《pokemon; FLIP》


 CAN YOU MAKE IT LAST FOREVER?

    Author¡¯s Note:


    I¡¯m putting my heart and soul into this story. It won¡¯t be like any Pokemon fanfic you ever read, but at the same time, I¡¯m gonna play it incredibly straight. If you want to read a story about two trainers, trying to get eight badges, while growing closer to their Pokemon and to each other, this is it. The gold standard. I hope you fall in love with them, as much as I have, and let the story unravel in its natural, clumsy way;


    Please leave reviews and share this story if you enjoy; it would mean the world to me to be able to build a community off this


    -.-.-


    He was almost killed by a Pikachu.


    For two years, he laid in a hospital bed, consciousness fading in and out, in a coma, only vague dreams and feelings sustaining him. He knew he was alive, but couldn¡¯t prove it. He knew that the world was fading, time was passing, but couldn¡¯t hold on, slipping and slipping, the darkness and the silence becoming so smooth, so imminent.


    And then he sat up. There was no one to witness it.


    Two years worth of memories came flowing into him, all the bullshit and the whispers, the feelings and hope. As soon as it came, it was gone. Leaving him with only one question¡­ What day was it?


    Peeling himself off the hospital bed and tearing off strange tubes, he realized that it was around the afternoon. Outside an elevated window, he could see the sun sinking, the first he¡¯d seen of it for two years. He thought at least. Why did he think that only two years passed again?


    Ah. It¡¯s because he was still dreaming.


    Heart pumping, he crept to the hallway and glanced it up and down. There was no one in sight, only identical doors, numbers counting. He was in room 1087, it appeared. Despite not seeing anyone, he could faintly hear the bustle and voices of a hospital staff hard at work, the monotonous sounds of humans.


    Closing the door, he glanced around and found a mirror. And a weirdo was staring back. He was wearing a hospital gown. It made him look ghastly, a nauseating light blue that was associated with old death and fat ladies.


    In terms of age though, it appears that his body went on to grow without him. He rubbed his face, then his chin, feeling the freshly shaved rustle of a beard. He was taller than before, he thought. It was hard to tell. He was probably still short overall. His nose was still squarish and eyes still small and his hair still oily. Same person, I guess. He took a sigh of relief. It didn¡¯t look like he aged more than two years. Hopefully.


    And then he noticed some numbers on this computer-like stand, where the tubes were once held.


    And then, he almost fainted again.


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    It was the thirteenth of february, 20XX.


    He had woken up just in time, like it was fate. Or perhaps, he had woken up, just too late.


    He glanced outside again, at the sinking sun. His heart sunk. He was on a fucking timer.


    He scratched his hair and screamed silently, two years worth of hopelessness sinking in, yet again. It was this feeling, that he was on the verge, but couldn¡¯t do anything. That everything he ever wanted was right in front of him and he couldn¡¯t move to take it¡­ That fate was taunting him, cursed child, cursed existence.


    He stormed out of the hospital, but of course, was stopped on the way. They didn¡¯t know exactly who he was, but he was a kid in a gown and that was reason enough. He screamed, or at least, spoke at intense volume, demanding that someone get his parents. But it was too late, they said. The sun was going down. It was too dangerous outside. The sun was going down. The sun was almost down.


    They soon found a nurse who apparently was his main caretaker. Ah. She would be the one that shaved his shitty beard. He thought haphazardly. She had dyed black hair, dead eye bags, and smelt of cigarettes.


    ¡°Here. Your parents told him to give you this when you woke up.¡±


    He jolted, like from a dream, as a bag weighted upon his hands.


    ¡°Sorry?¡± he mumbled, opening and peering down the bag. Snacks, water, and¡­ A Pokeball!


    ¡°Wow,¡± the nurse said. She was looking down the bag too. ¡°How irresponsible. Hey, kid, there¡¯s no way you¡¯ll be okay with this, right? That Pikachu almost killed you? Are you feeling okay?¡±


    And he ran, practically pushing her out of the way, reaching for the Pokeball and dropping the bag, running for the forest where he had almost died, those two years ago.


    Thanks Mom¡­ Thanks Dad¡­ For believing in me.


    He cried as he ran for the forest, wiping the tears away with his loose gown, the night air already chilling across his burning body. The sun fluttered down his back.


    He had to catch a Pokemon. Fast.


    -.-.-


    Anything would do at this point, he thought as he trailed down the path to get into the forest.


    If only it was that simple, he scolded his internal monologue.


    Not only did he have to catch a Pokemon, but it had to be strong. Strong enough to make up for 2 years of lost work.


    Yet, at this point he would take anything.


    He could not lie.


    His feet flew down the scenery, taking flight against the path, downwards and deeper. It was the first time that it was all beaten so loud. From his heart, to his skull, the very depths of his gushing blood, he ran, searching for all those spots he had scouted prior, all the years he spent noting down all the habits and behaviors of his desired pokemon.


    The riverside where the bellowing rushes slid across the gray flat rocks¡­


    The hollowed trees filled with nuts and straws and the faintest scent¡­


    The mellow barrows smothered under tall grass and crumpled with dirt¡­


    The nests hovered over the branching paths so high¡­


    The rocks and stony hill with the jagged and smoothed edges¡­


    Nothing, nothing, nothing.


    Beyond his control, suddenly, his feet began to drag and then stop entirely. He was standing still. And he was staring at the sun.


    How long has it been? Breathless, he watched as all he saw was a line, a fainting line of just the bareness of colorless light, fading over the horizon. And all the sudden, he was sobbing, crying, screaming that no one could hear.


    He could hear the beat fading away. His frenzied mind, hanging only but a threat, flattened and he could feel the accumulated pain creeping throughout his beaten body. And this¡­ if he wasn¡¯t crying, he would scream. If he wasn¡¯t screaming, he would be cry. If he was anything at all, he would fucking kill himself. It was all gone. Killed before it could even be started.


    He fell on his ass, staring upwards, his entire body drooping like it was all going to fall off his body, leaving him only as a hollow, dustied skeleton.


    And that¡¯s how he sat on his first pokemon.


    ¡°Dwebble!¡±

 and if i drown and dont come back

    You win.


    That was her catchphrase afterall.


    She slunk in the storage room, rubbing her eyes, as she tried to squint at the shitty labels. She bit her lips and tried not to cry. It was just so damn dusty in here and she just wasn''t built for this type of precise work. Her fingers trembled as she floundered with the listing and the sorting and the yelling.


    Why would she ever volunteer for such bullshit?


    Finally, someone yelled at her from the frontdesk again. She ran out of the room and almost, practically, tripped, then had to stumble her way back to the call, somehow. Nurse Joy smiled at her and handed her a Moomoo milk.


    "You doing good back there?" She smiled, then already turned back to some papers, her brows furrowed underneath her little glasses.


    "Of course. It''s really no problem."


    "You sure?" Joy cleared her throat. "Sorry, it''s just been such a busy couple of weeks lately. The latest batch of trainers are leaving town too¡­ And you''re the only volunteer staying back too. Sorry!"


    "Haha." She hated being the only one left behind. What the fuck was happening to her. "Yeah. I really don''t mind it though."


    "Of course, of course¡­ You can take a lunch break now, by the way."


    "Thank you, thank you."


    Yuewen took her leave.


    -.-.-


    She bought a jelly-filled donut from the Pokemart for 259 pokedollars. Assuming she spent the next year here and she bought a jelly-filled donut everyday, that means she would be out¡­ 105485 pokedollars. For a year of her life.


    A nearby wall, riddled with graffiti of her classmates'' past, offered her an abandoned place to lean upon. She frowned as she took a bite out of her donut, freshly unwrapped. She never really liked the taste of these anyways. Everyone used to eat them, though.


    Finishing her food, the wrapper was left hanging in her left hand. What to do with this¡­ she thought. Normally, they would all just throw it for the wind to collect, which was why this corner in particular was a moot point for the community as a large, always littered with jelly-filled donut plastic. Yet, now, she could walk over and throw it away in the can without no one to judge her, no one to stop her. But did she really want to do that? She hesitated, mulling it over, before she felt the tears welling up again.


    Again? But it''s not even fucking dusty.


    While she was out here debating over this shitty, plastic worth significantly less than 289 pokedollars, her colleagues were catching their desired Pokemon and doing whatever the fuck they wanted to do.


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    She wiped away the tears and headed back, plastic still in her pocket, forgotten and thrown anyway. It was bullshit. She never liked Pokemon, anyhow.


