April

A rush of cool air buffets us with the opening of the Department Store's doors. We walk into a glass-and-tile bazaar, shopfronts of every color and kind along the massive shopping center’s wide corridors, themselves peppered with stands selling every kind of junk food and trinket known to man and Pokémon.

This is only the first floor… How the hell are there five more of these?

I drag Riolu to the side so he stops blocking the entrance; he barely notices. Poor guy looks overwhelmed.

“So, do you know what you want, or should we just browse?” I ask.

Maggie interjects, already looking apologetic. “You guys are free to browse as much as you want, but my shift starts at two. I have to leave after lunch. Sorry.”

“No problem at all, you’re doing us a favor.” But why?

With the Conference over and two months until the start of the next circuit, Maylene has taken her annual vacation to the Battle Zone. She took her Ace team with her, so it’s most likely not a poolside rest in the Resort Area… That still leaves Riolu and me with no escort around the city, since Pokémon can’t walk the streets without a chaperone.

Infuriating, but not worth getting in trouble for yet.

Rather than ask Helen to take us, Maggie kindly volunteered, even though she has work today. I pray to Arceus these two finally tell me what this is all about. The anticipation is becoming unbearable.

Riolu snaps out of his daze. “Yeah, I think I know. But I want to… look around? There’s so much stuff!”

I gently push him forward. “Lead on, birthday boy.”

In truth, it’s probably close to my birthday too, give-or-take a week. I’m not particularly invested in it. With me I carry the winnings Helen shared with us from our challenge victories at the end of the season, five-hundred-thirty-six dollars in all. Maybe I’ll get something nice for myself.

The ground-floor shops seem to consist mostly of mundane conveniences, pharmacies next to stationery shops across competing clothing stores advertising their Spring-Summer collections. We dodge between legs and accompanying Pokémon, Riolu inspecting each storefront as if they might contain the answers to all of life’s troubles.

Eventually, I convince him to ascend to the second floor, where the stuff we actually want might be: trainer supplies.

Now the clothes are advertised as durable, rather than fashionable. Silph and Devon retailers collect on their monopoly of dimensional bags and the single most important item of this civilization. Pharmacies become sprawling conglomerations of supplements, sprays, specialized foods, and all manner of useless tools to micromanage a Pokémon in every conceivable way.

Although the Pokémon out with their Trainers are, on average, larger than those downstairs, their number is reduced enough that we can hold a conversation again.

Maggie drops into a bench, already looking frazzled. “Eugh… Guys, you gotta slow down. While you were scampering around everywhere, I had to push people out of the way just to keep up. I think I either knocked-over a decorative plant, or elbowed a Sudowoodo in the face.”

We grimace. “Sorry, I was looking at everything… I didn’t realize,” Riolu offers.

“Yeah, my bad Mags. Do you need a break?”

“Well…” She looks around, then at Riolu, a question in her eyes. He nods.

“Ok, seriously, if you don’t start talking right now I’m gonna lose my mind!”

“Uhm, sorry Cleo. I know it must be annoying… I guess we’ll start.” Riolu fiddles with his footing, a habit he’s formed from our training. “Do you… What will you do once the circuit begins?”

Ah.

“I’ve thought about it a lot. Rayn told me people respect strength, and I agree. The easiest way to gain recognition and respect is, of course, what many Trainers try. Beat the Gyms, go to the Conference.” I sigh. “Couple problems with that. One: I want to show people what Pokémon can be, and doing what everyone else is doing seems counterproductive. Two: I’m not getting caught by a Trainer. I refuse. So…”

“That makes sense.” He glances at Maggie, both of them seeming… excited?

She clears her throat. “What if… there’s no Trainer?”

…

“What… do you mean?”

Mags edges forward in her seat, warming up to her pitch. “Ok, imagine this: You’ve won a big Gym match, everyone loves you, you want to use the attention to get your message out there. Who do you talk to?”

“Uhh… reporters? Someone who works for TV? How is this related?”

“Reporters don’t wait outside Gyms to interview people. At least, they won’t at first…” She shakes the thought away. “Let me cut to the chase. I can become a fake Trainer, while really promoting you.”

I wait for her to start making sense.

