The road widened as Jonas approached Nova City, the gravel lane giving way to chip and seal pavement. The wide open grassy fields and sparse trees on either side of the road were eventually replaced by industrial buildings of brick and steel, smokestacks billowing black smoke into the sky. Jonas coughed, the scent of machine oil and smoke making breathing more difficult.

Ahead, Nova City rose from the plains, a towering metropolis. Buildings jutted upward, disappearing into the smoke, lining the streets where automobiles and trucks fought for space. People in simple but well-worn clothes marched along the sidewalks carrying pails and lunch boxes, seemingly unaware of Jonas. Shouts and whistles erupted from the factories, automobiles honked and ahoogaed, and countless conversations were held simultaneously, surrounding Jonas with an overwhelming cacophony. He gripped Flint’s pokéball tightly in his hand, unwilling to let his partner out in such an unfamiliar place. At least not until he found somewhere quiet.

Shielding his eyes from the harsh sunlight, Jonas stared into the forest of buildings, many adorned with posters advertising the Pokéball Run. “The Journey of a Lifetime!” one screamed in bright yellow letters. “Seize Your Destiny!” read another. Jonas spotted sporadic flashes of color as pokémon exchanged attacks, their trainers desperate to show off their capabilities. He stopped to watch for a moment, excitedly watching a hitmonchan’s swings passing through its opponent with no effect. Jonas didn’t recognize the other pokémon, which was a dark gray color, and somewhat resembled a doll with a large zipper on it’s face. He allowed himself a few moments to spectate the battle, leaving to continue his search as the strange pokémon seemed to firmly take the upper hand with a well timed will-o’-wisp. Finally catching sight of what he was looking for, Jonas started toward the post office with a sigh of relief.

The post office was orderly and clean, the wooden plank floor shining with wax. A massive bay window provided light, cracked slightly open, a haughty looking unfezant roosted on a perch just inside. Its pink, ribbon-like wattle trailed behind its head as it turned to look at Jonas, cooing softly.

“Yeah, I hear you,” came a voice from a side room, and a man entered through the doorway, arms burdened with several packages. “Hi! How’s it going? What can I do for you?” The man seemed pleasant, though perhaps a little impatient. He wore a tidy gray uniform, and his blonde hair was neatly combed, the picture of professionalism.

“I need to send a package,” Jonas said, taking off his pack to retrieve his winnings from the fishing festival.

“Well, sure. That’s what we’re here for,” the man smiled. “But where to?”

“Oh! Canis Creek,” Jonas answered sheepishly.

“Sure thing, pal. We don’t get too many packages headed that way these days. Should be a nice little trip for one of our new carriers. Let me know when you’re ready, and I’ll get a pidove harnessed and ready to fly out.”

Jonas gave the man an appreciative nod, then grabbed an envelope from a nearby rack. He carefully counted through the bills, divided out one thousand pokédollars, and packed it into the envelope. Surveying the room again, he noted a display of postcards. He selected one, a photo of Nova City with the words ``Greetings, from Nova City,” and a starburst stamped on it in gold foil. He thought for a moment before flipping it over and writing.

Mom and Dad,

I guess you can tell from the postcard that I’ve made it to Nova City. I’ve already got so much to tell you! Flint and I have had loads of adventures, and made a new friend I can’t wait for you to meet. We’ve met some really nice people, and seen a lot of incredible sights. It hasn’t all been easy though, and I admit that leaving like I did might not have been the best decision. But I wanted to help. And I will. We’re Brookses. We get through things together. This is just me and Flint doing our part. I know this isn’t much money, but I figured anything could help. I might have found a way to save the house. And maybe I can help the whole town. I’ll be gone for a while, but I’ll try to write whenever I get a chance. I love you. Don’t give up hope just yet.

