Just another day on the job.

Honestly, it was kind of surreal. The first few days after his Gym Challenge had been just as normal, and they had felt that way – spelunking excluded, obviously. But today, it felt like something should be different.

I guess I just hadn’t processed it. I’ve got a badge – in the system at least, if not physically. That puts me in the top fifty percent by default. Or maybe it's that shitty camera footage from this morning… And still, here he was, doing the same old job. Or at least mostly the same; he could legally order the machop around now, which was…

Not particularly interesting. It’s not the same as battling. There’s no rush, no spark to just having them carry shit around. The thought made him smile to himself. Damn, I’m turning into an adrenaline junkie. A brief, smeared-together snippet of the pinnacle flashed in his head, the thing he'd seen as he'd eaten breakfast mixing with various tournaments he'd caught over the years. I wonder… how far could I take it? A fake license won’t let me into the Nationals, but how many gyms could I take down? At a second badge level, one fighting type would probably be enough to see me through Pewter… then swing up to Cerulean for the third…

How far could I get from the top? There was a part of him that wouldn’t stop asking it, the question running around the edges of his brain as one hour bled into the next

He knew it was childish, but he couldn’t help but trace the map of Kanto’s eight Pokémon Gyms out in his mind. Completely ridiculous. What’s even the point, thinking about something so impossible… Even if I was a real trainer, it would be a pipe dream. The Champion Series, that grand event where those who’d conquered eight Gyms and won eight badges faced the Elite Four, saw maybe a handful of challengers a year. It’s arrogant, picturing myself up there with… those people.

The day went on. By some quirk of fate they were repairing the exact bit of semi-collapsed sewer that Casca’d mentioned the other day, and Hoshi kept his eyes peeled for signs of her and her peers’ passing. He didn’t see any, but it made the work at least slightly interesting.

Also making it interesting was the Ditto – or at least the way Hoshi was watching the man. Like everything else he was acting perfectly normal; it was the context that flipped everything around.

I hate the guy. But… do I really? I definitely don’t respect him, that’s for sure…

But maybe I’ve been thinking about it wrong. If Everheart was less of an ass, would I respect him more? His gut instinct gave a begrudging answer: no, probably not. His old manager at TauroBurger had been more soft-spoken, and Hoshi had resented the orders even more. Okay, but I was younger and stupider back then… Ugh. I don’t know what I’m aiming for, short-term. I still want to do this leader thing right, but what the fuck does that look like for me?

Do I even know what it looks like for someone else?

----------------------------------------

Despite the hard day’s labour, Hoshi came home feeling pretty good. It was probably just the contrast with yesterday’s exhaustion – but whatever the reason, it still put a spring in his step. “Casca?” he lightly called as he closed the door. “You still in bed?”

“Bathroom,” came the muffled reply, and he grunted back before flopping down on the couch.

The TV flicked on and Hoshi paid attention for about three seconds before tuning out. More speculation about the Moltres. I was hoping-

Then it started to play, and his attention was forcefully dragged back. Damn, they’re really milking this thing…

Someone – probably a Cinnabar native – had managed to catch a dark, grainy, blurry, and shaky glimpse of the moment the typhoon had broken with their tricked-out Pokégear, and it had been functionally looping on every single news channel when he’d woken up that morning. Hoshi watched the screen intently, unable to tear his eyes away despite having seen it several dozen times now.

A great plume of fire emerged from the dense clouds, painting the bottoms of them bright red and frying the camera’s brightness sensor. Another, and another, each growing in size – and then the sky cleared as a massive shockwave bowled over the anonymous cameraman. Shaky blurs as they frantically pointed the camera back to the action – it was impossible to make out any detail of where they were standing, their identity completely obscured by how far the thing was zoomed in. But finally, after a second’s worth of eternity, the camera focused just in time to see a woman mounted on a dragonite next to a massive, flying gyarados – and they were tag-teaming a third Pokémon. Something that Hoshi’s eyes could see was much smaller than the false dragon, but that some other, more primal part was interpreting as the size of the entire sky.

Even through the unfocused lens of a ‘gear camera, the Firebird looked like a force of nature.

The spell ended as the program cut back to their anchors, and Hoshi flicked the television off with a sigh. I get why they’re showing it so much – nobody’s gonna change the channel with that mid-action – but they’ve exhausted every possible thing to say about it. Might as well literally run it on a loop at this point, and have some real news in the corner.