“I studied Communications; I still have the numbers of people from school who work in Jubilife or Hearthome now. Even if the original reason for my self-study was different, I’ve been preparing for this job for months, and I don’t plan to stop.” She grabs my hands, sliding to the edge of her seat. “Let me be your manager, your PR woman. I’ll put my name on paper so the League lets us do the Gyms; you’ll be the face. I stand there quietly to follow the letter of the rules. You’re the Star. I can get you interviews and talk-shows and podcasts and everything else we’ll need!” She takes a quick breath to temper her excitement. “I don’t know the first thing about battling and I’m not interested in changing that, but even I can tell you’re gonna be strong. And you inspire people. We can do this. We can actually do this. …What do you think?”

Wow.

…

“Cleo?”

“Let me think! That whole pitch was… Give me a minute!”

“Sorry. Take your time.”

Take my time.

Alright.

First of all, what the fuck.

With that out of the way… What do I think? Me as the face of a team, with Maggie as the ‘Trainer’. Right away, problems arise.

“I won’t stick friends onto a belt like cheap accessories. Out of the question.”

“If we fit in the Trainer box, everyone is allowed to be out. At no point is it legally required for Pokémon to be in a pokéball during the Gym challenge. I checked.”

Surprising. “Then… Mags, can you even register as a Trainer? With the whole… ex-Galactic thing?”

Her smile only broadens. “They lifted the ban—Cynthia’s request. A second chance for those with no criminal record and no violent crimes for Galactic. I’m on probation, but…” She shrugs. “I’m not interested in violating it.”

Maggie glances around once more, her words becoming conspiratorial. “Also, Cyrus employed hundreds of people. They’re having a lot of trouble finding a place to put them all as is.”

Practical concerns, too. That makes more sense. “And you’re alright with this? Working… for me, with me, I don’t even know. I can’t pay you.”

“Cleo, I’m eye-candy at the pachinko parlor. Yes, I want to do this. Money will be tight for a bit, but once we start making appearances and getting the payouts for the higher Gyms, we’ll be fine. I have savings.”

“You can’t throw your savings at me! This is ridiculous!”

“You saved my life.”

The words are said so casually that I fail to respond.

“And I don’t mean Lana and Kurt; I mean when I was kicked out. If you and Rayn hadn’t let me join you, I’d have died in the mud. That, or ended up like Lana out of desperation.” She squeezes my hands. “I want this. We made a deal. Let me do this.”

Faced with that… I can’t help but nod.

That leaves…

Deep breaths.

It’s been almost a year. I know Mags. I trust her. It feels right. She wants to help me, and it would be incredibly hypocritical of me to refuse after my speech at the police station.

…But I still have to say it. “Maggie, if we’re doing this… I’m sorry for what I’m about to say.”

I take my hands away from hers.

“If you’re registering as the Trainer, it will only ever be on paper. You’re my good friend, but I need to be sure of this: You do not order me, you do not control me, you do not own me. The moment you try to put me in a ball is the moment this ends. All of it. Do you understand?”

Please understand.

“Yes. I promise.” She reaches out again. “I promise.”

Do I believe you?

She holds my gaze.

“...Ok.”

“Ok?”

I take her hand. “Ok. I’m in.”

“Yes!” She pulls me up for a quick hug, then just as quickly sets me down, looking pointedly at Riolu.

The course of this conversation is obvious by now. I turn to him.“And you want to join us?”

Riolu straightens. “I do. I already talked to dad and Maylene. I want to travel and change the world with you. If you’ll have me…”

The contrast of this Riolu to the one I saw in that eighth-badge match is striking. He’s thrown himself into his training lately. With Vacuum Wave and now Shadow Ball he’s shown real skill with Special moves… But that’s not what really matters, is it?

“Riolu… You’ve been avoiding it. This is a huge decision, and we’re not making it until we actually talk.”

His posture wavers. “Cleo, I-I told you already, I want to get stronger! I’m serious!”

Still, with this crap? The corners of my mouth are dragged down by Riolu’s bullshit.

“Fine, I’ll say it. You confessed to me that you don’t like fighting. We’re going to be fighting a whole lot, and wanting to like something is not the same as liking it. You know that. You’ve pushed it away and I respected your choice—I haven’t pried.” I step into his personal space, forcing him to meet my eyes.

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“We’re not playing anymore. If all you’re gonna say is ‘I want to be strong’, then the answer is no.”

His fists shake slightly with built-up tension. I wait.

He sends a pleading look Maggie’s way, who smiles apologetically. “Sorry. Cleo’s right. Being pressured, or pressuring yourself into doing something you don’t want to do is not a good idea. Take it from someone who’s been there, and been burned. There are other options for you.”

He shakes his head in instinctual denial. “No, it’s not…”

In this moment, I feel Riolu is about to crack.

