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CHAPTER X

A GHOST IN CLATTERMORE (PART 3)

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(-o-)

Clattermore buzzed with the news the next morning. The inn’s housekeeper even asked us if we’d caught a glimpse of the hot topic pokémon the previous night! When we told him we were part of the chase, he asked for details which in truth, were not many.

It seemed that everywhere we went, people were talking about it.

“Do you think it could actually be one of those anomalous species?”

“What, on the pokedex?” Charli replied. “Nah… it’s just a gimped up Noctowl, I bet.”

I turned to him in surprised amusement. “You thought so too!” I smiled. “I had a feeling it was a Noctowl…”

“It’s got to be. The cry was weird, but the tone was similar.”

I stared down at the paved road as we walked, recalling the way it flew through the air, theorizing that the Ghost-type addition acted as some sort of enhancer. An anxious feeling came over me. I became even more aware of Arbok – in her pokéball – inside my new fanny-pack, which I had strapped across my torso diagonally.

I felt like I had a bomb strapped to my chest knowing that I was likely carrying the most dangerous pokémon this town had ever seen. Only God knew what would happen if it came out, and I was in no hurry to find out.

We got to the town square where numerous boards were hung with countless varieties of ‘trainer quests’. Things like catching pokémon pests, finding runaways, pokémon-sitting, and other kinds of menial tasks. It was a notice board area with most adverts offering rewards, but with the professor’s bank cards at hand, we had no need for them. It sure felt good being rich.

On its own notice board, in a great big poster with drawings of Tauros, Rapidash, and Girafarig, was a local competition called ‘Trot-a-More’. It was a marathon for ‘hooffoot’ pokémon apparently held twice a year, at the turn of Summer and Winter. The pokémon allowed to enter were:

Any hooffoot pokémon below level 30 that can locomote on four legs!

*To newcomers, hooffoot is our slang for hooved feet.

“I guess you’re not invited, Drowzee,” I mused. He was safely in his pokéball inside my pocket as I did not want a repeat of yesterday.

Charli sniggered next to me. “Did you really just say that?”

“He has got hooved feet, you know,” was my reply and he mulled over it for a moment before snorting with laughter. I cracked up too, imagining Drowzee getting on all fours and grunting like a Grumpig as it ran.

“Hey!” I held my index finger up. “But he could use the psychic-sprint!”

“What?” he replied as Natu chirped in agreement. “Nawww…” He scanned the poster again and pointed. “Check it out.”

The poster read further down:

As always, no pokémon moves allowed! Pure grit! Pure effort!

PURE CLATTER!

Clatter this, clatter that. I had a feeling this town had been doing this for a very long time, and I was mildly curious to find out how it had all begun. Time was ticking though, and we had jobs to do. My brain kept reminding me that I wasn’t actually on a journey but a mission. I hadn’t realized how easy it could be to fall into the pokémon journey mindset until now, and unlike Charli, I had no aspirations to become an actual trainer. I think that dream died when I lost my eye. Time heals all wounds, but it can hardly mend scars. I had been blinded for life by a pokémon from my own household. A pokémon I had played with and carried in my arms. The trauma it caused me was not something I’d ever forget. The blind eye itself wouldn’t let me, even if it had behaved amazingly well the last couple days.

After making sure Gran was alright, I knew I’d feel bad about returning Drowzee, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world. I was content with watching pokémon on TV and in fact, I quite enjoyed it. Still, admitting it to myself, I had never felt so alive as I had when battling with Drowzee by my side. Something about it made me feel expanded. I had noticed the feeling after the battle with Lenn, and after our encounters in the wild, and after last night’s chase. I wondered if pokémon felt the same way. I wondered if that’s what made them evolve.

We would be leaving today after checking out the town one last time and getting a round of supplies for our next venture into the wild. There was one main grocery store which seemed to be most popular, and we found plenty of snacks to buy. I bought close to a kilo of ‘poké-bites’ for Drowzee and Charli bought a pouch of ‘poké-pecks’ for Natu after she hopped about on his head, chirping excitedly when she saw trays filled with grains under sliding glass lids. All the pokémon food sold here was made from an assortment of berries of the fruit, nut, and fungi varieties and advertised as being, ‘everything a pokémon needs, packed in a bite!’ … I somehow doubted that, but I’d let Drowzee be the judge. The shopping itself was fun and novel, with my mind considering things I’d never seriously had to in the past, mainly what best to buy for myself and a pokémon, and how much of it.

