“Are you ready?” Jordan asked me seriously as we stood among the trees near the latrine the soldiers had dug by the side of their camp.

I took a deep breath (and regretted it immediately as the smells nearby hit me), then nodded. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”

Jordan grinned and straightened the soldier’s hat on his head. Then he smoothly moved from forest to clearing, with Sudowoodo barely visible in the darkness beside him. I sighed, took my glasses off, and hopped out of the undergrowth to fall in line behind him.

Everything had gone according to plan – so far, at least. We had reached the army’s camp an hour or so after nightfall (thank Mew for Hoothoot, who had been able to lead us through the final stretch of dark forest). Isaac, Michael, and Hoothoot had kept going from there; they planned to reach Ecruteak that night to deliver warnings to several people Hisa had identified, including a mysterious woman named Chiyo. Hisa had originally planned to go with them, but we’d convinced him to stay behind since he’d be able to help the most with part of our own plan.

The rest of us had talked it over and determined that the hardest part of retrieving the poke balls would be sneaking our way into the camp. Jordan still had his stolen military uniform (apparently he’d pilfered it from one of the laundry houses in the city), and we needed him and Sudowoodo for the potential fight anyway, so they were definitely on the extraction team. At first we’d thought that maybe they should go alone, but he pointed out that he’d likely be too busy fighting to search for the stolen poke balls. Cyril was too likely to be recognized, Hisa and Kiah would stick out without uniforms, and Florence would be noticed immediately as a girl, but Luca or I could pass as one of the messenger boys.

Luca had been all too eager to join the team and put his ‘ninja skills’ to use (I eyed him suspiciously at that statement – he’d never brought up such a thing before), but Cyril pushed back. “You stick out,” the large man said bluntly. “Not many people in Violet have green hair. They’ll notice you.”

That left me. Cyril and Jordan had looked me over and eventually decided I would pass muster as long as I didn’t have my glasses on. I had protested at that – I was practically blind without them! – but the men were firm. Not many people in this era could afford the luxury of glasses, and buying them for children was practically unheard of. I had gotten away with them so far due to being a trainer, but that wouldn’t slide for a random kid helping out around the encampment.

So Jordan, Sudowoodo and I would sneak into the camp by just walking into it like we belonged. Yes, Sudowoodo too. It turned out that the Pokemon could do a remarkable impression of a tree (albeit a weird tree) when he put his mind to it. He just held his limbs out stiffly, closed his eyes and mouth, lowered his body, and then stood there, and you had to look really close to realize he wasn’t just another part of the forest. The clearing that the army had camped out in was littered with small trees and bushes, so as long as he kept to the shadows and froze at the right moments, no one would suspect a thing.

While we went after the poke balls the others would implement the second part of the plan, the distraction to draw people away from Finnegan. The rest of the team had already dispersed through the forest around the camp in preparation for their part. It was a bit of a risk to have everyone on their own in the wilderness like that, but the clearing was pretty close to the trail, so they’d probably be okay. Hisa was in the forest nearby, close to the latrine, and he was going to start things off five minutes after we left. That meant we had to move fast.

I kept my head lowered as Jordan led the way into the camp and focused my eyes on the blurry lumps that were his feet, trying to look like I was just following orders. I couldn’t see any movement from Sudowoodo following us, but that was sort of the point; he was only supposed to move when no one was watching.

The camp passed by in a series of blurry blotches. With my eyesight basically gone I found myself focusing more on the sounds of men quietly laughing and talking, the smell of sweat, and the feeling of the heavy summer air around me. One pair of men started to sing a drinking song, but the other soldiers in their group hushed them before they had finished the first line. Had Finnegan told them all to be quiet, to keep the element of surprise? At least we would be able to take that from them.

We had just passed one of the supply carts that ladled out dinner rations for the soldiers (which painfully reminded me that I hadn’t eaten yet that day) when a horrible sound echoed out of the forest behind us. It was the sound of maniacal laughter, completely unhinged and strangely hungry in a way I couldn’t accurately describe. I jumped instinctively and whirled around, looking for the source of the sound, and I could tell that several other people nearby had reacted in the same way.

Only after that first heart-stopping moment of horror did I remember that, of course, this was all part of the plan.

“What was that,” a soldier in line for food hissed out as he breathed heavily.

Jordan was ready and seized the opportunity, pausing his walk so he could turn towards the man in line. “I heard a call like that once before while out on wall duty,” he said in a gruff tone, much lower than his usual voice. “The others said it was a ghost.”

“L-like a Gastly?” one of the other men asked. “Or a Haunter?”

