s the only one who does that as a matter of course,” Brendan said, leading Astra towards the middle of the row. “It’s one reason why she’s usually the first stop in Hoenn’s gym circuit for a lot of trainers; it’s incredibly easy to find recordings of her fighting all sorts of opponents, so she’s easy to prepare for. That a significant portion of Hoenn’s native trainers step right out of her school and into her gym is another.”

“I see...”

Brawly—and the rest of Hoenn’s gym leaders—must only do that sort of thing as a special occasion, then? Or maybe they just don’t specifically call everyone to come watch, Astra supposed. She plopped down next to Brendan and almost immediately felt the life drain from her limbs. Ah, that was right, she’d been more-or-less on the move all day today, hadn’t she? Walking to Mr. Briney’s from the Petalburg Woods, riding across the ocean, and then walking across Dewford to the Town Hall and here to the Gym. Plus that...thing in the mists and what she’d felt in the Town Hall itself hadn't helped matters.

It wasn’t even over yet, Astra realized. After she fought Brawly, they would have to go find Steven Stone, wherever he was. Hopefully he was in, say, the next room over or something. After all of this she could...really go for...a...

“Combusken, double-kick!”

Astra’s eyes shot open, her head snapping back from the brief downward slump that she’d fallen in. She blinked rapidly, only now noticing the sounds of battle coming from the arena. What, had it started already?

Below, Combusken let out a wild caw as taloned feet tore into—but not through—the crossed arms of a figure Astra didn’t know the name of. It was roughly Combusken’s height, and looked rather like a human with a reptilian face, small tail, blue skin, and three white vertical crests atop its head.

“It’ll take more than ferocity to conquer these shores!” Brawly called, raising a fist in challenge. “Machop, sweep low and drop ‘em!”

The newly named Machop’s eyes gleamed. In one swift motion he shoved Combusken’s leg aside, dropping into a crouch and twisting. His leg arced out, Astra blinked, and suddenly Combusken was toppling backwards, almost horizontal with the floor. Machop sprung upwards, dropping his elbow into Combusken’s torso mid-fall and driving him into the ground with a painful thud.

“Oh, that’s not good,” Astra murmured, rubbing at her eyes as May vocally took offense to the counterattack. “May won’t last too long if Combusken keeps taking hits like those.”

“I don’t think May’s had a lot of practice fighting other, well, Fighting types,” Brendan mused. “There’s a bit of nuance in these matchups that she wouldn’t have known to train Combusken in, like footwork and such. Meanwhile, this is Brawly’s specialty; I’m not surprised the first few hits aren’t going her way.”

“Well, she’d better get better fast,” Astra sighed, looking at the unfolding altercation...vacantly?

Strange. Whenever she’d sat on the sidelines when May and Brendan had a friendly spar—that May had never lost—she’d always been at least a little enthralled in the spectacle. Yet right now she couldn’t even muster up any interest in a gym battle. Stars, she’d been half-a-blink from outright falling asleep! Was she truly that exhausted?

Scowling to herself, Astra shook her head and straightened her back. She was up next; there was no way she was missing out on her fight over a little fatigue! She stared intently at the battle below, frowning as Machop, thoroughly beaten and burnt, managed to land a decisive chop to Combusken’s throat and send his feathery opponent into gasping unconsciousness. She frowned as Combusken disappeared in a flash of red light. May had lost the first round?

“Come on, May!” Astra called, now thoroughly annoyed. “You can do better than that!”

“You’ve got this!” Brendan loudly encouraged. “Show him what you’re made of!”

May’s response was a loudly grumbling expletive while she dug into her fanny pack and sent out Poochyena. Honestly, with how she all but shoved her way into fighting first, Astra had thought she would have had the decency to not flub the first few moments!

Although, she hadn’t expected May to steal the first shot at all. What was up with that? She wasn’t even considerate enough to explain herself. Once they’d beaten Brawly and delivered that letter to Steven, Astra was going to have to sit her down and figure out why exactly—

Remember.

----------------------------------------

“—Fuck off!” May screamed, glaring hatefully at Astra as she stomped away into the forest. “Shut up, SHUT UP! I am so sick of your questions—!”

----------------------------------------

—she’d...huh?

The world swam for a moment. Astra blinked, catching her drooping head in a hand. That…why had she recalled that so suddenly? Her fight with May in the Petalburg Woods, now starkly clear again in her mind. She and May had had an altercation about May’s, uh, abrasive social skills after she had been a jerk toward Steven Stone—right after he’d rescued them from being lost—about two weeks ago, and the other girl hadn’t taken it well.

She’d almost forgotten the way that argument ended. May wasn’t particularly keen on trying to confront her faults, history, or mentality; she’d even made Astra promise to not bring that sort of thing up again. Astra had accepted it in the moment, just glad that they hadn’t completely fallen out, but...that wasn’t a great thing to promise, was it? Complete immunity from questioning her?

No, she’d still have to bring it up. Underneath all the grit, May was still the girl who’d shared her room, fielded her questions, and been her friend since her first day as a trainer. She’d just have to make her see that this sort of thing was keeping her from being the kind person Astra knew she could—

And never forget.

----------------------------------------

“Hello?”

May squinted back at her, eyes full of irritation and empty contempt. “What do you want?” she asked, as though the very air she used to speak to her was utterly wasted.”You won, battles over.”

“Go away.”

----------------------------------------

—be...?

Astra stared at the battle below, dimly watching Poochyena nip at Machop until it fell, only for Brawly to pull out another pokemon apparently called Makuhita. It was rather chubby, bipedal, mostly yellow, and was already punching the air in excitement.

Astra was only barely looking at him, preoccupied with recollecting meeting May for the first time as a ‘human’. May had utterly dismissed her, then. Treated her like...like everyone else Astra had ever seen May talk to that wasn’t her or Brendan.

Only after discovering Astra was her ‘rival’ did May change her tune. Was the simple fact that they had become trainers at the same place at roughly the same time truly that potent?

Or was it simply...convenient?

Had May latched onto Brendan—and then Astra herself—simply because they’d been the first options available once she’d arrived in Hoenn? Was that basis something that could truly last? May had been so outraged back in Petalburg Woods...what if bringing her issues to light again made their friendship more trouble than she thought it was worth? Surely other humans would be easier for May to get along with; Brendan already proved that. He didn’t ask weird questions, or wear dirty clothes to bed, or completely fail to understand every other reference or remark in the world.

How much longer could someone who treated everyone like an enemy be friends with Astra, just because she’d decided that Astra was an exception on a whim?

Astra jerked back as a terrifyingly familiar howl pierced the air. For a brief second she was back in the forest near her home, scrambling through dense underbrush as shapeless forms flitted through the darkness around her, stalking her every movement as they circled in for the—

“Strafe and bite!” May shouted.

Astra gasped, heart pounding in her chest. Below, Poochyena rushed directly at Makuhita—jerking to the right as Makuhita’s palm rocketed through the space he’d occupied. Poochyena, hair radiating faint wisps of gray energy, swiveled around Makuhita and jumped, fangs sinking into his opponent’s head-bow-thing as he rode the rotund pokemon into the floor.

“Yeah, that’s how you do it!” Brendan cheered from beside her, pumping a fist in the air. Astra automatically copied the motion, ‘woo’ing alongside him.

