“Okay, what about cloyster?”
Hoshi thought about it for a half-second, then snorted. “No way. Cloyster’s the shittiest ice type in Kanto.”
Casca stopped packing clothes into her suitcase to shoot him a pout. “No way! Cloyster’s cool.” He kept his face still, not reacting to her pun, and eventually she gave up in favour of actually doing what they had come for. “Besides, dewgong exists. That’s a way worse Pokémon.”
It turned out that the Cerulean girl was, indeed, not homeless – by all but the broadest possible definition of the word, anyway. She had been staying in a hotel for the past few months, but now that she had somewhere else to sleep, she didn’t want to keep paying for it.
Which was why Hoshi was using his Sunday afternoon to pack a seemingly bottomless dresser’s worth of clothes into a few equally large suitcases.
“Is dewgong ice type? I thought it was water.”
“It’s both, same as cloyster. And lapras.”
He grunted in acknowledgment. All three? That doesn’t sound right… But I suppose she would know better than me. “Lapras! That’s a much better pick. I’m choosing that one.”
At some point he couldn’t quite remember, the monotony of the task had driven their conversation towards the current League lineup, and then to how a prospective challenger might beat said lineup.
It was an overdone topic, almost more common than commenting on the weather, but it served well enough to pass the time.
The first member of the Elite Four was Koichi Tatsujin, Saffron’s own Karate Master. With a solid team of fighting types, the ‘weakest’ member of the Four was actually the biggest filter to reaching the Champion. You absolutely needed a psychic Pokémon, or you would suffer too many losses to beat the next three…
Only for the next Elite, Heavenly Medium Jiei Enoki of Ecruteak City, to render that psychic Pokémon completely worthless with his ghosts. After that came a second one-two punch: Will Zelcovia, the mysterious Masked Magician, and Dark Mistress Karen Rosewood.
To survive, you’d need to beat the Four at their own game – each was weak to one of the others, so the obvious answer was to have four Pokémon, each matching a Master’s type, of your own.
“Lapras are so rare, though.” Casca held up an oversized polka-dot shirt, her expression radiating confusion. Hoshi could imagine her exact thoughts: ’Why do I have this? I don’t even remember buying it!’ “I still think starmie is the best; it learns ice and psychic moves, so it could beat both the Champion, and Jiei.”
Well, the ‘beat them at their own game’ strategy was obvious to Hoshi, at least. Casca had been sceptical, reasoning that as the Elite of the elite, they would obviously be able to cover their most blatant weaknesses. She thought the best thing to do was build your own specialist team, one not strong or weak to any of theirs, and use a varied spread of moves to grind through the four-against-one gauntlet.
And of course, she fulfilled the Cerulean stereotype by suggesting a water-based offensive. “Bah, spoken like a rich girl. Move disks aren’t cheap, you know!” And the Karate Master’s Lightning Punch would take out your whole team, anyway,
The packing went on, the lovers bantering back and forth, and just as the topic started to turn stale Hoshi reached down to find his fingers brushing along a bare wooden drawer, rather than an endlessly replenishing pile of feminine-cut fabric.
He looked down suspiciously, not quite trusting his senses, but it seemed the monster was truly slain. “I’m done over here. You close to finishing?”
“Just some jewellry to go.” She held up a small box, shaking it to produce a colourful jangle. “I don’t want to just dump it in, or it’ll tangle. But I don’t need another pair of hands; you can start with the suitcases. Or wait around – this’ll take, like, ten minutes, tops.”
She fished out a necklace, but to her consternation it seemed that the entire contents of the box had fused together into a tangela of gold and silver. “How did this even..? It was all fine a week ago!” She huffed, sour, before returning the mass to its box and just tossing the whole thing in her final case. “Nevermind, I guess I’m done.”
“Good. Let’s get out of here before they sneak another week onto your bill.”
She stood, brushing off her knees, as Hoshi hefted three of the four suitcases. “Oh?” she asked, her eyes trailing up and down his body. “You sure you’ve got that?”
“I’ve got it.” He demonstrated by hoisting the cases above his head for a moment – they were mostly clothes, and he was used to moving wood and stone. “I’ll be able to carry them the whole way, easy.”
His… girlfriend continued to eye him with a hint of worry, and for what must be the thousandth time he cursed his scrawny figure. “Hey, I’ve got plenty of muscles. Even if it doesn’t look like it.”
