!!PLEASE READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTE!!
Chapter 1: Flavors of Familiar
A flickering line of blinding yellow crackled as it blitzed forward, impacting a shimmering rainbow wall. There was a grinding shriek as the squirming bolt tried to bore its way through. The stalemate lasted for an agonizingly loud moment, until the beam flickers briefly and then detonates in a cacophonous boom and blinding flash.
“Ack,” a screech came from beneath my chin, “Too loud Lai-Lai! Too loud!”
“I warned you Dot,” I sighed while glancing down at the little monster in my lap, “You’re not old enough yet,” the little girl flared her nostrils and puffed up her cheeks. I winced, realizing I'd used the most forbidden reasoning you could give a child, especially this one. Time to redirect, “So, do you want the earmuffs now?”
The brat continued to pout—so freaking adorable—until another deafening explosion made her flinch and give a begrudging nod. I had to suppress a chuckle as I fished the ear protectors from my backpack and popped them on her head. She huffed in indignation and turned away, squeezing her Eevee plush.
Ah, the cold shoulder, a fairly minor punishment for my unforgivable transgression.
I could only shake my head at her attitude, like I hadn’t spent the entire lead up to the tournament trying to convince her to wear the muffs. We’d even gotten them in pink with white polka dots and fake Meowth ears on top, but apparently—sometime in the last week—yellow had replaced pink as her favorite color, and could therefore no longer be tolerated on her person. At least she looked hilariously cute wearing them. Something that everyone could appreciate. It was so good, someone in the stands behind us was failing to contain their wheezing chuckles.
A cheer went out through the crowd, returning my attention to the battle. The Magnemite was still standing strong, with full aura reserves according to the jumbotron, but the Poliwag lay unconscious. It didn’t take a genius to figure out how, with the yellow sparks dancing on its downed form.
I’d only looked away for a second! What happened?
“He lost his patience, stopped evading, and tried to get a water gun in,” a smug voice filled me in, “Ain’t that a shame.”
“God damn it Johnny,” I groaned. We had gone over the plan a thousand times! I thought I'd finally knocked the impatience out of his stupidly thick skull, but the boy could give a Rampardos a run for its money.
I watched as the disappointed teenager returned his tadpole and deposited its ball into the tattered overalls he wore. He kept his head down, eyes hidden behind a messy blond mop, but I could tell he was holding back tears as he trudged into the stadium’s tunnel.
“What did I say? You can lead a Ponyta to water, but you can’t make it drink. Now pay up!” I could only sigh and slap the ten Pokédollars into the hand of an annoyingly pleased Gary Oak.
“Easy money Laiton-boy,” he said and struck his signature pose—arms across his chest, eyes closed, and that infuriating little smirk—as he nodded to himself.
For a moment, in my mind, he was overlaid with a similarly positioned cartoon character. I still occasionally had these surreal moments while seeing fiction in reality. His face shape was similar, but real life could never match the absurdity of anime. Sure, Gary preferred clothing that was black and purple, and he usually left his hair messy. However, it didn’t form itself into clumpy spikes like it was drawn in my past life. Not to mention, if his eyes were anime size he’d be some kind of malformed freak… Although, maybe that would be enough to finally deflate his ego.
“What? See something you like?” He caught me zoning out while staring at him.
“Just admiring your big headedness,” I smirked as he perfectly led into my inner thoughts, “You sure you don’t want to give up this whole trainer plan and join a traveling circus instead? You’d be a star!”
“Yes, I can imagine people would line up for days to gaze upon my visage; it’s a burden really,” he sighed dramatically, “But far more will be able to appreciate it on television as I win the Indigo conference. It’ll never match the brilliance of meeting me in person, but they’ll make do.”
Wow, he was really hamming it up today, “I think you’ll have better luck in the freak show. I mean, your neck muscles must be as strong as a Machamp’s holding that thing up all day.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Lose your biggest competition,” he changed tactics, “What’s the matter Laition-boy? Afraid of living in my shadow for the rest of your life?”
I scowled, quickly fired up my aura, and circulated as much into my brain as possible, slowing the world around me down to a crawl. This was my favorite use for it that I'd discovered. Yes, it was nice to be able to strengthen my muscles—I always got all the grocery bags in a single trip—and the automatic shielding made it so I didn’t need my own earmuffs, and had prevented a ton of injuries during my rambunctious youth; turns out the impulsiveness of a developing brain trumps adult wisdom. Nothing, however, beats having enough time to come up with a snappy comeback. So many arguments from my past life would have gone differently with this ability.
