Silver knew this path. Rocky and sparsely forested, trees twisting up out of thin, dusty soil in shapes entirely different from the verdant green of Viridian. Sometimes, his dad would take him here – to see the nidoran and other Pokémon, but mostly for the Eight Badge Gate, the beginning of Victory Road, which Dad said led all the way up to Indigo Plateau. It was a wild route, only barely a dirt trail, snaking up and down the rocky hills that got steeper as they went, melting into the actual mountains.
Every time they came, they’d gone a little further past the gate. To the first badge check, then the second… Silver’s father had said that when the time came, he would pass through the gate all on his own – “You will have the power to do it,” had been his exact words. “But there’s no harm in letting you see some of it early – whetting your appetite for it, you could say.”
He had been here… four times, maybe, though the earliest visits were hazy, not even half-remembered. But he did remember the way, mostly, the vague path between Viridian City and the Eight Badge Gate. He could picture it in his head; a weird tree that was completely hollowed out but still alive, then a narrow yet deep creek, then a climb up a small cliff face. Dad always carried me up that bit…
But today, Silver wasn’t being escorted by his dad. No, today he was alone, and the mankey baying from the treetops were much, much more intimidating without the strongest man in the world’s heavy, solid hand resting on his shoulder.
He pushed on anyway, shivering at the wild keening, because this was the way. Dad didn’t tell anyone where he was going, not even Mom… But it’s obvious if you aren’t stupid.
Up. He would go up, into the mountains. Towards… that place. The Silver Range. The most dangerous place in Kanto; because where else could the strongest trainer go to train? Silver would find him, and bring him home, and everything would be fine again.
So he climbed. Route 22 wasn’t like Route 1 or 2, the other paths leading away from Viridian. Those were… made for people, in a way this one wasn’t. The Rangers worked every day to keep them clear of wild Pokémon, so that normal non-trainers could move between cities without needing Pokémon of their own. But the path to the west was overgrown, teeming with cranky mankey and pecking doduo, and as Silver went on it got worse. Soon, the thin trail disappeared completely; there were only rocky ridges studded with scraggly, sick-looking trees, hardy grasses, and thorns. It was like no human had ever set foot there.
He huffed, pulling his caught backpack from a bush. Stupid. Obviously people come here – this is how you get to the Elite Four. It’s the Champion’s Road. He found the hollowed-out tree, snuck past a herd of ponyta grazing nearby, and turned north. But then a nidorina guarding her eggs took offence at the human passing through her underbrush, and her warning shot sprayed low, hitting the ground all around Silver’s feet – his hiking boots were thick enough to take the Poison Sting, but his pant leg was not.
But he’d come prepared; he had a pair of pliers to help pull the thin needles from his calf, and an antidote to take care of the poison. The little holes didn’t hurt too bad – he could still walk, at least…
Or at least until he got to the creek, that was. The water rushed merrily along the bottom of the ravine it had carved for itself through the route, the line of lively green and blue in the brown and tan landscape a solid three feet wide. Silver stopped at the edge, staring at the jump he could have easily made if his left ankle was healthy.
There were magikarp and little darting shapes that might have been poliwag, swimming around in the creek, not paying the small human the least bit of attention, and…
Don’t cry, he told himself, keenly aware of not just his needle wound, but also the scrapes and bruises covering his body – he’d fallen more than once, and the route’s mankey had pelted him with stones at points. You’re strong. You’ll find a way.
Silver wiped the moisture from his eyes, and turned to begin following the ravine upstream. I know where the gate is. Even if I don’t follow the path, I can still find it – I just need to go west for a bit, then north again. Then he would go past the gate, towards Mount Silver.
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A fallen tree saw him across the water, and as the sun dipped low he found that the other side was actually slightly easier. The rocky scrub and prickly underbrush turned to grassland, and with the increased field of view he was able to avoid the wild Pokémon more easily – all the way till sunset he hiked, not stumbling into danger a single time.
But then the sun finally disappeared, and though he had thought to bring a flashlight, it wasn’t the same at all. The hip-high grass went from comfortingly open to sinister, seeming to move and rustle constantly in the periphery of his vision.