    -.-.-


    It was the last day tonight. She had work - volunteered - actually, at the local pokecenter for two years now. She got the hang of it quickly. While she was shit at doing things, they quickly figured that she could write numbers and follow instructions, so now more than ever, it was a mundane office job that she could even do. She was counting Pokemon and Pokeballs, all the while counting down the days to the date.


    She couldn''t help it. Why did she have to know that it was tonight?


    What was she doing here?


    Under the streetlight, the wall stood bright, almost glowing against its surroundings. The sun was setting behind it too, where, thankfully, she couldn''t see it, the exact moment that her underachieving ass was confirmed. The exact moment that she was trapped here for the rest of her teenage life.


    Without a Pokemon, without a hope, without any sense of "youth"¡­


    And all she could do was wait.


    Leaning against the cool wall, breathing in the fresh air, smelling the smoky traces of a cigarette¡­


    She laughed. The worst part is that she couldn''t even say that she was alone.


    Because it was right there. Waddling in front of her.


    "Pidooove."


    Its head tilted sideways, asking for bread again.


    "No, you fucking sky-rat. I don''t have any beard for you and I can''t buy you any because the store is closed. Now scram. What the hell are you doing here at this time, anyways." She giggled, holding her forehead in her hands.


    The Pidove started showing up about two weeks ago. There were always Pidoves hanging around town, pecking at shit and looking stupid, but this was the only one in particular that stuck around her. Just staring at her with its big, stupid eyes.


    Sooner or later, she started talking to it. It sucked, but for once, she could say shit. She could say fuck, she could say bitch, she could say cunt, but still felt uncomfortable saying them aloud.


    And because of it, she lost a lot more money than she thought she would. Buying an extra bread here and there. 199 pokedollars each and she gave it the crumbs. Was it just her imagination or did she feel like it understood her? Not orders or dumb trainer shit. But her feelings. Her little, girly thoughts. Her stupid anxieties. And when she gave it a beard, it would stay for longer and listen more attentively. Stupid birdslut.


    But it always flew off eventually. And she would show up the next day for it to still be there. Lately, she''s been mostly hanging here after work here rather than during lunch break. And the Pidove somehow knew the timings, just¡­ being there for her, all the time. It was so annoying.


    "Pidove?"


    "I already said. I don''t have any bread and can''t get any bread for you. Now scram¡­ I want to be alone."


    "Pi-pidove."


    It rustled its wings and flew up. Yuewen watched it blankly, unflinching, even when it landed and nestled in her head. The first time it ever touched her. Yuewen snorted. This Pokemon was too smart for its own good. It was like it knew that tonight she was fucking miserable. And for the first time in a long time, she didn''t bother to hide it. She let Pidove sit there as she leaned against the wall, just letting the tears stream down her face.


    Maybe, this wasn''t so bad afterall. They could turn around, walk down the abandoned streets and watch as the sun sets together¡­


    "You win."


    "?!"


    "Catch."


    Miraculously, she caught it. It was a Pokeball. She looked up and saw her standing under the streetlight.


    Nurse Joy.


    She grinned, her pink hair gleaming under the streetlight.


    "Quickly now. The sun can go down any second now."


    Yuewen blushed and quickly turned away to frantically wipe the tears from her face. First Pidove, now Nurse Joy too? How easy to read was she? How did they know she would even be here anyways? Especially Pidove¡­ That dumb bird doesn''t even know dates or what the Dream Circuit even was¡­ She never knew what was going on behind those dumb, dumb eyes¡­


    But if I was a trainer, I''d know. I''d get to know. We would become one.


    For the first time in her life, her body moved before her. She pressed the Pokeball against Pidove''s forehead.


    "Pidove!"

 IF I CRASH AND DONT COME BACK

    Dwebble was this rock bug crab thing.


    To be honest, he couldn¡¯t believe that this was the only Pokemon he saw, despite running so long and so far into the forest. It was an outrage, really. At least ratta¡¯s can scratch, pidgeys can peck, but dwebbles¡­ it does appear that it could hide in its rock. Very good.


    The full guy, the rock included, came up to his ankles at best, strangely shiny like it was holding some resemblance of ore inside or something, not just any old rock or so it would appear. Its little orange body was encased within the rock and that looked plastic even. To be honest, he wasn''t sure that this guy could beat a caterpie if it had to fight it without its rock. Helmet couldn¡¯t even imagine it, a scurrying orange body, practically a crab without a shell. Probably a tasty snack.


    Despite it all, he was thankful for it. For being alive. Keeping his dream alive.


    He was obedient at least. The moment he caught it, it was just before the Sun went down and before his pokeball was disabled. In the new darkness of the forest, hands on his knees, breathing heavily, he stared at the pokeball, just thinking, not even believing. And he tossed it open. Dwebble looked at him with a dull expression and would even follow him as he paced. Dwebble, it cried.


    And so they went, he was always glancing behind to observe the little guy.


    He, on the verge of death. And this rocky bug, his angel.


    He made it. Just in time. And, now, as he strolled back through the forest, through the twist and the turns, the dreams and the desperation, he felt a great calm. Calmer than any coma. The breeze pushed him onwards. The greenery moved with his heartbeat. His breath moved with the night rustles.


    Under the darkness, he was invincible.


    He will be able to sleep, content again.


    The next years were finally his.


    ***


    That morning, he met up with parents again (They berated him for walking so dangerously at night, hugged him just for being alive, and cried for him once he showed them that even he made the deadline, little Dwebble watching on, as they laughed and cheered and even said their goodbyes¡­ It was an emotional, embarrassing night), he was ready to leave. He had the bare essentials: food, water, clothes, a tent, and a compass along with a couple potions, full heals, and even a real, industrial pokeball.


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    Most of his friends had left in the Dream Circuit, the moment it had started; 2 years ago. He would be the only one left¡­ A lonely, difficult journey. He had a lot of ground to cover. He might not even make it past the first gym. The thought terrified him.


    He waited, leaning on his heels, in a clearing just before the path that led to Striaton City, the first of eight Gym Cities. Usually, there were whole ceremonies, the biggest, of course, being the beginning 2 years ago, but smaller ones being held throughout as different Trainers leave at different times, a group of them choosing to leave one year ago, or most recently, a month ago. There would be parades, official Contest Trainers putting on a show with their Pokemon, entire speeches and cheers for each individual Trainer graduating for their first big journey. You could leave at any time, however, you just need a Circuit Official to, well, make it Official.


    He glanced at his old watch, it still working fine. It was noon. The Official should be here any second. He glanced around. Out of nowhere, there appeared some Asian girl who after glancing at her phone, started glancing around.


    She had a pale complexion and rosy cheeks, round glasses and a round face. She wore a blue jumper, just barely lanky and tall enough to fit her, and in her left hand, she clutched a pokeball as if nervous that someone was gonna steal it.


    A Pokeball? Was she leaving on the last day too?


    It was possible. Perhaps he shouldn¡¯t even be so surprised. If someone really thought they couldn¡¯t beat a gym and if their parents or whatever forced them into it, this would be the easiest way to get beat up as fast as possible. She looks weak. Like she was the sick one instead of me¡­ Is she gonna be okay?


    A couple minutes later, the Official arrived. As suspected, the girl and him were the last of the entire city to set off.


    ¡°And now,¡± the Official proclaimed, stiffening a yawn as he read from his clipboard. He had already asked the right questions, checking them for their parent¡¯s signatures, identification, and even to see if their Pokeballs had a Pokemon within them. ¡°I welcome you, Yuewen Nyugen, and you, Helmet Swain, into the Dream Circuit. Congratulations on your graduation.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Yuewun said with a slight bow. He muttered his thanks too and followed suit with a bow of his own.


    The Official smiled and nodded. ¡°You two should consider traveling with each other. It¡¯s safer.¡± With that he left, probably cursing the two idiots that forced him to walk all this way on his last day no less.


    They glanced at each other. She nodded first. He nodded second.


    Her blank face and easy obedience¡­ She kinda looked at Dwebble. He smirked a little, taking Dwebble¡¯s Pokeball out of his pocket. In response, she held up her Pokeball as well.


    ¡°Huh,¡± he said. ¡°What you want? You want to battle?¡±


    ¡°Sure¡­¡±


    Hey. Not cool. Was it just him or was she totally looking down at him? She had a lower voice than he expected and within it, held the low exasperation you would treat a child with.