I knew that keeping a pokémon in a pokéball kept its body in some kind of battery-saver state, meaning that the build-up of hunger and exhaustion was reduced. I’d seen this with Glee. If she stayed outside her pokéball, she would bug you for snacks occasionally, especially on overcast days when the sunlight was dim and she couldn’t photosynthesize fully. However, if you fed her on a sunny day and put her in, you could take her out more than two days later and she would be in no rush to fill her belly. Grandma had used this pokéball trick if Glee cheekily stuffed herself when neither of us were watching, and the next food-shopping was still days away.

Knowing this, Drowzee’s feeding didn’t worry me. “Ten bucks for three days…” I said, estimating how long the poké-bites would last. I planned to keep him out of his pokéball out in the wild now that I knew we could whizz by with his psychic-type sprint.

Charli sniggered and said, “Check it out…” He grabbed a spray bottle that looked like a potion but instead of being cylindrical, it was rectangular-shaped. It was the non-trainer’s version of the potion. I had seen them a few times back in Hoenn when I was a child. The 100ml bottle sold for only ₽2.99, and I couldn’t help but smile.

“Do you think they’re any good?”

“We’re gonna find out!” Charli said, grabbing one. “You want one?”

I shook my head. “I think I’m done shopping.”

“What, you don’t wanna check out TCs again? I’m going to.”

“Why, what for?”

Charli shrugged. “I love that stuff! Plus, that guy from yesterday said they have reviving pills! I think we should get some.”

The only time I’d seen reviving pills being used was on TV, after a championship final battle where fainted pokémon were awoken for the follow-up ceremonies. How fast the pokémon awoke usually depended on its size. Smaller pokémon could wake up in seconds, while bigger ones could take minutes. Charli was right, they could come in handy.

I nodded. “Okay, get me a few – like three?”

“Sure,” he replied, turning, when I suddenly remembered.

“Charli…” I took off my bag and searched for the empty D-quality potion bottle I had used on Drowzee the previous day. It had worked wonders, leaving only a few thin lines of missing fur that were barely noticeable. The fur itself had already begun growing back too.

“Ask them if they do refills.”

He had a look that said, ‘Really?’ but he took the empty and made off.

“And keep the receipts!” I reminded him.

I took the opportunity to take an idle walk around the Square, checking out some more trainer-quest listings out of curiosity. Eventually, when I’d seen enough, I followed a narrow path lined with flowering trees that somewhat reminded me of Arbok’s forest.

Why didn’t she attack?

Come to think of it, the night-bird target from yesterday hadn’t attacked either, only evaded and toyed with everyone. I wasn’t sure why, but it bugged me more than it should.

There was a huge open field ahead. It was coming to nine O’clock and the sun was gently bathing Clattermore. I figured the park would be a great place to let Drowzee out while waiting for Charli to finish his shopping, but soon after setting foot on the field I spotted a little group huddled under what looked to be a shed with no walls, simply one wooden beam at each corner. It had a rustic brown-tiled roof with long patches of moss and weeds growing on it. I had almost done a one-eighty, but curiosity kept me walking forwards, deviating slightly so that I would pass them by at a comfortable distance.

When I got close enough to hear them, I realized it was a group of children, and an adult in front of them with a blackboard behind. He was teaching. I spared them a few glances as I passed but looked away when I noticed the teacher glance back.

“Good morning!”

I snapped my head towards them, then looked around. I was the only one here. He was talking to me.

“Good morning!” I called back.

“Do you have a moment, young man?” The teacher’s voice carried easily across the distance.

I hesitated and almost declined, but I stopped myself when I realized how ridiculous it would look. A boy loafing around in the park couldn’t spare a minute? I approached.

“Here we have a trainer, kids!” the teacher announced to his class as I neared. All the kids, a bunch of elementary schoolers, turned their heads and stared.

