With a single step David crossed from marshland to city.
Ten steps later he passed the first alleyway, and as its traffic merged onto the main road behind him, all sight of the Route was blocked. It was as if the city had swallowed him up in a single bite.
Up close, the white walls of the houses around him were marred by narrow grey lines. The wood grain from the marsh's white trees was faint, but it transformed the clean white to a more monotonous, flat texture. It made the perfect background to marvel at Fuchsia’s residents.
Red. Green. Blue. Yellow.
Gold. Silver.
Black. White.
Orange, pink, brown, grey and so much in between. It was a rainbow of colour, a moving firework that never ended.
Louis wasn’t abnormal. Fuchsia was abnormal.
He'd walked into the hair capital of Kanto. Long, short. Spiked, silky. The hair styles he saw weren’t all strange, but he found himself catching little differences in the cuts as the bright hair colours grabbed hold of his sight.
At first he thought it was dye. Dye by the litre, dye by the bucket, swimming pools full of dye, but as he walked it became apparent that no amount of dye would be enough. Eyebrows, beards, flecks of colour on arms and hands. Oddly it was a bald man walking passed that made it click. The man’s goatee was a vibrant lemon. Vibrant lemon.
It was natural. Somehow it was all natural hair colour. He didn’t remember a lot of his biology classes, but he knew that wasn’t meant to be possible.
With a headache growing, David pulled his eyes up, away from the explosion of colour and towards the blood red roofs above. Somehow it was easier to focus and walk while looking at the tiles rather than everything below.
A minute later he was rewarded as a signpost rose above the crowd at a small intersection where two narrow side streets met the main road. It was an odd signpost. One direction - behind him, had a single sign for Route 18, the other - forward, had around 10, all cramped in on top of each other. Near the top of the pole three white interlocking shapes on top of a red background made the pokeball-like logo for the Pokecenter. Above it, the same graphic on a blue background pointed to the Pokemart. At the very top was a large plaque with a pink heart, but it was one of the signs below that held more interest for David. It was a simple stylised tent and like all the others, it pointed forward. The campsite. He needed to find out where he would be sleeping tonight before all else.
There wasn’t a single sign, nameplate or marker for either of the side streets. As David progressed into the city, this became a pattern. No alley was marked. No intersection labelled. The main road continued, waving back and forth slightly, but always heading east.
At least he hoped.
It was difficult to keep track of direction with the tall roofs and the constant crowd. The signs always pointed forward, and the locals, easily distinguished by their hair, continued to stream in and out of side streets. David walked in a crowd, but a crowd that changed at every intersection.
It was uncomfortable, to the point he exhaled in relief when a large plaza finally appeared ahead.
“Thank Christ,” David muttered. He stepped out of the crowd and crossed the road to find refuge on the large circular square at the centre. The Pokecentre’s metallic red roof was in the south eastern side of the plaza. The Pokemart’s blue in the north eastern. A tent sign pointed south.
“Feee-a-row!”
The call from above drove everyone away from the centre of the plaza, reducing the once open space, but leaving enough that David was still able to stretch his arms out. He gazed up, tracking the Pokemon’s descent.
A glint preceded the next call, as the bird Pokemon opened its sword-like beak. Thick, two metre long wings spread out languidly as the predator determined enough space had been made for it.
A shudder started at David's neck and slid down his spine as the Fearow blocked out the sun. Even so, he stared at the Pokemon as it came in to land with fascination. Now that he wasn’t concerned about being prey, he could appreciate the monster for what it was. In the grove he'd been too concerned with getting away to take the Fearow in.
A pale pink beak as long as his forearm. Narrow eyes right at the beak’s base that gave the creature an angry, yet muddled appearance. Spike red protrusions rose from above the Pokemon's eyes. They didn’t look like horns, but were still scaly in texture.
The Fearow shook out its tawny wings as it touched down. The light movement still sent large clouds of dust swirling.
A gloved hand rose above the Pokemon’s back and gripped onto the Pokemon's neck where white fluffy feathers met brown. A rider pulled and swung themselves forward off the Pokemon.
‘Someday.’ David thought, hand rising to Pidgey’s ball. The rider gave the Fearow a few pats before reaching off and pulling off their helmet, revealing short, shoulder length brown hair.
Wait.
David looked around him, turning in short bursts as he frantically scanned the plaza. Blond, brown, blonde, black, ginger, black. No colour.
A new shiver ran down his spine and, hating the sudden feeling of being on show, David pushed through the crowd to the south side of the plaza.
-.-
“Come in.”
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David gave the man behind the desk a wave as he opened the door and walked in, barely batting an eye at his flaming orange combover. This was definitely the campsite, the sheer number of tents in the open field behind the building proved that, but the whole site was fenced in, with this building as the only entry and exit. It wasn’t a prison, though the wire fence gave David similar vibes. The fence was the exact same kind as the one that he’d maintained around the grove in Celadon, just shorter. Short enough he could hop over if he wanted, which was one of the reasons he’d come as far as to enter in the first place.
“Duration of stay?”
“Eh.. three weeks," David replied. Today was day forty eight in this world. That made it day thirty five of the league. He had twenty five days left to earn a second badge or.. He didn’t know what happened next. Were there hit squads roaming around seeking trainers who didn’t return their Pokemon? Was that another part of a Ranger or Ace trainer’s job?
The man raised an eye behind his glasses, wrinkling further his brow. “Any badges?”
“One.”
The man wrote something down before pushing the paper to the side and pulling a drawer open.