    ¡°Hey. Don¡¯t be too weak¡­ Well, I can¡¯t really say that much right now. I only have Dwebble afterall.¡±


    ¡°Dwebble? Doesn¡¯t it have a name?¡±


    ¡°Nah. Dwebble is dwebble. He has to earn his name.¡±


    ¡°Wow. I haven¡¯t named my Pidove either.¡±


    ¡°See. You agree with me, right?¡±


    She let out a big sigh and frowned suddenly, shaking her head.


    ¡°No. Actually, I think that¡¯s stupid. I just haven¡¯t thought of a name for her yet.¡±


    ¡°Dwebble is not stupid.¡±


    ¡°No, I think you¡¯re stupid. For not naming him. And actually, for challenging me to a battle in the first place. Why would you even do that?¡±


    ¡°What? You said yes?¡±


    ¡°I was just going with the flow.¡± She put her Pokeball away and started strolling down the dirt path. ¡°Come on. I did the math. If we walk for an average of 8 hours a day, we should be able to get to Striaton City in a week. And then we have to beat the gym leader in less than three weeks to avoid being kicked out of the circuit.¡±


    ¡°8 hours a day?¡± He said, putting his Pokeball back in his pocket. ¡°Are you strong enough to walk that much?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± she said, smiling for the first time.

 and if i fall and dont come back

    This fucking slowpoke.


    Forget a week. At this pace, they¡¯ll need two. It was not two hours walking through Route one that he said that he needed a break. And an hour after that. And the hour after as well. All they were doing were talking fucking breaks.


    ¡°Sorry about making you walk so much,¡± she said. ¡°Everyone else is just miles ahead of us and I¡¯m just kind of stressed about making up that distance¡­ Sorry!¡±


    ¡°Wait¡­ Just five more minutes.¡±


    ¡°Of course. Take your break. It¡¯s almost lunch as well.¡±


    Letting her backpack down, she tore open a jelly-filled donut and began devouring. What a dumbass. When she first saw this kid, she could only think of how stupid someone must be to leave on the last day. Especially someone who actually wants to be here. If he cared so much, you¡¯d think he¡¯d be able to put his feet on the ground and fucking walk.


    She should leave him behind, she thought as she took a swing of water. He would definitely leave her behind if she was dragging him down. Everyone always left her behind in the end. Her parents sure did. She shuddered at their gazes, looking down at her as she asked for their signatures. They didn¡¯t really care though¡­ No one did.


    ¡®Alright. Let¡¯s go.¡±


    She wanted to punch that smile off his face. She almost wished she took that battle now. If only she had, either win or lose, she could mutter something about being uncomfortable and just leave. Actually, she could leave right now couldn¡¯t she? He wouldn¡¯t be able to catch her¡­ But then she would be stuck in the city and he would catch her and it would just be awkward. And at the end, she knew that all this deliberation was pointless.


    She could never leave him. Never in a million years.


    That was just the type of girl she was.


    -.-.-


    Route one was practically a straight line, it being the beginner route meaning that it was very well protected and trodden upon, a dirt path wide enough for twelve if you really wanted it too. Trees stood alongside it, like little, loyal knights humbly looking over in orderly lines, none of its branches even daring to hang overhead. Even the grass seemed greener than usual, like it was one large playground, specifically made for children to play in, safely and adventurously. What fun.


    Nonetheless, Yuewen could sense the presence of wild Pokemon scurrying about, the type of feeling that she almost thought she imagined. She was so tense¡­ She leaned back onto her oversized backpack. What was the point of it all¡­ She had almost forgotten. She pulled out Pidove Pokeball, gazing as she caressed it. Technically, it was more efficient to get to Striaton as fast as possible and make use of the Gym¡¯s facilities as fast as possible to level up.


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    Yet, that almost felt sad somehow. Like going to her desk job. And punching in those numbers. Again and again and again.


    Yuewen put the Pokeball away. She wouldn¡¯t cry here. Not in front of him.


    Helmet¡­ What a stupid fucking name. And she hated her name. She wondered how much he hated his own parents. She couldn¡¯t believe her ears when she heard the Official call his name out. In that setting, so formal too. It was hilarious. She wondered what she would call him when they began talking again. Would she really be forced to call him Helmet? Or will he have a nickname? A hilarious, humiliating nickname.


    Too many breaks man¡­ She pulled out her Pokeball again, staring into the abyss. At this point, she could pull out Pidove and not hurt her efficiency at all. Yet, why would she? If she pulled Pidove and it turned out she imagined the whole connection. If all those warm feelings and that, that finally feeling of belonging, that once-in-a lifetime feeling, was all just that. A once in a lifetime feeling. What would she even do? What was she even doing all this for? What was the fucking point?


    She was alone with her thoughts again. This was bad. Sometimes it felt like she was the one dragging him down. Gloomy girl¡­ She wasted her whole life before this so¡­ what was she doing now?


    She really thought she could change, didn¡¯t see?


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­¡±


    ¡°Hm?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for dragging us down,¡± he said, as they trotted, side-by-side. ¡°I really am sorry. We might not make it at this rate.¡±


    She laughed. It was the first time he¡¯d hear her laugh, she supposed. ¡°No. I¡¯m sorry for dragging us down. I¡¯m just so¡­ pointless. I only think about pointless things.¡±


    He frowned at her laughter. ¡°Really? You really don¡¯t think that, do you? I¡¯m just so weak¡­ I didn¡¯t know I was this weak. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    Yuewen stood around awkwardly. She heard tears in that voice, that voice that she realized all so well. Yet, she had no idea what to do in this situation. No idea at all.


    It was what made her, her, afterall.


    ¡°Um¡­ Are you okay?¡± she asked, her hand hovering, like it was going to do something. Hilarious.


    ¡°You know, my nurse asked that very same question.¡±


    ¡°Oh really? You sick?¡± She thought back to Nurse Joy. She could hardly remember what was said, but could remember the hot, sticky tears streaming down her face. She blushed in embarrassment.


    ¡®Yeah. It¡¯s ridiculous. Got attacked by a Pikachu. She thought that I would be traumatized or something. That I would just give up. Be afraid of Pokemon. Yet here I am. Weak, broken¡­ But still standing. Taking breaks but not broken. Hm?¡± He turned towards her and smiled. At that moment, Yuewen thought he was kinda short. She smiled back.


    ¡°Yeah. We¡¯re still standing,¡± she said, her hand finding its way to pat his back.


    It was nice to be on the receiving side of this kinda shit. Looking down on others suited her better, she thought.


    ¡°Dumbass,¡± she said.


    ¡°Dumbasses?¡±


    She shuddered. ¡°Annoying. And cringe.¡±


    It was a full moon that night. A beautiful white, lonely in the night sky, constantly revolving around, a mathematical beauty. In two weeks time, they should be able to arrive at the gym. The moon will be full then as well. And in another two weeks, they¡¯ll be out of the gym and onto the next. Under the moon again, until the next two weeks and the next. Full, then empty. Full, then empty.


    That¡¯s all she ever wanted. To feel full for once.

 IM WONDERING IF I DONT COME BACK

    "He''s so cute."


    Dwebble''s eyes protruded curiously from its antennas as it reached out gently with its sharp claws, poking at Yuewen''s fingers. On the side of the route, there was a grassy clearing with soft grass to lounge in, where they decided to take lunch break. He was finishing up a moo-moo sandwich.


    On the second day of travel, he began releasing Dwebble out of boredom as they took these breaks. It was like taking cigarettes, he supposed. Kind of addicting in this dull, slow manner. Like he had nothing better to do, ever.


    He wasn''t sure if Dwebble really got the message that he was supposed to battle. According to all the battling guides, you shouldn''t really release your Pokemon until the first gym facility, where they can learn the basics of battling. Doing so can make them "soft" in a manner. They weren''t supposed to be making friends out here. They needed to be disciplined, have a mindset for battling, or like hunger. That drive, that passion. Those dreams.


    Truth be told, he has been feeling weird the last couple of days. Calmer really. Maybe going into a coma does that to you. He didn''t know what he was supposed to feel. Perhaps, he should be desperate. More pleading. The first gym was inevitable. Would dwebble really be able to overcome it? Yet, on the prefecit, all he could do was sigh, grab dwebble''s claw and lead it on a silly, little dance.


    He just felt fucking weak. Like he was sick, the poison jostled within his body every time he tried to move. His first day out¡­ He sprinted through rooty foliage, screamed out of rage, and cried in anxieties, all whilst his heart pounded like his fucking life depended on it. But now, under the constant pressure of the sun and the steady jut of every footstep¡­ Fuck man, he was just tired. He didn''t know he was so weak. He didn''t know he was so strong. How did he move like that, sprinting for his dreams? Right now, five steps and he''s already out of breath, his own body betraying him.