Hoshi just sat for a moment, zoning out and playing that shittily-filmed ten seconds over and over in his mind’s eye. That was Clair. It had to be… So why hasn't the League started parading it around? ‘Indigo Champion singlehandedly saves the region’ is too good a headline to pass up, so who’s stopping them? It was possible that the Dragon Empress herself was suppressing the story – she hated interacting with the media – but something about that felt off.

Maybe they’re waiting to see if it comes back for a rematch, hah.

The internal laugh wasn’t even slightly humorous.

He turned the TV back on and flipped it to some kid’s cartoon for a little background noise, then got to work cleaning his cooler out. Empty plastic wrap in the garbage, slowly melting ice – not concealing any stolen electronics today – in the freezer to re-solidity overnight, and cans in the recycling bin. As he scrubbed the inside, a presence sidled up behind his back.

“So, how’s work?” Casca asked, her lips brushing against his cheek.

“It was work,” Hoshi replied. “Same as it always is. You hear the news?”

He could feel her eye-roll. “How could I not? They’ve got it on every channel.” She stepped to the side, joining him at the kitchen sink. “I can’t believe it was actually the Moltres. It just feels so, like, cliche, you know?”

He let loose a chuckle. “I’m gonna give Danny such a shit-eating grin next time I see him. No way Cinnabar could do that, for two months straight. We’d have all smelt the soot, rain or no rain, from Pallet to Cerulean.”

She hummed back, and for a moment they simply enjoyed each other’s company. Then he finished scrubbing down the inside of the cooler, and dried his hands.

“Still feeling shitty from the other day?” You were in there kind of a while…

“Bleh,” Casca replied. “A little? I’m like, ninety percent sure I’m over it, but it’s hard to tell – better to not risk it, so I’ll wait ‘till Saturday to go in.”

Hoshi grunted back. “Fair enough. I was gonna go talk to Kenny about that lickitung, but if you want company..?”

She smiled. “Actually, some fresh air would do me good; mind if I tag along? His old nana is adorable.”

----------------------------------------

They managed to dodge any trouble on the short trip north to Kenny’s apartment, but something notable did happen: Hoshi felt an actual chill blow across his face, the cold of the bay finally overpowering the lingering heat of a legendary Pokémon.

Huh, that’s way more reassuring than I’d have thought. I guess things are officially back to normal.

The thought put a smile on his face the rest of the way – though as they got within spitting distance the expression began to twist into incredulity. Is that..?

“Oh my shit,” Casca whispered. “Is that a hoverbike?”

It absolutely was. Hoshi was neither a biker nor a tech junkie, but the thing was unmistakable; nothing else had that absurdly front-heavy silhouette, a massive engine block taking up a good 70% of the vehicle’s mass. A man’s legs stuck out from under the carriage, and as they approached the rest of Kenny’s oil-spattered body emerged.

“Yo,” he greeted, his eyes gleaming. “Hey Boss, was expecting you’d come around. What d’ya think?”

Hoshi stepped up the concrete steps separating the house’s yard from the city’s sidewalk, his expression shifting between different emotions. His house doesn’t have a fucking garage, he’s got it on a jack on his porch. No way that doesn’t stain the wood.

“It’s… Nice to look at,” were the words he eventually settled on. “Expensively nice. This was your whole payday from the job, wasn’t it?”

Kenny nodded and stood, still looking pleased. “Almost the whole thing, yeah. Eight grand; got it second hand. Great fuckin’ price.”

Hoshi was torn. On one hand, it was a hoverbike; it was objectively fucking cool, and there wasn’t a single part of him that could dispute that fact. And on the other, it was a hoverbike; a ridiculously overpriced piece of gaudy machinery that was, in ninety-nine out of a hundred situations, broadly inferior to a normal vehicle.

Okay yeah, the ten-year-old in him reiterated, but it’s a fucking hoverbike. Holy shit, that’s fucking cool.

Casca grinned, placing a hand on Hoshi’s upper arm. “Only eight? That’s a steal!” But then the smile dimmed as she became pensive. “Won’t it get stolen, though? Like this is a good neighbourhood, but…”

Kenny waved her off. “Bubbles likes to dig in the sand out back, so I got the idea to make a little hidey-hole under the house. ‘S like a basement, put a light in and everything.”

Hoshi’s brows raised. That is exceptionally illegal, and there’s no way you bothered to check where the water, gas, and power lines were before mucking about. The construction worker in me is appalled – but I can’t say there isn’t a clever bit of lateral thinking mixed in with the near-suicidal stupidity. “Your sandshrew’s doing good, then? What about the other one?”

