Vermilion Gym – the building itself – hadn’t changed at all from the last time Hoshi had seen it. A Pokémon Gym wasn’t just a place for teenagers to fight for a shiny badge, it was a military installation, made to withstand attack by hostile Pokémon; even if the actual body of the typhoon had slid into the bay to smash the city directly, the red-roofed building would have stood, solid as a mountain.
But the same couldn’t be said for the atmosphere. His eyes widened as he took in a solid two-dozen people braving the elements to make use of the Battlegrounds, the varied terrains built into the gym’s courtyard.
Arcus, I wouldn’t have thought seeing a few people using the fields would hit me like this… The high-tech construction had sat completely empty for months – it almost felt like he had stepped back in time. With a grin, he went forward and made his way past the trainers. These must be new trainers, who just got their licences yesterday. They looked green, their Pokémon only barely understanding their owner’s eclectic mixes of wordless shouts and too-complex orders. Ha, like I’m much better. I wish I’d taken the day off work, come earlier and got some battles in… Maybe tomorrow.
Leeching a sympathetic rush off the battling pairs, Hoshi walked into the Gym proper.
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Surge watched his godson pass under his office window, the tide of giddiness that had been steadily going out as the day progressed suddenly rushing back all at once. He had been hoping to see him today… though not really expecting it; the League had only given cards out to a lucky handful of hundreds, a drop in the ocean.
But still. Don’t know why I doubted. Of course the Champ’s son would pull through! The shine of his teeth nearly obscured the Battlegrounds as he shook his head.
Beyond his reflection a pair of similarly-dressed fishermen dueled, their shellder zipping surprisingly fast through the water section; an old man’s meowth set upon a young girl’s oddish, taking a splash of acid in exchange for landing a brutal Scratch attack; two young men, their hair stuck up in mohawks, sent out a pidgey and spearow to face a tubby man with a toddler riding his back's snubbull and psyduck. The little kid was in a pikachu onesie, and though allowing them to call out attacks for their father's Pokémon was technically illegal, Surge didn't give a single flying fuck.
Ya stack guys together, they count as one; dugtrio and magneton prove that. The thought was accompanied by a sage nod. Yeah. Things are gonna be alright. He didn’t always agree with the League – especially in the last couple years – but when times were tough, they pulled through. With more trainers, we’ll be able to shore things up a bit.
He was drawn from the window by an electronic beep – Kiki paging him for a guest, no doubt.
“Ha!” he exclaimed, taking two large steps back to his desk. “Damn kid always comes in during office hours! Would it kill him to visit me after work?”
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Despite everything, all the preparations, Hoshi was nervous. That’s pretty normal, I guess. Actually with all the time I’ve put in, it would be weird not to feel some… tension.
For a long time, he’d had a dream: to save up enough money to buy a shitty prefab house, and stick it on the plot of land he had inherited on the outskirts of Viridian City. A nice, normal dream; not too ambitious, but enough to get him out of bed in the morning.
But that dream was a compromise. Before he had grown up, before his father’s decline and everything else, Hoshi had dreamed of something… simpler. More pure. Was it hearing about Red, that did it? Or did it start even earlier than that? He didn’t remember exactly when, but since he had been a little kid… Hoshi Mutsu had wanted to be a Pokémon trainer.
“Hoshi!” Uncle Bob exclaimed as he came through the door. “Been a hot minute since I’ve seen you! Don’t tell me you think you’ve learned all you’re gonna get, huh, you little punk?”
The Gym Leader’s smile was sharp enough to cut, and for a moment the elation in Hoshi’s gut turned to slimy green dread as he prepared to lie to someone he cared about – but it passed in the next instant. He’d understand, if I could tell him. Hoshi shot back with his own grin, only slightly forced; despite the circumstances, he was still pumped.
“‘Course not. But I managed an upgrade; you ever heard of the Electric Academy?”
Surge leaned back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head, gigantic boots resting up on the lip of the desk. His expression drew inwards for a second before returning to his natural, feral look. “So, you've really been going for it? That place is damn expensive; you’d better be serious if you’re dropping real cash!”
Hah, of course he’d know about where I’ve been. Not that I expected differently… “Going for it? Bob, I’m there.” From out of his pocket came his official-looking licence, completely identical – physically, anyway – to the real thing. “Turns out keeping this waterlogged shithole stapled together is worth something.”