“No idea,” Jordan replied, sounding hoarse. “But it is bad news, whatever it is.”

As if on cue, a new sound came from the forest, this one even fainter since it was further away. This one sounded like a high-pitched scream that intensified for a few moments before cutting off abruptly. Now that I knew to expect it, it didn’t bother me, but I could see that several of the soldiers had jumped at the unexpected sound.

I bit back a grin so I wouldn’t give myself away. Who could have guessed that Hisa had so many useful skills? He had taught us all the different calls that the ghosts of the region used as we walked down the trail that afternoon and made us practice until each of us could produce a halfway-decent call of some sort. Hisa was still clearly the best at it, though; his calls were so good that they’d lured a Haunter and a pair of Gastly out of the trees and onto the trail despite the sun still being out.

The maniacal laughter came back again and Jordan shook his head before hurrying onwards. Behind us several of the soldiers left the food line to spread word to others about the supposed ghosts that were gathering outside of the camp.

As we made our way through to the center of the camp things got more and more chaotic, even though it got harder and harder to hear the ghost calls that our friends were making. And just before we reached the general’s tent (which was obvious even to my terrible eyesight, since there were hardly any tents up and this one was twice as big as the others) a different messenger boy dashed past us and ran up to the structure, frantically calling for Edwin to come and help.

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Relief washed over me as two blurs, one man-shaped and one Fearow-shaped, emerged from the tent and went running (or, in Fearow’s case, flying) off in the opposite direction. They didn’t even seem to look at us as they went past. Step one, complete.

We approached the large tent and stepped to the side as several other soldiers came running out of it. Each person headed off in a different direction, probably with orders about how to handle the ghosts. Jordan paused, did something to his hat, and took a deep breath in front of me; then he ducked into the tent, and I promptly followed him in.

There were still three people in the tent, including a large figure with bright-red probably-hair who was almost certainly the general. I quickly ducked off to the side, trying to be unobtrusive, while Jordan stepped forward and saluted.

“Sir!” he said gruffly. “There is a confirmed Gastly sighting at the rear of the camp.”

One of the men cursed and probably-Finnegan stood up a bit straighter. “Rohan,” he barked out. “Go deal with it.”

“Sir?” the man who had cursed said, confused. “How am I supposed to –“

“I do not care,” Finnegan growled. “Use the wild majū if you must! Go!”

The figure who had spoken scrambled to leave the tent. That left just two blurry figures besides Jordan and me – Finnegan and someone else. We would have to make that work.

“What are you still doing here?” Finnegan asked. Then he paused, and when he spoke again his voice was more suspicious. “And you, boy! Who told you to come in here? I – what is that!”

The time for subterfuge was over, so I grabbed my glasses out from where I’d stuffed them into my shirt and stuck them on my face. I got them on just in time to see Sudowoodo as he barreled through the room after smoothly ducking in through the tent’s opening. The Pokemon immediately lobbed a rock at Finnegan, but the other person in the room, a stocky man with a shaved head, jumped in front of the general and blocked the rock with a pair of crossed arms.

“What is this madness?” Finnegan said incredulously. Then he cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted. “Men! To me!”

“That won’t work with all the chaos outside,” Jordan said. For some reason he was still using his gruff-voice from earlier, and I could see that he had pulled his hat down low so it shaded his eyes. “Now, you can give back the majū you stole, or –“

Finnegan drew his sword as the stocky man rushed towards Sudowoodo and started grappling with him. Jordan grinned and reached for his belt, pulling out a pair of long knives. “Alright,” he said with a little chuckle. “I like a challenge.”

I tore my eyes away from the fight and rushed towards the table that had been set up at the back of the tent. I was fairly sure that Finnegan would have kept the poke balls close to him, so they were likely somewhere in this very room. And it was my job to find them and let the Pokemon out.

The balls weren’t in the satchel lying next to the low wooden chair, nor were they in the box of equipment stored under the camp table. I hastily ran my hands over the bedroll and rifled through the large cloth bag that had been placed next to it; nothing.

Then I realized my mistake. Finnegan knew how important the poke balls were if he wanted to keep us trainers cooperative. He wouldn’t just leave them someplace where another person could stumble across them. He’d keep them on his own person at all times.

I whirled around just in time to see Jordan pivot to the side to escape a downward swipe from Finnegan’s sword, then slash one of his knives at the general’s legs. But the other man was already jumping out of the way and preparing for his next move. And yes – at his side, swinging slightly from his movement, was a medium-sized drawstring bag. It was cinched shut, but it was just the right size to hold a small collection of poke balls.

“Jordan!” I yelled. “They’re in the bag! Cut it off him!”

