Hoshi had been afraid that his month off would make the return to work unbearable, but as each day bled into the next he found that those four weeks had, in fact, not been nearly as long as they had felt in the moment.
Actually… there was something almost soothing about it.
“Mutsu, no foot-dragging! This place is nice and air conditioned, so I don’t wanna hear any complaints!”
Hoshi hoisted the load of cement powder, feeling just the lightest twinge in his muscles. Huh. The Ditto’s bellow may have made him pick up the pace, but it didn’t leave a film of irritation over his vision. Knowing that I’ve got bigger problems is… freeing, I guess. The sack of dry powder went into the mixer, disappearing into the goop already churning inside, and he flexed his fingers before bending down for the next load. Everheart seems extra toothless – he’s basically just a big screaming baby.
The indoor renovations went smoothly, and Hoshi started to feel that tiny spark of pride he sometimes got when the work wasn’t entirely shit – like he was, in his own half-assed way, following in his father’s footsteps.
Knocking down a few walls or replacing the floor of a basement isn’t exactly high architecture, but it’s not that different, right? It was a dumb thought; in reality he was only a half-step above the machop who carried bricks around all day. But still, that little red-hot spark sat, sizzling away in his core.
…Only to be unceremoniously doused as the easy work dried up, and M&S turned to a more pressing – and miserable – matter; repairing and replacing the numerous roofs that had been damaged by the worst storm since 1995.
Damn, Hoshi thought, looking up at the swirling grey gradients above, then down to the slate blue shingles gradually replacing their older, duller relatives. I was hoping I’d be able to ease my way back in, but it’s only been five days and we’re already out in the rain.
And it was still fucking hot, too, more like a sauna than any rainstorm he’d ever experienced before. The roof was slick under his feet – smoothed by age, the grit washed away.
The only saving grace was that the company had provided good quality rain-proof clothes. It could be… worse, I guess. But still.
He fished a couple of short roofing nails from a sealable pocket, slid a new shingle in place, and hammered it in with two quick blows. I could be using this time to train. Guts and Crow are still basically babies; they need toughening up before I take them to the Gym. Because while he didn’t need to win for the mission, he sure as heck didn't want to lose. An old shingle was popped out, and its replacement went in – then the next, and the next, Hoshi’s body moving on autopilot.
It’s… my first badge challenge. Even if it isn’t real, even if I can’t actually go to a real tournament where they check shit seriously… I want to win. It’s- ah!
His drifting thoughts cost him as he misjudged a swing, and sharp red pain shot up his arm as the hammer met his thumb, rather than a nail.
“Damnit! Son of a-!” Don’t daydream while working, dumbass.
He checked the damage – the nail was cracked, a bead of blood attempting to form despite the roaring downpour. Red spilled out from the crack, and like it was the pain congealed into liquid under his skin, the sensation lessened to a dull throb as the rain washed the blood away. “Stupid.”
“Hey Hoshi, you okay?” came a voice from over the zenith of the roof; Mikan, his partner in the day’s repairs.
He spend a moment berating himself, the rain, the fucking heat, and the shittiness of existence in general, before he lined up the next shingle. “I’m fine. Whacked my fucking thumb.”
“Trying to get back on paid leave? Leave some for the rest of us, ha!” His chuckle went silent, and Hoshi drove the next nail in – carefully – opting not to reply. But it seemed the man wasn’t done. “So how was it, anyway? Things going well with that girl of yours? I have to say, I didn’t think you’d be the relationship type!”
Hoshi bit his tongue to cut off his instinctive ‘fuck off’ and forced himself to calm down. Mike isn’t too much of an asshole – he’s actually making conversation, shit as he is at it. “It was fine. Spent some money at the gym; I’ve been thinking about trying for certification soon.”
Again, Mikan’s voice drifted up over the top of the roof. “No shit? You know, I can see it… You’ve sort of got the look of a trainer. Gonna leave us high and dry?”
His tone was amused, but despite snorting Hoshi replied seriously. “You know it. Gonna do big things – this time next year, you’ll be seeing me on the news.”
The man laughed. It was easy to picture his face; Mikan was someone who laughed easily, who liked to poke fun, and took retaliatory comments with grace. “Ha! That’ll be the day – I’ll be watching for it, man.” A pause. “But seriously, your thumb good? I don’t feel like getting this shit done on my own; it’s like taking a hot shower out here.”
“I hear you – it’s fine, just broke a nail.”
“Hey, you think some idiot tried messing with the Moltres, and that’s why the typhoon’s this bad? That's what my daughter says, but it feels like too neat of an explanation…”
He continued to ramble on, while Hoshi replied with the occasional grunt. And though he tried to keep his head down on ground – or at least roof – level, he couldn’t help but let his thought drift off towards the weekend.
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On Saturday, Hoshi woke early and well. He all but leapt out of bed, causing his girlfriend to emit a rodent-like squeak, and was dressed – in his rain gear, no need to tempt Kenny into repeating a bad habit – before she even managed to get out from the tangle of thin sheets.