    Dwebble!


    "Ah, yes. Dwebble, indeed," he muttered, while rubbing his shell. He wondered what he could do to make his dwebble happy. Does it like to have its shell cleaned?


    What did it mean to be a Pokemon Trainer? He had wanted this since he was then. But then, he was here and all felt so distant.


    Yet, at the same time, he was thankful just to be a Trainer. To be able to touch his own Pokemon like this. It was a dream come true.


    What do you think, little guy?


    It was time to get walking again. He picked the rock crab up. It weighed around his backpack so he was surprisingly easy to carry around. Calm too. It stared right back at him with his rocky, bug eyes. Cold to the touch, Dwebble squirmed a little, its little rock legs tickling the bottom of his forearms.


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    Was he really that cute? He thought, putting the little guy down. Yuewen did seem like the type to like Pokemon like dwebble though. Dwebble, dweeb. It fits.


    He really knew nothing about Dwebble. That was another reason you should wait. You could actually talk to your Pokemon at gym facilities. You could understand them. You can even sort of love them, or so he heard.


    He wondered what Dwebble''s dreams were. If he wanted to become that legendary badass. If this stupid trainer was just as a misfit for those dreams as Dwebble was, a bug in the dreamt team of dragons and massive, muscular beasts, a team of undisputed champions. If instead of battling, Dwebble wanted to¡­ I dunno, write a book or something. Collect shiny shones.


    It was the third night. Yuewen was in her own tent, twenty feet away, snoring. They made better distance that day as he slowly recovered from not being able to use body for two entire years. He laid down, staring upwards at the fabric, a gentle light gleaming through, yet it all remained blurry, especially around the edges. He set Dwebble out next to him, the sturdy creature recently following them as they walk, seemingly content in expression, loyal as a dog.


    "Hey," he said to no one in particular, but then turned to face Dwebble. Lying down, he knew that was, for the first time, he was on the eye-level Dwebble, even though he couldn''t quite see everything in the darkness. "I don''t really know you. But¡­ You don''t really know me either."


    "This¡­ this person you''re seeing. Hearing. This isn''t me. The Helmet I know. He died two years ago, in the very same forest you came out of. I used to be¡­ Bigger than this. More happy. I dunno. This has been my dream, since like, forever right? At the time, I loved the idea of it so much that I thought I would be running to the city. Running, running, running. Full speed ahead, laughing with my friends, but eventually leaving them behind. That was the person I thought I was. Would be"


    "I just can''t get out of my own head. I was supposed to be strong? Invincible even. When I found that Pikachu, I thought I hit the jackpot. Yet, it was me who was weak at the end of the day, huh? Pathetic, so pathetic I want to kill myself." He laughed, then turned again from Dwebble, wondering when sleep would take him, if he would just keep yapping nonsense forever and forever.


    "I guess what I''m trying to say is that even I don''t know myself. Nothing has changed in the last two years, but time itself. I stayed completely the same. But the entire world moved on without me. And in that, I guess it had dragged me along. Without everything I knew¡­ Without my parents, without my friends, with all my dreams flying far, far past me¡­ Without everything I ever loved, am I really the same person?''


    "Who am I when I have nothing left? Who will I become?"


    "Dwebble¡­"


    He heard the clink of scutting legs. Turning around, curious, he landed on his back again, towards the stars hidden beyond the shitty fabric. He felt, more than saw, Dwebble climb onto him, his sharp, little legs catching upon his nightwear. The legs scuttled onto him until a sudden pause. A dagger tore across his chest, the small pain jolting his heart awake.


    He sprung up, blood rushing throughout. He felt it spreading, leaking, soaking him. Dwebble slid off, right into his lap.


    Did we just¡­ Understand each other?


    He laughed, lifting Dwebble beside his pillow, patting its rocky shell. He collapsed, sinking into his sleeping bag, hand hovering his chest, just to feel the red rush, so warm. A grin broke his face. An unstoppable grin.


    "Rocky. Your name is Rocky," he said, past his grin. "You are strong. Strong enough to draw blood from me, huh? That means¡­ You gotta be the strongest. The very best. Will you let me stay by your side?"

 maybe then ill know

    "You look fucking stupid right now."


    "Shut up."


    Dwebble rustled in his disheveled hair, clinging on like mama bird in her nest. It faced backwards, so Yuewen was forced to understand that Helmet plus Dwebble''s height was almost exactly equivalent to hers. So much for looking down¡­ When she stared into its coaly eyes like this, face-to-face, she felt that any moment, he would reach out and give a little pinch on the cheek.


    Dwebble."


    "Dumbass," she said, flicking the Pokemon onto its forehead. It retreated back into its shell. "You''re only slowing us down, you know? What''s the point of carrying him around like that?"


    "Because I want to."


    "Seriously," she sighed. "This is why I wanted to travel alone."


    "Hey. C''mon, alone? What about¡­ your Pokemon?"


    "Pidove. I have a Pidove. It''s not like I''m hiding it or anything."


    "Why''d you decide on pidove?"


    "Why''d you decide on dwebble?"


    "Rocky. That''s what I decided to name him."


    "What?" she chortled. She rarely ever chortled. "I thought he had to earn the name? Like to prove himself with strength and dignity and shit?"


    "I trust the little guy," he said, knocking the rock on top of his head. "He''s stronger than he seems."


    "Dweeble!"


    Was it just her or did this Dwebble - no, Rocky - seem incredibly smug? Annoying bastard. She pinched his forehead. It went back into his shell again.


    "You know," she said loudly. "You have a hard shell, but you really are just a softie at the end of the day, huh?"


    "Huh?"


    She went on without responding, overtaking him and his sluggish pace, her long legs faster than he could ever keep up, even if he was fully healthy, she supposed.


    -.-.-


    They were six days into their journey. They walked, usually in silence, down this downtrodden path, Rocky walking right beside them, unusually obedient for a wild Pokemon. It was strange, walking down this empty path obviously meant for hundreds. It was like drifting down empty hallways in school in the summer, but the hallways never ended, what was so lively with youth became so dead, so haunted. It was like the dusty corner that she spent her prime years in, punching at numbers and stressing over scribbles, her only companions, the other forgotten women who like her, silently sorted and ordered files in dreary isolation. She felt the most alone in these places when there should be companionship.


    Was she the one being cold hearted? No, I''m the normal one. This was the way you were supposed to be, the strict routine of gym training and the endless efficiency of trying to do your job properly. It made no sense to try to communicate with someone that can''t even talk back. She should be thankful. For the first time in her life, she could do things properly, without parents, without having to play pretend for her friends. This¡­ was just the way it was done.


    It just wasn''t very adventurous. Yuewen could only imagine what it would be like, traveling with hundreds of peers her age, pointless Pokemon battles springing up like weeds, silly Trainers that just wanna have fun, who don''t care to turn their pets into competitors. And they wouldn''t be stuck on this path forward, that''s for certain. They had two years. They could explore route one as they pleased, delving into the wild grass, be stricken by the wild Pokemon they have never seen before; run for their lives from a pack of beedrills, hold their breaths as a pack of ursaring come sniffing around. Hold their Pokemon, not worry about gym battles or whatever. And she would be in the midst of it, following Angelina and her pack of friends, doing whatever they wanted, laughing at their jokes, and seeing what a world could be, if only she could live it.


    This shit was just depressing.


    "Hey¡­ Helmet?"


    "Yes?"


    "I want to do something fun."


    He sprung ahead of her, pacing backwards, hands behind his back. He looked rather silly, crouching and smiling like that, his seedy eyes beaming with joy.


    "Say. Do you really like Pokemon?"


    "What?"


    "I mean, this has been my dream since I was ten. Just being here, walking alongside Dwebble. It''s enough. I want to do this for the rest of my life."


    Yuewen laughed, then smiled. A smile so gentle that she could feel the sadness leaking through her. So vulnerable that it was embarrassing.


    "You know, Nurse Joy and I," she said, pausing in her tracks. "We worked at the same hospital that you were held in, probably. And I always hated her until the very last moment where I¡­ needed her. I think I will hate everything I love until those rare moments. I work for those moments. So even if I''m miserable for the rest of my life-"


    "See, you''re cheating too." He interrupted her. Rude. He stopped pacing and looked at her with an intensity, an intensity that Yuewen could only dream of. "You''re supposed to work for those moments, no? So why must I give your joy a name as well?"