Instead he inhales, and faces me once again. “...Y-Yes. It was like that, alright? Dad and Maylene and everyone… It’s all I knew. I thought I had to.” He exhales. “Until I saw the Conference.”

Huh?

“Barry, Dawn and Lucas had the chance to do something great, and they took it. They saved the Region. I know it’s not the same, but you…” He flounders for a second. “They finished fourth and second as Rookies. That’s ridiculously good! W-what I’m trying to say is-” “-Breathe.”

I put a hand on his shoulder. “Take a second. Order your thoughts.” I may have gone a little too hard.

We hold our silence for a solid thirty seconds. A couple Trainers pass by on their way to one shop or another, only mildly interested in us.

Riolu raises his head. “I picked a name.”

I nod. “What is it?”

“Luca.”

“For Lucario?”

“For Lucas.”

“...Oh.”

“I’ve never met Rayn, but the way you talk about him… You two are naturals, meant to do great things. …Maybe I’m not. But Lucas wasn’t a great battler, and he saved the Region anyway. Cleo, I feel like I’m witnessing the start of something incredible. I know I’m not drawn to fighting. It doesn’t matter.”

His eyes shine with the long reflections of ceiling lights.

“I want to go on this Journey too.”

Agh, these two…

I glance at Maggie, asking for her opinion. She smirks and shrugs. Forgot she didn’t understand any of that.

“Don’t disrespect him,” she says. Yeah…

He’s clearly chosen for himself. I’m not about to deny him.

“Welcome to the team, Luca.”

He walks to the bench, hopping up to sit on it. A long breath is released, so charged with escaping tension that it comes as a staccato of air.

Only then does Luca smile. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, this is your birthday and I’m over here bringing the mood down. Let’s go buy some shiny things and get this back on track!”

Maggie stands, stretching with a groan. “You guys go ahead; I’m gonna use the restroom. All the stressful talk made me-Why am I still talking? Excuse me.”

She disappears into a thin corridor between shops, leaving Luca and I to our own devices.

Now that we’ve decided on this course, the offerings around here have become a lot more relevant. Particularly a sort of Trainer thrift shop I spot nestled between a camping supplies place and a bookstore. Good Training gear is usually expensive, so second-hand seems perfect for my measly funds. I nudge Luca.

“Hey. You wanna check out that shop while we wait? Might find something good.”

He takes in the knick-knacks and oddities in the showcase window. Needing no further encouragement, we head there with a spring in our step. Thankfully it seems the outing’s mood is restored. Those conversations were important, but I still want Luca to have a fun day.

As we near the entrance, though, a guard-Herdier seems determined to ruin it.

“Where is your Trainer?” he barks, eyes narrowed like he suspects we’re criminals or something.

“Our friend’s in the bathroom. We just want to look around; I have money.”

“No unaccompanied Pokémon.”

“Listen, we’re not about to start trouble here. We know how to behave in a shop. Just let us browse and maybe do business with you, everyone’s happy.”

“I didn’t ask. No human, no entry.”

Dude, seriously?

“Cleo, let’s wait for Maggie…”

I shake my head softly. “You joined the fight, Luca. This is it.”

Interpreting my words in the worst way, the Herdier starts a low Growl. His lip rises to reveal sharp, white teeth.

“What’s goin’ on, Angus? Trouble?”

A white-haired, aged man in a green flannel shirt approaches from behind the Herdier, who barks loud enough to hurt my ears. I stifle a wince.

“Morning, sir. My friend and I were looking to browse your store, maybe make a few purchases. Angus here is turning us away at the door.”

The man cranes his head down to us, looking befuddled.

After a couple seconds, he regains his wits. “By yourselves?”

“Yes, sir.”

“...You got money?”

“Yes, sir.”

“...Is it yours?”

I turn around to leave.

“Wait-wait! My apologies, I must have come down with a momentary case of idiocy. The name’s Harvey. Come on in, take a look around. Anything in particular you were looking for?”

“...Cleo, and this is Luca.” A glance at Angus shows him still poised to pounce on me like he’s hunting hare.

“Down, Angus, s’alright. You did your job.” The Herdier harrumphs, making great use of his mustache-muzzle, but relents. I gesture at Harvey to lead us inside.

We walk into the wood-floored shop, traveling into the past by way of the lacquered shelving and yellow tint of incandescent lightbulbs. Repurposed bookcases house all manner of items, organized without much rhyme or reason; hats, dowsing rods, dolls, pruney Apricot balls, shoes. A pair of glass cases at the back are too high for me to see what rests within. Riolu follows closely behind, still glancing back at Angus on occasion.