Surge breathed in, abandoning his laid-back position to lean forward. He took the offered slip of plastic, expression once again tightening. “Damn,” he said, enough emotion expressed in the one word to fill the whole bay. Yeah, I know the feeling. There was silence for a lingering moment, save for the ticking of his uncle’s wall-mounted clock.
Then he handed the licence back. “Hot damn!” he continued, louder. “Always knew you had it in you, kid! This calls for a celebration!”
He reached for the chunky office phone on the edge of his desk, but Hoshi stopped him. “Wait a sec, Bob.” The man paused, his brows raised, and Hoshi’s smile turned fully real. “You think I’m satisfied with just getting this thing? No. Let’s save the celebration for my first badge, instead.”
Surge’s brows raised even further, then his face darkened in an expression that anyone who didn’t know him would call murderous – but of course, Hoshi recognised it as excitement.
…Well, there might be a little bit of murder. Bob’s a pretty competitive guy – he definitely isn’t gonna take it easy on me.
“First badge?” His teeth glinted like polished knives as his back straightened – and there was a disconcerting moment that happened every now and then, where Hoshi became keenly aware that his uncle was taller sitting down than most people were standing up. “You really think you’re ready for that?”
“You said it yourself, didn’t you? Or did you misspeak?”
A snort. “You don’t even have a Pokémon.”
Hoshi took another pre-prepared lie off his mental shelf – it was getting easier as he went. “The Academy offers starters for graduates. Trained from birth, like lab Pokémon.” He stood up from his seat, coming closer to eye-level. “Me and a few friends will be coming in Sunday – you better be ready to get your ass beat, Gym Leader.”
Bob met his challenging stare for a moment, before throwing his head up and letting out a bark of laughter. “Ha! Kid, that’s a pretty hot-blooded promise! Would you believe you’re the first challenger I’ve gotten all day?”
Obviously; it’s these people’s first fucking day. “Really? Bunch of chickenshits.”
Surge stood as well, extending his hand. “It’s a fuckin’ date, kid… Actually no, you’re a trainer now.” Hoshi clasped the Gym Leader’s larger hand, meeting the crushing grip with his own. “I better see you bright and early Sunday morning, Challenger Mutsu.”
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On Wednesday and Thursday, Hoshi went to work as normal. On Friday, he called in sick and trained the entire day with Casca, Kenny, and Nerine.
On Saturday, he went to the Academy and reported his progress, receiving a round of praise from the instructors, then spent the evening going over the finer details of the plan.
And then on Sunday, he leapt out of bed with fire in his veins.
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“Wow. Cool building.”
The six of them marched, respectably in-time if not quite to military standard, through the entrance pavilion and into the Battlegrounds.
“You’ve never been here?” Casca asked, and Nerine shook her head.
“Nah. Didn’t have a Pokémon, so what’s the point?”
Hoshi was in such high spirits, the comment degrading Vermilion’s rich history bounced right off him. “Well, you’re in for a treat – assuming you get things wrapped up in time.”
“This is gonna be great!” Kenny yelled. “Ground beats electric, so I’m gonna win for sure!”
Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.
…Don’t say anything. Don’t. Just let him have this one, and- “The type chart isn’t everything, you know,” Casca mumbled, drawing a smug look from the former wrestler.
“You wanna bet? Okay, if I win faster ‘n you, then-”
“Let’s not make a scene today, please,” Ryan urged. He fiddled with the collar of his suit, looking every inch the high society academy student that was his cover story.
“Yeah,” Puce added. “I already feel like I’m gonna throw up…”
“Come on Puke, don’t puke! We’ve been training for weeks – we’re all gonna win!”
Again, Hoshi managed to swallow his retort and keep it inside his head. Don’t underestimate your first badge. There’s a reason most trainers hit a wall early on.
They walked along the winding path through the Battlegrounds, but the commentary wasn’t done. “Holy shit, is that dude on fire? That’s hardcore.”
Hoshi followed the teenager’s eyes, finding… “Oh wow, he is.” Looks like the poor guy shelled out for a rapidash without learning to ride first – ouch, that’s gotta sting. “Lot of trainers out here today. We might have to wait if there are any other challengers.”
A scoff from Ryan. “Nonsense. These are all chaff; I doubt a single one has the courage to face Vermilion’s Lightning Lieutenant, let alone present such a challenge as to delay us.”
Finally, Hoshi could hold himself back no more. “No jinxing us at the last moment, please.”