    He tugged on her sleeves, the shock of it causing her to stumble, to almost fall to her own feet. She wretched away from his grip, smoothing out her blue jumpsuit again. It was ages since she last showered.


    "Come on," he said. "Let''s explore the forest together. Just for tonight."


    Yuewen sighed, running the numbers in her head. "That''s like one out of twenty-two days we have left.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    "For someone that doesn''t care at all, you sure care a lot. Come on, let''s go."


    "For someone that''s supposed to care, you sure don''t care at all."


    -.-.-


    Yuewen didn''t really know how to be happy. Angst? Meaningless self-revelations? She could put those off no problem; it came as naturally as she breathed, the words flowing out like a waterfall. Yet, she was just too smart to have any fun. The size of her genius truly made her beyond any simple concept as trivial as dopamine. Who did she think she was? She hated the idea of being the Jester afterall; she was more of a bitchy queen.


    When was the last time she went into the woods without adult supervision? How about¡­ Never? Whether it be in her home or on the streets or at work or at school, Yuewen has never truly been outside. Hilarious, right? Eighteen years of existence and she has never experienced what nature was. She even caught Pidove in the midst of urban life. She had a sinking suspicion that if she never met Joy, if she never met Pidove, she would have never been outside her entire life.


    They were definitely going to get lost. All the trees, the rocks, the bushes, they all looked the same to her. She hadn''t the experience to tell the difference, to recognize what it meant to be truly untouched. Everywhere she looked, she felt the stubborn grasp for humanity tugging at her. Yuewen wondered if she stayed in this wilderness for the next 22 days, would she be able to escape it all? To look at a leaf and see it as a leaf, some kinda natural, beautiful object. To begin to love all Pokemon.


    Oops. I''m totally cheating on Pidove right now.


    She laughed as Rocky hacked at every tree and stone, insurance that they would be able to get back to the path. He just looked so weak, his claw marks rippling against the bark and needing 3-4 repetitions to make even a mark of the slightest of grey stones. She wished she took that Pokemon battle. It totally would have been fun to see Pidove peck at a stone, as Rocky''s stubby little legs could never reach her. They would have fluttered and scraped for hours, each too awkward and too harmless to inflict any sorts of damage. Yet, looking at Rocky now, she had no doubts that he would be willing to fight for hours, the stubby, little soldier marching with them for the vast majority of the journey.


    "Look, look," she whispered with a lot of fluster, pounding Helmet''s back, causing him to half-collapse into the bushes. It was fun being physically overpowering towards a boy. "A bunch of caterpies. These can be your first victories."


    "Rocky''s first victories," he said with full seriousness, causing Yuewen to chortle some more and wack his back more. Hilarious.


    "I''m a believer," she said, rubbing Rocky''s shell as he looked strangely determined. "Send the soldier out, boss. He''s waiting for your orders."


    He hit her with an exasperated look - are you having fun yet, he seemed to ask - and stood up to his full height, his peak potential, as to say.


    "Rocky, go," he yelled, pointing vaguely at the caterpies'' direction. "Use scratch. And keep on scratching."


    "Yeah, Rocky! Keep on scratching," she repeated, all the cheer she could muster in her voice.


    Rocky gave her a mean look and scuttled to scratch her face. She sprung up, to her full potential, a trickle of blood streaming down her face. Well. I guess I deserve it. She wondered if it would leave a scar.


    And on he went! The brave soldier, scuttling himself to war, a 1v20 at least. He emerged out of the bush like a leaping Torracat, fierce and fiery, its war cry (''Dwebble!") thundering throughout the forest.


    And they scattered. Like the wind! The little, green caterpies shot off the moment they spotted Dwebble, shooting large strands of string and quickly zipping into the deaf forest leaves as fast as a Pidgeot. By design, of course. Leaving poor, old Rocky standing in the dust, frozen, claws held high. He probably never saw anything move that fast in his life¡­


    "Watch out, Rocky. Behind you," Helmet hollered, but it was too late.


    A caterpie slammed Rocky from behind. Already off balance, Rocky stumbled forwards, landing squarely on his back, leaving an orange strip of body exposed. As quick as a flash, the caterpie shot out string, trapping the shell in the very beginnings of a cocoon, the sticky white web holding it down from all angles.


    "Rocky. Get out of your shell now," he said. Good instincts, I suppose. But can Rocky even do that?


    It didn''t seem like it. Rocky could only squirm as the caterpie went to town onto him, nippling and tackling its exposed interior. Yuewen flinched. It was a rather sad scene where they could only watch in hopelessness¡­ Yet, at the same time, it was only a caterpie despite the continuous assault. It coiling its entire body to swing its head like a baseball bat and then practically drooling on it as he tried to bite through would practically result in an ultimate battle of endurance. Forget hopeless. This is just awkward.


    "Caterpie, Caterpie, Catepie, Cat!"


    ''Dwebble¡­"


    "Fuck," Helmet said, springing out of the bushes. Yuewen wanted to stand up and sit him back down to surprise her. She fell to the side instead, almost hitting her head. "Wait for me, Rocky. This ain''t over yet."


    "Where do you think you''re going," Yuewen mumbled, sitting back up and rubbing the part of her head that stung.


    He stomped through the foiling and into the clearing where the Pokemon laid bare. Caterpie paused. They met each other''s eyes. And when two wild beasts made eye contact it could only mean one thing- Battle!


    Oh my god. This dumbass just threw a right hook to a caterpie. It swerves, using Rocky as a stepping stone. Before Helmet could react, it shot out string, catching his left foot, gluing him to the ground. Yet, bent over, he reached for Rocky and pressed his Pokeball against it, catching, then releasing him again just as Caterpie shot out the string again, catching Helmet''s right foot.


    "Rocky," he said. ("Dwebble?") "Watch and learn. See, I wanted you to get out of your shell. Like this-"


    He sprung out for his shoes with a dramatic, superhero left punch. Unfortunately for him, he was even weaker than her, so caterpie met him with his fist dead on with a tackle. And guess what? He was blown away like a twig. It was kinda pathetic really. Hilarious.


    Rocky rushed forwards, taking the opportunity to get in close with its minimum speed stat. Though, yet again, he was strung down to the ground, the caterpie shooting its thick string out of its mouth much faster than Rocky could ever dodge, halting him just before the caterpie''s reach.


    And now they stood face-to-face, staring each other down. At this point, little Caterpie will just leave, right? It has proven itself superior in every aspect of the word. Faster witted, more skilled, and even superior in strength. There was nothing left to do here. Every circus must come to an end eventually, right?


    No! The show must go on. The caterpie rushed in. Yet, it was different this time. Rocky was upright and his soft, orange interior held in front of it two, blunt claws, ready to take swings at the fleshy, green head hurtling towards it.


    They battled, gashes slashing across the side of caterpie''s face, concussions battering down at Rocky''s exposed head. They both could leave at any time, Rocky simply ducking his head into his hell and caterpie, flying away like all his comrades did, swinging into the leaves where they would simply never see it again. Yet, they choose to stand in place and fight. A slugfest of two amateurs that knew nothing but to punch.


    Ding, ding- Knockout! After two and a half long fought minutes, Rocky caught a nasty headbutt to the chin and collapsed. Drooling onto the forest floor, his rival caterpie stood victorious before him, slinging his way onto his shell in celebration.


    Yuewen glanced to the side. Seriously? It seemed after being tackled by a caterpie, Helmet was blown away into a tree and his head or something, because he was laying limp, sliding down a trunk. Knocked out by a caterpie.


    Yuewen laughed. Ah. She was having so much fun.


    "Pidove. I choose you."


    She slung out the Pokeball.


    "Pidove!"


    "This is unlike me, but¡­ When someone does you a favour, you have to pay the favor back, right? I apologize for the short notice and the unoptimal location and please don''t hate me¡­ Pidove, catch that caterpie."


    "Pidove-"


    "And Pidove? I needed you. Sorry for never telling you that."


    Pidove."


    Perhaps she didn''t need to work for those moments anymore, she thought as she threw the capturing Pokeball at the fainted caterpie who was knocked out in one vulturous swoop. She was still afraid that once getting to know her better, Pidove would simply fly far away, never to see her again, their one-in-a-lifetime connection broken forever. But that''s okay.


    She needed this.

 DONT COME BACK

    ¡°We¡¯re here. Striaton City,¡± he said.


    Truth be told, they might have already entered the City a couple of minutes ago, its presence creeping as the forest thinned into a field and the dirt path they walked all these miles on turned stone.