The trip back to his apartment wasn’t very eventful. Hoshi had exhausted his capacity for smalltalk, and Casca seemed to have picked up on his mood; they walked through the streets silently, listening to the city.
Though a nagging thought did tug at Hoshi’s brain.
Koichi. Jiei. Will. Karen.
And of course… Indigo League Pokémon Champion, Dragon Empress Clair Blackthorn.
Of the five Elites of the League, only one was Kantonian – and that lone Kantonian was considered the weakest, forced to live in the shadow of his predecessor, Bruno, who had held the title uncontested for nearly four decades.
The last time the Elite Four had seen a Kantonian majority had been when he was ten years old… and even then, the Champion was a Johtonian. A far cry from his father’s time, where the Pallet League had smashed the Silver League, Samuel Oak crushing Burgh Blackthorn so decisively the latter had retired in shame.
But as he ascended the steps up to his little apartment, Hoshi put those dark thoughts aside.
“Oh, lemme get the door for you…”
He smiled as Casca rushed ahead. Yeah, I guess it doesn’t matter. There isn’t anything I can do about it – I’m not even a trainer. And even if I was, where would I get the kinds of rare, powerful Pokémon you need to beat the League?
No point speculating. I’ve got my own life to worry about.
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As always, Hoshi woke long before the sun. He quietly slid out of bed, turning a curious eye towards his partner, but it seemed that her early awakening on Saturday had been a solitary miracle; she didn’t stir even slightly as he dressed, cleaned himself, and prepared for the day.
Before leaving he ghosted a kiss along her forehead, but even that contact failed to wake her. The front door opened with a soft click – but he lingered in the doorway a moment, looking back.
Can this last? Casca came to the city for a few months of school, and if I understand the bits I’ve caught, she’s just been loitering around since the end of spring. Is she planning to stick around and find a job, or..?
He could ask her. She probably wouldn’t make a big deal out of it – Casca Kichi was, he was learning, casual to a fault.
…No. Not yet. If it’s going to end, I’d rather not know until it happens.
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A week passed, then another as June became July. Hoshi went to work in the morning, came home in the afternoon, and spent almost the entirety of his free time either with his girlfriend, or doing odd jobs for Danny Houndoom.
The old man was stingy, but he paid. Hoshi wanted to eventually be able to afford to pay for her meals too, after all – and that meant he needed to increase his income beyond what a common labourer made.
His life had entered a new routine, similar but distinct from his old one, and it was almost entirely better no matter how he was measuring – but still, sometimes annoyances reared their ugly heads.
“Hoshi!” bellowed Everheart, his voice hoarse as always. “Get over here!”
Hoshi put down his electric handsaw, already beginning to feel a headache reaching dark fingers around the edges of his temples. “One sec, boss!”
The tool went back in its proper place, unplugged – the Ditto would berate him twice as hard for a lack of safety compared to just making him wait, though of course there wasn’t an option where he didn’t get yelled at – and after no more than thirty seconds he stepped away from his section, towards where Everheart was waiting.
In a moment of deja vu, Hoshi suddenly realised that Dabi Mokusen, the short, nervous worker with thick glasses, was standing just behind the larger man. Wait. Did they figure it out? But I didn’t leave any- no, don’t panic. “What’d you need, boss?” Act natural. There’s no way they could have tracked that ball to you.
The fat, middle-aged supervisor gestured impatiently, and Dabi stepped forward. He lined up to Hoshi’s side, and the sack of lard eyed them both sourly. “Took you long enough, Mutsu. The blue suits finally got back to us about that ball – it’s gone. Wiped from the registry; Silph can’t find the radio signal.”
Hoshi relaxed, hoping the relief wasn’t showing on his face. Good job, Danny.
Everheart continued, “The replacement’s over at the nearest Pokémart. You two go there with the ‘mon and capture it right there – I don’t want you to take your eyes off that ball for a second, hear me?” He zeroed in on Dabi. “You’re lucky we’ve got insurance, but if you lose another one, it’s coming out’a your paycheck! Now, get going!”
The final exclamation was accompanied by a meaty finger-point, causing flecks of sweat to spring off the digit onto the fresh, once-spotless concrete. Hoshi, still relieved, managed to suspend his disgust. “On my way, boss,” he said with a salute.
“R-right…” stuttered Dabi. “Come along, Benny – yes, this way, we’re going on a little trip.”
The machoke – Hoshi honestly had no idea how the tiny man was picking it out from the rest – took a few tentative steps, followed by a more confident strut as they exited the worksite.