“I’m interested in Silph bags, but as you can probably tell a full-sized backpack isn’t ideal. Got anything smaller?”

Harvey hums for a moment. “...I might have something. Follow me, please.”

As we’re led to a bookcase set against the wall, Harvey keeps his expression even. His springy step, however, betrays excitement.

“Can’t Maggie carry a normal backpack?” Luca whispers.

“She’s committed herself to supporting me; I’m not making her a pack-Mudsdale on top of that. If I’m going to lead, I’ll carry my own weight too.” Wearing accessories will also reinforce that I’m a person rather than an animal—helpful for the future.

“Here we are. Silph beltbag, only released in Hoenn.”

Sitting on a low shelf, nestled between a pair of goggles and a lump of chalky-white rock, rests a familiar-looking bag. Meant to be worn around the waist, the main compartment sports two sown-on pouches and two sidepockets. May’s bag.

“Still in great condition. Five years old and it retails with a six-year warranty. I’ll let it go for seven-hundred.”

Crap. Is there an angle I can work here?

I pick up the beige pack. It looks clean and well-maintained… but I spot a faint imprint of its shape drawn in dust on the shelf. This thing’s been here a while. Combined with Harvey’s hidden excitement and that curious phrasing, a picture begins to form.

“Mr. Harvey, you said these are sold with a warranty. Is it still valid?”

“Well… no. It had some third-party repairs done that voided the warranty. Still in perfect condition, though! These things are built to last a lifetime.”

Time for a bit of a gamble. “And when you said ‘only released in Hoenn’: Is that because it’s a special edition of some kind, or because it didn’t sell well enough for them to make more?” I don’t wait for him to answer. “I think four-hundred would be fairer.”

“Ah… Caught that, did’ya? How about we do six instead?”

“Sir, my hands are dusty just from holding it—this has clearly been sitting here awhile. Plus the ‘tactical fanny-pack’ is not a very popular style, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. I’ll give you four-seventy-five and it can stop cluttering up your shelves.”

“Well, now you’re throwing dirt in my eyes, miss. The beltbag might not be very popular, but by your own admission you have no use for a regular-sized bag. I’ll do five-fifty, and that’s a favor.”

Almost. “...My friend Luca here is in the market for something, too. It’s his birthday, you see. Might be incentivized to patronize your store if he can see our money’s as good as anyone else’s.”

Harvey winces. “That’s a low blow, there. I apologized already, didn’t I?” He glances at Luca. “...What are you looking for, son?”

Luca’s been looking back-and-forth at our interaction, entranced, but snaps out of it to answer. “Uhm, I was hoping to find a good Held Item… Not too expensive, if possible.”

“A Held Item for him.”

The man scratches his chin. “Hmm… Those are worth a pretty-penny, you know? …Five hundred for the bag—final offer—and your friend takes a look at the selection near the counter; I’ve got something in there that’s perfect for him.”

It’s almost all my money…

“Deal.”

…But the bag is worth it. My old dried-grass satchel is already fraying, not likely to last much longer. I’ll probably keep a few stalks to remind me of home.

Harvey leans down to shake my hand, then I set about transferring my belongings into my new Silph dimensionally-expanded beltbag. A Shadow Ball TM, a few dried, raisin-like Berries, a wide rubber strip I use for strength training, the old satchel itself, and a whopping thirty-six dollars. The remaining bills are handed to the old man, who quickly counts them before giving me a nod.

“You drive a hard bargain, lil’ lady. I respect that. Let’s go look at some Held Items, shall we?”

I settle the clasped belt across my chest as we head toward the counter. It’s still a little big, though much more comfortable than the satchel’s rough strap.

“Cleo! Ri-Luca! There you are. Find something good?”

“Mornin’, miss. You these two’s Trainer?” Harvey asks, already at the counter putting bills into the register.

“No, just a friend. Oh, Cleo you got a new bag! Wasn’t that… expensive?”

I shrug. “Felt right.” Plus it is sort-of my birthday, too.

“Well… If you’re happy with it, that’s great. And the birthday-boy? Found anything yet?”

Luca stops momentarily in his approach toward the glass case. Then he runs the last few feet, barely stopping himself from crashing into the display. With a quick pull-up to be able to look within, he nods to Mags’ question. “Yes! I think I found something!”