    ¡°Exactly day 14,¡± Yuewen said, raising her phone into the sky for reception. ¡°As I calculated.¡±


    He snorted. ¡°You never said shit about fourteen days.¡±


    ¡°I thought it. In my inner monologue.¡±


    ¡°And you said walking with Rocky would slow us down. See? Just as I planned.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t plan shit. You just got knocked out and slowed our pace down by half. Though, you started picking up speed the last week. That¡¯s the only reason we¡¯re here at this timing. Okay?¡±


    ¡°Your Pidove flew away for half a day¡­ I think it was mad, because you didn¡¯t give her enough attention.¡±


    She blushed and shoved her phone back into her jeans, bringing out a pen and a paper instead. She began writing on the upheld paper, cursing as the pen occasionally tore through the sheet.


    ¡°It¡¯s not that¡­ It just gets mad that I wasn¡¯t feeding it. Okay? I think she went out and ate one of your caterpie friends¡­¡±


    ¡°Anyways.¡± He tore away the paper from Yuewen. It was in cursive, so he couldn¡¯t immediately read it. He shoved it back into her jacket. ¡°We¡¯re here. Striaton City. Finally.¡±


    Wooden, arching trellises marked the end of the stony path that was only with them for minutes instead of weeks. They were mahogany, more red than brown, and with it being filled with spiraling, clingy vines. It gave off an impressive sense of history and significance as they walked through. Mostly, he was just relieved. And hungry for some real food.


    They entered what could be considered a town square? It was square shaped, at least, with a fountain in the middle, but the square was patched with freshly trimmed grass and benches and pleasant bushes galore and on its sides were small ponds, the lightly blue shimmered under the rising sun.


    ¡°This is probably where most of our colleagues hung out, huh.¡±


    ¡°I guess¡­ Hey, whatcha doing with that paper again? Don¡¯t walk and write.¡±


    She dodged his swipe, holding it high in the air where he couldn¡¯t reach. He stopped reaching immediately. He hoped that she walked straight into a pond or something.


    ¡°I¡¯m writing my budget out. We should start thinking about buying in bulk again for us and our Pokemon this time.: She cleared her throat. ¡°If we walked approximately at the pace we have in the last three days, then we should be able to get to Nacrene City-¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about money. My parents gave me a shit ton.¡±


    ¡°How much?¡±


    ¡°A shit ton.¡±


    They were entering the true city now. Forget all the grass and the watery scenery. These were the tourist traps he wanted to be ensnared in.


    ¡°Give me a number, man. It might seem like a lot, but in a couple months, we¡¯re gonna need to find employment. And besides, I still got to worry about my money.¡±


    The smell hit first. It wasn''t anything in specific. It was the combination, the concoction of dozens of depthful scents, fading into this aurora that smelt even better as he closed his eyes. They lined the streets - both sides - as far as the eye could see, as fast as the feet could walk. Glowing neon signs of Galar, the dancing mascots of Aloha, the humbling presentation of those sliding door places with heated floors that you would find in Kanto, it was dizzying from the first decision; whether to go left or right, nevermind choosing exactly which restaurant they wanted to go to.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be such a sad sack,¡± he said, exhaling for the first time since. ¡°I got enough money for the sixth gym at least- for the both of us. Come on, it¡¯s not like it¡¯s my money anyways.¡±


    ¡°I hate everything you represent right now.¡±


    ¡°Touch¨¨. That¡¯s French, right?¡± He wacked her back, almost sending her face-first into the cemented street. She really had absolutely terrible balance, stumbling this way and that like a newborn girafarig. ¡°Right or left. Your choice. Don¡¯t be mad.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± They turned right in unison. ¡°And I¡¯m not mad. In fact, you suggesting that I would be mad is the only thing making me mad. What do you think I am? Some typical woman-¡±


    He reached up and blocked her eyes, causing her to shut up.


    ¡°Right or left again?¡±


    ¡°...Left.¡±


    ¡°Now choose a number. From 1 to uh¡­ like 20?¡±


    ¡°21.¡±


    ¡°Okay. Let¡¯s eat some real food.¡±


    ¡°That felt inhumane,¡± she said. Their steps echoed lazily, returned by only a couple others that paced, looking for an early breakfast as well. He even saw a couple restaurants opening real time, their owners'' old locals stretching and yawning as they flipped signs and let out advertising Pokemon dressed in logos and slogans.


    ¡°My bad. But think of it this way. It might be destiny afterall.¡±


    They arrived at the restaurant at the very end of the street. It was stubbornly rectangular with plastic-like, green outlines, heavy on the eyes with an orange signboard right beneath, printing in bold letters: The Monkey King. Yet, instead of having an ¡°o¡±, there was a fainted face of a Pokemon that he didn¡¯t recognize, dead eyes, tongue sticking out, and decapitated, a bloody red lining the bottom of its neck. And even worse, beneath, was a poorly drawn poster of ¡°Creamy Mushroom¡± hamburg that, simply put, looked like mold was growing out of and dripped with mustardy lines of piss.


    ¡°Say. Let¡¯s actually not eat here. Come on, we haven¡¯t eaten anything real in weeks¡­¡±


    Yuewen smiled sweetly.


    ¡°It¡¯s destiny, right? Oh, sweet prince, please lead me into our fates together. Your treat, of course.¡±


    They entered, small bells ringing to indicate that they had arrived.


    -.-.-


    It was a fever dream inside. He suspected that any unexpecting trainers who made it past the front door would revolve out like clockwork the moment they said the interior. Plates from yesterday or even further back laid forgotten, the dim lights unable to hide the rotting walls, bits of paint tearing off. Worst of all, they seemed to go all out on their branding of decapitated Pokemon, their bloody heads cartoonishly planted on stakes and even, as an extravagant centerpiece, their headless bodies being strung up on cross surrounding a cauldron as their head-plentiful friends chanted, statues depicted dancing behind masks. It was grainy and grim, like they were abandoned on an island and were reduced to eating each other.


    ¡°Welcome. To The Monkey King. Seat for two? Actually, that¡¯s a bit of a rhetorical question. We don¡¯t have any seats for two.¡± The waiter laughed pleasantly.


    He and she glanced at each other. He nodded first. She nodded second. But just before they were going to leave, two arms were thrown around their shoulders. One for her, one for him.


    ¡°It¡¯s a threesome; hey, which one of you is the top, which is the bottom? Hm?¡±


    There was a scary woman between them. Long, black hair streamed down to her chest, each individual strand gleaming with deliberation. She wore a tight sleeveless t-shirt with the word ¡°DEATHLESS¡± written across it and had tight jeans, culminating onto a button onto her scarily-thin waist. The worst of it was her eyes. They stared straight ahead, but Helmet knew that he was under her vision. With just one eye, at her peripheral vision, she was staring into his soul, her wide, black pupil, never moving position throughout blinking. He couldn¡¯t move.


    ¡°Or are you both bottoms? Hmmmm? Doesn¡¯t that make me the ¡®S¡¯?¡±


    ¡°I - I don¡¯t swing that way, okay?¡± Yuewen was the first break out of the spell. She ducked under the woman¡¯s grip and pushed her glasses upwards.


    ¡°Oh? But I never said anything about that¡­ Come back, over here.¡± Obediently, Yuewen was forced under the woman¡¯s arms again. ¡°Jeremy. Table for 3.¡±


    ¡°Certainly.¡± The waiter bowed and smiled pleasantly. ¡°May I suggest the table in the middle? It¡¯s great for hotpots.¡±


    ¡°We know that¡¯s the only table open, you broke fucker.


    ¡°Certainly. This way, please.¡±


    The moment the waiter turned, she kicked his ass. She did it with perfect form. The waiter fell to his knees, shaking. She laughed and suddenly their feet moved as one, she dragging him along, the side of his head pushed up against her¡­


    Before he knew what was happening, he was sitting on top of a decapitated head planted on top of a stake. It was soft like a pillow. He wanted to glance sideways at Yuewen, but the scary lady was in between, still staring outwards, and a thousand yard gaze. He gulped. Were they gonna eat out of this giant cauldron? It seemed to smell like it had been used a thousand times before and only had recently been cleaned.


    ¡°Give us the Moomoo beef special.¡±


    ¡°Certainly.¡±


    Again? But I¡¯ve been eating Moomoo beef for the last two weeks. He wanted to complain, but at this point, he was too scared-roused to do anything about it. She was still pushed up against him.