----------------------------------------
Okay, this vibe is weird.
Hoshi didn’t think he was an antisocial guy, exactly. Sure, he got in fights all the time, didn’t have many friends, preferred to keep to himself…
Actually, some of those aren’t true anymore. I haven’t punched anyone’s teeth in for… about two weeks. Hm.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
The thought passed as he was drawn back to the present almost against his will – because walking just behind Dabi and his machoke was fucking weird.
Most of the time, Hoshi didn’t give the big blue lizards – reptiles? They lose the tail when they evolve, so… whatever, not important – any thought. They were roughly human-shaped, yeah, but in terms of intellect they weren’t much smarter than a pidgey or rattata. Treating them like people would just get someone hurt as they misunderstood a phrase they hadn’t heard before; he had seen it a few times over the last three years, and the results of super-strength construction accidents weren’t pretty.
But there was something about the way this machoke moved that was… odd. Too human. He isn’t following Dabi, he’s walking beside him. As he watched, the Pokémon subtly looked both ways before crossing the street.
Okay, I’ve gotta say something. “Hey, Dabi.”
The man did a full-body flinch like a haunter had passed through him, nearly tripping over his own feet as he looked back. “Huh? Yeah?” His glasses, thicker than the bottom of a glass bottle, made it nearly impossible to tell what his eyes were doing – but Hoshi knew, instinctively, that the man’s eyes were wide with fear.
Dude, come on. You have to know that just makes you look pathetic, right? “You seem real friendly with Benny there. You work together a lot?”
Hoshi passed the tiny man, who continued to stand stock-still for a moment before scrambling to catch up. “O-oh, yes. Benny. I’ve been…” For a moment his stance seemed to firm up, before devolving right back to the level of a spineless worm. “Well, I suppose you could say we’re friends. My mother used to work in… well, th-that’s not important.” Arcus fuck, talk like a human being. “She raised machop, and when her work ran dry she donated them to the city. A-and Benny is the child of one of those machop… So I guess I feel a connection to him.”
Hoshi grunted. “Got it. But does he seem… smarter than the other ones, maybe? Look’it him, he’s obeying traffic lights.”
He gestured to the ‘mon, who was patiently waiting for the crosswalk’s light to go from red to green. Dabi paused again, his jaw working.
“That’s… Well, maybe a little. They’re very well trained, you know, to w-work around dangerous machines all day…” He looked away.
Hoshi was silent as the light turned, and the strange trio crossed the street without any incidents save a few odd looks from passer-by. “Sure.” Bullshit. I’ve been doing this three years, I know how machoke act. “I guess he’s just a bit smarter. Some people are geniuses, so why can’t there by machoke geniuses, hm?”
Dabi’s posture exuded a strained sort of relief, as in the distance the Young District’s tiny, unpopular Pokémart became visible against the surrounding buildings. “O-of course. Let’s get this done, shall we?”
His tiny legs worked to move him forward, the hunched posture reminding Hoshi of a cockroach scrabbling on hard tile.
…Ugh, my head hurts too much to think about this. I just know there’s something weird going on – I’ll be staying far away from that mutant machoke from now on. Dabi, too.
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A Pokémart was, theoretically, the one-stop-shop of choice for every Pokémon trainer, from bug catcher to Route Ranger. Each was stocked with balls, health items, virtual training regimens packed into compact disks to near-instantly teach new attacks, and, of course, food for the wide assortment of different critters any random customer might be carrying in their pocket when they walk in.
But in reality, some were better than others.
Hoshi had been in his local Pokémart a few times – they sold human-centric goods too, like hiking gear. That one was a paragon of its kind; aisles and aisles of carefully-sorted top-of-the-line equipment, Pokémon accessories, and nutritional supplements. The steel-toed boots he was currently wearing had been bought from that mart.
The Pokémart near the work site was not like the one near the Gym. It was small, with only four aisles, and from what Hoshi could see while walking to the counter, sold mostly the Pokémon equivalent of snack food. I see skim milk in that cooler over there. Did they refit an out-of-business grocery store, or something?
The mediocre store had equally mediocre service; only a single half-asleep man behind the counter. He hadn’t even looked over when they entered. Actually, I think- yeah, he’s looking at his ‘gear under the counter. A flash of jealousy burned hot and green through Hoshi’s stomach for a moment; a Pokégear wasn’t just a wireless phone – which was valuable enough on its own – but a smart map, radio, television, and emergency signal all in a device that was more durable than a solid steel slab.