Ryan took the jibe well; presumably his own spirits were just as high.
I’ve got a good feeling. Even if the presence of other trainers is unexpected, we planned it all out until our ears and fingers bled; we’ll all play our parts, even the dumbasses, and get paid for winning, and by Rocket.
And who knows – maybe I’ll get a second surprise promotion. His hand found Casca’s as they stepped into the reception area, the photos and plastic chairs dominated by the memorial to Champion Red Ketchum. It doesn’t hurt to dream.
They registered, one after the other, with the receptionist – she looks familiar, have I met her somewhere? – looking blandly surprised by such a large group.
Most trainer teams capped out at four, so as to not fight over the limited number of Pokémon they’d encounter as they travelled between cities. Maybe we should have split into two different- no, no second-guessing, not now that it’s too late.
“And…” The punk-looking girl tapped away at her keyboard, hitting enter with a final clack. “You’re all set, Miss Rose. The six of you will have your matches in sequence; we don’t have any reservations today.” Good, Ryan was right. “If you could all wait here for a moment, the arena will be prepared shortly.”
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The wait between registering and being called to the arena felt like it lasted no time at all – certainly not enough time for Nerine to calm her butterfly-filled stomach.
“Yeah!” Moony yelled – or maybe chanted was a better word, since he was keeping it close to his normal speaking volume – seemingly to nobody. “Yeah! Yeah! Gonna get it!” He punctuated each word by knocking his fists together, or sometimes to his chest, like he was a monkey working itself up.
She could hear Hoshi grinding his teeth as the bald man continued the… ritual? He was a wrestler, I guess it’s a pre-fight thing…
Other than the chanting and toothgrinding, the walk down the long hallway was silent. She wondered if, maybe, it was a psychological tactic – something to throw off a challenger. Hoshi talked about the man like he was a big stuffed animal on the scant occasions where he answered her questions, but everyone else said he had the ruthless streak one expected from a decorated veteran.
Whatever it’s for, I’m feeling psyched the fuck out.
After the Battlegrounds, the arena looked startlingly mundane; just a field, rocky terrain on each side, with a water feature snaking down the left ‘mountain,’ under a grate spanning the centre, only to disappear under the right side of the field.
A hand nudged her shoulder, and she realised she’d been spacing out. She felt a faint blush rise as she nodded Casca’s way, and followed the group to take their seats.
It felt weird, sitting down; there were other people here, some she recognised as Gym employees, but the stands were built to seat at least a thousand people. There were only two dozen, including them.
It unsettled her even more. I… think I might be biting off more than I can chew.
In her haze, she couldn’t really put her full attention on the details. But they’d worked out what they wanted to happen ahead of time – and like Hoshi and Casca had predicted, the Gym Leader called them down in the same order they had signed up: Moony went first, losing swiftly to a few Sonic Booms from a magnemite, and then Hoshi took his place, slapping the dejected man on the back in an uncustomary show of comradery.
And that’s my cue to go. She stood, announcing that she had to use the bathroom for any eavesdroppers, and Puce followed her out of the stands, down the hall, and into the woman’s bathrooms. The theory was that most of the employees would know Hoshi – or at least know of him – and would keep their eyes on the fight. They had Hoshi, Casca, and Ryan’s fights to make it down to the basement, slap in the hacking bug, and get back.
And if they were found… Well, hopefully a delinquent dragging her shy friend into a misadventure wouldn’t raise any serious alarm bells.
She took a few breaths as the referee’s starting yell passed through the intervening distance and walls, contemplating whether she needed to throw up.
“Are you okay?” Puce questioned, and Nerine stared at the muscular girl in her flower-patterned dress for a solid second before answering.
Arc, this isn’t what I expected for my first ever job. “I’m good. Are you good? We should get started already.”
Puce stared right back. “Uh, you look…” But then her concern hardened, a game face that had only come out once or twice in training sliding into place. “No, you’re right. Let’s go.” The mask slipped, just the tiniest bit. “Uh, you remember the way?”
That fucking blueprint will be in my nightmares for months. “Yeah, I remember. Just follow me.”
They stepped out of the bathrooms, turned left, and with confident strides Nerine went off to commit her first act of treason.
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“Argh!” came Kenny’s frustrated cry. “This‘s bullshit! Why’d you bring a flying Pokémon to a first badge challenge?!”