Astra stared at the arena, deliberately evening her breaths out as her pulse ceased thundering in her head. May’s Poochyena had just used Howl; it was nothing to worry about. Everything was...it was fine.

“She’s doing better,” Astra said, tearing her attention away from the battle below. “Got a good hit in, and Poochyena isn’t even scratched yet.”

“She’s adapting pretty well,” Brendan agreed. “But even one good attack doesn’t make the fight. Feinting is a step in the right direction but she’s still too straightforward; if she aimed Poochyena at a joint instead of the head she could have hindered Makuhita’s ability to fight back instead of just—”

Brendan had a nice voice, Astra thought, slowly. It was always crystal clear and well enunciated. Did he practice talking a lot? Who even did that? Weirdo. The rest of humanity too, in fact; weirdos one and all. Didn’t they have any shame? Astra doubted her own voice would be any sort of eloquent; she hadn’t even attempted vocal speech as a Kirlia yet, and the number of times she spoke as a Ralts could be counted on her hands. Hadn’t May even been there the last time Astra had spoken? She had quite the voice too, always so emotional and vibrant. Astra could even hear her now—

“—Dammit!” May cursed, recalling a battered and fully unconscious Poochyena back to her pokeball. Across the arena, Makuhita was now adorned with a crown of bloody bitemarks and a number of gashes around his arm while coated in a wispy layer of red energy.

Astra twitched. Apparently she’d zoned out and missed a minute or so. Again. Ugh, she hadn’t felt nearly this scattered before she’d sat down; if May had let her go first, she wouldn’t have lost her...wakefulness...momentum? Was there...a word for that? Uh.

A loud bird call sounded from below, drawing Astra’s attention away from the complexities of language. Oh, May had brought out Taillow. Why was it so fuzzy? No, wait, so was everything. Focus.

Astra grabbed a bit of flab on her waist and twisted. Sharp, searing pain flooded her system, jerking her fully upright once more and clearing the blur from her slightly watery eyes. Sodden embers that hurt!

Blinking away the tears, Astra looked back to the battle just in time to see Taillow’s shining blue wing carve a hefty gash along Makuhita’s arm. Piercing bird-song resounded through the arena as Taillow twirled away from Makuhita’s responding palm-strike and ascended into the air, cawing in victory as Makuhita’s struck arm hung limply at his side.

“You aren’t coming back from this!” May yelled, raising an arm to the sky. “Taillow, wing him down!”

“Your bird is speedy,” Brawly admitted, grinning in spite of his partner's injury, “but my man won’t miss this shot! Let’s ride, Makuhita! Snatch that bird out of the air and use Vital Throw!”

Taillow fluttered high, then twisted around and dove straight down, wings shining like the sky. Makuhita stared upward, line-like eyes locked onto his foe’s falling form as his remaining hand pulsed with crimson fighting spirit.

Astra gripped the edge of her bench, eyes wide. Had Makuhita been strengthening himself all fight? Even though Taillow had the type advantage offensively, Makuhita’s strength had half-again surpassed that difference. Taillow didn’t have a defensive advantage since it was neutralized by his weakness, so if that strike hit...!

“This is it!” Brawly yelled. “Time to send that bird into the deep end!”

Silver light dove, and a red palm rose to meet it. The moment seemed to stretch on—

A shout pierced the air.

“Shoulder slash!” May screamed.

Seconds from impact, Taillow swerved, darting between Makuhita’s outstretched arm and his head. Silvery wings sliced down and cut, driving themselves into the tendons of Makuhita’s shoulder, and leaving a gouge in the muscle down his back.

Red energy still burned, and Makuhita cried out as he spun, his unerring strike lashing out—

Only for a floppy, unresponsive hand to lightly slap Taillow out of the air. Charged enough to still hurt, but without Makuhita able to put his full strength behind the blow Taillow merely bounced off the floor a single time before uprighting itself and swishing back into the air, ruffled but unscathed.

Everyone stared at Makuhita, who glared up at Taillow with no fists left with which to punch.

May smirked. “Sorry, what was that?” she asked, cupping a hand over her ear. “I can’t hear all your surfer-talk over how hard you just got rolled.”

Astra couldn’t help but cheer at the sight. That was it! She’d gotten one over on Brawly!

“Heck yeah!” Brendan cheered alongside Astra. “Fantastic call!”

May visibly preened at the exclamations, while Brawly just looked amused, and perhaps a little impressed. Astra couldn’t blame him; just a moment ago May’s Combusken was getting his butt handed to him, and now her Taillow had just severely outmaneuvered him. Brendan was right, she did adapt fast.

...Maybe that was it, Astra thought. Sure, May was abrasive and kind of a jerk to everybody. Sure her reasons for being friends with Astra were whimsical and ephemeral. That didn’t mean it had to stay that way! If she could learn how to fight like this in such a short amount of time, surely she could learn to value others as well? It wasn’t like she’d had much practice, Astra supposed. Yet, even with that lack of experience, she’d been decent at being nice when she wanted to! Even recently, she’d been mostly civil with Captain Briney! Sort of.

Astra nodded to herself as she watched Brawly recall his Makuhita and bring out his third pokeball. Yes, if she could just help May overcome her social inexperience and understand how to be considerate of others, then she was sure the other girl wouldn’t repeatedly piss off everyone from strangers to powerful human leaders and be much happier for it. After all that, maybe she and May could reconcile in truth, rather than that mess in the forest. And once everything was finally said and done, and Astra had finally become Champion and all that followed, May could see Astra for who she truly was and would...May would...

“Go, Meditite!”

There was a flare of very familiar power, and then she knew.

What they have done to you.

----------------------------------------

The human stood above her, eyeing her in vague interest.

“Never seen this kind before, though...” she muttered. The interest faded, and she nudged the small boy at her side forward, gesturing to the creature she’d never seen before. “Well?” she asked, casually, as though it weren’t important at all.

“Go capture it.”

----------------------------------------

—May would be realizing that her entire friendship with Astra was built on a giant fucking lie.

Echoes of her and May’s first meeting replayed themself in Astra’s mind over and over as she laid eyes upon Brawly’s last pokemon. She could see him, two feet tall and Kirliaesque, blue skin with white feet, hips, wrists, and head. Two ovular marks underlined two wide black eyes, between which was an open, diamond-shaped mouth, all beneath a droplet shaped mass of white hair with two swirling bulges over his ears.

But more than that, she saw him floating slightly above the ground, legs crossed and faintly glowing with a power she knew all too well.

Meditite was a Psychic type, his energy blaring out to any who could sense it.

Meditite blinked, breaking his intense staredown with Taillow to turn an inquisitive eye directly at Astra. Astra stared back, frozen in place. Meditite tilted his head curiously, then dismissed her, turning back towards his opponent.

“Alright Taillow, let's see what this one’s made of! Quick Attack!” May called.

“Meditite, Reflect!” Brawly countered.

Astra watched blankly as Taillow crashed into a familiar wall of energy, slanted such that he bounced directly into the floor before Meditite followed up with a swift kick that sent him across the room. May...wasn’t hesitating at all, was she? No, of course she wasn’t. Why would she? It was just another pokemon, after all.

What did it matter if Meditite was Psychic? A lot of pokemon were Psychic.