Silph had been promising a cheaper, non-trainer version since the original release, but those promises always turned out to be smoke, as the price remained locked in place year after year.
“H-hello?” Dabi stuttered at a criminally low volume. “We’re here from Machamp & Sons? About a..? Pokéball..?”
The man, who was maybe eighteen at most, didn’t even look up.
Arcus. “Hey,” Hoshi snapped, and the cashier jolted – at maybe a tenth the level Dabi had jolted on the way over, if that. He turned his head, caught sight of the pair of humans and a machoke, and nearly dropped his ‘gear.
“Ah! I mean- welcome to Pokémart! How can I help you today?”
Again, Dabi spoke with all the assertiveness of a piece of litter stuck between two paving stones. “A Pokéball? For Machamp & Sons, LLC?”
The man blinked, then seemed to remember he was a person with a fucking job who was being paid to do that fucking job. “Of course. One sec, I need to get it from the back.”
Hoshi watched the cashier go, a sneer threatening to overpower his composure. Fuck. My head hurts. It was possible he was getting the first symptoms of heat exhaustion – the temperature had hit forty degrees just before noon, and it probably wouldn’t drop until after the sun went down. Fucking July. I swear it never got this hot when I was a kid…
The heinously overpriced sugar water displayed near the counter beckoned like shining gold. Should’ve brought some water from my cooler. Arcus, how long does it take to grab a single Pokéball?
Hoshi would have sworn a full quarter-hour had passed since the slow-ass fuck had retreated into the back rooms. Questing black roots dug into his brain as red began to fog his vision, and-
Tap.
Like an exploding electrode, a persistent sound completely obliterated his waning patience. Tap, tap, tap.
He rounded on the tiny man, tapping his tiny foot on the tile floor. “Will you fucking cut it out already?!”
For once, Dabi did not flinch. He turned, mouth half-open in an expression of confusion. “P-pardon? Were you talking t-to m-m-”
“Yes, I was talking to fucking you, who else is in here?” And there it was, the man curling in on himself like a sad little bug. “Stop tapping your foot, and stop acting like a fucking weedle. Seriously, how do you function? Are you like this at home? Why are you so fucking weird?”
Dabi stood, half-crouched, his mouth continuing to hang open. A smidgen of the red receded, paint draining out the bottom of a leaking bucket. Fuck. I was doing good – I literally thought about how I haven’t been getting into stupid fights on the way over.
Fuck. Fuck! If I lose my fucking job..! His hand reached for the counter to steady himself.
Dabi opened his mouth even wider, then closed it with a snap. “You don’t- you d-don’t get to talk to me that-” He paused, his breathing heavy, and for a moment the red surged as Hoshi’s body prepared for a fight. “If you knew who I was-”
In the middle of his sentence, the Pokémart employee returned, cradling a black Pokéball in both hands. Conflicting emotions of rage and relief flooded Hoshi’s system, a rainbow of sensations allowing him to break through his flight-or-fight reflex for a moment and take two large steps away from his diminutive co-worker.
“Finally. How long does it take to fetch a damn ball? Why the fuck doesn’t this place have any fucking air conditioning?!”
The young man stopped, and for a moment the room was absolutely still, absolutely silent.
“...Sorry for the wait, sirs. With all the new regulations, we need to authenticate every single Pokéball before selling them.” Everything was swirling, light of too many colours diffracting through crystal spheres, the stupid slow cashier turning his head, his eyes squinting in blue and black. “Sir? Are you..?”
Hoshi grabbed something, some expensive potion of salt and sugar and slammed it on the counter. “This,” he said, or at least he thought he said. The man opened his mouth but Hoshi couldn’t wait any more, he scrambled to twist the cap and-
He gulped it down. Flavour, too much to understand, colour bleeding into texture bleeding into sound. Oh, Arcus, is this it? Is this what he saw, when his eyes shone? I don’t want to go. I’m in love. I don’t want her to leave, to leave back north and marry some rich fuck with a hundred dragonite in his back yard. I don’t want them to find me glued to my bed, back arching until it breaks, eyes glowing with distant spots.
What are they seeing, right now?
What colour am I?
----------------------------------------
Hoshi woke up. His eyes opened to see blue and white – the sky, clouds drifting high above.
“Mutsu? You awake?”