Great. I sighed.

The teacher offered his hand, and I took it, then like everyone new I met, I watched for his reaction upon seeing my left eye. He frowned and squinted behind his pair of glasses for a moment, then smiled and nodded his welcome. The children started to murmur.

“I’m not actually a trainer…” were my first words, and I watched the teacher’s face go blank.

“Oh…”

The children giggled, and the teacher leaned in closer, speaking in a low voice.

“You’re not?”

I gave a quick shake of the head.

“What happened to your eye?” one of the kids interrupted. I turned to her, a puffy-eyed girl with her hair pulled back into multiple pigtails.

What happened to yours? I almost shot back, but instead I glanced around at the other kids, all quiet and waiting for my response, and said, “A pokémon.”

The kids were silent, and it occurred to me that I might have scared them, so I quickly added, “It was an accident.”

Most kids generally tended to think of pokémon as these totally friendly creatures incapable of hurting a human. I had been like that myself, which is why Treeko’s attack – even if it wasn’t meant for me – was quite the trauma. It had erased my world view in the blind of an eye.

“A big lesson, children!” The teacher coughed and stepped in before I could shatter any more illusions. “Pokemon are precious beings, but you must respect their power!”

“What pokémon?” a thin boy in a backwards cap asked.

I gazed at his eyes, wide with innocence, and smiled slightly, turning to the teacher.

“No, no.” The teacher wagged a finger. “Do you want to come up here and lead the class?”

“We just want to know what pokémon!” the girl with many pigtails insisted.

The teacher shook his head and shrugged, then gave me a look to let me know that it was up to me. When I said, “A Treeko,” many of them frowned and murmured amongst themselves. The teacher hummed in surprise.

“Can anybody tell me Treeko’s native region?”

The kids called out regions at random, from Johto to Galar, until one of them said Hoenn. The teacher clapped his hands and pointed at the boy with the backwards cap.

“Yes, thank you, Joey! Hoenn!”

The boy cheered for himself, standing from the bench and doing a spin on the ball of his foot before sitting back down. The teacher turned to me and said, “I was in the middle of explaining to them the ins and out of capturing a wild pokémon, when I saw you in the distance and thought it would come best from the mouth of an active trainer.”

“Ah…” I nodded. “Well, I’m not really a trainer, just passing by.”

“But you gotta have a pokémon!” Joey said.

I hesitated. I was pretty sure Arbok would attack them, and I was pretty sure Drowzee would dazzle them. I didn’t want the attention, so I wasn’t keen on either option. The teacher spoke again in a low voice.

“I have a volunteer trainer that’s supposed to come in, but it seems he’s running a bit late. If you’re busy too, we won’t hold you.”

It was hard to think with so many eyes on me, but besides Arbok, I had no real experience capturing wild pokémon. Maybe I could learn a thing or two here.

“I have a pokémon, but I didn’t catch it…” I smiled sheepishly and I felt the judging eyes of the kids, who no doubt thought I was lame. “I need to catch one soon, but I don’t know much about that either… heh,…”

“Show us! Show us!” the kids wailed together.

“Is it alright?” the teacher whispered. “It’s not a mean one, is it?”

I shook my head and felt for Drowzee’s pokéball, bringing him out in front of the class.

“Oh!” the teacher gushed. “Oh my! A Drowzee?!” He was walking around Drowzee, who greeted us with a loud good morning cry. The kids, taken aback at first, slowly leaned forward, coming out of their seats and joining the teacher’s side, ogling my hunt partner.

“What a dashing color!” The teacher gave me a glancing look. “You didn’t dye the fur, did you?”

They stared for a good minute, and I felt the change in mood from the kids. They were looking at me like a totally different person. I felt I had their utmost respect.

The teacher told them to sit so he could carry on with the lesson and offered me to stick around. “You’re welcome to listen in if you like.”

I easily accepted. It was the only reason I had brought out Drowzee, after all. He had to keep calling out to the students, who were still distracted by Drowzee, sitting on the ground beside me at the back of the class, so I ended up returning him to his pokéball, much to their disappointment.