What did it matter if Meditite could learn complex maneuvers and strategy? That it was capable of deep thoughts and feelings? So could every other pokemon she had seen.

Was he capable of learning to speak human? Even if he was, would anyone bother to teach him? Would it change things even if he did?

Roxanne had told her that there had been success in the past. But she’d never said anything about those pokemon who had learned to speak...being anything more.

None of that made a difference. They were all still pokemon. She was still a pokemon.

They could never be anything else.

May stared Meditite down, raising her hand and calling out to Taillow. He dove at Meditite, wings shining with the light of the sky. May’s gaze bored into the diminutive Psychic opposing her—

Eyes staring at her in vague interest, sharpening into anticipation and greed.

—and for a fleeting moment, Astra could imagine that she was right there, staring down her best friend as May ordered her Taillow to hunt Astra down.

“Reflect! Focus Punch!”

“Dive under it then—wait, evade! No!”

Astra blinked, her pseudo-vision abruptly vanishing as Meditite slammed Taillow with an empowered hook, driving the bird straight into the floor.

Well. Uh. Astra...didn’t quite think she could punch a bird out of the air, herself. But the scenario wouldn’t leave her thoughts, nor would May’s dispassionate stare from that chance encounter on Route 102. Would the past repeat itself once everything came to light? Astra...was deeply uncomfortable in that she didn’t know. She hoped not, but May wasn’t that predictable, and more than that, Astra had been lying to her the entire time they’d known each other.

She didn’t want to. She hated it, loathed these falsehoods with every fiber of her being. That face she saw in every mirror clenched at her heart and soul so badly that it hurt. How badly would May take it, having received these lies for so long? Astra remembered May nearly setting that thieving Team Aqua member on fire in Rusturf. She’d sensed that quiet sorrow when May had recounted her first friend's broken promise atop that lighthouse in Rustboro.

What they’d built up these past few weeks...was that enough? When counting that she didn’t count as a person, was anything going to be enough? Astra didn’t know. She couldn’t know, and finding out risked so much more than just herself.

Were they even her friends, in truth? She’d only been ‘Astra’ for less than a season. They didn’t know her. Her true interests, her home, her family...she couldn’t share anything more than a superficial glimpse for fear of drawing attention and suspicion. All they knew was this empty facade, feeding them nothing but lies and asking them question after question like a social parasite—

“Ooooh!” Brendan shouted, nearly jumping out of his chair, one hand shaking Astra by the shoulder in excitement.

“Aaaaa!?!?” Astra screamed, jerking wildly. What? What was happening?

Disoriented, Astra looked at Brendan’s excited everything, then at the arena below. Her eyes widened, spotting Meditite, now landbound, sliding wildly across a giant patch of ice, straight towards—Tentacool? When did May swap in Tentacool?

Had...had she missed a whole exchange again!?

“Yeah!” May yelled, punching the air in exhilaration. “Get that ice cream lookin’ poser, Tentacool!”

Head spinning, Astra could only watch as Tentacool pounced on the wildly off-balance Meditite, sending them both sprawling onto the icy-slick floor. Tentacool then crawled onto Meditite’s head like a bizarre hat, latched onto his scalp, and began to mercilessly Poison Sting his opponent, who couldn’t seem to find purchase on the frozen ground.

He probably could have levitated himself up, but Astra doubted she herself would have been able to think of that if her head was being ripped into while getting Poison Stung. How had this even happened? Well, Tentacool, ice...uh. Aurora Beam? He beamed the floor? What happened to Taillow? Maybe May couldn’t find a way around Meditite’s Reflect barrier? Or maybe Meditite just knocked him out. Ugh, she’d barely seen anything this whole battle!

“Did you see that!?” Brendan exclaimed, almost vibrating in place. “That was amazing!”

No, Astra most decidedly had not seen anything at all. She could hazard a guess, though. “I didn’t expect her to use Aurora Beam like that,” she said, blithely dodging around the fact that she hadn’t even known May had sent Tentacool out in the first place. “I don’t think Brawly did either,” she noted, blinking at the Gym Leader.

While he was still yelling encouragement to Meditite and trying to get him to escape Tentacool’s clutches, he seemed to be looking at May with surprise and...acknowledgement? Perhaps even he was impressed by May’s maneuver. Whatever it was.

Brendan nodded, grinning. “Yeah, last second target swaps can catch anyone off guard, especially when it goes like that.” He shook his head as Meditite’s struggle to yank Tentacool off his head started to flag. “I honestly didn’t expect May to win on the first try, especially after how hard she fumbled with Combusken. Should’ve known better; she really is amazing.”

“Yeah...” Astra mumbled, staring down at Meditite. “She’s certainly something.”

A sharp zing sounded as a red light enveloped Meditite, whisking the now-unconscious Psychic back to his Pokeball. Brawly clapped, face split into a wide grin.

“Well, that was a gnarly trick you pulled at the end there!” he cheered. “I got swamped! Congratulations; you’ve won my Knuckle Badge!”

Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

May chuckled, smugly waving a hand through a bang. “Wasn’t ever in doubt!” she scoffed, recalling Tentacool. They headed for the center of the arena where Brawly handed May a glimmering blue badge. May turned to them and held it up in the air, grinning proudly as Astra and Brendan gave her a round of applause.

“I guess it’s my turn.” Astra said, huffing as she slid off the bench. She staggered for a moment, the world seeming to spin for a split second as she stood. Had she gotten up too fast? Shaking it off, she picked up her violin case and turned to head for the arena.

“You...don’t have to fight today, you know.”

Astra paused, turning to look back. Brendan stared at her with a worried frown, a cloud of anxious concern rolling from his mind. Not...fight? She’d spent so much time just getting here; why would she delay?

At her silence, Brendan pushed on, words tumbling out of his mouth like autumn leaves. “It’s just, you’ve had a long day, and you, well, look pretty tired.” He hesitated. “Tired enough to doze off during May’s fight. Coming back fresh and rested tomorrow morning wouldn’t be the end of the world, would it? You aren’t like, bound by law to challenge him today.”

Astra considered him for a moment. True, she wasn’t at her best—even she could admit that—but she’d spent all day working towards this fight, and she’d sooner dump ash in her soup than give up now. She needed that badge, and the sooner the better. Who even knew if Brawly would be available tomorrow? Or even this week? He barely had time today!

“Thank you,” she smiled. “But I’m fine.”

“Are you?” he questioned, eyes searching.

How stubborn. She appreciated the concern, though. Really, she did; it was comforting that Brendan was trying his best to look out for her. She’d spent longer with May, but he had been her first human friend and he’d never been less than courteous. Teasing at times, but never angry, and always quick to give her advice and help. Astra had greater ups and downs with May, but with Brendan she knew that he would always treat her, and everybody else, with the kindness and compassion that they—

...And what they would do again.

----------------------------------------

Brendan held up a pokeball. “Shroomish was simply a genetic oddity that merited a closer look,” he explained, and behind those friendly, compassionate eyes, there was no further justification needed.

And again.

----------------------------------------

“—Unless you wanna do some odd jobs like catching a dozen Shroomish for a pharmacy?” Brendan asked, eyes dancing in amusement as he joked not about stealing away half a score of thinking creatures, but of the task’s sheer tedium.

...And again.