But still he continued, chewing through some granola bars in the dark. I’m close. Actually, I think I must have passed the gate already – the mountains look bigger than I remember. They, at least, were still visible, silhouetted against the sky. The thought added new life to his aching feet, a feeling that doubled a few minutes later as he spied something exciting: a point of light, distant and flickering.
A campfire! The smile that sprung to his face was hard enough to hurt. I found him! He rushed forward, flying through the grass, and as he approached he called out. “Dad! Dad, it’s me, Silver! I came to-”
But as the grass abruptly thinned and he came out into a cleared space, his heart dropped into his stomach and his cry died. That… isn’t a campfire.
Instead of his father, Silver had found a massive rapidash. It blinked at him curiously, climbing to its hooves – really climbing; it's head reached over six feet above the ground as it stood straight. The movement made its fiery mane sway and spark, throwing wild shadows across the small clearing that his little flashlight couldn't hope to match.
Silver swallowed. “…Sorry. I’ll…” The massive horse lowered its head, looking him in the eye, and he was struck silent.
Don’t panic. It isn’t angry – just move away, slowly.
But as he stepped backwards into the grass, he got another shock: a second flaming mane appeared, then a third, and within seconds Silver was surrounded by ponyta. Oh. An entire herd. That’s… bad.
Because these Pokémon looked more scared than curious. They’re weak, he realised as sparks from stamping hooves smouldered and caught aflame on the dead, dry grass of the clearing. The big one doesn’t see me as a threat, but these ones do. His mind rushed as panic set in. “Sorry,” repeated, his hands spread wide. “Sorry.” Say something else, you stupid-
A particularly angry ponyta charged, looking to tackle him to the ground, and Silver dived to the side. This set off another one, and flailing hooves caught him just under the ribs, the blow heavier than its three-foot height suggested. Silver was sent skidding through the grass with dull pain shooting deep into the core of his body, thin blades leaving papercuts across the back of his neck and hands.
He dodged a second stomp as the pony’s other belligerent sibling closed in – and then something in him snapped. He rose to his feet, spitting in anger. “RAH!” he roared, and the charging pony peeled off, coming to a stop a ways away, eyes wild with fear. “Screw off! Leave me alone!” You’re weak! That’s why you attacked – and that’s why you’ll run away! He swung his backpack in an arc, forcing the herd back. “That’s right! P-piss off!” All he had to do was keep them at bay for a few metres, until he was at the edge of the herd. They wouldn’t leave their parent, not at night, so-
And then another mass of fire emerged from the grass, a second rapidash standing up. It was smaller than the other, normal sized – which meant it was still taller than Silver was. “Oh, come on,” he muttered as the horned horse turned his way, huffing out steam. “Come on.”
What was probably the other parent threw its head, sparks flying as it charged, easily three times as fast as its offspring, and Silver held up his backpack as a shield. “Hah-!” Supplies went everywhere as he tumbled, his backpack torn open and oh shit, I’m on fire! He continued to roll, on purpose this time, smothering the flames in the dirt.
As the embers died he looked up, into the eyes of the rapidash, and knew there was no way he could survive a second hit. It stalked, circling around with its head low, each footstep leaving fire in its wake – even if by some miracle he continued to dodge, more and more of the herd’s nesting spot was catching; his chances of survival were rapidly dwindling to zero.
But still, he stood. He stared down the flame-wreathed Pokémon, and found that his panic and fear had drained away. “I’ll fight,” he said, and the rapidash’s eyes flashed. “You’re stronger than me, but I’ll fight. I might hurt you pretty bad before I die. Is it worth it?”
The horse stared at him, its eyes – red as fire, naturally – continuing to dance in the moving light of the burning clearing. It lowered its head – but it wasn’t bowing out, it was aiming its horn. It charged, and Silver reacted by springing forward himself, his broken flashlight raised like a sword, all the pain washed out by the need to fight, to reach for that continually shrinking chance of survival.
He braced for pain – but it never came.