Harvey barks a short laugh, sounding like a smug version of his guard-Herdier. “Knew you’d like it! Let me get it out so you can see it properly.”

Finished with the previous transaction, the spry old man pulls a little key from behind the counter, then sets about unlocking the case. From within he pulls a worn Black Belt, which he passes to Luca. “Worn by a battler Sawk for over twenty years before he passed. Soaked in Fighting energy.”

Luca runs a hand over it with an awed look.

“...Are you sure it works?” I can’t help but ask.

“Yo-you can’t feel it?” He sounds almost offended.

“I’m not the Aura Pokémon here, Luca. I can’t sense that kind of stuff.”

“Touch it.” He shoves the belt toward me. Placing a hand on the soft black fabric…

Woah. That is some strong shit. The energy-drink feeling of Fighting is so concentrated that it seems to flow like honey through the Black Belt, radiating power. It almost hurts to touch.

“Ayup. Pokémon League approved Held Item, good for all official matches or tournaments. What do you say?”

“I’ll take it!”, he replies with frantic nods.

Luca, no! Wait until he says a price first!

“That’ll be twenty-three hundred dollars.”

I suck in a breath through gritted teeth, watching Luca slowly deflate. He grips the Black Belt tightly, unwilling to let go. Maggie steps forward.

“Ahem. I’m afraid this is a purchase on behalf of Gym Leader Maylene, for use by one of her Gym Pokémon. We’re going to have to insist on the standardized price.” That's a thing?

“What!?” Harvey shoots me a glance, almost looking… betrayed? That we’re not overpaying you anymore? Not how this works, sir.

From her wallet she pulls out a folded paper, which she hands to Harvey with both hands, formal-style. His eyes race across it, a frown growing with every line until at last he turns to me.

“...You hustled me.”

I shrug. No need to correct him if it makes me look slick.

Maggie exhales a chuckle. “A bit dramatic, sir. From what I understand, that is a fair price. No sympathy points for not being able to gouge someone.” She produces some kind of special credit-card embossed with the emblem of the Cobble Badge.

The rest of the interaction is conducted in sullen silence on Harvey’s part, and guilt-tinged happiness on Luca’s. Harvey looks more resigned than anything as we make our way out, while Angus the Herdier eyes us like criminals, now for a different reason.

The Black Belt is wrapped around Luca’s right arm for the still-high price of twelve-hundred-and-fifty dollars, and we spend the rest of the morning window-shopping and trying sweets—on special dispensation from Maylene’s diet. The serious talks are finally over, and we get a chance to just enjoy a free day. I take the opportunity to store treats for the future in my new bag, although my insistence on paying for myself reduces my funds to coins. Worth it.

After Maggie leaves for work, Luca and I head to her apartment, where we spend the afternoon looking up the various cities of Sinnoh and daydreaming of what our Journey will be like.

Me, Luca, Maggie. We have an outline, vague as it is.

June can’t come soon enough.

-0-

Still. Relaxed. Show no weakness.

The sounds of impacts and shifting weights that normally permeate the Gym fade into the background, not welcome in this quiet place. My posture is perfect, my breath is even, my body is ready to snap into a perfect Double Kick in an instant. As I have been doing for the past two weeks.

Hitmonlee inspects me, betraying nothing of his thoughts.

Come on…

…

He holds up two fingers.

“LET’S GO! I-I mean, I am prepared to learn.” I bow immediately. Don’t tell me I ruined it…

I risk a glance at Lee’s face. His eyes are narrowed, but I get the feeling he’s smiling… wherever his mouth might be.

He gestures for me to rise. A raised eyebrow communicates his question.

“Firepunch and Thunderpunch.” Just as well that we’re only practicing two more moves; I never managed to get the hang of Icepunch. It just doesn’t make any sense to me.

This is cheating a bit, since Lee’s plan was to help me refine moves—not learn new ones—but I managed to convince him that adapting punches into kicks counts. My griping about weak, stubby arms must have struck a chord with him.

Hitmonlee steps into the center of our assigned space. I rush to the corner.

Leading left-foot forward, he glances my way. The meaning is clear.

‘Watch closely’.

Slight bend in the supporting leg, heel raised for the pivot, spin. Lee’s right leg extends to twice its length to carve a path through the air in a spinning heel-kick. Then, at its highest elevation, it retracts. Igniting in a blue-orange flash, a burning comet strikes the floor—a perfect Blazekick.

I blink away the spots in my vision. Lee steps away from the smoking ground with an open-handed gesture.

‘Now you’.