Hoshi’s uncle just laughed. “Ha! Luck of the draw, big man! Could’ve been anything; Springload just happened to catch my eye as a first pick! Give him another Sonic Boom, baby!”
The magnet Pokémon twirled its loosely attached bits, obeying with an electric crackle. The sound of its attack almost seemed louder out here in the stands than he remembered from the challenger’s area – probably because there wasn’t adrenaline pounding through his system.
His minion’s sandshrew dodged admirably, even attempting to fire back with something that wasn’t quite good enough to call a Poison Sting, but it was pretty obvious that this was a losing matchup. Real glad I followed through on getting a move disk. A magnemite would still be a hard fight, but I think Guts has a pretty okay chance… Unless he brings out something special for his ‘favourite nephew.’
Kenny was a surprisingly good loser, walking with his head up and shaking Bob’s hand without any macho bravado or infantile whining. They exchanged some words that were too far and low to hear, and then Kenny was trudging back to the stands.
“Trainer Hoshi Mutsu, please make your way to the challenger area!” the ref, a white-haired man with a surprising set of lungs, commanded. Hoshi stood, received a good luck punch on the shoulder from his girlfriend, and passed Kenny on his way to the arena.
As he passed, he decided to pass it on, and gently popped the man on his upper arm. “Not the worst fight I’ve seen.”
Kenny half-smiled. “Fuck man, you’re shitty at pep talks. Go win this one for me, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
And then before he knew it, he was across from his uncle. Okay. Remember your training – just treat it like a normal fight. His heart pounded as his hand hovered over his side.
“Challenger! This will be a standard Gym Battle!” Should I start with Guts or Crow? Crow is basically guaranteed to get one-shot… “Up to two Pokémon will be allowed for each side! Switches are not allowed; withdrawn Pokémon may not re-enter the field!” …But I get the feeling Surge is going to use a single Pokémon. Confusing it in the first second could just win me the match. “Items are not allowed! Select your Pokémon, and release when I say ‘begin’!”
The referee’s arm went up. Fuck. Stop fucking overthinking it, just stick to the plan! “Three, two, one!” His hand began to slash down, and Hoshi plucked and threw Guts’s ball with a single practiced motion. “Begin!”
Hoshi didn’t even see Surge’s hand move, it was so fast. The Pokémon hit the field, both near the centre, and Hoshi laid eyes on his opponent – it was actually similar to his rattata in a lot of ways. They had the same stance, were about the same size, and were both rodents.
But where Guts was lavender with cream patches, the pikachu was bright yellow with brown accents. Fuck. This is actually not a great matchup. A voltorb would have been more predictable and a magnemite would have been slow; a pikachu, in contrast, would have a well-rounded moveset and was probably faster than his girl.
No hesitation – looks like we’re breaking this out early. “Guts, use Swift!”
“Junior, hit ‘em with a quick Thunder Wave!”
Bright white sparkles issued from his Pokémon’s mouth as the pikachu tensed and squeaked in effort, a wave of faint electrical energy expanding in a wide net as sparks flew from its cheeks. The attacks passed through each other, barely interacting, and Hoshi saw that dodging was futile. “Guts, get in there! Quick Attack into Bite!” Paralysed off the first fucking exchange – hopefully the women are doing a better job.
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“Son of an Arc-damned whore,” Nerine whispered, staring at the pocket mirror that reflected their target. “Who the fuck is that?” None of the files mentioned a computer guy, and normal employees shouldn’t have clearance to use this computer. He was sitting there, a mop of brown hair poking above the office chair, tapping away at the keyboard – and she didn’t get the feeling he would be leaving for a piss break any time soon.
Puce answered with an anxious look, her body plastered against the wall to avoid bungling into any of the stacked-up boxes of paper records.
It must be… some kind of League official, maybe? Updating something? If he turned around she might be able to spot if he had a League patch on his coat – but no, it didn’t really matter. Fuck.
There was a part of her, startlingly large, that wanted her to turn around and leave, shrug her shoulders and go eh, I tried. Turns out we came at the wrong time; that’s life. But Puce was edging forwards, it was just one guy, and she really didn’t want to get chewed out by Hoshi – the guy was intense, he reminded her of some of her uncles.
So she calmed down, remembered all the training that had gone into this exact situation, and backed away from the corner. Puce backed up herself to make room, and when they were far enough away that she felt confident their voices wouldn’t carry, Nerine opened her mouth.
“There was somebody using the computer – but don’t worry, I’ve got a plan.”