Jonas

Jonas let out a heavy sigh, blinking back the moisture that had formed in his eyes while penning the letter. He cleared his throat before approaching the counter, and sealed the envelope, scribbling his address on the front. The man took the parcel and strapped it onto a particularly dutiful looking pidove who then took off through the open window. Already down to ¥1,400, Jonas noted after paying for his supplies. I have to be careful how I spend. The bell above the door jingled as it opened, another boy entering the shop.

“Can you tell me where to register for the Pokéball Run?” Jonas asked as the man was heading back to the mail room.

The new boy laughed at this, and Jonas turned to get a look at him. He looked older than Jonas, thin, and tall. Taller than Jonas for certain, and perhaps even taller than his father. The boy exuded an air of wealth, and Jonas felt himself deflating before him, comparing his own simple and, he realized for the first time, dirty clothing to the boys pressed black slacks and crisp white shirt. Even the boy’s hair was neat in the same manufactured way, mostly hidden away beneath his narrow brimmed hat. He stared back at Jonas, a smirk playing on his lips.

“You’re entering the race?” he asked, finally breaking the silence, and Jonas was unsurprised to learn that his voice carried the same air of importance as his appearance.

“Yes,” Jonas replied, shocked by the venom in his own voice.

“You do realize it’s not a game right? This is a serious competition. Do you even have a pokémon?” the boy scoffed. Jonas reached into his pack, scrambling to grab one of his balls.

“Hey!” the postal worker shouted, interrupting the tension. “No battles in here. Take it outside, boys.”

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The boy in black laughed again before speaking.

“Awful jumpy, aren’t you? Well, you heard the man, why don’t we step outside? I don’t suppose it will hurt to get a look at my competition.”

***

The boy stood several yards away from Jonas, a black and yellow colored ball in his hand. Jonas squinted to get a better look at it. He had never seen anything like it.

"Never seen an ultra ball before, huh?" the boy said, noticing Jonas's curious gaze. "Made right here in Nova City at Old Man Steele's pokéball factory. Let me guess, you're used to handmade balls?"

Jonas gritted his teeth, feeling a mix of embarrassment and anger. Up until that moment, he didn't even know there were alternatives to handmade balls.

"This should be fun," the boy smirked. "Come on out, you've got work to do."

A flash of light shot from the ball to the sidewalk between them, passersby gasping and leaping out of the way as it resolved into a small canine form with sleek black fur. Bone growths lined the pokémon’s back, and the top of its head was covered by a skull-like dome. The houndour snarled, showing the sharp teeth that lined its red-furred snout, then let out a raspy how, causing Jonas to tense.

Houndour... that’s a fire type. Better not send out Dash, then. I hope you’re all rested up buddy.

A small crowd started to gather as Jonas clicked the button on Flint’s ball, his own pokémon appearing on the sidewalk nearby. The houndour growled at Flint, who barked back heartily, running to stand between it and of Jonas.

“Thanks, buddy, I’m okay. Now listen, this might be a tough battle. Are you ready?” Jonas coached Flint, who responded with an encouraging ruff.

“That’s sweet. He thinks he can protect you,” the boy mocked.

“In case you haven’t noticed, we’re both using fire types,” Jonas shot back. “Flint and I aren’t just going to let you win!”

“Oh, I don’t expect you to,” he smiled, then added, “Houndour, use smog.”

His houndour exhaled a cloud of thick purple smoke, which hung close to the ground and billowed across their battlefield. The smog crept across the ground causing Flint to cough and spectators to back away slightly.

“Flint, be careful! Don’t breathe in too much of that smoke if you can avoid it! Stay at a distance and hit him with an ember.”

Flint barked fiercely, his hackles raised. He lifted his head and spat embers toward the houndour. They found their mark, burning for a moment before vanishing, the houndour glowing slightly.

“My houndour has the flash fire ability,” the boy taunted, his voice dripping with condescension. “Houndour, show this bumpkin what that means. Fire spin!”

The houndour barked, then released a gout of flames from its mouth. The fire formed a burning column, which spun, and slowly circled around Flint’s side of the battlefield, trapping him with the poisonous smoke.