    Not a minute later, the waiter returned. He could hear the footsteps. He looked up. In one hand, he was holding a giant pot of water that looked like it weighed a ton. On the other hand, he held up a wholeass miltank. This guy is not human. He stood up to leave, but she pushed him down. For the first time, she turned her head and stared him down with both eyes - and a smile. Of course, she had a scary smile, her full set of perfectly white teeth revealed in a grin.


    ¡°Hey,¡± Yuewen said, voice trembling. ¡°What do you think you¡¯re doing with that miltank?¡±


    ¡°Cooking it, madam.¡±


    ¡°But it¡¯s clearly not-¡±


    The waiter poured the water into the cauldron first. It was boiling. He shoved in the miltank next. Before Yuewen could say anything else, he placed a metal lid on top of the cauldron. And sent out a Pokemon.


    ¡°Charizard.¡±


    ¡°Charizard. Use overheat.¡±


    The searing heat flew inches before him, the intensity of the blast steaming his face with great intensity, as he fought, the natural instinct to close his eyes and the sharp instinct of survival that caused his eyes to jut open. At that moment, he began to sob uncontrollably.


    A couple seconds later it was all over. He wiped the tears from his eyes and glanced to the side. The scary lady was leaning back with no backrest, arms still loosely around them, looking slightly bored. She had a dumb expression on her face. Ah, she¡¯s hungry. Well, I¡¯m pretty hungry too. He turned, apprehensive of the end result.


    ¡°Thank you for the meal,¡± she said, clapping her hands together, finally letting go of their shoulders.


    Bits of meat surfaced from the steaming pot, the color and shape completely unrecognizable. They were practically roasted black, the sear so complete that it only left the barest of that raw juice within. Around half of it looked edible.


    ¡°Let¡¯s dig in,¡± the scary lady said, scooping a hunk of meat out the hotpot.


    He poked a piece of meat with his finger. Even before touching it, by the rising steam, he knew that he would be almost too hot to handle. Like catching carp out of a river, he seized the largest, chunkiest bone he could manage, the marrow steaming onto his hand, almost losing balance on his stool as he swang. He let go, if only for a second, to wipe his hand off his jacket. Then, he clapped his hands together.


    ¡°Thank you for the meal.¡±


    -.-.-


    At some point, it became a competition. A point of pride. He ate and ate and ate. The tips of his fingers melted from the heat. The depths of his throat burnt, crying for water that wasn¡¯t half steaming coming down. His stomach and his heart expanded, the only thing keeping what was inside, side, sheer determination and grit, the steadfast attitude of a man seeing everything slip away from him.


    ¡°Ahaha. Are you done already? I said I¡¯d give you a reward if you won¡¯t, didn''t I?¡± She pushed her chest forwards and licked her lips.


    He was truly, completely and utterly, done with women. He lay lifeless, sitting in a curled up ball, trying not to throw up. He was having a good time eating heartily, as hard as he could, so how did it come to this? She, with the skinniest waist he had ever seen¡­ Did he just not hunger enough? Not want it enough?


    ¡°There, there. Good boy,¡± she said, patting his head. ¡°You did your best.¡±


    If he was a normal person, this would be weird. But he was destined for unnormal fates, so this was fine?


    As he was being petted, he felt a great disturbance in his left arm. It was being puppeteered, a delicate touch guiding it through the motions. He glanced up. He was signing the bill for tonight¡¯s dinner.


    ¡°Hey,¡± Yuewen hissed. She was standing behind him, holding his left arm down, not having eaten a single piece of meat. ¡°What do you think you¡¯re doing?¡±


    ¡°Paying for the meal¡­¡±


    ¡°She was the one that ordered it. Common courtesy dicatest that she should be the one paying? Besides, I didn¡¯t even eat anything and-¡± She held out the receipt and pushed against his eyes so that he couldn¡¯t even read it anymore. ¡°This shit is way too expensive to not be a scam.¡±


    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°What?¡± He groaned, tearing the piece of paper off his face like it was a bug. ¡°It¡¯s my money, isn¡¯t it? I can spend it however I want. Besides, it¡¯s like, if I¡¯m not treating you, I¡¯m treating her instead.¡± He did a weird flippy-swappy gesture with his hands, but didn¡¯t quite think that he communicated anything legible. He groaned again.


    ¡°You can¡¯t. I won¡¯t allow it.¡± She crumbled to the receipt to ball under the pleasant smile of Jeremy the waiter who stood awkwardly waiting for the bill. She turned on the scary lady, pointing a very rude finger towards her. ¡°You. How dare you try to take advantage of the working class like this. We- we¡¯re not doing volunteer work here. If you want to eat a whole Miltank with your bare hands like a crazy person, that¡¯s fine, but at least pay half like a normal worker of society. That¡¯s still too much money lost¡­¡± She smothered the flimsy paper in her palm, tearing it into shreds. She pushed her hand to her forehead like she was on the verge of losing it all. ¡°How could you spend more than half our spending on a meal?¡±


    ¡°That sentence¡­ no make sense.¡±


    The scary lady pushed him over. He tipped from his decapitated stool and landed on the filthy floor, the filth of it reminding him of memories he never had before, that of falling in brave battle and drowning in a puddle of his own piss and blood.


    ¡°Okay? What do you suggest we do instead? He lost.¡±


    ¡°Lost what? Dignity? Self-awareness? Pride of a human-being?¡±


    ¡°Lost the Journey to The Best.¡± She kicked him lightly, if only to drive in the point that he was a loser. She must have seen by Yuewen¡¯s expression that the point hadn¡¯t hit home yet. ¡°I ate more miltank than him. Twenty-four percent more if judging on sheer body mass alone. Therefore, he has to pay for it all. That¡¯s The Monkey King special, baby. It might have been a challenge if you decided to eat anything at all.¡± She burped. She even controlled the timing of her burps to perfection. What a scary lady.


    ¡°Was there such a challenge?¡± He groaned from under the table, but there was no table, just a steaming cauldron of beef before him. ¡°I would have eaten more if I knew.¡± He lied. He almost threw up, right then and there.


    ¡°Eh? Are you serious? You were eating that shit for fun? That literally steaming heap of dogshit?¡± Jeremy smiled pleasantly in the corner. ¡°Of course, there¡¯s money involved.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just a matter of pride.¡±


    She laughed, in that silly little way that reminded him of Yuewen¡¯s laugh, breathy and gleeful. ¡°Read the shirt, buddy. Deathless. There¡¯s no loss in pride from losing to me.¡± She reached down to awkwardly ruffle his hair from all the way up there.


    ¡°Hey. Don¡¯t touch him like that.¡± Yuewen separated them, practically kicking him aside. He was sick and tired of the abuse¡­ ¡°He¡¯s¡­ Just, we don¡¯t have the budget or time for this type of altercation. Is there anything we can do to, I dunno, prevent this financial loss?¡±


    They glanced at Jeremy all at once. Jeremy cleared his throat. ¡°Ladies, this is the only purchase that has been made in this restaurant in the past month. For some stretches, we don¡¯t get any purchase for months¡­ Now-¡± He reached out and gently unfurled Yuewen¡¯s fist and found the largest shred of paper remaining. ¡°Will you please sign here and hand over the only thing that separates me from being a waiter and being a janitor?¡±


    To be honest, judging from the floor up, he thought a place with this few customers would rather benefit from having a janitor than a waiter, but he kept those thoughts to himself.


    ¡°Hey, hey, don¡¯t be rude, Jeremy. You know that I¡¯m your most loyal customer. So how about it? I have an idea.¡±


    Jeremy cursed silently about idiotic trainers and how ¡®he only got the crazy ones¡¯. He then smiled pleasantly. ¡°Go on.¡±


    ¡°You know that old cat around town? The one with a bit of a bounty on it? I mean, it doesn¡¯t come close to the price of a Journey to the Best special, but think about the reputation. The folks in the commercial district might even tolerate having such an unsanitary, disgusting rundown sack for a couple more years if you play your cards right.¡±


    ¡°True¡­¡± Jeremey considered. ¡°I have noticed Ms. Jenkins and Mrs. Jenny has been giving me strange looks lately. And even old Mr. Jacob has been giving the cold shoulder. But I couldn¡¯t imagine why anyone would want to shut this place down.¡±


    ¡°A-anyways, she, my young disciple, will go catch that old cat by the end of tonight. And everything that starts well will end well.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s in it for you?¡± Jeremy shot her a suspicious look.


    ¡°My good looks? My good karma? My intuition?¡±


    Time seemed to slow in the silence. The scary lady looked really fucking scary. There was sadism in those unbroken, unflinching eyes, turning, turning, turning, but not moving at all, black holes of emotions.


