Light turned to dark as the tunnel hit a bend. And once in the dark, it wasn’t long before they were back in the light. George’s smile vanished into plain boredom.

‘I don’t know what I expected.’

Outside, Allora took a deep breath. “Well, here we are! A special training site just for the two of you!”

Her flipper pointed towards two rope bridges suspended over a gap in the terrain. Their side was a narrow clump of dirt, while the other was overgrown with grass and trees. Further past, water could be heard running down the mountain. George scratched his head while taking it in. The contrast in vegetation and the near vertical drop below the bridges reeked of Pokemon activity.

“Well? What do you think?”

Blitzer chittered in response, his tail tilting towards the ground. “I thought there’d be training dummies and the like. You know, fighting things? Battles? This is just a bridge.”

“Not just a bridge, me boy!” Porov put his face right under Blitzer’s head. If the intent was to get a reaction from Blitzer, mission accomplished: He jumped. “Hahah! ‘Tis an obstacle course! Climbin’, pathfindin’, overgrowth, water, danger, excitement! ‘Tis what we gotta do!”

“Uh-huh,” said Blitzer while rubbing his head. Meanwhile, George’s eyes panned back and forth between the two bridges. Both were the same width.

‘Two bridges… must be for two people. Or Pokemon, rather. Is this some kind of team building exercise? It can’t be a race.’

Allora tapped her feet. “Ahem! The goal is simple! You both go over your own bridge, then one of you comes back with the Water Stone at the end! Plenty you got to jump over, crawl past, spin across… sprint across? Well, however you gotta get across! You’ll figure it out!” She went onto her knees, a secret urging to roll off her tongue.

“Oh, and there might be a feral or two that wandered onto the course. No worries, though! You can handle ‘em!”

George raised an eyebrow. “What if we get hurt?”

Porov pressed a finger against his forehead. “Don’t ye worry, it’ll be ‘aight whatever happens, can guarantee ye that!”

To this, George had but an unamused frown to give. “Well, it’s hard to complete the course when one of us has to drag the other around.” Out of the blue, Allora placed a flipper over her mouth. Right away, George’s nerves began acting up. Something didn’t feel right.

“Oh my, we’ve had a misunderstanding here. It’s a race!”

“R-race?!” George and Blitzer shouted simultaneously, a hint of agitation sneaking into George’s voice. “What do you mean, race?!”

“Ain’t no fun if there ain’t a lil’ competition!” Allora replied. Next to her, Porov was close to keeling over trying to contain a belly laugh.

“Aw, c’mon me boys, ye gotta have some fun, y’know? Some danger, some braggin’ rights at the end, why not?”

George’s face distorted into a half grimace out of disgust. Out went the team building, in came dirty competition. More like the stupid games straight out of a PE class. Was this going to end with pointing and laughing too?

“Now, now! Blitzer me boy, ye ready to win?”

“I…” The Charmeleon’s tail flopped onto the ground as he searched for comfort. Looking at George didn’t give him any. So he slouched over, before turning back to Porov with a deep breath. He toughed himself up with a growl and punch to the chest. “I’m ready to win!”

“Heh, what are ye waitin’ for, me boy? Let’s go! And George, ye ready to win?”

“This is stupid,” George said, ignoring nearby footsteps to stare at the scalchop he’d swung around for the first time yesterday. He had gotten pretty close to chopping a gash into a rock, however small it might’ve been. That would’ve been nicer to practice.

“Why would it be?” Allora asked, still on her knee. “Think about it, you get to show Blizzie what you’re made of!”

George shook his head. “We’re supposed to be working together, not fighting, right Blit-”

His voice stopped. There was no Charmeleon standing next to him anymore. Porov laughed.

“Sure hope yer ready to win, ‘cause he sure is!”

Porov’s finger went straight towards the Charmeleon dashing over the leftmost bridge, his tail swinging around wildly without reservation.

“Ack! That little!” George scowled before taking off towards the other bridge, cheered on by the mentors as he crossed it. ‘Backstabber! He backstabbed me!’

“Haha! Get him, Georgie!”

“Show ‘im who’s really lil’, me boy!”

With rapid breaths and a tussle on the head, George kicked himself into gear. Blitzer’s headstart was vast already, but that overgrown red lizard had made his bed now, and there was no way George was letting him sleep elsewhere.

Over the bridge and into a small grass stretch, separated from each other by nothing more than a flimsy wooden fence, George and Blitzer ran ahead into the forest, hopping over tree roots and dodging low hanging branches.