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

Kenny’s face lost a touch of its enthusiasm. “Hm. That guy’s…” He licked his lips, then spat as he accidentally caught a stray fleck of motor oil. “Pah! Gah… Well, I guess I kinda see why Blondie didn’t wanna catch ‘im. When I asked Nana what kinda Pokémon he was she cussed ‘im out, said he was no good – oh, but he knows a strong move, though!”

Hoshi grunted. “Yeah? That’s good. Actually, I wanted to talk to you more about that; something about the name lickitung was really bothering me that night, and-”

He was interrupted by a call from inside the house. “Menard!” the muffled voice of the grunt’s grandmother sounded out, powering through the solid wooden wall. “Mister Bubbles is scratching up my floors again! Get him outta here!”

“Whoops, uh..!” For a moment Kenny looked frantically between his bike and the front door, choice paralysis evident in every motion.

Hoshi snorted. “We can watch your bike for a second.”

Without another word the bald man dashed inside, leaving Hoshi and his girlfriend standing alone on his porch. They looked at each other – and after a second Hoshi broke first, giggling.

“Hah! The look on his face!”

“I know, right?” Casca circled the machine, leaning down to tap the gauges on its dashboard. “Wow, this thing looks complicated. How would you even drive something like this?”

Hoshi followed her, inspecting the controls. Part of it looked like a normal motorbike; the handles were the same, with throttles on either side, and the seat was shaped pretty much identically… But the rest of it was like something he’d imagine in the cockpit of a modern fighter jet.

There were a half-dozen knobs and an equal number of levers, three large and three small. Worse, the controls were labeled in the Galarian alphabet – I guess that makes sense, they only really make these things in Orre – so he could only barely understand them.

“I think this one’s ‘altitude,’ but I’m not sure.” No wheels at all, not like most of the ones I’ve seen in movies and shows… I wonder, is it rated to go over water? He straightened up, making a circle around the hoverbike as he spoke. “You know, when I first saw Kenny I thought he looked like a biker, but this still feels kind of weird.”

“What feels weird?” Casca asked, still staring at the controls.

“Like… I’m not sure how to word it. We’ve hung out a bit while training our Pokémon, and he’s always wrestling wrestling wrestling, you know? It feels weird to find out he’s got a second hobby he never talked about.”

His girlfriend hummed. “Huh, didn’t know you were friends.”

Are we? “I wouldn’t go that far… But I’m trying to take this team leader thing seriously, you know? These fuckers are all slackers, so I’ve gotta step up.” He turned, drawing his eye across the Kaneth family’s porch. There were a few herbs in pots along the railing, and an old swinging bench on the far side. “I’d like to say I know the other grunts a little, even Ryan, but now I’m having second thoughts." Is it the granny who keeps the plants, or Kenny? I can’t even answer such a simple question.

Casca rose, passing him to seat herself on the white-painted bench. “This isn’t really about Kenny and the bike, is it?”

Hah. Completely impossible to keep anything from this girl, I swear… He followed her lead again, sitting on the gently rocking piece of furniture. “It… is and it isn’t.”

She knocked shoulders, silently inviting him to continue, and he took a breath.

“I’ve been trying to do something different the last few days, and I’m not sure if it's working or not. There was a bit in the cave, where I realised that the way I’ve been acting… riding everyone’s ass, yelling if they don’t train… I started to remind myself of my boss, and that wasn’t a good feeling.”

He glanced at his girlfriend, and found her squinting off into space. “You know,” she said, “I didn’t think about it at the time, but you were kind of acting differently in the cave? You were pissed when you left, but when you got back… Yeah, I’m definitely noticing in hindsight.”

“Yeah.” A wan smile moved his lips. “But yesterday, after the trip with Nerine and Puce, Nerine stopped me to tell me off. Said the cheerful act was creeping her out.”

Casca laughed softly. “Really? And what’d you say back?”

“…Honestly? I don’t really remember. I kind of freaked out at her…” Then it was his turn to laugh, the sound barely above a whisper. “Actually, I’m pretty sure she told me to talk to you about it. But then I got home and learned you almost died, and…”

Casca leaned on him, her weight comforting. “Hey, c’mon. I came home without a scratch on me.”

He smiled. “Yeah.” The view from the porch wasn’t bad; all the houses in this section of the city were old, from when Vermilion was little more than a fishing village. Each one was unique, built by a different family, and so long as he didn’t turn his head too far he could almost transport himself back into that simpler past.