The wickedly sharp point came to a rest as the lopsided duel was interrupted by a red flash and the visceral whump of something heavy hitting the ground.
A man in a long trench coat stepped past Silver, who had frozen in shock, and stopped behind the new and massive shape casting a shadow across the field, seemingly uncaring for the flames licking at his shoes.
“Khan, Earthquake.”
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This fire is… different, from the rapidash.
Silver stared, once more, into the dancing flames – but this time, it really was just a campfire. Less… alive. His father sat across from him, but he found it was completely impossible to meet his eyes.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
Most of the time, his dad’s face was hard. But sometimes it softened – usually with him, but Silver had seen him look at Mom the same way. It completely transformed him, and Silver cherished those moments, when it was just him and Dad and sometimes Mom.
Giovanni’s face was not soft now, not at all. He was angry, and as the silence stretched on the anger only seemed to grow… until eventually he spoke.
“Sliver,” he said, voice low and cold. “What did you think would happen, coming after me by yourself?”
The boy continued to stare into the dancing flames. “I found you.”
His father’s facial muscles tightened as anger spiked – but then, out of the corner of his eye, Silver saw as Giovanni’s face did soften just a little, becoming merely stern rather than murderous. “You did. I…” He sighed. “I am proud of you, Silver. But you need to go home. In the morning, I will take you-”
“No,” Silver said, and Giovanni’s expression froze. “I…” The words seemed too big, refusing to pass through his throat, but he pushed. “I’ll go home, but only if you do, too.”
The fire crackled. In the background Don moved, the large rhydon detecting the change in atmosphere as he kept watch over the little camp.
“Son,” Giovanni eventually said. “Silver. There are… Intricacies about the situation that make it better if I leave Kanto for a time. I will return, but it may take many-”
“No!” Silver repeated, and his father’s face dropped back to rancour – Giovanni was not a man accustomed to backtalk, but in that moment the boy did not care. “Are you just gonna run away? Because you got beat? You’re better than that!” The emotion came spewing out, impossible to stop. “You said you’re the strongest trainer in the world, so- so come home, and fight that guy again, and win this time!”
Giovanni stood. He stepped around the fire, movements hard and angry, and for a moment Silver thought his father would hit him – but the man only put his hands on his son’s shoulders in a gesture that wasn’t quite a hug.
“Silver,” he said – no, he commanded, voice calm but unyielding. “My son. I have… made mistakes. Mistakes years in the making. Losing to that boy, over and over… it was a sign. A sign that I have become sloppy, become complacent.”
“Dad..?”
A sliver of tooth showed as he smiled, the expression not happy in the least. “For a long time, I thought that political power was enough. I scraped and bowed, and there was a moment when I’d believed that Kanto lay in the palm of my hand… But the very instant those fools saw a path to so-called peace, all my plans and careful alliances were blown away. So I resolved to myself that I would never be weak again, never rely on another’s strength, or the corrupting allure of…” He snarled. “Soft power. I rebuilt my Team Rocket in an older image, savage and strong. But… Despite all my self-assurances, it seems that I’ve regressed. I have been soft…” The smile became, somehow, even sadder. “And, in some cases, perhaps… the opposite. Too harsh. The Team Rocket that I created failed me, and I it.”
The warm, heavy hands drew away. “I need to return to my roots, to the most basic of basics… Just a man and his Pokémon, challenging the entire world.” He looked down – and despite the emotions clouding his father’s face, Silver saw the unbreakable conviction in Giovanni’s dark eyes.
“Dad,” he tried. “Take me with you. You, and me, and Mom, we can do it together. I’m strong too!”
A different smile. “You are. But… no, not yet.” He stepped back, back to his own side of the fire, and suddenly the flames seemed so much colder. “I… need to reinvent myself. Discover the strength I’d buried… And apologize to a certain… associate. Before I can return, before Team Rocket can return… I must become the strongest in truth. No, even more than the strongest trainer…” His eyes failed to reflect the flames, black irises seeming to capture the light and smother in a deep chasm. “I must become the strongest version of myself.”
