Sammy watched as Dean’s face grew deeply contemplative as he looked over the boy’s features again. It was as if the Trainer was searching for something in particular on Sammy’s face, but wasn’t finding what he was looking for.
“Sorry, Sammy, but I didn’t know any Oaks while I was in the service.”
Paul spoke up. “Oh, Sammy isn’t an Oak. Well, he is by relation, but not by name.” He set a warm hand on Sammy’s shoulder. “Takahiro Himada ring any bells?”
The immediate change on Dean’s face was all Sammy needed to know as the man’s face scrunched into an unexpected emotion. Eyebrows torqued downwards and cast shadows that served to highlight gray hammocks of exhaustion beneath eyes without luster. Jaw muscles tightened. Lips were drawn into a thin line that quivered and wavered. Sammy knew and understood the look on the man’s face, for he had seen it time and time again in the mirror.
Grief.
Dean crouched and took Sammy by the shoulder. Despite Sammy’s initial reaction to pull away, there was more weight to the man’s touch than a simple hand that held him firmly in place. Even more surprising to the boy was the embrace that followed. Sammy hurriedly pushed away from the man, expecting resistance but finding none. He watched in surprise as tears flowed freely down Dean’s cheeks.
“Sorry, son. You must be confused.”
Sammy swallowed the vitriol that threatened to pour out of his throat at the unwanted term of endearment. He forced himself to stay still and listen, lest the man stop talking and the incoming moment of potential clarity be lost.
“Takahiro Himada and I served in the same platoon. Technically he was my underling, but I never saw it that way. He was someone I trusted with my life, and a good friend of mine.” A small smile broke through the shadows on Dean’s face. “I thought he lived over in Gunjou, never expected to run into his family in a place like this.”
A hundred things all sought to rush out at once, leaving Sammy stuttering and lost between the sentences. Try as he might to string two coherent thoughts together, there were far too many to choose from.
Dean wiped his eyes on his sleeve. “Look. I know you have questions. But unfortunately this is not the time or the place for a leisurely conversation. I promise that once all of this is over and the dust has settled that we’ll sit down and have a chat.”
The feeling of Paul placing his hand on Sammy’s shoulder was comforting. “Come on kid, close your mouth before you start catching flies. You look like a Magikarp!” The man made burbling noises as he mockingly popped his lips into an “O”. Sammy kept watching as Paul gestured for Dean to continue talking and noticed that the glares that had previously been directed at the Trainer were gone now.
Dean remained crouched as he fished his notebook from his bag and flipped the pages. Sammy recognized the diagram from that morning’s breakfast. Several “X’s” denoted their makeshift party, while large rectangles stood in for the Rattata.
“We will approach them directly. As I mentioned before, they already know we’re here. I’ll be in front with Crescent. Hopefully they’ll buy the ruse and believe that he belongs to me now. Sammy, you’ll follow behind me. Paul, you’ll take up the rear.” Everyone present nodded. “Gram will be just above us with Teleport prepped and ready just in case they try something funny and prioritize Sammy for extraction. If everything goes according to plan, I’ll start the formal duel proceedings, Rooster takes out the Raticate, and we’re all back in town in time for dinner.”
Sammy finally caught enough stray words to form a question. “What happens if things don’t work?” He blurted out. “What if they figure it out?”
Dean frowned as a meaningful look passed between him and Paul. “Then we do things the hard way.”
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Nothing was peaceful about their approach. Once they crossed some imaginary line, the forest had simply erupted into an ocean of purple fur. A teeming, shrieking mass of teeth and claws surged around them with the occasional brave Rattata lunging towards their ankles and snapping at the air. Gone was the fresh breeze. A heavy scent of droppings and detritus hung a pall over the area, setting Crescent into a frenzy. The Nidoran seemed barely capable of holding back as its spines stood nearly vertical while its ears lay plastered to its skull. Sammy wanted to reach out, to comfort the Pokemon, to stroke its glistening needles back down to their relaxed state… but he dare not shift from his position lest he give everything away.
While in truth it must have only been a hundred feet or so that they walked in this manner, to Sammy’s perception it was hundreds of kilometers. Longer than the road to Viridian. Longer than the trip to Pallet Town. Each step seemed to propel him backwards even as they grew nearer to the epicenter of the teeming mass.
Sammy had been scared before. When storms blew in from the sea and tore roofs off of buildings. When he had nearly broken his legs falling off a ladder. When he nearly got pulled out to sea by a rip current only to be saved at the last moment by a nearby sailor.
This was different.
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Sammy experienced sheer terror for the first time in his life.
Unlike the ocean waves, this tide would overwhelm him instantly. There was no swimming parallel to the beach to escape the pull of the current. There was no soft hay bale to cushion his fall. There were no walls that kept the gales at bay. Honor was the only thing that stood in the way of being utterly devoured.
Honor.
They had talked about the concept in school. It didn’t really make sense to Sammy at the time, but now he thought he had a tiny inkling of what it actually meant. Sammy had agreed to fight one on one with the survivor. Until that happened, the Rattata would not touch him. He made a promise, and even though they were enemies… the Rattata were trusting him to fulfill his end of the bargain.
And yet.
Sammy looked down at Rooster’s ball clutched tightly in his small fist. He looked at the star that had been welded to its top. A Bronze Staryu. Sammy knew what the award meant. Among his father’s awards there were certificates that said why they had been given. When Sammy’s father had been awarded his Bronze Staryu it had been for “honor in the face of unknowable danger.”