The lesson itself was more like an interactive discussion. He started with, “You must make it lower its guard first! Make it dizzy or make it like you! Anything to soften it up.”

He kept asking questions after every point he made, making sure everyone was as engaged as possible, and given the topic, it wasn’t hard to keep it that way. It took me back to vague memories of attending some weekend poké-school classes back in Rustboro.

“Can the pokémon attack you once you catch it?” asked another boy.

The teacher nodded, saying, “Good question, Oliver. The answer is a big, fat YES.”

The kids did not seem to believe him. “What?!” “Eh?!” “How?!” “Why?!” was their general sentiment, and even I became slightly nervous. I had already suspected it, but having it confirmed by a pokémon teacher breathed new life into that fear.

“Remember, pokémon can be as nuanced as you and I. Just because you captured one does not mean it will immediately take to you. Like bonds with people, bonds with pokémon require time and an earnest effort to be forged. If you are lucky, you’ll hit it off right away, but it is more likely that you will take weeks – if not months – after a successful capture for the pokémon to listen to you without complaint.”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

The class was silent, absorbing the words, and the teacher continued.

“Fortunately, they are extremely quick to learn and will have you figured in a flash. If you mean them well, they will notice, and it will greatly smooth things along. If you treat them like weapons right off the bat, you might get some serious blowback…”

When he said that last sentence, he gave me a quick and apologetic look as if he had said something to offend me. Only when the kids turned back to look at me did I understand why.

I felt myself blush. They think my eye is the blowback…

The teacher spoke quickly, before the awkwardness could set. “You must always keep its pokéball handy, especially in those first few days when you’re sleuthing each other out!”

The topic was discussed for some time, mentioning strategies which I’d already heard before such as using tranquilizing bait, or using a pokémon with sleep or paralysis-inducing moves. Something I hadn’t heard before though, was that you couldn’t return a pokémon to its ball if there was another pokémon in the way. The teacher said that is what made wild encounters dangerous.

I thought about it for a moment, then shot him a glance. He noticed immediately and cocked his head slightly. “You have a question?”

I spoke about Drowzee’s battle with that Skorupi pokémon from Sinnoh, and how I had returned Drowzee amidst the attack, and the teacher nodded.

“A good point to make,” he said. “Now, a Skorupi is much smaller than a Drowzee, unless the Drowzee is newly hatched. Your Drowzee, however, is quite large. I’m guessing he’s over a decade old?”

I raised my brows, stumped, then nodded. “Yeah, he’s got to be.” The professor had said some were even older than us.

“If your pokémon is large, you will have an easier time returning him to its ball. But if say, it is swarmed by a group of Zubat, your pokéball might not be able to lock onto its signature, and the return function will be obstructed.” I nodded attentively, making sure I never forgot that, and feeling quite stoked that I was getting a free pokémon lesson by someone who did it for a living.

“You were lucky that it was a trainer battle. Wild pokémon have a habit of attacking in groups, especially the smaller ones. A pair or more of wild Skorupi could have given you some serious trouble.”

“Rogers!” the kids cheered. The lesson had gone on for another twenty-or-so minutes after which the volunteer trainer made his appearance. A pit opened up in my gut.

It was Pidgeot’s trainer.

He wore a blue zip-up jacket with a crest of wings on the breast. His dark hair had been combed to one side and his face was clear, though still puffy from sleep. He looked at me with the most puzzling frown as he passed by but said nothing. I stared back at him, and didn’t say anything either. The teacher and Pidgeot’s trainer exchanged greetings, and my presence was explained.

“He’s got a Drowzee!” one of the kids revealed excitedly, pointing.

“A white one!” pig-tails added, clapping her hands together.

“A fat one!” Joey chimed, and I gave him a sideways glance.

The trainer called Rogers nodded. “I know.”

When he told them I was part of last night’s pokémon-hunt, they became even livelier, and I felt my face flush, thinking he would speak about how Drowzee had shot him out of the sky, almost killing him and his Pidgeot. Thankfully and surprisingly, he didn’t.

“But he said he isn’t a trainer? …” the boy called Oliver said. Out of the whole bunch of kids, he seemed the most mature.

