Cashe did not sleep well. One afternoon and evening was not enough to properly prepare against someone like Marcus Daye and he had spent too much time getting distracted with Emilia. He spent the night uncomfortable, tossing and turning in his bed, unable to fall asleep until the early hours of the morning. When he finally did fall asleep, dreams plagued him, waking him and flitting from his mind as soon as he was up, leaving him only with a building anxiety.
Cashe groaned, checking the time on his pokedex. Five in the morning. He lay still with his eyes shut, heart pounding, unable to return to his rest. The sheets of his bed felt rough and irritating on his skin and the roll of the ship was more noticeable than soothing. When he finally put the distractions from his mind and began to relax again, his alarm went off. Eight already.
Cashe rolled out of bed, head a mess of static and half finished thoughts. He forced himself into the shower, letting the warm water stream over his body for a long time. Now partially awake, Cashe returned to his room and dressed for the day, heading out the door for breakfast shortly after.
He ate alone. The cafeteria was empty of everyone except for a few cooks. Emilia and Lindon were already in the stadium. Emilia’s battle was in less than an hour and she was likely already with the production assistants for the big opening. Unlike the quarter finals, the semi finals were between top trainers, and the tournament wanted everything going to plan for the broadcast. There would be no hopping dividing barriers today.
Not that he would be watching the match at all. He wanted as much time as possible to prepare for battling Marcus. Emilia had agreed that it was a good idea not to get distracted before his match and didn’t even pretend to complain when he told her he wouldn’t be watching hers. Lindon would though, hence his absence from breakfast.
Cashe took a bite of his breakfast, surprised to find he had grabbed porridge, of all things. He never liked porridge. It was like eating wet grain to him. Which was what it was. Wet grain. As he put the wet grains in his mouth, a figure sat down across from him. Cashe was so out of it that he hadn’t noticed anyone enter the cafeteria, let alone their approach.
The figure was wretched. He had deep bags under his bloodshot eyes and was wearing clothes that were rumpled and dirty. His dark skin looked unwashed, and his thick, black hair managed to be a mess, despite being cut extremely short.
Cashe almost smiled, but it felt like it would tire him out. “Morning.” He croaked.
Marcus Daye jumped where he sat, “When did you get here?” His voice was coarse and quiet. Tired.
“You joined me,” Cashe said.
Marcus blinked rapidly in confusion and sighed into his hands, “You didn’t get any sleep either?”
Cashe grunted. “Maybe a couple of hours.”
Marcus gave him an exhausted snort of amusement, “I was up all night. I didn’t realize I hadn’t slept until an hour ago.” He took a bite of his breakfast, pulling his spoon out of his mouth with a confused look, “Porridge? I swear I ordered fruit salad.”
“It’s nice knowing I’m not the only one like this.” Cashe said with a half smile.
“The only one?” Marcus squinted at him, “You and Emilia weren’t up all night planning for today?”
“No. I don’t know if she’s even worried. You know what she was doing? She wasn’t trying to figure out how to win. She was trying to figure out how to win without tiring out her pokemon for the battle tomorrow.”
Marcus groaned into his hands, “I didn’t even think of that.”
Cashe actually managed a grin, “You know, this is making me feel a lot better.”
Marcus grunted and shoveled another spoonful of wet grain into his mouth. Swallowing, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes with both hands, “This is just part of my plan to make you underestimate me,” Marcus groaned, “My misery is a cunning ruse.”
“Hey,” Cashe said, forcing himself to sit upright instead of slouching over on his arm, “What pokemon are you leading in today’s battle?”
“Nice try, I’m not so tired that I would tell you I’m leading Popplio. Oops.” Marcus had the same deadpan expression on his face that Lisa usually wore.
Cashe nodded, “Figures.”
“Hey,” Marcus managed to frown through his exhaustion, “You can’t just say 'figures'. You need to tell me who you’re leading.”
Cashe glanced at him and smirked.
“It’s Bulbasaur isn’t it?”
Cashe looked back at his wet grain.
“Figures.” Marcus grunted.
“I’m pretty new to this pokemon thing, but aren’t we supposed to be taunting each other or something?” Cashe said, “Insulting each other and implying that I have much more prowess thanks to some intangible and trivial aspect that I possess and you do not?”
“Do you do that a lot?”
“They do where I come from.”
“It sounds awful. And exhausting. How about you just surrender instead so I can sleep for the rest of the day.”
“You can sleep when you’re dead!”