The trail was marked by black flags, not much larger than the palm of George’s hand. Were it not for the three yellow stripes on them, the middle thin and the others thick, spotting them would’ve been challenging even without the race: Thick leaves blocked out the sun, and glided on the wind to the forest floor.

Just a minute in, and George was panting already. Heave ho, heave ho, right over another thick root half buried in the mud. Heave ho, no matter how itchy his feet got. Pant, pant, even with the wind blowing straight into his face, like god was smacking him in the face. Why? Just to mess with him. George caught a leaf, and crushed it in his hand.

‘Damn it, damnit!’

Obstacle one came into view after turning a bend in the road. The path rested on a slope. Perpendicular to the path was a stream flowing down. The current was rather tame, and it was about as deep as a foot bath. George chuckled on his approach. Nothing tricky here, aside from the stream being wide. Then he realised something. One glance to the left, and sure enough, what did he see over the fence, but Blitzer hesitating at the water’s edge?

Right as George’s feet splashed through the water, sending drops sparkling in the sunlight, the Charmeleon’s head turned, mouth wide open. George didn’t hear a gasp. But his brain filled it in automatically.

“H-hey! That’s not fair!”

“That’s what you get for starting without me!”

George had already crossed by the time Blitzer hit the water with a heavy step, probably from a leap. All sorts of variants on “ow” and “ah” followed right after. George didn’t even bother looking back. Nero had said multiple times that fire types can touch water just fine, and Blitzer had even blurted that out himself. So he ran on without a care, knowing Blitzer would stop whining the second he got across. He wanted a race. He was getting a race.

But not a minute later, George stood face to face with a large pile of rocks blocking the road. To the left was the fence. To the right was the slope, and it was too steep to pass without snapping a leg in half. He grimaced before blasting the rocks on top with water. They didn’t budge. His tail now slapping against the ground, he tried jetting over by aiming a burst of water at his feet. All that accomplished was him flopping face first onto the ground, just as Blitzer’s footsteps drew closer on the other path.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

‘...DAMN! Just when I got a lead on him, too!’ The Oshawott pulled his face off the dirt, and frantically searched for a split in the rocks somewhere. ‘How am I supposed to get over this? I can’t see a foothold anywhere!’

“To your left, George!”

“Eh?” George’s head turned, then his brow furrowed as he saw Blitzer having conquered his roadblock, a dumb grin on his face. ‘Great. Now he’s mocking me. ’

“Right there, do you see it?” The Charmeleon pointed to the leftmost rocks George could use. A sapling had obscured a small gap in the rocks. When George spotted it, he shuffled to it with his tail dragging over the ground, thumbing his nose all the while.

‘Sticks and stones… I hate that phrase.’

“There! C’mon, keep going!”

Blitzer jumped and ran right off. George was slow getting over, thanks to his scalchop getting in the way. After much struggling and groaning, he slipped through. If Blitzer hadn’t helped out, the race would’ve been over already. Or so George guessed. Best he could do was run and get laughed at. The standard routine, really: Not much had changed since turning into a Pokemon.

But the race wasn’t over. One minute later, an overgrowth of thorns blocked the path. Their color was a far brighter green than the forests nearby; one again, some Alliance pokemon had set this up. Much to his chagrin, he stopped, panting like he’d been sunbathing.

‘Not even worth it to try and figure this out myself.’

As George expected, Blitzer strode down from the left hand path with the obvious solution: Burning it all to the ground. Giant as the thorns might be, they melted from the flames like any other plant. Like everything else melted. The heat hitting George in the face reminded him of that better than any textbook could.

“Whew! On a roll here!”

‘Stones and flames, George. Stones and flames…’

The trail kept on going, with plenty of black flags on the horizon. Despite all the ground they had covered, the end was nowhere in sight yet. Panting, George wiped at his brow, expecting a handful of sweat. He’d forgotten that Oshawott didn’t sweat that way. He smacked himself with the hand right after.

Little did he know then he’d have a lot to be grateful about just moments later, when the smell of smoke reached his nostrils. His ears perked up. The sound of rocks cracking under the pressure of heat raged in the distance. George clenched his fists; the path had turned to stone. Suddenly, all the irritation drained out of him, and nerves took their place.

‘They didn’t set the forest on fire, did they?’

His fears were partially confirmed when the wooden fence turned to stone, and there was a sudden clearing in the trees. The grass turned into scorched earth, leading up to a field of burning coals emitting a thin white smoke. Black and orange from one end to the other, like a piece of the underworld had emerged into the world. Without wings, there was no avoiding it. No safe spots, no hidden path, nothing of the sort. George considered his options, or lack thereof. Best he could do was douse the fire.

