“Are you sure you have everything?”
“Yes. Yes for the last time Grandad.”
He watched as she took a deep breath and tried to calm herself before she ended up snapping at him. Things had never been good between them, but over the last few years in particular it had grown tense.
When he spoke again it was softly. Anger was something he was used to dealing with. “And you’ve said goodbye to your brother? And..”
He trailed off as her shoulders tightened.
“Yes. Can we go?”
He closed his eyes and silently apologised for his failings. With a click of a button his old friend appeared. An outpour of love and community pushed out to him but he shied away. He didn't deserve it now. His old friend understood. They knew what was going on.
Within seconds they were gone.
-.-
He had promised that he would leave after dropping her off.
But how could he?
A pop back home to retrieve the prepared overcoat and hat from a side drawer - not a great disguise, but it was only a support to the main method, before he turned to his old friend again. The gentle outreach of disappointment was harder to bear than it should have been. He remained resolved. He’d broken greater promises than this one. He wouldn’t make the same mistakes again. His old friend gave in, though reluctantly. In an instant they were back in Celadon again.
Walking through the streets of his old home was agonising and cathartic in its own way. The surge of people here for the festival flowed around his old friend and he without issue. The crowd didn’t realise they were here and that was for the best. The few that would be capable of detecting even a hint of their presence wouldn't be on these streets, and if they were, they would know enough to ignore it.
Finding his granddaughter wasn’t difficult. Some things ran in the family. It wasn’t the same place he had once gone, that field likely no longer existed, but form aside, they were functionally the same.
The first day of the season was always electric. All around him, young trainers took their first steps on their journeys. A right denied to them for so long. And they were better for it. He saw fewer tears, less of the bumbling mid match and none of the fist fights afterwards. Some of the trainers even had potential, their Pokemon reacting quickly to instructions and trusting fully in their partner.
But he wasn’t here for them. He remained close behind his granddaughter as she browsed the field, pausing to watch battles before moving on. Then she stopped.
He turned his attention to the pitch where she had halted. A Pidgey and Rattata fought a furious but futile battle. Both young Pokemon, neither had grown into their strengths and the battle was more brawl than anything tactical. They fought for an advantage rather than a win.
His brow furrowed as he eyed his granddaughter. Why had she stopped? These Pokemon were neither experienced or unique. Their trainers, the same. All forgettable.
She set off again, circling round the pitch.
He traced her path until he saw the destination.
‘Ah.’
Two people sat beside the battle’s umpire, discussing the fight as they watched. Their expressions changed between worry at every clash to relief afterwards, and happiness when one of the others spoke.
His heart ached.
Waves of comfort and support rolled over him as his old friend reacted but they couldn’t quash the pain.
His granddaughter hovered near the group of friends for a short while. Only after clutching her pokeball for strength did she step forward.
He remained in place as the trio of friends turned towards her, the interloper, and they began to talk, pausing to stop and watch the battle on the occasion.
She was nervous as she stepped out onto the pitch with her opponent. Her movements jerky, enough that her favourite headband nearly slipped off her head. A gift from her father, the headband was old, elasticity gone and remained in use only for sentimental reasons. Much like him he supposed with a chuckle. His old friend sent waves of suspicion at him but he waved them away.
Her first battle was beautiful to watch. She really did have a way with Pokemon. Her opponent had potential too and recovered quickly from her initial surprise.
He tensed as the crowd reacted, clamouring around the pitch to watch the battle. His hands fell to his belt and the balls there reacted to him. The soothing feeling emanating from beside him helped prevent an overreaction. An overreaction that would be devastating for all involved.
He held himself back as the battle was called to a halt and the group of friends took to the pitch. He wanted so much to walk out too, to congratulate her on her first battle. But he couldn't. His own choices had prevented that. The other spectators began to swarm out onto the pitch, jockeying for a better look or a place in the next battle. His annoyance at their lack of manners was a welcome distraction. Oddly welcome. He sent his old friend a suspicious look. They studiously pretended to miss his glance, giving themselves away with the sudden blankness they sent out.
His attention was drawn back to the group as it split up. He frowned as his granddaughter was left alone to deal with all the new challengers. Only her previous opponent remained behind as the others left. He glared at each fleeing member of the group as they left.
One of them frowned back.
How? He turned towards his old friend, brow furrowed. Had they let their control slip? He reached out but the cloud of dampness was still around them. It strengthened as he focused.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
His old friend responded to his soundless query with confusion and wariness.
He looked back towards the man. The Pidgey trainer was still looking toward him, searching the space where he was but seeing nothing.
Not an accident then. That trainer had seen them.
He turned back towards his granddaughter. It seemed he would have to get involved a little more. Better to be safe.
-.-
“Well?” He asked.
The woman beside him turned towards him with disbelief.
He met her eyes and nodded. So something was up with the man.
She whacked him in the shins with her cane.
“OW!”
“Tell me you did not drag me here for what I think this is.”
He lifted his hands off his smarting shin to block the next blow. “Stop that!”
“I am busy you buffoon! Not all of us are retired! I don’t have time for your nosiness! Learn some boundaries!” She punctuated each sentence with an attempt to whack him with her cane.