“I believe our aura capacity results show who will actually be overshadowed,” I finally replied. Not my best work, but my aura only slowed things down so much.
“Bah! You only beat me by a few percentile,” he waved off, “While I dominated in all other aspects of the exam.”
Damn, I tried to hide my grimace, but he had me there. I had hit my aura’s maximum standard capacity—MSC for short—years ago, before they even began teaching us how to cultivate in class. Despite continuing to push at that barrier ever since, with hours of dedication every day, there had been no results. Only a recent breakthrough had finally allowed some progress; a measly three percent. There had been other benefits, like my big secret—aura control—but the actual capacity difference was just a drop in the bucket. It would become irrelevant once we bonded with our starter Pokémon. Meanwhile, Gary Oak was a legitimate genius, and had passed the LATTs with the first ever perfect score.
The League Aspiring Trainer Tests, or LATTs, were supposed to be impossible to ace. It was an incredibly extensive, multi-day long, exam that tested your knowledge on everything, or at least everything you were allowed to know before becoming a trainer. The results were meant to act as a pseudo resume, showing your strengths and weaknesses to your aspirant instructor and, eventually, potential employers and clans. After all, nobody knew everything about everything… nobody but Gary Oak. Regardless, I had to stop my musings and riposte.
“Ah yes, because it’s so important to memorize the information a Pokédex can give in a few clicks.”
“It’s ok to live in denial, Laiton-boy,” He gave me one of his damnably smug smiles, “Tell me, do you think your starter will be a slowpoke?”
“I was still in the top one percentile of Indigo, you ass,” I scowled and looked away, giving up on our insult game, and ignoring the scratchy laugh that came from the nosy eavesdropper behind us. It stung a little, being beaten by someone so much younger—mentally, not biologically—but one learned to not get in verbal jousts with Gary Oak. The boy had it down to an art.
For example, I had never acknowledged that his nickname, Laiton-boy, bothered me—not even once—hoping that he’d stop if I didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Classic anti-bully tactic. It didn’t work.
Or, a few years ago when he would tease me for staring at women; puberty sucks even harder during the second play through. At least that stopped once his own hormones finally kicked in.
It was like the bastard had a sixth sense for your annoyances and insecurities. He’d then verbally shape those into a perfect needle to get under your skin. An impressive ability. Shame I was one of his primary targets. He was such an ass.
Ok, maybe that was being a little harsh. Overall, Gary was a good friend now that the worst years of adolescence were behind us. Yeah, he liked to tease, but he knew not to cross certain lines, and he was otherwise very loyal, hardworking, and helpful. It was just expressed in a fairly… abrasive way.
A part of me liked to take credit for that. I’d tried to influence him as we grew up, speed along the character change shown in the anime, but he was incredibly stubborn. Any differences could just be from basic maturity. He was five years older than in the show. A lot changes in that amount of time, after all.
“Hey—guys. Sorry I—I’m late. I some—somehow—broke—my alarm clo—clock,” a voice panted out.
Then again, some things never change. I couldn’t help but shake my head as a very sweaty, out of breath Ash Ketchum arrived. I moved my backpack and allowed him to take the seat I’d been saving, which he collapsed into with a grateful smile.
“Finally made it Ashy-boy? I thought you’d skipped town before you embarrassed yourself,” Gary needled.
“Screw—you—Gary.”
“It’s sad really,” The sharpedo smelled blood in the water, “The most important day of our lives and you’re two hours late. If the starter selection was happening in the morning, instead of tonight, you would have missed it completely. I bet you’ll get a Munchlax with that work ethic. OOH! Or maybe a Slakoth! There are a few on gramps’ ranch.”
“I said—shut it,” Ash said between gasping breath, “I bet yours will be—a Geodude,” both Gary and I gave him a confused look, “You know—because they’re just heads—with arms attached.”
I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped me. I was a little too exuberant, shaking uncontrollably, causing Dot to glance back and give me scowl. It was just too good. The thought of the young Oak’s head rolling around, yelling “Gary, ry gar-gar gary,” tickled me in just the right way.
The budding genius didn't even have a response, and it took a lot to shut him up. His gaping mouth caused a second round of laughter, joined by the harsh cackle from the crowd goer behind us. The old geezer needed to get his lungs checked.
“So what did—I miss?” Ash asked, “Please tell me I’m in time—for the tournament.”
“Sorry Ash,” I got my laugh under control, “You missed the first match, along with the entirety of the speed and strength contests.”
“Ahh man. Who won?”