Rogers gave me a passing glance, and I felt embarrassed knowing he had been spot-on yesterday when he said Charli and I weren’t even trainers.

“What’s the deal, teach?” Rogers said, getting straight to business. The teacher pulled him to one side and began murmuring as the young trainer nodded along. When they were done the teacher stepped aside and sat on a plastic stool near the front row of students. Rogers took the center stage.

“Hey, kids,” he began, and all the children returned the greeting twice as excited than they had been with the teacher.

“So, last time, I spoke a little bit about pokémon types, and today we are going to carry on from where we left off…”

He began with water-types, starting with basic common knowledge one could learn from simply watching TV, and then giving examples from his own experience which in all truth, sounded really cool. One of them was about a time where he went looking for an elusive Water-type legendary that wore you down with perpetual rain and if that didn’t stop you from chasing it, it would create mists so thick that you could barely see your own hands.

“Water-types are usually very versatile and physically stronger than they look, especially in their home turf. It’s also one of the Prime types, which means like fire-type and flying-type, which we already went over last time, there is no shortage of water-type energy in most places. This means more stamina, which is important to remember if you’re ever going up against one.”

That was something I’d never heard before, but it made a whole lot of sense when you thought about it. Power plants tended to attract electric-type pokémon. Forests and fields would have plenty of plant and bug-types. Cemeteries were notorious for harboring ghost-types, and so on and so forth… I had never actually realized that pokémon drew energy from the environment until Pidgeot’s trainer made the point.

Unlike the teacher, Rogers didn’t interact so much with the students, his was more of a lecture, and I sat at the back, trying to look aloof but listening as intently as the rest of the children.

When the lecture was over, the teacher spoke a few final words and told them to come back in the evening for an hour-long practical session. He dismissed them and before they left, Joey cried, “Can they have a battle? We really wanna see it!”

I almost puked.

I slowly turned to Rogers who had his hands in his jacket pockets, looking calm as a breeze, and he eyed me for a moment.

“Nah.”

Thank you. I was too relieved for words.

“Oh, but why? Why, why, why?” Joey moaned and the other kids giggled.

“First of all, he’s not a trainer,” Rogers replied. “And second of all, I don’t have any pokémon on me that are close to his level. It wouldn’t be much of a battle.”

“Aww.” Joey pouted and kicked at the grass lightly. The little runt. I felt like kicking at him lightly myself.

“Tell you what though,” Rogers said. “When you guys catch your first pokémon, I’ll gladly battle with you.… deal?”

Joey was still pouting, looking at the ground, but he nodded. “Yes.”

As the kids started to clear out, I felt an urgency to do the same. Things were awkward enough as they were with Rogers, but I decided to drop my ego for a moment and walk up to him.

“Hey, that was a good lesson. I learned something.” I smiled.

Rogers eyed me for a second before nodding. “It’s not something they’d usually teach at school. You learn the real stuff once you get out of school and into the circuit.”

“Boys,” the teacher said, packing a few things into his satchel bag. “I’ll be heading off now too. Have great days. And you, Rogers, I’ll see you on Friday? …Saturday?”

“Saturday,” Rogers replied with a nod.

Being alone with a guy I had almost got killed was strange, and I felt an apology would barely cut it, that’s why when he apologized instead, it came completely unexpected.

“About last night – forget what I said. I was double mad that I couldn’t get a good look at it, and I didn’t think any wild pokémon round these parts could out-fly my Pidgeot.”

I shrugged. “I’m sorry too. I didn’t stop Drowzee. I think he knows what I mean to do, but it all happens so fast, and I don’t give him commands, so he acts by himself…”

Rogers nodded slowly, as if he had expected as much, but then said, “That’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

“Hm?”

“Especially when you’re starting out. They’ll actually encourage you to let your pokémon get a feel for the situation by itself before you butt in with your orders. There’re some rookies out there that think they need to be giving commands from beginning to end the moment their pokémon comes out of its ball… They’re the easiest to beat. If you get into training, you’d learn all about this.”