…But simple doesn’t necessarily mean better, does it?

“Yeah,” he repeated. “So I’m not sure what to do. Do I go back to what’s natural? Or do I keep trying to… be a bit friendlier? I gave Puce a little compliment and she beamed; I wouldn’t have thought to do that without putting effort into it.”

Casca tapped his thigh with her finger. “Man… That’s a tough question, Hoshi.” He opened his mouth to reply, but she kept talking. “It’s a little like being undercover, though, isn’t it? You want your mask to be as close to your face as possible – ‘cause if it isn’t people can tell it’s a mask. So the only answer I can give is…” Her hand left his thigh to give him a weak punch to the shoulder. “You’ve just got to work at it. Tone it down a little bit, but… keep it in the back of your head?”

Then she stood, stretching. “And it’s not like you need to be too friendly; you’re their boss, you know? Some things are meant to suck, and some people need a little kick to get going – oh, like a motorcycle!”

She turned back to beam at him, and he snorted. “Come on, that was a stretch.”

“I’m not wrong though, right?” Her smile turned a touch more serious as her voice lowered. “If you’d been less of a hardass in training, I probably would’ve slacked off a bit more. I don’t find it fun the way you do… and that means I might not have come back without a scratch, last night.”

She leaned down, and Hoshi met her kiss with his own. They parted a moment later, and the smile was back to its full intensity. “So you’ll just have to do both things. Be a softer hardass.”

He snorted again. “That’s an oxymoron…” Then his eyes sharpened. And… “And it’s been way longer than it should be since Kenny left. What the fuck is he doing?”

Hoshi stood, and took two steps to rap on the door. “Yo, Kenny! You forget we’re out here?”

A muffled shout from inside made his eyes sharpen even further, and he opened the door. The house’s foyer was empty except for a scattering of shoes. “Hey, what’s with the yelling? Kenny, are you-”

He cut himself off as his subordinate appeared from around the doorframe, his face a curious combination of pale and red. “Oh, hey Boss. Sorry, give me a minute to-”

Kenny was in turn cut off by something – a straw broom, Hoshi realised – smacking him on the back of the head. “Out!” shouted his nana from behind him, nearly entirely hidden by the wall and her grandson’s bulk. “Out of my house this minute! You’d better hope my husband doesn’t get home soon, or you’re in for a walloping!”

The broom made a sharp sound as its straws cut the air, but it was obvious she couldn’t swing with enough strength to actually hurt the man. Kenny’s face twisted, his head jerking erratically between looking at Hoshi and turning to face his grandmother.

But unlike before, Hoshi had nothing to say to dispel the man’s paralysis – he was equally frozen. What the fuck is- what do I even say?

The situation was obvious, but a solution refused to present itself. Kenny remained fixed in place for a lingering second, before he appeared to resolve himself. “Sorry ma’am,” he said, not looking backwards. “Just looking for Huck. Didn’t mean to scare ya.”

“My son’s off on the warpath, along with all the decent men! As you well know! Out!”

He stepped forward, and Hoshi made way as Kenny exited back onto the porch. “And stay out!” his nana cried, finally visible for a split second as she slammed the door shut.

A few minutes later, Hoshi found himself straining to keep his end of the load steady as he and Kenny finished manhandling the hoverbike into the back yard. He let it slip down to the sandy grass in time with his subordinate, the heavily muscled man setting it down with surprising gentleness. Kenny took a moment to catch his breath, wiped his brow with the back of his hand, and then spoke.

“There we go. Thanks.”

“Yeah.” Do I ask? Hoshi’s eyes found Casca’s own, but all she did was give a subtle shrug. Yeah, same. “So… about what I was talking about earlier.”

The grunt’s face scrunched in a half-scowl, but Hoshi was pretty sure it was just the situation and not actually directed his way. “Right.” Kenny reached down to brush some imagined dust from the bike, chewing on his words. “Something about the lickitung, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Saying that word a lot. Kinda awkward… “I was sure I'd heard something about it winning a tournament somewhere before, but when I looked into it, it turned out I was wrong – it wasn’t lickitung, it was lickilicky, its evolution.”

“Huh,” Kenny grunted, his expression evening out. “Didn’t know it had one’a those. It’s pretty strong, then?”