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Silver’s eyes opened, the lingering half-nightmare fading in the dawn’s scant candle-light. Ugh, came his first thought of the day, what in Dexus’s name convinced me to live with a bunch of fake ascetics?
The Dragon Shrine was, like the entire cave it existed inside, dimly lit. The only natural light came from the small holes in the cavern’s roof, necessitating candles if you wanted to walk around without tripping over every rock. And there were rocks, even indoors, though the priests would probably whip him if they could hear what he thought of their precious ‘statues.’
No beds allowed, but feel free to drink as much as you want… His tongue felt like it had grown hair. Ugh, what a backwards place…
He rolled out of his cot and dressed himself as he shook off the last bit of sleep, eyes peering through the gloom. “Nobody here, huh?” The room was actually a lot less shrine-like than it usually was; some discarded plates and bottles were strewn about, incongruous with the sacred aura of the carved stone dragonair and old-fashioned furnishing.
No answer; he was alone. Which means I'm expected to clean everything up, of course.
With a sigh, the redheaded Gym Leader got to work. It was hard, sometimes, being the youngest Dragon Monk, but-
A cry of challenge from outside the shrine caused Silver’s head to raise, and with a savage smile his hand went to the line of Pokéballs on his belt.
But the training opportunities are worth it.
Later, after Jaws had gotten his daily taste of dragon hide and the debris from yesterday’s celebration were cleared away, Silver was joined by the rest of the monks, priests, and priestesses. They filed into the shrine in low spirits.
“Ha,” he laughed. Serves you right, you old nags. “Still feeling it, Master?”
The ancient man clutched his bald head. “Don’t be so quick to judge, Monk Capo. One day your healthy body will fail you, and you’ll experience this pain as well.”
Silver scoffed. “I just won’t drink so much, then.”
Clair came up beside the Blackthorn Clan’s elder, looking just as rough – though in her case, she had a much better excuse; rather than hungover, she was still fatigued from battling a legendary Pokémon. “No fighting in the shrine,” she barked, causing the youngest and oldest of the room’s men to meet eyes. Rich, coming from her, the both of them communicated with a look.
After the customary tradition blah blah nonsense, the shrine saw its second Blackthorn Clan Meeting in a row – or perhaps he shouldn’t even count the last one; yesterday had been almost entirely a party, the clan elders going off their collective rocker as Clair returned victorious from facing the Moltres.
“Now Clair,” the Master began things on the most urgent note. “You’re absolutely certain the Moltres is outside their control for now? Calmed?”
“I wouldn’t say it’s calm,” she replied, giving a one-armed shrug. “But it’s stopped circling over Fuchsia. Damn thing was heading south last I saw; probably going to an old nest in the islands. Will already has contacts scouting for it.”
A murmur from around the table. “That’s good,” the previous Champion, Clair’s older cousin Lance Blackthorn, spoke over the crowd. “The Orange Archipelago will be difficult to access at the moment, with the storm barriers up. We-” he paused. “You should have plenty of time to quell the unrest and clean house.”
The current champion snorted. “‘Clean house,’ he says. Like I can snap my fingers and cull half the ministers in Indigo…” She looked away.
Lance’s eyes, in contrast, drilled right into her. “If that’s what it takes, then do it. Another Indigo War would be disastrous; whatever amount of force you need to stop it is justified.” Clair looked back, her nostrils flared and brows raised, and Silver sighed.
“I’m not going to just slaughter people! This isn’t the bad old days when Pryce was at our throat, we’re responsible for-”
Oh, here we fucking go again. The two dragon specialists began to screech at each other, not unlike dragonite sizing each other up for a duel, and he squeezed the bridge of his nose between his fingers as he felt the lingering spectre of a hangover cackle, beginning to expand into a full-on headache. “Can we go one meeting without you two having the exact same Arcus damned argument?”
They didn’t even hear him. For all that the two seemed physically distinct, him with his red-brown hair spiked up, her wearing her pale blue locks down past her shoulders, they were definitely cast from the same mould. Silver pushed himself off from his cushion.
“Monk Capo? Where are you going?” a priestess asked.