----------------------------------------

“—If I saw a rare or unique pokemon I’d catch it and bring it back to the lab.” Brendan said, a small smile on his face as he recalled snatching anything that caught his eye, purely for the sake of novelty.

----------------------------------------

...

Brendan would always treat others with the kindness and respect that he thought they deserved. And Pokemon like her, at best, were only afforded the respect of a well loved pet. Nothing more than a particularly exceptional research specimen, in the end.

Had...had he been saying things like that this whole time? How had she only just noticed? And why now?

Astra blinked, then tore herself away from Brendans expectant gaze. “Of course I’m fine,” she said, the words echoing hollowly though her own mind. She started toward the stairs, each step heavier than the last. Even Brendan...

“I have to be,” she murmured, fingers brushing across the smooth wood of her violin case.

May met her halfway down, the other girl grinning widely.

“How was that for a battle, huh?” she bragged, flipping a hand through a bang. “Didn’t even break a sweat!”

Astra looked at her notably darkened hair and mustered a weak grin, absently reinforcing her illusion. “Certainly showed us. Well done.”

“Heh, of course.” May preened a moment longer, then nodded at her. “Welp, now it’s your turn. Kick his ass, girl!”

Astra nodded, brushing past May. She could feel the other girl’s momentary confusion and hesitance before she left to go join Brendan, but she didn’t pay it any mind.

She had something more important to focus on.

Climbing through the rope cordon and into the odd square ring, Astra made her way to the marked out corner where May had stood moments ago. Taking a deep breath, she forced her hands to stop shaking as she opened her instrument case, the semi-polished gleam of her violin shining dully up at her. It...was probably going to be difficult to play right now, but once again her lies had trapped her here. Can’t be silent, and her complex plans weren’t really suitable to just call out like normal trainers. If there was another option, Astra’s mind was coming up rather blank on solutions.

Pulling the instrument free, Astra scooted the case to the side and turned to face—

Brawly wasn’t there.

“Huh?” Blinking slowly, Astra looked around the room, confused. “Brawly?” Wasn’t she up next? Where had he—

“One mo’, little lady!” Brawly called, his head peeking up from the opposite side of the ring. “My team got all dinged up so I gotta get them fixed up real quick. Healing machine’s stored under the ring right now so I had to duck under. Almost done!”

Why was it under...? Well, healing his team made sense. May had roughed them up quite a bit after all. Astra was still irritated at herself for blanking out for the majority of those battles; she’d barely gotten any insight on how Brawly fought. At least she knew what Pokemon he was using?

True to his word, it only took another few seconds before the hidden healing machine went ding. A moment later, Brawly literally hopped the barrier, flashing Astra an easy grin as he went to his corner. He paused, blinking as he spotted what she held.

“Is that a violin?” he asked. “Do you play music during fights?” Astra nodded. Brawly’s grin widened, honest excitement jolting through the air. “Heck yeah!” he cheered, pumping a fist in the air. “We got a musician in the house! Love fighting trainers who do oddball stuff like that.”

“I’ll try not to disappoint,” Astra demurred. Even as terrible as she felt, she wouldn’t do anything less than her best! Even if that best wasn’t particularly great at the moment.

Brawly’s brows furrowed, smile dimming at...something as he peered at her. Astra stared back, unsure. Had she said something wrong?

“Well,” Brawly said, clapping his hands. “Best get started then. As you know, my name’s Brawly, Leader of the Dewford Gym! Challenger, tell me your name and why we must fight here today!”

He was talking kind of like Roxanne had; as though they had an audience. Was this just how Gym Leaders went about starting battles? Had May done this? Actually, Astra had now missed the initial moments of both of May’s gym fights. What a lousy friend Astra was turning out to be. Wait, Brawly was waiting for an answer. Focus.

“My name is Astra!” Astra called out, flipping the violin around to rest against her neck. She stared at Brawly, bow ready and waiting to make the strings sing. “I am here to get your badge, and take my next step to becoming the Champion.”

“Alright—huh?” Brawly stopped mid-exclamation, blinking at her. “Oh, you’re trying to take the championship? Not just challenge him?” he checked.

Astra stared at him. Was there a difference? The Champion gave the position to whoever they lost to, right?

“Yes?” she half-asked, confused. “Is something wrong?”

“Ah, nah, nah, it’s just I wasn’t expecting—hm.” Brawly studied Astra, and suddenly Astra felt like the man was truly considering her for the first time. Judging by the swirls of worry and...disappointment(!?), he wasn’t quite fond of what he saw. “Your spirit seems a little...battered. You sure you wanna do this today?”

Her...spirit? Ugh, she didn’t have the time or patience to decipher whatever that meant.

“Yes,” she bit out.

Brawly shrugged. “Alright then. Well, if we’re gonna battle for the champion track, I’m gonna have to set down a new rule.” He raised his hand, showing Astra three fingers. “You can only use three Pokemon for the duration of this fight.”

“Huh!?” Astra exclaimed, eyes wide. “Wait, why?”

“Because while quantity has its place, no Champion is gonna take that title without showing me their quality can match mine.”

“No, I mean, why are you giving me that rule? I didn’t have to do anything like that when I fought Roxanne!”

Brawly blinked at her, tilting his head. “She was your first gym, right? Did you give her the right challenge? Roxanne usually pulls out some big, overwhelming move to test newcomers' nerves.”

Some big, overwhelming move? “Her Nosepass tore giant chunks of rock from the arena and threw them around,” Astra admitted. Roxanne hadn’t used that move against May; at the time she had thought it was just too exhausting for an encore, but was it just because May wasn’t going for the championship?

...er, wait, she wasn’t? Astra hadn’t ever really thought about it before, but what exactly was May going for, anyway? She’d never said anything about it. Brendan was trying to...uh, help his dad? Somehow? Um.

“Yep, sounds like she gave you the right sort of battle.” Brawly nodded, interrupting Astra’s internal tangent. “Now you have to do mine. Three pokemon each; no winning by numbers here.”

“Are you guys just gonna stand there talking all day or what!?” May shouted from the stands. Astra glanced over to see the other girl leaning forward, an annoyed scowl on her face. “Get on with it already!”

Astra grimaced. She...didn’t have much choice here, did she? May was right; there was no more use arguing.

“Fine,” Astra bit out, turning back to Brawly. “If leaving out half my team is what it takes, then I’ll do it.”

At least she knew what pokemon Brawly was using. Now, which ones was she going to use? Fighting types hurt Normal types more, hurt Bug and Flying types less, were hurt by Bugs less, and were hurt more by Flying. So...start with Swablu? Same as May’s Taillow, she was strong but took hits normally. Nincada? He got hurt less, and if she didn’t use any Bug infused attacks...Slakoth was out, obviously. That left Grovyle and Marill. Uh. Grovyle? Because...because. Whatever.

“Well, then,” Brawly said, reaching into a pocket and pulling out a pokeball. “Let’s get this riptide rolling, yeah?”

Astra picked out her own pokeball, staring Brawly down. “You’re on.”

And then, together, their pokeballs flew into the air.

“Go, Swablu!”

“Go, Meditite!”

Flaring light resolved into Astra’s sunny Swablu, who chirped out a joyous “Swa!” as she twirled through the air. Across from her, Meditite sat upon thin air, eyes studiously gazing out from beneath a vanilla swirl of hair.