The voice was familiar. He smacked his lips, wetting them as a face like processed pork came into view.
“Boss.” I’m awake. “What happened?”
Dedwin Everheart was sweating, which was normal. What wasn’t normal was the lack of annoyance on his face – in fact, he had an expression Hoshi had never seen his features make before.
What’s he afraid of?
“You passed out, Mutsu. I…” His own tongue rolled in his mouth as he chose his words. “I’ve been working you guys a bit hard. I get that, alright? Why don’t you take some time off. Say, two weeks? Paid leave?”
Hoshi did absolutely nothing for a moment, confused beyond the ability to move. Then, over the course of about two seconds, epiphany came rushing in to fill the void.
I passed out from the fucking heat. That counts as an on-the-job injury. The urge to laugh came and went, a second of giddiness before a wave of oh fuck my head hurts drowned the emotion like… like a metaphor he didn’t have the brainpower to come up with.
“Ugh,” he choked out. “Help me stand.”
Dedwin reached out a sweat-soaked hand, and together they managed to hoist Hoshi’s body up into something that could be called standing.
He was back at the worksite, the nearly-completed shopping mall. It was just the two of them in the empty-
Actually, no. Camouflaged by Hoshi’s disorientation and his own smallness was Dabi Mokusen, jumping into visibility only because of what he was holding: the man was toying with a Jet Ball, its distinctive matte-black top visible even from across the room.
“How’d I get back?” You didn’t call an ambulance, or I’d have woken up in the hospital.
“Mokusen carried you.” At Hoshi’s incredulous look, he clarified. “Had the machoke carry you, I mean.” His arm came up to – very lightly – slap Hoshi on the back. “So, whaddya say? No reason we have to get the blues involved, right?”
“You’re bribing me.” The words came out without any input from his consciousness, but after a moment’s thought he decided he probably would have said it the same anyway.
Everheart’s face twisted. “...Yes. What do you want more, a wad of cash from a one-time settlement, or to still have a job tomorrow?”
Hoshi looked at the man. His head was clearing, and as his vision focused he simply stared, his brow fixed, pupils steady.
Sweat continued to pour down the man’s face, but for whatever reason Hoshi was convinced that, just this once, it wasn’t the heat. “What? You asking for more? Don’t think you can extort me, Mutsu.”
“Obviously, it’ll cost you more to fire me than pay me off. You wouldn’t be doing this otherwise. A whole month.”
The man’s nose flared, his nostrils deep black pits. For a moment Hoshi thought he saw dancing lights in those endless pits, but then he blinked and they were gone. I‘m not crazy. It was heat stroke. My brain overheating. Temporary – it’s already gone.
“...Four business weeks. You come back on the second, and this didn’t happen.”
Hoshi’s arm flashed out with a speed that surprised him. “Deal.”
On his way out, Hoshi passed close to Dabi, the man still cradling the specialty Pokéball. He turned it this way and that, inspecting it like a jeweller checking a diamond for flaws.
Hoshi slowed, and their eyes met – but Dabi didn’t seem interested in talking. His eyes went back to Silph Co’s crowning glory, and Hoshi kept walking.
----------------------------------------
Hoshi got home somewhere between six and seven, according to where the sun hung in the sky. In another moment of deja vu Casca was there, lounging on his couch, watching the news.
“Hey Hoshi. Late day today- hm?” He must have looked like shit warmed over, because when her eyes caught him she turned, her face contorting in concern. “Hoshi? What’s happened? You look like a wild machop used you as a punching bag.” Despite the playful overtones, real worry lay under each word. “Seriously. Do you need me to call an ambulance?”
“No,” he said. “No, I…” I love you, was what he wanted to say. “Are you going to leave?” were the sounds his mouth made.
Casca inhaled. She looked up to his face, then down to his boots. Her head raised, their eyes meeting and connecting.
“...Can you wait ten minutes?”
His heart resumed beating. “Why? So you can pack your bags?”
“So I can go grab some smokes.”
Wearily, he stepped through the door of his apartment, not bothering to close it behind him. He collapsed on the couch next to his maybe-girlfriend, and if his limbs had been even slightly less attached he was sure he’d have fallen to pieces right there.
“I didn’t know you smoked.”
She smiled, and if this was the last time he saw her he was glad it was a smile that would live on, peach paint engraved in his memories.
“Only sometimes.” The smile thinned, but did not disappear. “Only for the really hard conversations.”