“Whoa, what’s gotten into you today?” she asked. “We’re not due to meet the instructors until noon.”
“I want to be there early. Guts and Crow need experience, which means battles – and I bet there’ll be a few bored grunts loitering around, ready to train.” I’d challenge some randos out on Route 11, but I actually know a few people there; I don’t want it to get back to Surge that I have Pokémon just yet.
Casca finally rolled out of bed, just in time to receive a plate of toast. “Hm,” she groaned. “Maybe. But make sure to leave something in the tank; Ryan might get in your shit about the day-one promotion.”
Today felt special, even more of a ‘first day’ than his actual first day had been. Might as well do a whole spread. Bacon, cheese omelette, the works. He had even bought a bottle of cheap wine. “Oh, I hope he tries something. That little dragon is a powerhouse, but it hasn’t got anything even close to a ranged attack; Crow’ll solo it.” The thought made him smile. It’ll be completely embarrassing for him – if I had a dragon, and it got taken out by a zubat, I’d fucking die.
Casca raised a brow, watching his back as he cooked. “I’ll take your word for it.”
They ate, he helped Casca pick out an outfit – a clingy, and surprisingly sturdy, blue dress that should handle the weather well enough – and then they were off. The day was, in a continuing trend, both sweltering and wet; the dark cloud cover meant it didn’t quite hit thirty above, but with the humidity it felt like it did. The streets were slightly more lively – people are getting used to it… or just running out of groceries – but not nearly enough to delay them on their way to the Electric Academy.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
As Casca had predicted, Hoshi had a bit of trouble with a sceptical groundsman manning the front gate – but the man with his scruffy uniform and contrastingly well-groomed hair let them through after scanning his fake ID, and they were through the doors well before the scheduled meeting.
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Man, I completely forgot how over-the-top this place is.
While large sections of his first visit stood out bright and clear in his memories, other sections, like roaming the halls, were mostly a blur; at any other time, the extreme extravagance of the school would have been the highlight of the day, but the tournament and meetings had been… a lot.
“Make a right just up here, and… there we go!” Casca pulled on his sleeve. “This should be a break room.”
He turned an eye to the door, squinting. The room labeled ‘Woodworking 401’ is a break room? After a moment he shrugged, and reached for the handle. I don’t get this place. Half of it seems married to the school masquerade, while the rest is barely trying. He still didn’t even know if there were actual students; the way Puce’s parents had talked seemed to indicate that there were, and that Puce herself had come for the lessons and gotten caught up in the Rocket stuff after, but the pieces weren’t fitting together in Hoshi’s head.
Whatever. I’ll just ask about it – either her or the instructors.
Woodworking 401 looked, at first glance, to be an actual woodworking shop-slash-classroom. There were tables arranged in front of a personal desk to the left of the door, while to the right stood a number of machines – lathes, drills, saws, and a few that Hoshi couldn’t recognise by sight alone.
But there were no half-finished projects, no raw materials, and most crucially, no mess. The floor was spotless, not even a speck of sawdust marring the waxed hardwood.
…Also, and he probably should have noted this first, there was a group of four people in uniform, wearing the poofy hats that Hoshi couldn’t help but still find ridiculous, even after staring at his bedecked reflection for an unreasonable amount of time. Black felt shifted as the four – two men and two women – turned, revealing the red Rs standing out on their chests.
Uh… “Hey,” Hoshi started. “Anybody want to hit the battle court? I’m new, and my Pokémon are raw.”
The quartet of grunts made various expressions, but the general air of the room could be described in one word: hostile.
“Fuck off.” said the man on the right. “We’re on break.”
“Dumb kids,” muttered the woman next to him.
“Don’t they know we’ve got better things to do with our time?” continued another.
Hoshi’s teeth and fists clenched. Oh? You think you’re better than me? Well- A gentle hand on the small of his back, fingers on either side of his spine like they were holding a kitten. Well, fuck you right back. He turned, and let the door ease shut.
“Fucking- where do they get off?” he hissed, taking long steps towards nowhere in particular.
Casca shook her head. “Sorry – most people around here this early are gonna be either higher ups… or people doing the graveyard shift ‘cause they’re being punished. You wanna find another place?”
Breathe in, breathe out. “Yeah.” You fucking bet I do. After that, I’m ready to smash someone’s face in – but I’ll settle for wrecking their Pokémon.
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Hoshi found his morning training not with his fellow grunts, as he would have expected, but rather with a group of scientists. They encountered the day’s second quartet in a cafeteria, and in contrast to the first, they eagerly agreed to a series of one-on-one, no-stakes battles.
The school’s battle court – and contrary to the extravagance of the rest of the building, there was only the one – was much more mundane than he had been expecting; a basic field of compressed dirt with a small pool to the side, a couple of stripped-down healing machines against one wall, and a line of benches.