“We learned that from a TM. Or do you not know about those either?” the boy added.

The fire was incredibly hot; Jonas could feel it even from where he stood several feet away.

“Hang in there, Flint,” he shouted. Abilities? TMs? Jonas swallowed hard, shaking his head. He was entirely out of his league. Flint coughed again, breathing in the smoke. As the fire pressed closer, Jonas noted that it seemed to be burning away the smog. We need to change our approach…

“Use howl, buddy. And get ready for him like we did with Dash! You know what to do when the fire goes out.”

Flint woofed, then let out a howl that reinvigorated him. He stood taller, shaking his head and eyeing the houndour with determination. The fire burned away the last of the smog, and the spinning column dissipated, leaving smoking coals on the sidewalk. Flint tensed, waiting for the command.

“Alright, Flint. Bite!”

“Houndour, sucker punch!”

The houndour shot forward at incredible speed, moving almost as fast as Dash. He crashed into Flint, knocking the growlithe back several feet, where he skidded to a stop, shaking.

“And he learned that one from his father. We paid top dollar for breeding services. But, no expense can be spared when you need to be the best.”

“Are you okay, buddy?” Jonas asked, ignoring the boastful young man.

Flint barked, then fell to the sidewalk.

“Come on back, Flint,” Jonas said, as the light from Flint’s ball engulfed him. A murmur rose from the crowd as he pulled out Dash’s ball.

“Woah, are you trying to cheat?” the boy asked, grinning as he returned his houndour to its ball. “I guess there is more to you than meets the eye.”

“What?” Jonas asked, his thumb hovering above the ball’s release button.

“League rules, kid. I only have one pokémon, so that’s all you’re allowed to use. I win, you lose, it’s that simple.”

Jonas felt himself growing hot again.

“You’ll have to get a lot stronger if you want to make it in the Pokéball Run. Or don’t. You could give up now, and leave it to those of us who actually have a chance. Your choice.”

He laughed again, turning to walk back toward the post office through the dispersing crowd of onlookers. Jonas watched him go, frustration boiling inside. Who does he think he is?

“Are you sure you’re a pokémon trainer?”

Jonas turned to see who had spoken. A girl with wavy black hair approached him smiling. She looked to be close to his age, and wore a clean white dress with bright accents in red and yellow. “You’re not very good at it,” she continued, not waiting for a response, “but your growlithe is very charismatic! He’d make for a great contest pokémon.” The girl had an accent that Jonas couldn’t place. He assumed she was from somewhere up north, maybe even the Unova Region.

“Yes, I’m a trainer!” Jonas said, claiming the title for the first time. He paused with the realization. “I’m just new. I have a lot to learn.”

“That’s too bad. Like I said, your growlithe is adorable. He’d definitely win over loads of contest judges. And...” she paused, then blushed slightly. “You would do okay too, I think.” Jonas eyed her curiously, wondering what she meant.

“I don’t have time for… contests?” he asked. The girl nodded. “I’m here to register for the Pokéball Run!”

“Oh!” the girl looked taken aback. Her dark eyes sparkled as she spoke, “Looks like we’re competitors, then. I’m Adelaide.” She extended her hand, which Jonas shook.

“Jonas. Do you know who that guy was?”

“We can find out,” she said. “But before that, how about we go get your growlithe healed up? That battle didn’t do him any favors.”

“You’re right. I should take him to the pokémon center.” Jonas glanced down at Flint’s ball, worry creasing his brow.

“I saw one a few blocks that way,” Adelaide nodded over her shoulder. “You need help finding it?”

Jonas hesitated, then nodded gratefully. “That would be great. Thanks!”

Adelaide winked. “No problem. Let’s get your growlithe back in shape so you can give that wet blanket a run for his money the next time you run into him.”

Jonas followed Adelaide, hoping that this battle was not a sign of things to come.