What they were doing wasn’t honorable.
It wasn’t right.
The terror swirling all around them abated just a fraction as Sammy’s head grew clear. The apprehension of the night before and of the morning was gone. He knew what he needed to do.
Sammy sped up and overtook Dean. The Trainer tried to ward him off with a look, but Sammy ignored him. His focus was on Crescent as they locked eyes. Those red orbs that had been flicking in all directions at once settled upon Sammy. The feverish emotions the Nidoran displayed fell away as boy and Pokemon shared a moment of clarity.
Crescent left his position by Dean’s side and came into lockstep next to Sammy. Dean’s eyes widened in realization and Sammy could see the panic there. Sammy didn’t care. If he was going to fight…
Sammy would fight honorably.
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Dean recognized the look on Sammy’s face and it terrified him. It took him back to the trenches. It took him back to a realm of iron hail, fire, and lightning. As the boy pressed Rooster’s ball into his outstretched hand, Dean nearly called for Gram to begin an immediate extraction. A first-stage evolution had little chance against a Raticate. A boy with no combat experience had little chance against a wild animal that fought everyday for survival. Dean desperately wanted to yell, to scream at Sammy to stop what he was doing right now and flee.
But he couldn’t.
He recognized that look.
It was the same look on Takahiro’s face when he watched that steel clad monstrosity tear through rank after rank of their friends. Dean had tried to stop the man back then. He ordered him to get back into formation and fall back so they could regroup. He screamed his lungs raw that his friend stood no chance. But Takahiro hadn’t even looked back. Onwards he had charged, followed by his orange and black partner.
The Arcanine fell first. It didn’t matter how fast the canine moved in the face of overwhelming ferocity.
Then…
Then Takahiro followed.
But even as his entrails spilled onto the rocks and sand, Dean’s closest confidant had made sure his sacrifice was not in vain. Even as the last of his lifeblood drained from his exposed heart, Takahiro had gouged his bayonet deep, deep into the eye socket of the Tyranitar. Only because of this heroism had Dean been able to rally the few survivors and make the enemy pay them back threefold.
All because of a look that once graced the Father now blazed upon the face of the Son.
Dean felt a sharp pain in the hand that held the Pokeball. He forced his white knuckled grip to relax, but could feel the bloodied star indentation on his palm. He knew why the boy had made this decision, and was humbled by it.
Sammy was bound by honor, and there was no stopping him.
Dean's boots seemed to get sucked down into invisible mire and made him drag every step, but he pressed on. He tried to retake the lead position from the boy, but Sammy only lengthened his stride. It was a stupid race they undertook. A grown man and a child who hastened themselves into the bowels of wrath. Dean did not dare to check on their rear guard. Paul was on his own.
It was obvious where their objective lay. Three bloated bodies that seemed to surf above the gnashing whirlwind of fangs with light brown fur that stood out in stark contrast to everything around them. The violet carpet parted as they reached the center of the Rattata hideout, swirling and expanding into a large ring.
Two humans and a single Nidoran stood before the hazel colored triad and waited. All of the words that Dean had prepared for this moment fled and dispersed into the rancid air that surrounded them. He fumbled for his notebook, for the written copy of those same words, but abandoned his efforts the moment that Sammy spoke up.
“I’m sorry.”
So unwavering and clear was the declaration that it forced all other sounds within the woods to go silent.
“I never wanted to kill your mate. I never wanted to hurt your friends.”
A spell had been cast over the entire area with Sammy at the center of it all. Even having never been told which of the three Raticate was the grieving widow, Sammy had managed to focus his determination upon the correct one. Dean was merely a bystander now.
Sammy had drawn himself up to his full height, but did not look down in superiority upon the Raticate. Even as he towered above the creature, his body language made it clear that he was speaking to her as an equal.
“You hurt me.” Sammy pointed at his foot and leg. “You hurt Crescent.” The Nidoran turned slightly to display what was clearly his namesake scar. “We never wanted to fight. We were trying to survive and live just like you.”
The Raticate growled and spat in the boy’s direction.
“We had to. To survive.”
Dean looked around for any signs of Gram and found him still hovering over everything.
“Why do we still have to fight? Isn't it enough?”
A horrible sound of grinding teeth rent the air.
“Fine. But if we win, there won’t be fighting anymore.”
Sammy turned to look at Dean expectantly, but the Trainer was frozen in shock. Without any translation, the boy had clearly conversed with the Raticate and come to an agreement on the outcome of the duel. Unless Gram had translated live directly within Sammy’s head, there was no way that could have happened. People didn’t speak Pokemon.
With his mind still trying to make sense of what he just witnessed, Dean flinched as a rhythmic crashing noise echoed throughout the woods. Like war drums, the surrounding Rattata were slamming their incisors together in a crescendoing beat.
Crash.
Crash.
Crash.
Crash.
Under the control of Sammy's steadfast gaze, Dean finally remembered some of the words he was supposed to say, and roared them over the gnashing staccato of the Rattata.
“This is a duel by proxy between Sammy of Pallet Town represented by Crescent the Nidoran and Raticate! There will be no substitutions, and will last until either one is unable to continue!”
CRASH.
With a scream like thunder, the battle began.