‘How much is enough, that’s the question now. And wouldn’t the rest just set that bit on fire again? Do I even have the stamina for all of that?’

Beside him, Blitzer had arrived as well, and was trying his own experiments. First on the list was checking the heat. With an entire foot. George was downright bewildered watching him step on the coals without a second guess.

‘Is he trying to get himself turned into a slab of barbecue?’

In reality, this was his element, and he saw things from a far different, far friendlier angle than George did. Blitzer managed to stand still on the coals for about ten seconds before jumping away, twiddling his toe claws on the dirt. Fire might be dangerous, but when a part of your body was perpetually ablaze, it wasn’t quite so intimidating.

George bit his lip, before working to create his own path with his water. The coal simmered, then went out. Ten seconds went by before the fire roared back. Some steam aside, it was as if the coal hadn’t been watered at all. George breathed in deep, and formed a strategy. Spit for five seconds, step forward, repeat until at the other side. It would take a while.

All the while, Blitzer had his own strategy. The kind one would add several question marks to, but a strategy nonetheless. He backed off, held his scarf, puffed his chest up with a deep breath, then made a mad dash over the coals. Thanks to his weight, his feet slipped several times, but he got over in one piece, without injury. And that’s what counted.

True to his earlier sportsmanship, he once again waited for George to get across, then wished him good luck before taking off. George frowned as he went after. This entire race must’ve been a joke to the Charmeleon. Evolution alone was enough to carry him over the finish line, and he knew it like the back of his claws.

Both paths suddenly took a sharp left into the mountain, at which point they merged. It was but a short stroll through a dark tunnel, until Blitzer and George were in a candle lit cave. The air was a mixture of wax and wet rock. A rope bridge spanned out over a wide underground lake; several stalactites above dripped into the water, the splashes echoing loud and clear throughout the cave. On the other side of the rope bridge was an island, where a Water Stone sparkled in a brilliant light.

Both Pokemon rushed over the bridge, Blitzer from a longing, George out of duty. He’d lost. No way he was beating Blitzer now. He kept his head down while crossing the bridge, listening to the dripping while pretending Blitzer’s tail wasn’t making any noise.

“Wait, George!”

The Oshawott groaned as a claw blocked his path. “What is it?”

Blitzer looked at him with a confident nod. “I think you should take it.”

George shook his head. “This is a race. You’ve won it already,” he said with a hint of agitation. It seemed so obvious that he was getting toyed with.

To this, Blitzer chuckled. “Race? What race?”

“Haha. Very funny,” George deadpanned. ‘Way to rub it in.’

Blitzer put a claw on George’s arm. “I’m serious, George. Oh, sure, Porov and Allora can call this a race all they like, but they can shove it! I’m not racing you! We’re both winners, so we’re finishing this together.” He furrowed his brow while keeping a smile on his face. “Unless you want to make it a race?”

“Oh, get out of here! I never wanted a race at all, but you ran off right away!” George smacked the Charmeleon on his snout; he feigned being hurt.

“Well yeah, ‘cause Porov wasn’t going to take no for an answer then! So I had to pretend. Guess you took it a bit more seriously, though,” Blitzer said. George groaned, then fell backwards on his rear. No stones could make him feel less irritated.

“Wish you said that earlier.” ‘Much earlier.’

The Charmeleon shrugged. “Eh, you know what they say, right? Hindsight is… something twenty twenty. I don’t know what twenty twenty means, but you get the idea.”

George twiddled his ears around. “I’ll tell you some other time. Anyway, you wanted me to hold it?” he said, pointing with a thumb at the Water Stone. Blitzer nodded.

“Go ahead!”

Up close, it looked as dull as any other stone. Despite being blue, it blended in with the rest of the cave. Sort of like a reverse pyrite. Instead of sending fools into a frenzy, no one would pay it any intention in spite of its value. Some Pokemon evolved if they tapped into its energy. When George picked the Water Stone up, the energy inside was present, and definitely potent. No amount of tapping did anything except make the energy dance around, however. George turned it around in his hand.

‘Well, some event this is. Hm, wait a minute…’

“And? What do you think, George?” Blitzer said, leaning forward while his tail twitched around behind him. “Ooh, wait a second, are you trying to evolve yourself with it?”

“Just checking it out,” George said as he spun around, then thumbed his nose. “Actually, why don’t we both hold it?”

Blitzer tilted his head. “Huh? Why?”

A grin crept onto George’s face. “Because then their silly race idea goes in the garbage entirely. They expect a winner? Then we’ll both come back as winners, plain and simple. What do you say?” The Oshawott added a wink at the end.