“What?” Marcus looked up from his food, “So aggressive. Where did that come from?”
“Sorry,” Cashe yawned, “I think it’s from a movie or something.”
“Right.” Marcus said.
They fell quiet, eating their terrible breakfast together. Cashe finished first and stood. “I guess I’ll see you soon.”
“No hard feelings when I beat you, okay?” Marcus said.
“As long as you don’t complain when I poison your pokemon.”
“You can’t poison my pokemon.”
Dammit. Now he would have to check.
***
“Please wait for the cue,” the production assistant said. She was standing in front of Cashe holding her clipboard against her chest with one hand while the other pressed her headset into her ear.
Cashe leaned against the wall. The light on the ceiling of the tunnel was still red and Emilia’s battle was still going on. He had just arrived at the stairs of the tunnel, but apparently the young woman had explicit instructions to make sure he didn’t mess anything up for the semi finals.
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Cashe could hear the crowd through the metal of the ship and over the hum of the engines. They were loud, louder than he had ever heard them previously, cheering and screaming at the trainers above.
“Do you know what to do?” The assistant asked.
“Go up when the light is green?” Cashe guessed.
“Exactly,” she said seriously, “Not when it is yellow, and especially not when it is red.”
“I’m familiar with the concept.”
“Yet yesterday you were on the stage when the light was red.” She scowled.
She had him there. “Sorry about that.”
The production assistant harrumphed at him and crossed her arms, inspecting him closely. “You look awful. Is this some kind of persona thing? Like you’re trying to be a dangerous vagrant or something? I’m not the biggest fan of heels like ‘Blood Money’ but that will at least play with a lot of audiences. This,” she waved her hand , gesturing to his entire body, “not so much.”
Cashe gave her a tired chuckle, “You know, being a trainer can be really stressful sometimes."
The assistant’s face moved from confusion to realization to embarrassment in rapid succession, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean you look bad. I meant bad as in, um, cool. Like he’s so bad, you know?”
“You said awful.”
“I did? Um, that’s because I wasn’t finished. I meant awfully. Awfully good.” The production assistant offered him a strained smile for a brief moment before it fell away, “I can get hair and makeup down here in like a minute, you know.”
Cashe half smiled, “It’s fine. Wait till you see the other guy.”
“That other guy?” She frowned, “Marcus Daye? Did you punch him, too?”
“What? Why would I punch Marcus?”
The assistant ignored him and pressed a button on her headset, “Milo, check in on Marcus Daye. What kind of condition is he in?” She frowned as she got news from whoever Milo was. She turned to Cashe, “What did you do?”
“More than one person can be nervous about an upcoming battle,” Cashe complained. “I ate breakfast with him. He was worse off than me. That isn’t my fault.”
She frowned as if she didn’t quite believe him, “Get hair and makeup down here,” she said into her headset, “Send someone to Marcus Daye as well.”
“I said it’s fine.”
“For you, maybe. For me and everyone else, it’s unprofessional.”
A minute later and a pair of women who appeared to be identical twins rounded the corner at the end of a hall. They were carrying a surprising amount of equipment, including a collapsible chair and a large lamp. They introduced themselves as Hailey and Hannah and sat Cashe down in the chair as they set up the lamp. One of the twins switched it on and an intense light nearly blinded him.
“Ah! Is this really necessary?” Cashe complained.
“Yes.” All three women responded simultaneously. Maybe he really did look that bad. Cashe held still as Hailey and Hannah worked in a frenzy over him, caking on makeup and styling his hair.
“How is your hair clean and still this messy? Did you shower and fall asleep while it was drying?” One of the twins asked.
“Yes.”
“I thought it was mucked up with grease,” the other said.
“Does that happen often?” Cashe tried to frown in doubt, but Hailey or Hannah stopped him with her hand and returned to dabbing his face with a strange brush.
“Ugh, you have no idea,” a twin said.
“Trainers are the worst,” said the other, “A week ago a trainer got into the engine room. Came to his match against one of the favorites covered in grease and grime.”
“It was the first match of the tournament for any of the favorites,” the first twin said, “We had to give him an impromptu shower, right here.”
Cashe felt one of the twins pulling at his hair and heard a metallic snip. “Are you giving me a haircut?”
“Hey, no talking when I’m applying makeup!” The other twin scolded.
“Only a quick one. More of a trim.”
“Girls, you have to hurry,” the assistant interrupted, “Battle just ended.”