“Hether’s Pidgeotto and Marcus’ Machoke,” Gary cut back in, with his smug smile instantly restored, “and I believe that’ll be ten Pokédollars for me.”
“Ahhhh man,” Ash moaned in his habitual response, “How does a Machoke ever beat a Pinsir in strength?”
“Maybe because the Machoke was Marcus’ starter, and has been trained for a year, while Gordon only caught Pinsir last month.”
“What!” Ash shouted at the top of his lungs, but wilted at the dirty looks he got from our neighboring seats, “You didn’t tell me that yesterday,” he hissed with narrowed eyes.
“Information gathering is an important part of being a trainer, Ashy-boy,” Gary smirked, “Now pay up.” Ash scowled, but begrudgingly complied. Gary was right, even if it was a little unsporting, “Hah! Easiest twenty Pokés I've ever made.”
“What! Our bet was only for ten.” Ash looked down at his wallet, making sure he hadn’t over paid.
“Yeah, ten from you, and ten from the slowpoke here,” Gary jabbed his thumb my way.
“Oh, what happened?” Ash asked curiously. I didn’t usually make bets. However, today was a special occasion, so I was setting aside my frivolous ways.
Gary grinned, “Johnny didn’t follow the plan-”
I groaned and buried my face into the back of Dot’s head. She grumbled and shoved me when I almost pushed her out of my lap.
“-And got Poliwag hit by a thunderbolt… It was a pitiful showing. Didn’t even land an attack,” Gary continued, “Just as I expected.”
“Oh… that sucks,” Ash rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, “His match-up was really unlucky. Sorry about your brother Laiton.”
“He’s nawt owr bwother,” Dot suddenly interrupted; she must have finally gotten bored of the silent treatment.
Ash froze, thinking he had just stepped on a landmine. I sighed; he had, just not the one he thought.
“Now that isn’t very nice, Dot,” I chided, “Just because he moved out, doesn’t mean he isn’t part of the family anymore.”
“The biwg mean, meanie miwssed Miwssess Spwrinkles birwthday parwty!” the petulant girl wailed.
I had to repress my grimace at the mention of the most recent of her infamous tea parties. They were long, as in multiple hour, affairs where you were expected to maintain character as whatever Dot assigned you. Any slip ups were met with a temper tantrum that would make a primeape's seem tame.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
They had honestly been cute when she first started them a couple months ago, even a little fun as you got to experience the enthusiasm and imagination only a small child could have. The problem was, she wanted to do them ALL THE TIME! Johnny, Nurse Joy, and I—cycled through whose responsibility it was to attend. Unfortunately, Johnny had to reassign many of his designated parties ever since he got his own place a couple weeks ago.
That was bad enough, but two days ago he did a full no call no show for her stuffed animal—Mrs. Sprinkles—most important day. Ignoring the fact the Eevee plush had a birthday every other week, this was a most unforgivable offense, and had put him at the very top of the little girl’s naughty list.
“He got stuck out on his final expedition, Dot,” I tried to reason, but with little hope; we had gone over this many times already.
“Jowker never miwsses any!” she argued.
“Well that’s very nice of Joker, but they have more free time than Johnny,” It wasn’t fair for her to expect somebody to have the same availability as her imaginary friend, “Anyway, he promised to go to both this week as an apology. He’ll make it up to you.”
‘Or else,’ I added in my head. I was the one that had to deal with the fallout from his absences.
Dot was only partially mollified by my reasoning, and whipped her head back around—slapping me with her pigtails—and grumbled about big meanies with a cute scowl.
I saw Ash visibly relax as he realized he hadn’t made the faux pas he thought he had.
He still mouthed a quick, “Sorry,” to me.
I just smiled and waved him off. Dot’s mannerisms were something I'd adapted to. It was to be expected, considering I'd been helping raise her since she was only a few months old. I was more of a father than a brother to her really, even if I wasn’t even that.
Dorthy had come to us almost four years ago, when her parents were lost in a tragic accident with a rampaging electrode. Meanwhile, Johnny and I were the last of the war orphans being raised out of the Pokémon Center by Nurse Joy. There had been many more when I was young, but they had all been much older, and long since moved out.
Most people were smart enough not to have children in the middle of a cataclysmic war, but apparently my folks hadn’t been the wise sort. There were a few similarly foolish families—Ash and Gary’s for example—but Johnny and I were the only ones without any surviving relatives.