I halfway noticed that the man wrestling Sudowoodo was trying to put the tree in headlock (which wasn’t working particularly well) while the Pokemon kept trying to pummel his stomach with his branch-hands. But most of my attention was on Jordan and Finnegan. The two circled at a distance, watching each other warily, and I realized that Jordan wasn’t going to have much luck getting close unless he took a major risk; the general’s sword was just too long compared to his knives.

What could I do to help? I couldn’t get close to the bag – Finnegan would easily cut me down if I tried. Then my eyes were drawn back to where Sudowoodo wrestled the other man. Maybe…

I didn’t let myself think about it. I just grabbed the small wooden chair that had been placed next to the camp table and ran towards the two wrestlers, then smashed the chair against the side of the man with all the strength I had. He gasped and let go of Sudowoodo, and the Pokemon used the opportunity to take a step back, pivot on one foot, and slam his other leg into the man’s ankles in a Low Kick. The man screamed and fell down, then lay on the ground and muttered a stream of curses as he held his ankle.

Sudowoodo nodded at me with a smile. Then he turned and ran forward to join Jordan’s battle. Finnegan saw him approaching and cursed, then lunged forward and swept his sword in a broad arc at Jordan’s head. The trainer was able to duck and step back just in time, though it was a close thing; the tip of the sword caught on the fabric of his hat and pulled it right off of his head.

Jordan’s eyes darted to the side as he stood up straight again, and he grinned at the sight of Sudowoodo stepping up to his side. “Let us take him down together, partner,” he said fiercely, talking more naturally for once.

Finnegan took a step back and frowned, holding his sword in front of himself defensively. Sudowoodo was concentrating his energy on creating a spinning rock right in front of him, but the general wasn’t focused on that. He was looking at Jordan instead, as if he had seen him for the first time.

“Wait a minute,” he said in a low tone. “I recognize you.”

Sudowoodo looked over at Jordan, clearly waiting for the signal that they would attack together. But Jordan wasn’t paying attention. He had gone pale and lowered his knives slightly, as if his mind was no longer in the fight.

“How did I miss it before?” Finnegan said thoughtfully. “You may pretend to be something you’re not, but you have not changed that much, Joanne.”

Wait. What?

If Jordan had looked pale before, now he was as white as a sheet. He took two steps backwards as Sudowoodo turned to him, still holding the rock he’d been working on. “Sudo!” the Pokemon said urgently, but Jordan didn’t respond.

“You realize your parents think you are dead?” Finnegan asked in an almost conversational way as he stepped forward, holding his sword out in front of him. Jordan backed up further with his knives held out defensively. “I tried to tell your father it was for the best, given all the trouble you caused, but he mourned all the same. When he hears that his only daughter has been alive all this time, pretending to be a trainer? Pretending to be a man? Well –“

Something in Jordan – Joanne? – must have snapped, because he – she? – shouted incoherently and dashed forward, slashing one knife towards Finnegan’s neck as her other knife pushed his sword out of the way. But Finnegan just smoothly stepped out of the way, swiveled his body, and adjusted the positioning of his sword. In the blink of an eye he was standing a pace behind the trainer with his sword outstretched right next to her neck, the edge just barely touching her skin.

“Drop the rock,” Finnegan snapped to the side, where Sudowoodo was clearly about to lob the stone he’d created at him. The Pokemon hesitated for a moment; then he let out a high-pitched whining noise, like wind whipping leaves, and allowed the rock fall to the ground.

Joanne had tensed at first, like she might try to escape, but her eyes snapped to Sudowoodo when he whined. She stared at her Pokemon for a long, tense moment. Then her shoulders sagged and she opened her hands, letting her knives drop as well. Finnegan observed this, then leaned forward. “I could kill you for what you tried to do,” he snarled as he stared intently at the back of her head. “But I am no kinslayer. You live for today, girl.”

Before I could say a word or think of a way to turn things around, someone burst in through the opening in the front of the tent. I whirled around to see Edwin, breathing hard, with Fearow hot on his heels. His eyes darted to Finnegan and Joanne, then to me and the man curled up on the ground, and he hissed through his teeth.

“Ah, Trainer Edwin,” Finnegan said casually as he glanced over his shoulder. “Let me guess: there were no ghosts.”

“It was a hoax, sir,” Edwin gasped out. He kept looking between me and the others. “What – how –“

“It appears we have a new pair of prisoners,” Finnegan said. He shot a brief glance at me. “One of the trainer brats from before.” Then he looked back towards Joanne, and his eyes narrowed. “And my wayward niece.”