The flurry of activity around his head became a whirlwind as the women worked to make him presentable for the broadcast.
“Why is this a thing now?” Cashe said as Hailey and Hannah finally pulled away from him, “The top eight started yesterday, but no one seemed to care.”
“I cared,” the assistant said, “If you had entered the stage the normal way you would have figured that out.”
“Don’t listen to her,” Hailey or Hannah said, “Nobody really cared yesterday, you’re right.”
“I mean you were battling a guy named Tobb,” Hannah or Hailey added, “Nobody thought you were going to lose. I didn’t even bother to watch.”
“We did have surprisingly low viewership numbers yesterday,” the production assistant mused.
Cashe stood up just as the light above them turned yellow. The doors at the top of the stairs flew open and slammed shut a second later with a mighty crash of steel on steel. Damian Dart stood in the entrance, visibly fuming. His face was wrenched into a furious grimace and his pale skin was flushed red. He stomped down a few stairs, back hunched in frustration but froze when he saw four people standing to the side of the hall, staring at him.
He blinked in surprise and straightened, taking a deep breath and affecting a pleasant smile, “Hello,” he said in a smooth tone, “Apologies for my demeanor. I was frustrated after the battle and didn’t expect to see anyone in the tunnel.”
“Emilia kicked your ass, huh?” Cashe said, returning the smile.
Damian’s smile shrunk an inch, “I wouldn’t describe it in those exact terms, but yes, unfortunately, I did lose.”
“Oh well, we all lose eventually,” Cashe shrugged, “We just have to improve and do better next time.”
“Yes,” Damian’s smile became strained, “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Damian finished his descent of the stairs, walking away without another word.
The light in the tunnel flicked from yellow to green.
“You know what that means,” the production assistant gave Cashe a small shove forward. Cashe climbed the stairs.
***
Blue and Julius found Red camping in the Wild Area of Galar. He was on Axew’s Eye, an Island in the middle of a lake that did not look like the head of an Axew, no matter what the locals said. They came upon him in the evening, the sky dyed orange and red by the setting sun.
Red sat cross legged at the top of a small hill overlooking the lake, meditating. He was shirtless, despite the chilly temperatures, and his thin wiry body was covered in pale scars from years of hard living. A young Galarian Darumaka rolled around in front of him, making happy burbling noises.
Charizard lay nearby, curled up and providing his tail for warmth. The glow of the flame lit the camp, casting dancing shadows over the nearby trees and bushes. One of the bushes shifted, revealing itself to be an enormous Venusaur. One of its giant eyes opened as Blue and Julius climbed the small hill, tracking them as they approached. Seeing nothing worth its attention, Venusaur snorted and closed its eye again.
Blue and Julius entered the small camp. Red was living as meagerly as he did in the cave, with no visible supplies and only a small tent for shelter. Blue walked right up to Charizard, who didn’t even bother opening his eyes to greet him, and sat down, leaning against the pokemon, patting him affectionately. Julius gave him a dubious look and sat down away from them both, keeping a safe distance between himself and the huge fire lizard.
They remained silent until Red opened his eyes, widening them in surprise as he noticed two guests in his camp.
“Hey, old man,” Blue said, giving Red a lazy wave as he patted Charizard, “Got a favor to ask you-”
“Blue!” Julius shot him a look of incredulity, “I am sorry for Professor Oak’s rudeness,” Julius said, turning to Red, “Please allow me to introduce myself, I am Professor Julius Sycamore, of Sycamore labs in Kalos. It is my understanding that you have recently worked with Professor Oak in a collaborative research study.”
Red snorted and turned to Oak, “Who’s this guy?”
“Dad’s friend’s son,” Blue said, waving away the affronted look Julius gave him, “His dad is the guy I told you about, the one that first figured out assisted Mega Evolution.”
“Pah,” Red scoffed, “I never needed that kind of stuff to get my pokemon to Mega Evolve.”
“Actually, that’s why we’re here,” Julius said, leaning forward, “I have a theory-”
“Ahem.”
“We sorry, we have a theory,” Julius corrected, “That your form of Mega Evolution may use a different form of energy, or more likely a different source to achieve the process. If so, it could potentially mean that both using a Mega Stone and your alternative method of evolution might have significantly different results.”
Red gave Blue a questioning look.
Blue sighed, “Your evolution method is Fire Pledge. The standard evolution method is Grass Pledge. When they are used together…”
“Ah, I get it,” Red nodded, “I’m listening.”
*****