I admitted to him that while it all sounded interesting, I had no talent for pokémon. He glanced at my blind eye, and I gestured at it. “Yeah… a Treeko did this.” He leaned in with studying eyes. “Ouch,” he muttered. “What were you doing?”

“Nothing. Watching…”

“A stray Razor Leaf?”

I grunted. His ability to make quick and correct assumptions only made him seem even more competent. With a guy like him on the hunt, we could probably catch all ten of our allotted targets in a couple days.

I should catch a big flying-type. I had two Ultra Balls, and the prospect of zipping through the air from target to target started to seem like the fastest way to get the job done.

“Is it hard to fly?”

Rogers looked blank. He pulled out a cellphone as he spoke. “Harder than it looks. If you’re flying over most places, you’ll need a permit too.”

“A permit? But why?”

He smirked as he tapped at some buttons on his cellphone, then looked at me evenly. “For the same reason you need a license to drive. You can get away with it in the wild … if a Ranger doesn’t see you or bother to ask…

“Why? Do you want to learn?”

I hesitated. He was a trainer, and both Mr Mahon’s and Professor Cid’s advice echoed in my mind. Despite how knowledgeable they might be, I couldn’t spare the time. That said, he had already shown me he wasn’t interested in battling, so that had to count for something.

“Hmm, I just thought it would be nifty to fly around. It’d save a lot of time.”

His gaze lingered on me for a moment, and I got the feeling that he knew I wasn’t telling him the whole truth.

“It does.”

There was a brief and awkward lull where he stared into his cellphone and I shifted on the spot, ready to leave.

“Are you sticking around?” Rogers said, pocketing his phone. “Some people think that pokémon will return tonight.”

I shook my head immediately. “I’m leaving now.” None of the trainers had Tracking Tools, so how would they know? The target was already many miles away, and Charli and I had set our sights on a different one. “Are there any wild Pidgeot around?” I asked, half joking, half hopeful. “I bought some Ultra Balls, and I want to catch something soon.”

Rogers scoffed. “No offense, but I don’t think you could tame a wild Pidgeot. They’re powerful birds, and they don’t just let anyone ride them. Maybe if you trained a Pidgey…” He shook his head ever so slightly. “Even then, the way you’ve described yourself with Drowzee… that just won’t fly with a Pidgeot. They need to respect you to let you on.”

My face began to flush. “Ah…”

He stared at me hard for a moment. “You should enter the circuit. You’re not a trainer, but you seem like you would get the hang of things quickly.”

I blinked. “Why?”

Rogers shrugged. “I have a good eye for these things, and you look like you need some confidence. You can only get that by putting yourself out there.”

“Yeah…” I said, nodding sheepishly.

Joining the trainer circuit was the last thing on my mind, and this guy wasn’t going to change that.

“If you’re serious about the Pidgeot thing, I know of a good flying school here in Kanto. It was opened by someone who taught me most of what I know about riding flying pokémon… though she’s actually from a city in Hoenn.”

I perked up. “Really? Where?”

“Fortree City. It’s quite the place, especially if you like bird pokémon. There are kids there that can fly better than me.”

I had never been to Fortree, but I had seen the name pop up frequently in magazines with lists naming ‘The healthiest places in the world’. The buildings there were constructed on massive trees and connected to each other with wide, hanging bridges. It was a city built by people who liked treehouses way too much.

I thanked Rogers for his lecture and advice, and he simply replied, “Join the circuit. Trust me.”

We shook hands and any trace of a grudge from last night evaporated there and then.

“I’ll take you up on that offer if I change my mind!” I called out to him as I walked away. I was sure I’d never see him again. I hadn’t taken his number, and I hadn’t offered mine, knowing he wouldn’t be able to call it anyways.

I heard the surge of a pokéball behind me and turned to catch sights of Rogers and his Pidgeot taking to the air. The gust of wind from its wings rolled through the field, reaching me as a gentle breeze.

We should catch a flying-type.

***

We were back at the inn, in the dining area with Drowzee and Natu, both of them on the floor next to us, eating some seeded pokémeal loaf. The breakfast menu aroma wafted through the room deliciously as we waited for our orders to arrive.