Astra rested her bow on her violin and—hesitated. What should she play? Tired thoughts shuffled through sheet music, finding no purchase on the hazy pages. In the fraction of a second before the battle began in earnest...she was drawing a blank.

And her mind wandered.

Icy islands, screaming in solitude eternally. Weapons sent from across the world, spreading fire and waste as they flew. Humans, close and far reaching for her family and friends and for her—

And then, her hands moved.

One two. One-two-three-four-five six—one two. One two three~~~. One two. One-two-three-four-five six—one two. One two three~~~.

It could hardly be called a battle song. It hung in the air, resignation and grim melancholy swirling in a dreary curtain that blanketed the arena. Wavering, shivering in the cold, seeing only bleakness ahead.

It was...tired.

Even still, within the heart of those ominous strings, a core of stubborn determination refused to yield. Standing in spite and defiance, it continued on, one note at a time, muttering quiet intent for all that could hear.

“Beset on all sides, there is only one way forward. And so I must go.”

So she went.

Tailwind, Blindside.

Brawly and Meditite, entranced by her song—or perhaps waiting for Astra to make her move—both reeled back in surprise when Swablu burst into the air, shining cyan energy twisting across her feathers. Contrails the color of the sky streamed behind Swablu as she twisted in the air above, circling around before shooting straight down. Astra watched through Swablu’s eyes as she aimed straight for Meditite’s head, the first part of the maneuver going just to plan—wait, why did she feel floaty—shi—

Astra jerked back to her senses, connection to Swablu breaking and her bow spasming in her hand as she stopped herself from falling over for no reason!? She lurched back upright, frantically keeping the music on track as she checked herself over. Huh? What? Why had she...? Her vision sharing? Were her faculties so degraded that even forming a sight link made her lose track of her own balance!?

“Reflect!”

Oh, right, the fight.

Oh shit, the fight!

Astra tuned back in just in time to see Swablu smash face-first into a glowing purple barrier above Meditite’s head. Swablu let out a dazed squawk as she hung in the air, dazed from the impact. Meditite’s barrier, shattered from the Flying-infused divebomb, broke into shards and faded from view.

Ugh, that wasn’t right at all! Whatever, they could still salvage this. Swablu just needed to dart sideways and twist behind Meditite, Pecking into—

“Force slam!”

Force what?

A new barrier shimmered into place above Swablu, and then dropped. Swablu let out a piercing cry as the wall of light slammed into her, violently crushing the bird into the floor.

Astra stared at the prone form of her friend, eyes wide with horror as her bow screeched to a halt. “Swablu! No!”

Shock and pain echoed through Swablu. That...Astra should have seen that coming! She should have been able to make Swablu swerve around and—if she hadn’t been so weak—

Gritting her teeth, Astra banished the thoughts away. This wasn’t over yet! Get up, she urged, setting her bow back on her violin with a sharp outcry. We won’t be taken down with just one attack!

Swablu, her sunny complexion now marred by a blotch of darkening purple, creaked like a strained flute. Nevertheless, the bird began to clamor to her feet—

“You’re...commanding your pokemon with your violin? That’s a neat trick,” Brawly noted, curiously eyeing the instrument. “Odd music, though.”

His face blanked out, and he gestured at Meditite. “Again!”

Astra’s eyes widened as energy surged around Meditite. Another barrier formed directly above the fallen bird.

“Swablu, get out of—!”

Whump.

“—there...” Astra trailed off, staring at the purple slab where her pokemon once was. No. No no no, this couldn’t be happening. “Swablu...?”

From beneath the barrier, Astra could hear a muffled, croaking “Swa...”

Brawly closed his eyes.

“Again.”

Astra stood there, numbly. She saw the psychic barrier rise, and she saw it fall.

And, at last, the pain gave way to merciful oblivion.

Hands shaking, she retrieved her pokeball and recalled Swablu. Her sunny bundle of fluff, beaten and broken, vanished into pale red light. She stared down, thoughts filled with fog. In the arena, Meditite stood unharmed. Astra hadn’t even gotten a single hit in, and now Swablu was down because she couldn’t pay attention.

“Bit of a rough go, there,” Brawly said, shrugging his shoulders as May yelled something Astra couldn’t process from the sidelines. “Caught me on the back foot at the start, but you fumbled while trying to get into melee. If she had gotten back in the air quick enough...”

He paused, eyeing Astra. “Might need to work on your Swablu’s toughness. You can’t ride a wave if you fall over when you get splashed.”

Was he trying to give her advice mid-fight!? A spark of something ugly lit up in Astra’s heart, and she could almost feel the fire in her eyes as she glowered at Brawly. Fine. Fine. She was down a pokemon and had nothing to show for it. Whatever. Whatever! She could still pull through. It wasn’t over yet!

“I won’t be going down so easily this time,” she growled, tucking Swablu away. Brawly gave her a small, infuriating smile.

“Persistent, or stubborn?” he mused to himself, folding his arms in thought. “At the very least, determined. Still, if any part of you feels that you should back down, know that there’s no shame in it.”

“Stop trying to talk me out of this!” Astra snapped. “That’s not going to happen! I came here to beat you, not run away or—or chat!”

“Hey now, fighting is all about chatting,” Brawly said, his amused grin widening. “Every battle is like a conversation, you know? The ebb and flow of combat, synchronizing with our pokemon until our spirits combine into one, and facing off against a worthy opponent until our conflict lets our clashing ideals manifest in our fists...that is the true heart of battle!”

Huh? What was he even saying? And...why was he pointing upward? Astra’s eyes flicked toward the ceiling, but there wasn’t anything there. She couldn’t...ugh, whatever. Astra shook her head and reached for her pokeballs. “Well, how’s this for a conversation partner!?” she yelled, hurling the ball into the air. “Go, Grovyle!”

“Still kinda stilted and mushy,” Brawly quipped, before schooling his gaze as Grovyle materialized on the field. “But maybe this’ll get our blood pumping, eh Meditite?”

“Tite!” Meditite agreed, standing ready.

Astra twitched. It was one thing for humans and other pokemon to speak aloud; they didn’t have any choice in the matter. But a fellow Psychic? How crass.

“Ready Grovyle?” she asked, setting her violin bow on the strings once more.

“Gro—!” Grovyle started to say, before he cut himself off. He looked back at her, his face a mix of surprise and worry. “Grove?”

Astra blinked, then frowned. Was he picking up on her exhaustion? It was nice of him to worry, she supposed, but could people stop fretting over her for five minutes? Sighing, she gave Grovyle a reassuring smile, though she couldn’t make it very big. “Focus on the fight, Grovyle, I’m fine.” she sent, prodding his attention towards Meditite. “We’ve got a badge to win.”

Grovyle gave her a long look, then hesitantly nodded. He turned to Meditite, flaring the leaves on his wrists as he lowered himself into a sprinting crouch. “Vyle,” he said, voice as rough as the crunch of dried leaves.

“You know,” Brawly mused, “if even your own pokemon are worried about you, shouldn’t you—”

“Oh just shut up already!” Astra yelled, slashing her bow across her instrument in a violent screech.

Just get in there and use Grass Cutter!

Blade-like leaves shimmered verdant on Grovyle's wrist, and he took a single step forward, eyes gleaming.

“Grove!”