He looked pleadingly towards his old friend. They looked nervously at the shifting shadows beside the woman. They cruelly abandoned him to the vicious enemy.
He caught the cane on the next blow and held it in place.
“Stop it! And take a proper look at him. He was able to spot us when we were under a shroud yesterday.”
She harrumphed and pulled her cane back.
“I don’t know why they let you have that anyway. They should know better than to give you a weapon.”
“It’s for my wounds,” She said imperiously as she stood freely without using it as a support. A haunting cackle rang out from behind them at the words.
His following protest was ignored as she focused on the man reading a pamphlet.
“I don’t know what you mean. I think that the both of you have gotten-” She trailed off as the man looked up from his pamphlet to stare right at them. She tapped her cane against the ground and a shudder passed through his body as the cold hold around them deepened.
They stayed silent as the man stared until he blinked and returned to his reading.
“Curious,” She whispered before turning her head behind them. “What do you think?”
The gibbering that rang out was unsettling and they both stiffened as a cold, uneven hand settled on their shoulders, just out of their line of sight. It retreated quickly but the message was clear.
“You should leave it.”
“What?” He asked her in surprise. This was a confirmation of his suspicions. Why would he leave it here?
“You wanted my advice? Keep an eye out but do nothing. No one, especially your granddaughter, wants you to intercede. Don’t anger what you don’t understand.”
“How can’t I?” He said hollowly for she was right.
“You know the cost, you fool,” She replied sadly. “You of all people know that.”
Silence reigned in their little hollow, the sounds of the outside world muted by the gibbering shadows that themselves had quieted in remembrance.
“How is she?” The woman asked. It was surprising. She was never one to linger in the past, and the creatures that dwelled there. It was an odd quirk of her profession.
“She’s going by Danny now.”
She cackled.
“So some of my lessons stuck then.” The woman breathed out in relief. She turned to him with a smile on her face and..
“Ow!”
She pulled her cane back, holding it ready for another swing. “If she can learn, why can’t you!”
With a quick look at his friend they escape. She, and the shadows that surrounded her, let them go without a fight.
-.-
The farm wasn’t hard to find. Plots of land this old never changed hands. He had known quite a few Laurels back in the day, but he wasn’t sure if he knew this one.
By the way that Oliver Laurel straightened from his crouch by the berry bush and twitched, the farmer knew who he was.
Not that that was a surprise.
“Can I help you?” Oliver’s voice was gruff but respectful.
This was a relief. He had come prepared for either eventuality, but if the farmer had been a critic this would have been much more difficult.
“Do you have some time to talk?”
“Of course.” Oliver said with a nod and his shoulders eased a fraction but not all the way.
So few people ever learned to relax in his presence these days.
“Be welcome,” Oliver stated as they sat down on his patio. It was the opening of an old ritual, one from a time long past where violence was more present and hospitality had a different meaning.
He followed along with the ritual easily. It was a funny reminder of his time as a diplomat. When the ritual completed he allowed the conversation to lapse into silence. It did not take long for the farmer to break. Less time than he expected but perhaps that was understandable given the circumstances.
“Why are you here?”
He eyed the farmer over his glass of water. Oliver had offered several teas and juices before they settled on the drink. The familiar ritual had relaxed the man until he felt comfortable enough to speak his mind.
“You have a man camping on your land. Who is he?” It had been difficult to track the man back to his residence. He took odd paths and checked behind him often.
Oliver didn’t react immediately, but he could see the fear growing in the farmer’s eyes. All comfort built from the teas gone. Oliver remained as still as a tree until ready to speak.
He couldn’t help the twitch of his lips at the farmer’s instincts. Honed from years of training particular Pokemon.
“I was told he was fleeing a criminal gang in Saffron. That he had done nothing wrong.”
“Criminal gang?”
Oliver remained stiff as a board. “Team Rocket I was told.”
“And the man’s Pokemon?”
The farmer twitched minutely. The man’s poker face could be broken by some taboos it seemed.
“I’ve seen one pokeball. A Pidgey,” Oliver answered reluctantly.
He finished off his glass of water and set it on the table. Standing up he nodded a farewell and reached for one of his old friend’s pokeball.
“What has he done?” Oliver asked quietly. The farmer remained still across the table.
He paused in his steps. “Nothing as far as I know. I’m just looking into something. Tell no one I was here. Change nothing.” The last part was said gently but they both knew it was an order and one that would be followed. Time changed much but some things remained the same. Power was power after all.
One click of a button and his old friend was there. Oliver eyed his friend closely but remained seated. A moment later they were home.
“Grandad!”
The yelling started as soon as he closed the door behind him. Further into the house a door slammed open and then another.
He waited, a smile growing on his face as he braced himself. The small figure slammed into his side and wrapped him in a hug.
“You have to come see this!”
And just as quickly his grandson was gone. Always running off to do something. For a moment he paused and wondered if things would begin to grow more tense between them. His grandson was at that age..
He squashed that feeling and followed his grandson into the house. He needed to stay in the moment. He could consider that later when Gary was asleep. He would be up late sending messages anyway.
Team Rocket.
It wouldn’t hurt to follow up on it. He had so little left.
And he wasn’t going to lose anyone else.