Blitzer mischievously clasped his claws. “Haha, I like your style! They won’t know what hit ‘em!”

George chuckled. “You make it sound like we’re jumping them.”

“Sort of, yeah!” Blitzer folded his arms. “But y’know, isn’t jumping someone the thing that criminals do? Why do you-”

He cut himself off upon noticing George staring at him. “Because I came from a dump of a city, Blitzer. I told you this before.”

“Oh yeah,” Blitzer churred, keeping his tail close. “Well, never mind then. We should get going already!” he said, already taking a step towards the bridge, forgetting something.

“We sure do. While holding the stone,” George deadpanned. Blitzer stopped dead in his tracks, then shuffled back to George’s side.

“Oops.”

* * *

“Hey, we’re- Watch out!!”

At the end of their walk back, Blitzer suddenly spun around. The Oshawott couldn’t blink before Blitzer shoved him in the chest, sending him tumbling backwards. The Water Stone was knocked out of their hands, off towards the rope bridge. The Charmeleon dove onto him and slid backwards over the grass, and right after did two glowing leaves cut through the air where they once stood, like scythes reaping wheat.

“What’s happening?!” George said, half annoyed, half concerned. The answer turned both emotions into anxiety: Right in front of the rope bridge, a Roserade had hunkered down. Their eyes pierced through George’s skin, concentrated purely on the soul within.

“There you are… you can’t hide forever!”

The Roserade raised her flowers, which now oozed a purple energy. George sucked in a breath. He had to be quick. First he spat a gulp’s worth of water into her eyes, then dove away, right as a sludge bomb blew past where he once stood, and exploded on a tree with enough force to shake a hundred leaves loose, painting it purple with corrosive liquid.

George rolled onto his side, his scalchop landing on the ground and pushing into his belly in the process. He let go of his breath and scrambled back to his feet. Blitzer had gotten back up and blazed with anger. The inferno of his tail could roast their attacker into ash with a mere swish. And if given the opportunity, Blitzer would’ve gone right for their throat. A scowl of pure hate rested on his face.

“You mongrel…! BURN!!”

The Roserade first sent grass energy through the ground with her blue flowers, tying a knot around his feet as he blasted them with fire. Meanwhile, the pink flowers were nipping at George’s back. No matter his struggles, his attempt to retreat to cover was doomed. The grassy energy took George in its grip, and sapped his energy, leaving him unable to stand.

“Agh!... aaaaargh…”

He collapsed. Dirt was smeared all over his face and scarf, and his limbs struggled to budge. It took all his strength to roll onto his back.

“I’ll.. rip your petals… off…!”

The Roserade stood over Blitzer with both bouquets, tying him in place with several roots bursting from the ground. They tied his arms and legs, and a flurry of vines kept lunging at his mouth, but they stood no chance against his fiery mouth. But it served as a good enough distraction for them to turn around, and finish half the job off.

George felt a break of courage. It’s either now, or never, no inbetween. First his hand grabbe onto the dirt and chucked it at the Roserade. They shrugged it off. George’s blood froze over, and the icy feeling spread through his stomach. Even with the sun beaming down, and magma closing in on all sides, the cold was not so easily quelled. He pulled on his energy and brought it straight to his mouth. A spear of ice struck the Roserade in the shoulder. They reeled back, but remained steady on their feet. And they were not pleased.

“Now you’ve done it…!”

George gasped. ‘Oh crap, oh-’ his eyes darted all around as the Roserade charged another attack. “Don’t-”

“g-George!! No!!”

But no pleas or screams were going to change what was about to happen. The Roserade, fuming, charged up an attack with all her flowers, her eyes taking on a horrid green glow.

“Time for you… to STAY PUT!”

Both bouquets were thrust forward, and out soared a sphere of green energy. A force of nature in the purest form - right at the already injured George. He saw for a split second how it came, how it moved towards him, and the sheer emotions and strength that fueled the attack. He could feel it move. Their anger. And Blitzer’s fear. He heard the Charmeleon’s scream vibrate his ears and go deep within, and the howl of the wind in the trees behind it.

Without thinking, he shoved his hand forward. The drum of his own heartbeat overpowered everything else.

‘Cease.’

A wave of pain passed through his mind. A second later, his eyes reopened. Had he closed them? Apparently so. His hand shook much like the ache in his head, yet remained stretched out, stalwart and true to George’s defense. And past it, an energy ball spasmed in all directions like it was being ripped apart, much to the frustrations of the Roserade still channeling the attack.