Surprisingly, adoption wasn’t a thing in the Pokémon world. Instead, there was the long tradition of the Joy clan taking orphans in. This had suited me just fine. It would have been incredibly uncomfortable dealing with the moral quandaries of new parents. Plus, I had a lot more independence in my early years than a normal kid would have been allowed. It made childhood bearable at least, and I needed all the help I could get once my consciousness had fully awoken.
I believe my adult mind simply hadn’t been compatible with the developing brain of an infant, sealing my memories and most of my personality until sometime into my fifth year. It was something I was actually immensely grateful for; primary school was demeaning enough, being potty trained would have been traumatizing.
“Ah, here comes the next pair,” Gary snapped me back to reality. I blinked in surprise for a moment, before stopping the excessive flow of aura to my brain; my enhanced mind tended to wander if it wasn’t given anything specific to focus on.
“Whoooo” Ash cheered along with some others in the crowd, as two teens emerged from the tunnels on opposite ends of the arena.
“10 Poké on Marcus,” Gary offered with an easy grin.
“No bet,” I answered instantly
“Oh, I'll take that,” Ash fell into the trap, “Did you forget Cinder is a poison prime, dumbass?”
I could only sigh. No, Gary definitely remembered, but I'd bet Ash had already forgotten Marcus’ Machoke won the strength competition. Even though we’d told him just a few moments ago! He may be more mature in this life, but Ash was still an impulsive knucklehead. Sure, I could warn him, but I had found out—over many years and uncountable situations—that he best absorbed information by experiencing mistakes.
I leaned forward a bit, so the two boys could shake on their bet behind my back, and then settled in to watch the show.
There was a crackling hiss, and then a low hum, as the psychic barrier rose and divided the field from the stands. I always marveled at the incredible technology in the Pokémon world. Normally, it would take a strong psychic type to create a barrier this large, yet—with aura amplifying machines—I could see the single Abra powering the entire stadium. It even looked a little bored, leaning against its control station.
The two competitors then walked up to their respective podiums, and pulled out Pokéballs that they inserted into the dimpled slots. The jumbotron flickered to life, showing a small image of each competitor's selected Pokémon, with a green bar representing the amount of protective aura each had.
“Ah man,” Ash moaned. He now saw what the rest of the crowd had learned from the strength competition. Marcus’ Machoke was highlighted in yellow, while Cinder’s Nidorino was only orange, “How did he get to yellow density already!?”
“Marcus is a fighting prime,” Gary said as if that explained everything… which it kind of did. Your primary aura affinity was usually a strong indicator of your personality, and Marcus didn’t break this norm. He was a well known training maniac, and the favorite to win this tournament.
“Damn cheater,” Ash grumbled
“You snooze you lose, Ashy-boy,” Gary struck his pose, “Quite literally in this case.”
The competitors pulled their Pokéballs back out of the slot in the podium, synchronization now complete, and tossed their battlers into the field. If Ash hadn’t seen the jumbotron, he would have noticed now as the two Pokémon each manifested from thick clouds of aura, one orange, and the other a much denser and brighter yellow. They announced themselves with powerful calls of their names.
“Nidorino!”
“Machoke!”
“The 2nd battle of the Pallet Town Aspirant tournament,” the referee announced over the loudspeakers, and the crowd roared in anticipation, “Marcus with Machoke vs Cinder with Nidorino… Begin!”
The battle instantly started with the purple porcupine firing off a barrage of toxic barbs from its back. These were mostly dodged, as the muscled lizard lunged to the side, before flashing forward at ridiculous speed.
I quickly amplified the flow of aura to my brain again, bringing the sprinting lizard back into focus just before it completed its attack. The Nidorino was sent flying by a glowing fist. It was hard to tell what move that was without trainers shouting out their names, like in the show. I’d guess on a mach punch; with all the time Marcus had to have spent on general cultivation to get to yellow density, I doubted he had the time to train something outside of his primary typing.
I was proven right when the Nidorino stood without much difficulty. That attack had been very powerful physically, but the aura component hadn’t done nearly as much damage as expected, and a quick glance at the mostly full green bar—under Nidorino on the jumbotron—confirmed it. Maybe this fight would be closer than I thought?
That was immediately contradicted when Machoke arrived and delivered another shining fist, hammering Nidorino into the ground before it could fully recover. This wasn’t like in the games of my old life, where battles were a turn based exchange of moves. If one competitor couldn’t keep up, they were steamrolled, which is exactly what happened for the rest of the bout.
Nidorino just couldn’t match the tempo, and ended up blindly firing quills while it was still sprawled on the ground, trying to get a moment to recover. It didn’t work; the Machoke just pushed through and continued to ragdoll the poor guy.