Grovyle moved, clawed feet propelling him towards Meditite in an emerald flash. As his opponent raised his arms to block, Grovyle thrust out—

“Light Screen!”

—only for the green energy to sputter and fade as his arm passed through a thin, translucent yellow barrier, his leafy blades only carving a shallow cut on Meditite’s arms instead of the massive gash Astra had intended. Huh? That...Astra hadn’t seen that kind of barrier before. It hadn’t stopped Grovyle, but instead dispersed most of the energy he’d put into his attack? What a strange technique.

“Force Palm!”

Oh no. Quick Attack, get his leg!

Grovyle twisted, leaning into his overextending arm and striking out with his left leg faster than Astra could see. There was a horrible crunch as his clawed foot impacted Meditite’s left leg, and Astra flinched as Meditite blasted pain across her senses.

Yet Meditite didn’t fall. Purple energy flashed, his psychic power keeping him upright even as his leg failed. Pinprick eyes glared at Grovyle, and he brought up both of his glowing white hands and pushed.

Grovyle gasped as a giant pair of disembodied palms erupted from Meditite’s hands, impacting his chest with tremendous force and sending him flying onto his back. He wheezed, slowly climbing back to his feet as tremors wracked his body.

“Oof, looks like Meditite hit a nerve,” Brawly observed. “Your Grovyle has a nasty case of paralysis now. Your music trick has gotten you this far, but will it keep you from going under for much longer?”

Astra was only vaguely aware of what she was playing on her violin at this point, nevermind the shouting coming from the bleachers, but she knew that it sounded angry. That should have felled Meditite, stopping him from attacking Grovyle back. But of course it couldn’t be that simple, could it? Nothing today could ever go her way.

Astra bit her lip, eyeing the sporadically shaking form of her first companion. Grovyle, are you alright?

Grovyle stood, claws twitching sporadically as he readied himself to sprint forward. “Grovyle,” he rumbled, gaze sharp.

Good. Astra pulled down on her bow, and the strings sang. Bullet Seed, fake Grass Cutter into—well, just punch him. Then Grass Cutter with your tail.

“Alright Meditite—” Brawly began, and Astra scowled. She should have been able to compress her instructions; this was taking too long now.

Go!

Grovyle inhaled and spat a flurry of glowing yellow pellets at Meditite, before charging in, verdant light enveloping the leaves on his wrist once more.

Brawly blinked, then thrust his hand forward.

“Light Screen, don’t let him use his full power! Focus Punch!”

Meditite glowed, the yellow barrier manifesting before Brawly had finished the first syllable and intercepting all but the first of the bullets. The fastest seed impacted the center of his face, knocking his head back and leaving a bloody gash above his diamond-shaped mouth, while the rest were stripped of their power and struck him like tossed pebbles, glancing off with minor scratches. Meditite’s head snapped forward, glaring intensely at Grovyle as he renewed the Light Screen with one hand and began to gather energy in his other—

Only for Grovyle to thrust his arm through the light screen, the performatory energy dissipating off his wrist like smoke. Meditite’s eyes widened as Grovyle’s hand rocketed straight toward him, undeterred by the translucent field—and spasmed.

Grovyle faltered, his entire body seizing up for a brief moment as the latent aftershocks from Meditite’s Force Palm raged through his system. Astra stared, her aggressive music taking on shades of pure disbelief. Of course. Just...of course.

Meditite punched. Grovyle gagged as the red-coated fist slammed deep into his gut, the breath exploding out of his chest in a horrid wheeze. Meditite yanked his fist out and floated backwards, leaving Grovyle to gasp and stagger forward, clutching at his stomach.

But he didn’t fall.

Grovyle!

Yellow eyes flashed. Staggering forward another step, Grovyle screeched, twisting around as verdant energy erupted from his tail. Twin leaves straightened into Grass-edged blades and Meditite had only an instant to react, instinctively bringing his arms up to block.

The first blade sliced deep into his arms, cutting through the muscle and knocking them aside.

The second ripped through his torso, cleaving through flesh and leaving behind a deep, deep gash.

Meditite hung there for a brief moment, looking at his wounds with naked shock, before the psychic field keeping him upright guttered and died. He fell to his feet, eyes fluttering closed, and then collapsed to the floor, motionless save for the minute rise and fall of his chest.

Grovyle, thrown to the floor by the spin of his own attack, exhausted and gasping for air, stayed awake just long enough to grin in victory before he followed suit.

Astra could hear yelling from the bleachers, but she didn’t register it over the roar in her own thoughts. Silently, she recalled Grovyle in tandem with Brawly retrieving Meditite, and she looked down at his pokeball, gripping it tightly. Even after taking two strong attacks straight on, through Astra’s own lackluster showing, he’d stuck it out to see things through.

“Thank you,” she murmured to herself, tucking Grovyle’s ball away. Only one pokemon left, now, and she still had to go through two of his. Would Nincada be enough? Brawly’s other pokemon couldn’t smack him down like Meditite had Swablu, but even with his Fighting resistance, he was still pretty fragile. On the other hand, Marill could...um...take a hit? And...

There were other points, Astra knew, but for some reason they weren’t coming to her. It was as though that fog from Winter’s Eye had been reborn in her head, leaving her thoughts muffled and confused. Nincada it was; he’d just have to be quick enough to down both of Brawly’s pokemon by himself. He had to be.

“Man, that was a brutal ending, there,” Brawly remarked, switching out Meditite’s pokeball for another. “Might need to go visit a Joy. And that last push, man, that was rad. Even like this, you’re no kook."

Kook? What was...? Astra blinked, brows furrowing. “‘Like this’?” she echoed, frowning. Brawly sighed.

“Eh, it’s no use explaining again; you're already locked in.” He spun his pokeball on his finger then snatched it, giving Astra a small, sad grin. “Ready to break one last wave?”

Of the many things Astra was currently exhausted by, Brawly’s constant surfer slang was rapidly starting to rise the ranks.

“Nincada,” she called, tossing his ball into the air. “Give it all you have!”

“Straight to it, then,” Brawly said, throwing his own into the air. “Alright, Makuhita, show her what you’re made of!”

Light resolved, revealing the gleaming off-white chitin of Nincada, who chittered and buzzed his wings as he beheld his opponent. Across from him, the paunchy form of Makuhita slammed his ball-like hands together with an excited yell of “Hita hita!”

Astra stared at the rotund pokemon, teeth gritted. Her bow sang, notes thrumming as a frantic heartbeat in the air. Hit hard, hit fast, and don’t get hit back. So then, read his movements, dash behind him, and Fury Swipe his legs out from under him!

“Cada,” Nincada chittered, eyes flashing as he took in his opponent. His buzzing grew louder, his immature wings pushing him that small bit faster with each flick as he skittered forward.

“Charging in again, I see,” Brawly said. His voice was jovial, but the hints of excitement from before were gone. “Fine. Bulk up, Makuhita!”

Makuhita slammed his fists together and breathed, a whorl of reddish power pulsing across his body and making his torso and limbs seem to magnify in mass. Mere moments later, Nincada was upon him. He skirted around Makuhita’s bulky form and raised his front claws, slashing wildly at Makuhita’s legs and tearing open innumerable gash—scratches?