Hoshi shrugged. “No idea; I couldn’t find any actual shit on the evolution, other than that there was one. On the Captivation and Rearing of the Yfel Monstre says that it only evolves if you ‘feed to it a young child only just weaned from they mother’s tit,’ but I think we can rule that one out.”

The exaggerated accent he’d put on for the quotation made the man snort, which transitioned to a moment of half-stifled laughter as the tension in his frame was released. “Damn, that must be some shit from way out east. Where’d you find that, the bottom of a well?”

“The library. No idea where it was from – the author didn’t put their name on it or anything – but it must’ve been from, like, three centuries back.” Hoshi cocked his head. “Before they invented spelling, at least; I only had the strength to slog through it ‘cause it was so fucking out there.”

“I bet.” The man looked down at his bike, then back up to Hoshi’s face. “Uh… About that thing with Nana, there…”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Hoshi interrupted as Kenny hesitated. “Family shit’s personal. You don’t owe me that.”

“Yeah…” Kenny sighed, his huge muscles looking almost deflated as his body sagged. “Yeah. Thanks.” There was a moment of awkward silence as none of them spoke, but then the man perked up. “Hey, you wanna give this thing a go ‘round the coastline? Should be able to fit all’a us if we squeeze.”

----------------------------------------

“So what do you think? Sell it or raise it?” Hoshi yelled over the din of the engine. Holy shit, this is fucking intense.

Vermilion’s coastline sped by in a blur. While he had only been inside a vehicle a handful of times over the course of his life – despite the booming population they were still rarer than in Kanto’s heartlands, where the streets were actually built for them – he was damn sure it hadn’t felt like this. I should probably be wearing a helmet.

“Dunno yet!” Kenny yelled back. “Haven’t had ‘im out much – he eats like a motherfucker!” There was a disconcerting pull as he drove them around a large stone jutting from the sand, whatever technology responsible for the bike’s hovering also keeping them steady in the seat. Behind the two men came a higher exclamation as Casca yelled.

“Whew! Do that again!”

“You said you don’t know about the evolution, but what about the guy himself?” Kenny continued, slaloming a bit around the beach. “Ryan thought he was shit enough to not bother capturing; was he right or wrong?”

“Eh,” Hoshi grunted before raising his voice again. “Opinions are mixed! Professor Oak said lickitung was a good defensive Pokémon, but it was in an old book that-”

“The Professor?! Damn, Ryan musta been full’a shit then! I’ll give it a shot!”

Hoshi opened his mouth, but then closed it again. While Kanto’s first and forever Champion had definitely been the strongest trainer in his day, and he was definitely one of the most influential zoologists in history by weight of inventing most of the field himself, Hoshi didn’t quite rate his personal thoughts on battling as highly as some people did. Whatever. That’s as good enough a reason as any. “Sounds good! But actually, I did have a plan to evolve it!”

The bike flipped backwards – again, with that stomach-turning gravity is doing something weird effect keeping the bike’s seat as down – and Kenny slid them into a smooth stop.

“Yeah? What’s up?”

Coasting in place, some of the stabilising effect was lost; the bike was suddenly a lot more wobbly, and Hoshi put his feet down to keep from losing his lunch. “Guh. You know, you don’t drive like this is your first time. How long have you actually had this?”

“Bought it yesterday,” came the answer as Kenny fiddled with the controls, doing something that made the craft lower to the ground. The engine, too, lowered, moving from a screech to a purr. “But my uncle was crazy about the things. Used to take me to this little kiddy racetrack, and I just… kept up with it, I guess.” His fingers flexed, the dark leather gloves he was wearing compressing the textured rubber of the bike’s handles. “But seriously, what’s this plan ‘a yours?”

“I thought I’d ask D- uh, Professor Mokusen. He’d know about weird evolutions, right?”

Casca’s grip around his waist got tighter. “Hoshi…”

“What, is it that bad of an idea?”

“Professor..? Oh right, the machamp guy!” Kenny exclaimed, ignorant of the tension behind his broad back. “That’s a great idea! I’ll come with you!”

The bike turned as the engine once again roared, Hoshi’s feet leaving the ground. “Huh..? Wait, you don’t mean-?”

“Great timing too – it’s something to do while Nana cools off. Plus, the bike should be able to go even faster on concrete!” They blasted forwards, only the antigravity keeping Hoshi and Casca in their seats.

They both yelled as the acceleration continued, and Kenny laughed as they crested the beach, catching a half-second of air as they transitioned from steep-ish incline to flat land. “Yeah, that’s the spirit!”