Gradually, Nidorino’s protective aura bar was whittled away into the red, at which time the podium forced its return before any real harm could be done. The Machoke roared out in victory, its own aura still mostly full, and the crowd cheered for the performance.
“Wow! That was amazing,” Ash vibrated in excitement, apparently not caring—or more likely forgetting—about his lost bet, “He was so fast!”
“She.” Gary corrected, “You can tell by the head ridges,”
“Oh… Well she was amazing,” he corrected himself, “How did she do that? I could hardly see them move! I thought the Machop line couldn’t learn quick attack. Maybe it’s an egg move, or maybe-”
“No that was just natural speed,” Gary interrupted before Ash’s motor mouth could get too out of control, “That’s the difference aura density makes, Ashy-Boy.”
“Wow,” He mumbled, with a dreamy look on his face. I was always amazed by the boy’s simple wonder for Pokémon… and his poor memory. We had learned all of this in class years ago. It was Pokémon 101, for Mew’s sake!
“That… and Cinder isn’t training to be a battler,” the boy continued as he once again adopted his signature pose, “She’s trying to get a position in gramps’ lab, and spends most of her time studying rather than training, so the difference in ability was a little exaggerated. Nidorino only managed to evolve and get into orange a month ago. She was quite stressed about it.”
“Why’s that?” Ash asked in confusion.
“Nobody wants to have their starter Pokémon still at red for their aspirant tournament, Ashy-boy,” Gary said with a roll of his eyes, “Even the most lazy trainer should manage to get to orange in a year. My gramps got to green, even…” We all took a moment to appreciate the ridiculousness of that, before he continued, “Cinder didn’t want to be embarrassed. Also, her family puts a lot of pressure on her. Martina, her mother, won her aspirant tournament, and she comes from Fuchsia!”
I whistled in amazement.
“What’s the big deal?” Ash was confused by my reaction.
“Well obv-”
“Fuchsia is a city,” I cut Gary off, trying to be a little more gentle in my explanation then he would be; the Pokémon protagonist didn’t have a high tolerance for our friend’s snark, and we were going to be sitting together for many hours still, “Their aspirant tournaments have tens of thousands of competitors.”
“Oh,”
“She even trained with Koga.” Gary cut back in, “It’s a lot to live up to.”
“Why do you even know all this?” Ash asked in bewilderment.
“Because it pays to know,” Gary said with an evil grin, holding his empty palm out to Ash, “And today it’s paying well.”
The black haired boy stared in confusion for a moment, before scowling and grabbing for his wallet again, grumbling about cheating know-it-alls.
I chuckled at their antics. Ash was too trusting. Gary liked to talk a big game, but I knew his secret. He had the brainpower to memorize the family history of everyone in Pallet Town, if he really wanted to. However, the dopey smile I had caught him wearing while looking at Cinder, pointed to a different motive than “trainer research”.
The rest of the tournament went by like that. Watching battles, discussing the intricacies of each match-up, and occasionally making bets on the outcome. I managed to break even on the day, but Ash ended up down several weeks worth of his allowance, leaving Gary the big winner.
Excursions were made to keep Dot fed and entertained; a bored Dot was a nightmare. Some people would have just handed her a Pokédex, but I didn’t want to be one of those parents.
I enjoyed myself, and the matches were exciting, even the one sided beatdowns. There was just something about live Pokémon battles that was lost in the TV broadcasts. Maybe it was because they showed everything in super slow motion? In addition, we actually knew all of the competitors fairly well, so there was a bit of social drama too.
In a normal year, where the class size wasn’t affected by the war, the tournament would have lasted into the late evening, or even multiple days, but—with only twenty three participants—the finals rolled around by two in the afternoon.
The competitors were Marcus and his Machoke, unsurprisingly, and a blond girl named Lilyanne with her Butterfree. She had made some waves by also being at yellow density, and even demonstrated some mastery of the move Confusion. We, or at least Ash and I, had forgotten she had a medium psychic affinity. It wasn’t often you saw someone with any ability in one of the ethereal types.
The battle was a very close one, with Butterfree fluttering high out of range, firing beams of nebulous purple and sprinkling clouds of debilitating dust, while Machoke dodged with superior speed. I suspected the muscled lizard was much deeper in yellow density, considering she was quicker than Butterfree, whose species was typically faster.