Charli had bought himself a gadget from TCs called a ‘Vs. Seeker’ which was apparently used by trainers to find each other for quick battles. I was puzzled at first, reminding him about the purpose of our mission, but his reasoning won me over. Instead of seeking battles, we could use it to avoid running into blood-thirsty trainers. I scoffed skeptically at first, but he explained that he met ‘lots’ of trainers in the shop who warned him of underhanded trainer tactics in the wild.

“Even Mr. Mahon said so, remember?” He had just needed a good excuse to get the thing.

“They told me some trainers will attack anything that moves and looks like a pokémon.” He had nodded repeatedly, trying to convince me. “Level-up fanatics they call them, its true!” It wasn’t that hard to believe, but I knew Charli well enough to know that avoiding trainers wasn’t the only thing on his mind.

“And another thing,” he continued with a slightly severe tone. “I saw some proper KDD-looking types talking with the local police. It seems pretty serious, bro. If they knew we had Arbok, they’d probably take it.”

“They would probably arrest us.”

KDD stood for Kanto Detectives Division – a famous government agency that handled all sorts of criminal investigations. They had recently appeared on TV for arresting high-ranking members of a notorious organization known as Team Rocket – a bunch of scummy people who stole and trafficked pokémon. I wasn’t fully sure if government involvement was a bad thing, but it made me uneasy. Maybe they could capture the targets much faster than we could, but whether they’d hand them over to the professor was another thing.

Movement on the table caught my attention just as the waitress approached with our breakfast. I looked quickly at my fanny-pack and at then at the waitress, smelling the warm scent of freshly baked chesto-choc croissants. My stomach grumbled as I looked back at my fanny-pack. Why was it moving?

I clamped down on it with a hand and with a pang of cold fright, I remembered that Arbok’s pokéball was inside.

“Thankyou-thanks!” Charli told the waitress, clearing some space on the table. The pokéball wiggled in my grasp and I snatched up the fanny-pack so fast that the waitress jumped and almost spilled our drinks.

“Bro! What are you doing?!” Charli cried, clutching at the glasses of hot milk on the tray. The waitress forced a smile and I giggled nervously. I didn’t dare take my hands off the fanny-pack, grasping tightly around the pokéball inside.

They both eyed me as if I was a Hoothoot with two legs.

The pokéball wiggled again and I stood up. My heart was thumping hard, and a rush of light-headedness made me woozy. Drowzee gave a purring growl from where he was seated, and our eyes met for a brief moment. He was so sensitive. He could tell something was off about me, and at that moment, the panic I felt changed into a simple sense of urgency. With Drowzee and Natu around, Arbok should not pose that big a problem. We also had custom-balls to spare. I started walking.

“Drowzee,” I called out in a pretentiously cheery tone. “Come with me, boy, come!” He got up silently and began following after me. Natu gave a tacky squawk and pecked at his half-eaten loaf. Drowzee whined and made to go back, but I called out to him again and he obeyed.

I quickly strolled to the inn’s backyard where only a few people were seated. Better if Arbok broke out here than in the middle of the street. Less people would see. My legs moved quickly, walking a couple of steps down onto the neatly mowed grassy lounge. I went past the seating areas and next to a large toolshed near the back hedge, placing the fanny-pack down on the grass and opening the zipper.

The halos on the ball were blinking, and the ball itself was wagging on its axis. I took a couple of steps back and Drowzee cocked his head at it.

“Be ready to Arrest, Drowzee…”

Drowzee let out a shrill cry of confidence. I could feel the few people behind us watching but I was fully fixated on the scene ahead.

Charli pulled up to my side and we shared silent looks. Natu was on his shoulder, quiet and observant and ready. We could handle this.

Clattermore had woken up, and the morning sounds of the town’s bustle played in the background obliviously. It was almost comforting.

Ten seconds passed, and the ball stopped wagging. Its halos stopped blinking, remaining a solid glow.

“I don’t think it can get out,” Charli said finally. Today was an especially busy day in Clattermore, I think, because I struggled to hear him over the morning sounds of the town’s bustle that should have been playing in the background obliviously.