Astra’s eyes widened. While not worthless, the deep cuts weren’t nearly the limb-disabling strikes she had been expecting. Nincada’s strikes weren’t the strongest, but she’d seen him cut into fallen logs! Was it that ‘Bulk up’ maneuver? Ash in her face, why hadn’t she just stayed awake for May’s fight!? None of what he’d done should have been a surprise!

“Makuhita, multiple arm thrust!” Brawly called. Astra blinked to see Makuhita rounding on Nincada, the back of Makuhita’s legs a mess of painful, if distinctly non-debilitating lacerations.

Shit, Nincada, back up!

Nincada lept backwards, Makuhita’s palm striking the arena floor where he once was with an alarmingly loud thok. And then he just kept going, palm after palm only narrowly missing where Nincada had vacated an instant beforehand.

Astra watched, her violin twitching as she tried to keep her hands from shaking. Not good, not good. Makuhita wasn’t stopping! If Nincada just had a moment, he could stop scrambling backwards and easily get away! But even that short pause to turn around would get him crushed! He needed a distraction, or some way to make Makuhita stop or miss—oh!

Mud-Slap!

Nincada jumped away once more, narrowly avoiding the thok of Makuhita’s palm as he bit down into the...dirtless arena floor...

He looked at the padding below him, then stared at Astra. She stared back, blankly.

Makuhita’s palm slammed into Nincada like the face of a falling log.

“Nincada!” Astra yelled, watching the diminutive bug slam into the floor. Nincada bounced, the force of the strike rebounding him off the padded mat and sending him sprawling across the arena. “Nincada! Are you alright!?”

Despite being spiked into the ground like a Rebound ball, Nincada was quick to scramble to his feet. Astra blinked; despite having been hit directly in the face, Nincada ‘only’ had a puffy eye and a small crack in his chitin.

“Cada,” Ninjcada scoffed, as though offended by her worry. If anything, he seemed eager to take revenge on Makuhita. “Nin, cada cada!”

Despite herself, Astra found herself grinning. She was right, his type resistance was letting him stave off blows! And despite not debilitating him as much as she would have liked, those cuts on Makuhita’s legs were surely going to slow him down now that Nincada wasn’t on the back-foot; if she could exacerbate that, then they could pull through!

Good, she sent, turning her attention back to his opponent. Get back in there and keep cutting his legs! Keep behind him, run under him if you have to, but don’t let him face you head-on!

“Type advantages are pretty useful, huh?” Brawly observed, folding his arms as he looked at Nincada’s renewed advance. “They let you hit above your weight class and withstand blows that can knock you under.

“But relying on that alone...you can’t surf with the best if you never leave the shore!” he continued, eyes snapping open. He brought up a clenched fist, then cast his arm out in a great arc. “Let’s finish this; Makuhita, Focus Energy!”

Focus? He’s preparing for a big attack, go quickly!

Nincada burst forward as Makuhita planted his feet on the ground and clenched. “Maaaa!” he roared, enveloping his body in a swarm of yellow bursts of color. Darting around his empowered opponent, Nincada raised his claws, ripping ever-deepening cuts into Makuhita’s calves and ankles—

“Now, Makuhita! Great Stomp!”

Oh, Astra did not like the sound of that. Retreat!

Breaking off his assault, Nincada skittered back as Makuhita ponderously raised a single leg. Red energy coalesced within the sole of his foot and, glancing over his shoulder, Makuhita gave Nincada a big, triumphant grin.

His foot came down.

The arena shook, a white wave of pure force echoing out from the impact point and heaving everything it passed straight upwards. Astra stumbled, her violin shrieking to an abrupt finish and eyes widening to their fullest extent as she saw Nincada thrown into the air. He flailed wildly, his stubby wings unable to direct his fall as Makuhita crouched down below him.

“Makuhita!” Brawly called, standing tall in the other corner.

“No...” Astra whispered, staring at Nincada in horror.

“It’s time we put that bug in time out; Tackle him into the corner!”

“No no no no no no—!”

Makuhita laughed and charged, unbothered by his bloodied legs as his shoulder caught Nincada mid-fall, thundering steps carrying the bug inexorably towards a post in the corner of the arena.

“Nincada!” Astra screamed, futilely reaching out towards her pokemon.

Nincada raised his head and screeched, lashing out at the last moment to draw his claw straight across Makuhita’s eye.

Makuhita roared, and then thrust his shoulder—and the still-trapped bug upon it—directly into the post.

In that contest of Makuhita’s strength versus the sturdiness of the post, the loser was Nincada.

Astra fell to the ground, staring blankly as Nincada did the same. Makuhita stumbled off, screeching and clutching at his eye, and there was a great clatter from the stands, but it all faded into the crackle of the bonfire her life had become. Shaking, she reached for her pokeball and, after an eternity of fumbling, returned Nincada’s still form back home.

She stared down at it, thoughts hollow. Everything she’d endured to this point, all the work she’d put in, every hope for the future her people had put in her and yet she...she...

She’d lost.

“Hey. Need a hand?”

Astra looked at the proffered limb in silence. Her gaze traveled along it to meet Brawly’s gaze, the human looking back at her with a concerned, sad smile. Behind him, she could vaguely see Brendan frantically trying to stop May from charging down into the arena herself. Her eyes flicked back to Brawly, then turned away to stare at her pokeball again.

What was there to even say? It was over.

After a moment Brawly retracted his hand and sighed. A soft thwump told her he’d sat down next to her.

“It wasn’t a bad fight,” he said, breaking the not-quite silence as Brendan continued to stall May. “Your Grovyle was pretty good, and your Nincada got a nasty hit in at the end, even if it didn’t save him. It’s pretty impressive you were able to play your violin through all of that, even if what you played...wasn’t my style,” he hazarded, scratching his head.

“It doesn’t matter,” Astra bit out, giving the gym leader a sullen glare. “I lost. I lost. The one thing I couldn’t do and...and I failed. Everyone was counting on me, and now...!”

She sniffed and looked away, heat pooling in her eyes. Brawly was silent.

“Every...?” he started, then stopped. “Why not—?” he tried again, cutting himself off once more. He sighed.

“Do you want to know why you lost?”

Astra choked out a laugh, a wet blubbery chortle that got caught in her throat and stuck there. Why? Why? Wasn’t it obvious?

“I just wasn’t good enough,” she muttered, slipping Nincada’s pokeball away. “And now I’ve failed them.”

Brawly hummed. “Nah. You didn’t lose because you weren't the best. You lost because you weren’t your best.”

“...What?” Astra asked, giving Brawly a bewildered stare.

“I didn’t try to warn you off for no reason, Astra,” Brawly said. “The moment you walked in here I could just feel that curdle in your spirit, not to mention that you looked like death warmed over with how pale you are.”

“Albinism,” Astra replied on instinct. Brawly paused, wincing.

“...Even so!” he pressed forward, brushing his misstep aside. “During our match you were distracted, off balance, and blindly rushing through; even your music was off-kilter and strange. Of course you wiped out; nobody in this world can surf on a rotten board; at least for very long.”

Astra scoffed. “What, so I lost because I’m tired? Take a nap and it’ll all be better?”

If only it were that easy; the world would find some way to throw her into the muck regardless. That’s all it had been doing lately. Brawly shook his head.