Turns out Marcus had more patience than my adoptive brother, and kept his stout fighting type dodging and enduring attacks for quite a while. Finally, the flying bug began to visibly tire and dropped its altitude in a moment of laziness. That was all Machoke needed, as it burst from the ground in a mighty leep and arrived beside its opponent with a glowing fist.
The flier was hammered into the ground a moment later, and never got a chance to get back up. The Machoke landed on top of them, and began a brutal ground and pound operation. Clouds of status effect spores and another beam of confusion was released by the bug as it desperately tried to push them off, but it wasn’t enough; Marcus had clearly done lots of endurance training with Machoke.
After a brief struggle, the podium forced Butterfree’s return. Machoke had a glorious moment to roar its victory, and bask in the thunderous cheers of the arena, before it too was automatically recalled; the poisoning effect finally dropped her protective aura into the red. It was an incredibly close finish that kept the stands going for a while.
Someone unfamiliar with the Pokémon world may have been surprised by the passion shown by the citizens of Pallet for this amateur competition, the equivalent of a highschool sporting event back on earth, but this went way beyond that. It signified the full coming of age for all these young teens, who—with the completion of this, their aspirant tournament—had just become legal adults. It was a moment of huge cultural significance in the Kanto region.
In addition, today was the first day of summer, and the Pokémon new year—weird for someone like me who lived another life celebrating that in winter—and marked the beginning of the Indigo conference. All this mixed together to make it the biggest holiday of the year. Most stores were closed, and five thousand people—probably half of the townsfolk—were packed into the stadium around us. It was like a giant pep rally mixed with a graduation ceremony.
Besides, these were the future defenders of Kanto, once they joined the rangers. They deserved the recognition.
Eventually, the crowd calmed down and began to file out of the stadium. The awards wouldn’t be given until late tonight, before our starter selection ceremony, leaving us with many hours to fill.
“So, what do you guys want to do?” Ash asked, “Head to the festival, or get something to eat first?”
“Sorry, I’ve got to get the munchkin to Joy, and congratulate Johnny,” I said, lifting the little girl by her overall straps up onto my shoulders, much to her delight, “I’ll message you both so we can meet up later.”
“Ah maaaan. Come ooooon. It’s our big day!”
“Yes. Please don’t leave me with the dumbass.”
“Hey! Who are you calling a dumbass, you narcissistic know-it-all!”
“I’m not a narcissist. I just have a modicum of self respect. I wouldn’t expect someone who spent an entire summer dumpster diving to understand.”
“You know I needed the bottle caps for my hat!”
“My point stands. It’s just a hat.”
“Just a hat? Just a hat! There’s only a hundred of these in the whole world!”
“Yeah, and all it cost was your dignity. You must be a malignant prime if you find that to be a worthwhile trade.”
“Oh I’ll show you malignant,” Ash lunged for Gary.
I laughed as the two frenemies began to tussle, and once again heard the rasping cackle from behind us. I turned to see who had been eavesdropping all day, but only caught the retreating back of a gentleman in a pinstripe suit. I didn’t recognize him, and assumed he was a visitor from out of town. He must smoke an unholy amount to have such a raspy voice at his age.
With a shrug, I squatted down—carefully as to not dislodge Dot—and reached for my backpack, but froze. It was gone. I had shoved it under my seat once Ash had got here, but in its place I only found a few pieces of popcorn that Dot had dropped. I hurriedly looked around our seats, stepping over my friends as their fight had devolved into a rolling wrestling match, but found nothing. Someone must have snatched it out from under me.
I groaned. My luck had been awful recently. It was the third thing I had stolen from me this week alone! There must be a new thief in Pallet.
Well, whoever the crook was, I hoped they enjoyed a backpack that was barely holding together. All it contained was my dinged up water bottle, and a few of Dot’s toys. Hardly a great loss, but still annoying. The grief I’d get from Dot would be the worst part. Maybe I'd get lucky, and she wouldn’t notice their absence. There was an entire mountain of others in her room; all the hand me downs from the previous orphans.
“Wha’s wong Lai-Lai?” she asked from my shoulders.
“Nothing,” I quickly turned around and began walking down the stairs, “See you guys later,” I called over my shoulder, leaving my friends to finish their fight. It looked like Ash was going to win this one; he had Gary in the beginnings of a chokehold.
“Giddy Up Lai-Lai,” Dot cheered with glee as we bounced down the steps.
“Hey, no pulling the hair, or this Ponyta may buck you off.” The little brat took it as a challenge and yanked harder. I sighed, but dutifully started to sway and wobble gently. I may go bald early, but her happy squeals were worth it.