“I have Gym Leader business to attend to.” He glanced back. “Not like I’ll be missing anything.”
The old woman frowned, but the man next to her chuckled. “Oh, let him go. If he misses anything important, that’s his own fault.”
Silver raised his chin in thanks, and made for the door.
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“Sir,” his most senior Gym Trainer greeted as he walked into his… Den, I suppose, if we want to be thematic.
Silver stalked forward, robes swishing against the pale brown stone, and his subordinate followed as he passed. “Tetsuro. Any challenges today?”
“Just two so far, sir. Both for their eighth badge.”
He smiled, and miraculously the building headache began to fade away. Amazing what health benefits not being trapped in a cave of bickering, dragon-worshipping grannies can have. While the stereotypes of dragon trainers could be overblown, Blackthorn prided itself on being as stereotypical as possible.
“Good, I need a battle to loosen up.” We’ll probably see a few more stragglers as the day wears on; might get as many as four or five. “How’s the team?”
The two men passed pits of open magma as they descended to the lower floor, moving further into the semi-dormant volcano that the city was built into. “They should be waking up right about now, sir. Shall I collect them?”
Silver chewed on the question for a moment as he pushed open the door to the Gym’s back room, where everything from records to equipment to clothes were kept. “No,” he concluded. “I’ll do that myself. You go hype up the other trainers; the season’s almost over, so these last few challengers had better be up to snuff.” He turned to give his subordinate a nod. “If they’d just disappoint me, give them a harsh lesson.” If people want an easy battle, they need to start coming here for their first or second badge.
Some Gym Leaders added little environmental challenges to their setup, making getting to the battle arena a test in itself. Silver could see the wisdom in it; being able to navigate the wilderness was a vital skill, and putting a bit of jungle or something weeded out people who had neglected the non-battling aspects of training. But he figured that getting to Blackthorn was test enough – so he'd had Clair's navigate-a-volcano thing replaced with a nice, straightforward gauntlet of the Gym's best. Straightforward power, no gimmicks or ways to cheat. That's what an eighth badge should test.
The ace trainer’s grin mirrored his leader’s. “Of course, sir. We’ll be sure to weed out the chaff for you.”
He left, and Silver got to work dressing a second time. And it was work; the Blackthorn City Pokémon Gym had a very bombastic dress code, mirroring the Blackthorn clan that had founded it, and while a formless monk robe that read as proper and humble was fine for the elders, his challengers deserved the entire song-and-dance. Red cape? No, I’ll probably be using Lucky as my anchor; blue cape with the scales.
He put on his uniform, making sure to shine the gyarados scales until they gleamed, then exited out the back to meet the Gym’s – and nominally his, though he sometimes had trouble thinking as such – Pokémon
Two dragonite, two dragonair, and four dratini. A kingdra and seadra. Two gyarados, a dozen magikarp, and a lapras.
If one were to look at just the Pokémon the Gym Leader had in his professional stable, they might be confused about whether this was a dragon- or water-themed Gym. The sight always brought a slight chuckle to Silver’s lips, and today was no different. “Heh. Alright, naptime’s over for you lot. Time to get to work.” A lazy throw, and Jaws the feraligatr joined the rest in the pool, splashing down with a pleased roar. The gator fit right in; lean and muscular with hard blue scales and shockingly red crests running down his spine, Silver’s first Pokémon looked as draconic as anything. The other pure water types scattered, while the true dragons and fully-evolved Pokémon puffed themselves up in territorial pride.
“This late in the season, there’s only two types of trainers: slackers, who won’t make it to us, and aspiring elites! That means we need to match the Elite Four!” He swung his arm forward, cape billowing with the motion. “And frankly, I’m not sure you stand up!”
Challenging roars and hisses answered, and Silver’s smile widened. “Oh? Feel like proving me wrong? Pair up then! You’ll be warming up against Jaws until the first serious trainer shows their face!”
More roars, with a few bleats thrown in as the seadra found their spines. Hah.
Sometimes I wonder why I stick around this dump, but being a Gym Leader isn’t half bad.