Guts took a loss to a magnemite, barely beat a drowzee that blatantly ignored its trainer’s instructions, then ceded the field to Crow, who took a second loss to a grimer.
Paradoxically, the poor showing actually served to calm the fuming Hoshi down. Ha. Stupid shit, thinking I’d do any face smashing… this isn't a Little Cup, Guts and Crow are gonna be the weakest guys on the field.
“Guts, jump over! Quick Attack!”
The fourth and final scientist, a weedy-looking man with uneven grey-purple hair, had sent out a bellsprout that seemed to know only one move – but even so, Hoshi wasn’t certain that Guts would win. She’s faster, but the only advantage we have.
The rattata leapt over the slashing vine, dodged a second, then darted in to land a quick nip with her teeth. The pitcher-plant Pokémon brought its head in, taking the hit on its durable lips rather than its vulnerable stalk, but it still bled.
“Circle around! Gimme another Quick Attack!”
“Blossom, evade! Dodge roll!”
This plant is pretty well trained. In a move that seemed incongruous with its normally slow-moving gait, the bellsprout tucked and rolled – almost like a tumbleweed. Guts tried to slip in, but when her opponent uncoiled it did so by unleashing yet another Vine Whip.
She failed to dodge that one, and Hoshi cried out. “Back up!” Right to the face. She’s starting to slow down – I think four battles in a row is pushing it.
His rat retreated out of the bellsprout’s range, and the two Pokémon stared each other down as their trainers thought. What can I do? Tail Whip isn’t useful unless we get close, which is the problem. The moment he had the cash, he was getting Guts some sort of ranged attack disk; the number of strategies he could pull off with just Quick Attack was abysmal.
Across the field he could see the researcher thinking the same thing, frustration in his eyes. They narrowed, and Hoshi felt the man decide to gamble.
“Growth!” he yelled, and Hoshi’s teeth clenched – half in frustration, and half in hope. More than one move, after all…
If it bulks up, we’ll lose – but while it’s mid-Growth, it won’t dodge! “Guts, forward! Full offense, tackle tackle tackle!”
The lavender rat raced across the field, head down and sprinting, and smashed into the ambulatory plant with his entire body. The bellsprout wobbled, head bobbing, and reflexively hit back with yet more lashing vines – but Guts powered through, toppling the top-heavy ‘mon with another hit before going in with her teeth and claws.
Suddenly the plant bulged, its thin roots and stem instantly doubling in size, but it was too late; Guts lay into the thing, and the Rocket Scientist recalled his Pokémon with a disappointed sound. “Blah! Darn it, I thought Blossom had that one in the bag…”
Hoshi spent a minute on some post-battle niceties, used the healing machine one last time, and then he and Casca left – to the audible disappointment of the four labcoat-wearing men.
He raised a brow at his girlfriend as they exited into the hallway. “You’re lucky I’m not the jealous type, you know.” All throughout the pitched and not-so-pitched battles, she had been relentlessly flirting with whoever was on the bench.
“Oh, you are the jealous type, honey.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, strutting. “You also like to be teased. Besides, aren’t those nerdy types adorable?” Her strawberry lips curved up as she looked back. “Some of those lines – it’s like they’ve never even seen a woman before.”
Hoshi held his composure for a moment before a half-suppressed snicker forced its way through his lips. “Yeah, okay, from that angle I could see how it’s funny.” He followed, and the two walked a moment before he continued. “So, nerdy types, huh? Should I be worried about you and Dabi?”
Casca’s face was worth the fake punch he received to the shoulder. “Ew! You jerk!”
“What?” he replied, fawx-innocent. “Oh, I get it. Hypno is more your speed, right?” A quick step took him out of range, and her retaliation missed. “I bet if you asked, you could score a threesome with him and Kimmy- ow, okay, okay! I give!”
She relented, pouting, but he could see the laughter in her eyes.
“Ugh, don’t even joke about that. I feel like I need to wash my brain with soap.” She stuck out her tongue, and Hoshi chuckled at the expression. He took her hand and they walked aimlessly, killing time before the scheduled meeting with Jessie and James.
Got a few hours to go. Would any of the other rookies be here already? “You want to hit up that cafeteria again?” he asked.
“No way. I ate, like, three breakfasts this morning, not including the wine. I’ve gotta watch my figure… Or did you just want to find more guys to fight?”
Hoshi grunted. “Naw. Guts needs rest, and I want Crow to be fresh if I need her later.”
They say you learn more from losing, but I’m not sure – not at this level, at least. But still, it feels good to just do it. He was almost hoping Ryan would challenge him-
Movement ahead. Ah, speak of Dexus, and he shall appear. Turning the corner was a bright head of platinum blond curls, shining above a suit of pale baby blue – the man was, like Hoshi, not yet in uniform.
Ryan’s eyes flashed as they registered his target, and his gait widened. “Mutsu!” he called across the length of the hall. “I’d like a word!”