“It’s not just your physical health,” he said, poking her in the forehead through her hat. “You gotta get that gunk in your head cleared out too. A battle is a conversation between our spirits, and I could tell that yours is starting to get real bogus. I don’t know what demons you’re facing or how to fix ‘em; that’s your problem, not mine. But fighting the way you are...even if you beat me, that wouldn’t be winning. You’d just have stuck your feet in the swamp even harder.”

Brawly grunted, shoving off the floor to stand back up. “Listen Astra, I think you have the potential to be a great trainer. Champion? Who knows, that’s on how you go from here. But nothing worth doing ever gets done by feeling sorry for yourself. By all means, take the time to sort yourself out, body and spirit. Talk to your friends, get your team up to snuff, maybe fight a few of my guys before coming at me again?” he hinted, smiling slightly. “But the world won’t end just because you stumbled. Besides, do you really want to just let things end here?”

Astra stared at Brawly’s outstretched hand again. That was...all so vague. Her spirit was...bogus? What did that even...how did you even fix that? How would beating Brawly not be a victory? She just needed his badge.

He was right about one thing though; she couldn’t just sit here. Mostly because May had finally overpowered Brendan and was rapidly approaching the ring, and Astra was fairly certain that May would eventually just physically haul her out of the building if she did.

Taking Brawly’s hand, Astra let herself be pulled off the floor—and nearly off her feet; apparently she was lighter than Brawly expected, to his apologetic chagrin. Brushing herself off, Astra sighed and started to pack her violin away, frowning at a small scuff on the edge of the instrument. Well. Great. That’s what she got for dropping it.

“The hell was that?” May asked as she dipped into the arena, Brendan close behind. “Did you pay attention at all when I was down here? Practically rolled out the red carpet and you just charged into the stuff I got him to show off like a blah blah blah blah blah—”

Astra stared at May. Or at least in her direction. She looked down at her violin again. Was there a way to repair the wood? It was probably more complicated than fixing a wall. Yet another thing she had to look into. Couldn’t even protect her instrument, how pathetic.

Snap snap snap.

“Astra?”

Astra blinked, looking up to find Brendan stranding in front of her, twisting his fingers in front of her face and looking very worried. May had stepped back and was similarly concerned, if also awkwardly ignoring her own unimpressed stare from Brawly.

“Huh?” Astra asked. “What?”

“Um. Are you...okay?” Brendan asked, visibly feeling stupid for asking.

“I’m fine,” Astra said, automatically. She gently shoved the violin back into its case, picking up the backpack she’d left in the corner of the ring as she did. “I. Just need to do better. Next time.”

Next time. Nnnnnext time. When was that? She needed to...win. Needed to win. Next time. Yeah.

But what now?

“Now I need to go take care of business,” Brawly said, clapping his hands.

Astra blinked at him. Had she...broadcasted that? Oh for—she dug into her backpack, quickly tore a handful of Leppa berries from their jar and downed the lot of them. A sharp, painfully clear sensation tore through the fog in her head, and Astra was suddenly flooded with power and newfound focus. Her eyes widened, hurriedly fixing the fraying threads on her illusion and eradicating the fucking unregulated emotional beacon she’d made of herself. No wonder everyone was worried, she’d basically been screaming ‘I’m anxious’ into their faces for the last twenty minutes!

Stars, she’d really been out of it. Still was, really; focused as she was, she could recognize that she still wasn’t really cooking with a full pot here.

“Hope I’ll see you guys around for a while, but until then, peace!” Brawly continued, showing them two fingers for some reason before walking away.

“Oh, uh, wait, Brawly!” Brendan said, hurriedly stopping the man in his tracks. “Actually, there's one last thing we need to ask you before you go.”

Brawly turned back, cocking his head. “Hm? Well, alright, shoot.”

“We’re actually carrying out a request from Devon right now, and we’ve got a letter for Steven Stone.” Brendan explained, shuffling nervously. “Mr. Stone said you’d know where he is...?” he trailed off, shrinking under Brawly’s focused stare.

“Ahuh,” he said, suspicion writ clear across his face. “Not the first time I’ve heard that line. But...hm.” He glanced over the three of them. “Well, you all don’t seem the type to pull something like the others. Where is this letter?”

“Oh, I have it,” Astra said, having already been arm deep in her bag. She didn’t think anyone had seen her scarf down the berries, but now she had an excuse for why she was digging around. Finding the letter, she pulled the thin envelope out and showed it to Brawly.

Brawly peered at the letter in her hand, the suspicion in his eyes fading as he read the writing and signature on the front.

“Well dang,” he said, standing back up. “That checks out. Well, you guys made it just in time; Steven should be out in the Granite Caves for the rest of today. You could camp out in the entrance until he comes out, or look for him inside if you’re daring. Fair warning, it’s pretty dark in there, so bring a flashlight. Or a Pokemon that knows Flash. Or, well, you get it.”

“Guess we’re going spelunking,” May said. “Well, I’m sure Combusken can light the way.”

‘Fantastic,” Brendan muttered, grimacing. “Thank you for the help, Brawly.”

“Hey, don’t mention it. And don’t go getting lost in there, buddy!” he grinned at Brendan’s wince. “Alright, I’m off for real now.” His gaze slid over to Astra and hung there for a moment. He turned away. “Good luck with Steven, and take care of yourselves!”

Astra watched him hop the barrier and vanish into a side door. She sighed, storing the letter back into her bag and turning to leave.

“Hey, are you sure you’re alright?”

Astra closed her eyes and breathed, staring into the darkness behind her eyelids.

“I’m fine, Brendan.”

“You really don’t seem fine, Astra,” he pressed, walking up beside her. “You were acting like a zombie in that ring. You’re clearly exhausted—”

Astra grit her teeth. She didn’t need this right now. “Brendan, I get it, you’re worried, but I’m okay—”

“Bullshit,” May cut in, scowling. “Girl you nearly fell over at the start of that shit, and you did when you lost! You didn’t even use any of the cool strategies I came up with out there; were you even awake!? I hate saying it, but you know Brendan’s right, you’re practically dead on your feet—”

“Do you think I don’t know that!?” Astra screamed, patience completely frayed. “I get it! I fucking get it! I’m not doing great! That thing in the ocean messed with my head, I found out some horrible shit in the town hall, and I just got my ass kicked by Brawly. I am having. A bad. Day.

“So you can stop telling me that I’m not doing okay, because I fucking know.” She snarled. “I know I’m having a bad day! I’m the one living it. And the sooner we can get done with today, the sooner it will be over. So can I just get one fucking hour without you telling me things I already know? Just one hour? Just...just...” she hiccuped, hands clenched tight and eyes blurring as she looked at the floor. “Just one hour without anything else happening...”

“Astra...” Brendan began.

“Shut up,” Astra cut in, wiping her eyes. She whirled towards the stairs and marched off, trying to keep the fog in her thoughts at bay. “Just shut up. Let’s go deliver this stupid letter and find a hotel.”

She stomped down the stairs, faintly hearing May say something or other to Brendan as she went. They caught up a minute later, but to her vast relief, refrained from making any other comments.

She just...wanted this to be over with already. The day had gone on far, far too long, and now she’d have to deal with Steven Stone. Joy.

Could they just make it through to nighttime without anything else happening?

Just a few hours, that was all she asked for.

Please?

The group trudged on, Brendan leading the way with stilted directions. They walked through the city, across the beaches, and eventually:

To the Granite Caves.