I went over and reached down for the pokéball, grabbing it in my hand and staring at it with a frown. The custom-balls had no minimizing feature, and I wondered whether that could be the reason why it had acted up. I had always felt the minimizing helped keep the pokémon inside more secure, like some kind of lock.

“Let’s call the professor!” Charli said, raising his voice.

I looked around. Today must have been a really busy day in Clattermore, I was sure, because I barely just heard him over the morning sounds of the town’s bustle that was definitely NOT playing in the background obliviously!!!

Coooooooo-hyaaaa!

The howl whistled from above and into my eardrums like needles.

“Look up there!” someone said to someone, and I looked up with them.

A smoky, dark form flew through the sky like a living watercolor. It was high up, flying in circles right above us and it all sank in.

The smoky bird stopped circling and began growing larger and larger. With one eye, perceiving depth had always been an issue. I was the clumsiest kid for a good year after my childhood accident, all because I couldn’t properly estimate how far something was. I’d had almost a decade of practice now though, and yeah, my right eye wasn’t perfect, but I had painstakingly developed a pretty good intuition of depth as a result. Lob me a tennis ball, and I could catch it.

“It’s coming down!” somebody screamed.

The word ‘arrest’ tightened in the muscles of my throat, but before I even opened my mouth, the enigmatic bird disappeared into thin, empty air. Nothing. There was a wave of alarm as onlookers gasped in surprise at the vanishing act.

The hairs on my neck suddenly stood on end as something invisible tore through the air above me, sending a strong gust of wind that almost blew me off my feet.

COME.

Charli cried out beside me and the sound of a Psybeam zapped past my ears. Drowzee was on all fours, paws clutching at the grass and the fur along his back raised like bristles on a brush. He looked wild and feral.

Natu shot out another Psybeam that dissipated into the sky harmlessly. She was flapping frantically in the air, yards above us and letting out a chorus of agitated squawks. The invisible presence had only swooped past but there was no doubt that it had been the ghost-bird.

“Tom!” Charli called, hand to his head. “Did you hear that, or was it just me?”

“Come?” I looked at him dumbfounded.

“Yeah!” Charli stared me straight in the eye, mouth agape.

…

We had wasted no time in ringing Professor Cid, but the old cat refused to pick up the phone!

“He’s busy, chillax!”

“Chillax?!” I was tearing through my bag, looking for my Tracking Tool. When I found it, I fumbled with the buttons and stared at the screen.

“Look.” I held it out for Charli to see and he cupped his hands around it as he peered at the target glitching in and out of view.

His mouth parted slightly. “It’s still here…”

“It knows we have Arbok,” I said with anxious certainty.

After a few thoughtful moments, Charli asked, “Do you think Arbok sensed this thing? That’s why it tried to break out?”

I looked at the floor as his question got my gears working. “Why not? It probably goes both ways…”

“And the professor did say it was one target to begin with before it split!” Charli added brightly.

“Right! So… it’s searching for itself?”

He pointed at me. “I bet!”

Drowzee and Natu had calmed down and sat together near the television set, grooming themselves as they waited. The streets outside were still bustling, and out through the window, we saw pedestrians and trainers gathering in the area. A pair of navy trench-coat-wearing officers were also among them, which Charli revealed as the ones he’d seen earlier talking with the cops.

“What should we do?” I thought aloud.

“Let’s get out of town,” Charli suggested. “If that thing is really following us, we should lead it into the open, out on one of the routes.”

I was not convinced. “… you heard it, right? It spoke…”

“I think I know what that was…” He gave me a steady look. “I remember watching a reality show about some haunted tower where lots of people reported hearing voices the closer they got to it. The actual investigators said that many ghost-type pokémon can mimic human voices, and that they don’t really know how to speak. They just repeat words they’ve heard people say.”

That made sense, otherwise, there would have been an infinite amount of television interviews and radio shows with ghost-types coming in as guest speakers.

My body relaxed slightly at hearing his explanation, but there was still the question of:

“Why did it choose that word though?”

That one stumped Charli for a moment, but he soon replied, “Let’s find out! But let’s find out away from here!”

(-x-)