“Okay, you’re in plot 4r-c3. All facilities are at the back of this building. No Moves to be used on the premise, you can use the battlefield across the road for that, but as a gym has deemed you qualified to control your Pokemon, you may release them on your plot.” They pulled a pink bracelet out of the drawer and looked up at David. “As you can imagine, breaking any of these rules results in lots of large fines. There are also fines for damaging or leaving common areas in poor repair - just treat everything inside of the fences like you would the Pokecenter and you’ll be fine.”
David took the offered pink bracelet. “That’s it?”
“Yes, the door is on your right.” The man nodded, then picked a book of anecdotes off his desk. He lifted it up until it blocked his face from view.
David was left staring at the book cover - Ninetales in north Johto, until the man pointedly cleared his throat. He hesitantly left the room, staying alert until the door was closed behind him. It wasn’t the grilling he’d been expecting, which he was thankful for, but it put him on edge anyway.
Fuchsia was weird. Fuchsia was very weird.
-.-
After finding his allotted plot - a square wooden platform about four metres wide, David turned and headed back to the entrance to the campsite. The plot was a huge space, far too big for his cramped one man tent. A couple of the nearby plots had their tents up, but he was reluctant to leave anything of his behind until he knew the area better.
He stopped off at the facilities quickly and needed to wrench himself away from the showers afterwards. He still wanted to do something today, and it was likely to be sweaty work. The shower would still be there when he got back.
The campsite manager was still buried in his book when David passed through. The man's flaming orange hair was the only thing visible above the book's cover. From the entrance to the campsite it was a quick walk across the road and to the nearest access to the fenced area opposite.
Fuchsia was a new city. His stocks were low, his bundle of Poke light.
As David stepped onto the packed earth, heads turned towards him, sensing a challenge. Fresh meat. He pulled Pidgey pokeball out from the sling around his neck and stepped towards the crowd of waiting trainers. The metal thrummed under his fingers.
“One Pokemon, One badge,” David shouted, walking into the waiting mass.
Eyes locked on his. Trainers began to push towards him.
Game on.
-.-
All the hair colours wouldn’t fade into the background of David’s mind. Not during battle as he faced his opponent, not as the spectators cheered, as they ooh’d and aah’d, and not as he ran through the crowds on the streets. It was easier to ignore when he was in a hurry though.
His and Cloudburst's two battles had been successful, and they were 250P richer.
The first - a lucky matchup against a Kakuna, the evolution of a Weedle, had been over quickly. The Pokemon had fought well, sending a storm of purple darts and white string into the air, but there was only so much it could do against Cloudburst. She soared above the Bug type and well out of range. It had only taken two moves before Kakuna’s gold carapace wept a pale yellow liquid.
Kakuna was a strangely beautiful Pokemon. It had a smooth dome-like head that led to a body of sharp lines and angles. The torso felt like the result of a mad experiment with CAD software, but in a geometric way that came together. Those angles hid two scythe-like arms, which were frighteningly sharp.
The second battle was against a Nidoran and was going well until it leapt into the air and hit Cloudburst with a Poison Sting. Purple shudders racked Pidgey from that point on.
They were still able to win, but David left the training grounds at a run after retrieving the prize money. It was a straight road to the Pokemart and he sprinted the whole way.
Afterwards, in a small nearby garden, David sat and tried to relax as Pidgey gave him the evil eye while she cleaned her feathers. He had been a bit.. liberal with his application of the Antidote, but she seemed most upset at the fact he’d recalled her mid victory crow.
“You were poisoned,” David repeated. He saw no reason to apologise.
Pidgey squawked at him and her gaze sharpened. It wasn’t enough to make him feel icy, but he did feel a slight chill. She had better control these days.
“Stop it.”
“Piiid-gey.”
David sighed and stood up. There was still more he wanted to do today, and now had enough money to do some of that now. “I’ll see you later then. We’ve a new campsite - with some rules we’ll have to go over later.”
And wasn’t that a headache in the making. Pidgey wouldn’t be too bad if they could reach a deal about flight, but how was he going to stop his new Pokemon from eating their way through all the nearby tents?
Pidgey didn’t respond, but she did settle into a roosting position. One bright flash of light later and she was gone.
David stepped out of the garden and back onto the main road. They were done with battling for the day, and he wanted to look into other sources of income. The sign pointing north with the Poke symbol was a good place to start. A bank or shop of some kind was a good starting point.
He struggled not to stare at the people around him as he walked. The roofs were again a much better target, and it was because he was staring at the blood red tiles that he caught movement in the corner of his eye. He slowed and his hand rose to Pidgey’s pokeball as he turned, travel instincts still strong. Movement in the wild meant trouble.
The street going dead silent was the second sign that something was wrong. The locals, bright hair and all moved to the sides of the street, filling into alleys where they could.
He was left standing alone.
Thumps against the pavement rang out behind him.
A young man half jogged, half walked towards him. It was clear that he was on edge. His head was on a constant swivel, scanning both sides of the street and sending his shoulder length hair swishing back and forth. Beads of sweat dripped off strands of dark, indigo hair. The man’s hands twitched, always held close to his belt.
Something wasn’t right about the man. Something was bugging David.
The crowd parted before him. Every eye watched and stared.
There was no mistaking when the man saw David. His shoulders fell a little, relaxing. His head stopped swivelling. His steps shifted, moving towards him rather than aimlessly forward.
Then it clicked.
His hair. David had seen that hair before. Aodhan had that same hair.
Aodhan Voyant. The Psychic.