    ¡°... Come on, man. Let¡¯s find this cat or whatever.¡± Yuewen offered him a hand up.


    ¡°Oh and of course, you gotta do this challenge by yourself.¡± She offered a hand beside Yuewen. He took the scary ladies¡¯ hands. Again, they were surprisingly delicate. He wondered what she did for a living. ¡°Your poor darling here had to do his by himself, oh yes, you did.¡±


    ¡°No way. Keep your hands off him.¡±


    ¡°But why? He¡¯s so interesting.¡±


    He threw up right then and there, puking the remains of an inside-out Pokemon alongside with a small bone that might have been part of the ribcage.


    He was so going to kill himself when this was all over.


    -.-.-


    The Striaton alleyways spun their courses so completely and intricate that they held streets and ¡®restaurants¡¯ of their own, except of instead of smelling like an all-you-can-eat buffet, each hotspot was instead a dumpster where wild pokemon, glaring as they passed with sullen, hungry eyes. As if they expected them to dump more garbage into their green, metal treasure chest and were considering stalking them when they didn¡¯t, like they were keeping all the good stuff for themselves. One look from Leah, however, and they were left alone.


    He wished he could have kept his fantasy from when he was searching the Dream Circuit and thought of all the places he wanted to eat at Striaton. He had an entire 2-week plan, where he would eat at 3 restaurants a day and cover the forty-two places that he had wanted to eat at the most. Yet, now, he was digging up trash and squeezing sideways through tight walls to go to places where he didn¡¯t even imagine existed.


    This too, can be considered an adventure, he thought as he poked through trash bags with a stick he had found in the middle of the alleyway, only half submerged in garbage juice.


    All he wanted to do was get to the nearest Pokemon center and start training for the gym, yet, if Yuewen said that she wanted to poke through garbage, there was nothing he could do but listen to her. He could only blame his own weakness. He wondered, if he was strong, if he was some young, cocky, shot-out-of-a-gun with a Pikachu, what would become of him when he left her on the very first day, walking and walking without breaks, without sleep, only a grin plastered across his face and dream burning in his heart.


    Does this mean his dream has partly been extinguished?


    That he would only make it halfway? Collapsed, starting line, finish line, the crowd, the competition all gone from sight, only leaving him, alone, dead, like so many others, in the midst of nowhere, sinking into nothingness...


    ¡°Yuewen, do you have a plan? I want to do something, y¡¯know. Direct my energy towards chasing my dreams. You were the one that insisted on me helping right? Should I be doing anything right now?¡±


    ¡°I do have a plan.¡± She turned and glared at him, her spectacles drooping down her nose. ¡°Just shut up and follow me.¡±


    ¡°Will it really be worth it? This sacrifice of self?¡± He muttered, continuing to poke at the garbage. He tried to sound sarcastic, but it ended up feeling really dry.


    Yuewen sighed. ¡°No, it won¡¯t. Yes, it will. How am I supposed to know? Maybe you¡¯ll learn something. Maybe it¡¯s all for nought. We¡¯ll be walking in circles, chasing our own tails. Dreams are just dreams after all. You still gotta live. Life is life.¡±


    He glanced to his side, having found nothing of note. Yuewen seemed to have found one and was noting it down, dutifully noting it down in one of those spare pieces of paper that she always seemed to have. He should get her a real notebook for her birthday or something.


    They began making distance again, Yuewen muttering something about having surveyed and sampled about thirty-three percent of all backlogs. It was nostalgic, walking alongside her. It reminded him of just yesterday.


    ¡°You know who you remind me of?¡± He said, poking some brand-new, super exclusive pieces of trash.


    ¡°Your mother?¡±


    ¡°Nah.¡±


    ¡°Huh. I thought the flow of the conversation was going that way.¡±


    ¡°My mother actually loves me. The person I¡¯m thinking of is a real bitch.¡±


    She drove an elbow down onto his skull. ¡°I don¡¯t know how to respond to that.¡±


    ¡°You literally just hit me.¡±


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t count.¡±


    Gaslighting¡­ Abuse¡­ He barely kept those words within.


    ¡°The person I¡¯m thinking of¡­ I hardly knew her. She hardly knew me. But she wanted me to be miserable.¡±


    ¡°Your mother?¡±


    ¡°No, what? But maybe she should have? It¡¯s not everyone who would be willing to send their own son out to the same field of monsters that almost killed him. Is there something wrong with her? Wrong with me? Maybe I should be more miserable. Because, lately, when I look behind me, I see shadows. And they haunt me, shifting right beyond my sight, creeping closer in the darkness. And one day, I think when I finally feel comfortable not to look back - that¡¯s when it¡¯ll strike and I¡¯ll be.... Stuck again. In the darkness.¡±


    Beside her, he can feel her hesitating, and could feel the creep wrapping her face. His breath suddenly began heavy, as he felt his insides knitting in a knot. What he could was focus on his breathing and try to slow down, but the more he focused on it, the more that the heavier it got, the more aware he got, and the more he told himself to calm down, the more he panicked and the faster he breathed and the less he could control it and the more desperate he became and he was breathing so fast, so fast and he couldn¡¯t stop-


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± She hugged him from behind from the waist. The blood left his head and he was breathing steady again. ¡°Are you okay with garbage hands? Because right now, I have garbage hands.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s-it¡¯s okay. I¡¯m okay.¡± He gulped. ¡°Okay, let¡¯s find this cat. Because I¡¯m okay now.¡±


    ¡°Even if you¡¯re not okay, it¡¯s okay?¡± Her hands left his waist. Gently, like she was afraid of leaving. Like he could still feel her touch. ¡°Because beyond all this, your mother still loves you right? Your father, too?¡±


    ¡°Guess so.¡±


    ¡°O-kay. Let¡¯s do this shit then.¡±


    -.-.-


    The purrloin, as evidenced as its intense understanding of human structures, is likely motivated by luxury with a history of being a housepet.


    The purrloin, with its sleek, purple coat, untouched by the filth and the grime of the alleyways, arched its back and hissed at him. Its eyes darted left and right, noting its escape routes, whilst also keeping a close eye on his actions. As delicate as he could, he raised his arm to his side, holding it quite still.


    It feels comfortable in places with many escape routes as understood by looking through dumpsters and noting where the most recent stolen restaurant items were thrown away, half eaten with clear Pokemon teeth marks upon it. I have marked areas where it will most likely be hiding. We¡¯ll split up and stalk these areas in hopes of finding it.


    He hoped Pidove saw his signal. The few days he spent traveling with it, he didn¡¯t learn much as she was always flying high above them. For being just a pidove, it sure liked flying, soaring above them, looking down on them like ants. If she was only half as reliable as Rocky, however, the next part of their plan should be well in motion as he stalled.


    Judging by its pickiness in eating and its pattern of only stealing the most valuable food items, the purrloin is likely to be haughty in nature and seek to push past you should you try to trap it. Be prepared for aggressive movements.


    As he stood his distance of around twenty paces, the purrloin bolted. Three steps left, three steps right. He threw his pokeball right before a thin opening in the alleyway, where they would have to squeeze through, but the purrloin could dash in between. The purrloin jolted, sliding to a stop. Rocky now stood in between where it wanted to go, guarding it with a bloodthirsty determination, as fierce as a gyarados.


    Likely to be a teen with connections to other teenage cats in the area, judging by its metabolism and its frequency of attack. It could be using additional thefts to bribe other purrloin for safety and security. Do not let it communicate.


    ¡°Purr-¡±


    ¡°HELMMMMMEEEEEEEEEET,¡± he screamed. If she didn¡¯t know where exactly he was, she would know now. He grinned, crouching down, prepared to tackle it wherever it tried to run. They might not even need her in the plan.


    If you are first to make contact with Purrloin, you will need me to come to you. Do not try to catch Purrloin by yourself. You are physically weak.


    ¡°Come at me,¡± he said, slapping his hands onto the ground, his blood pumping.


    It tried to dart between his legs. He dropped to his knees and blocked it as one would block a hockey puck, causing it to suddenly dart to the left. He flinched and accidentally dove to the right, but just as it all seemed to be over, it sprung right back into his arms. He held the purrloin tight to his chest, whirling around and laughing as it hissed and clawed at his face. Now what?


    He wrestled with it for a bit further, jerking his head just beyond its sharp claws one too many times before deciding it wasn¡¯t worth dying for. He threw the Pokemon back at the wall where it came from, causing it to yowl, flip over three times like a pancake before landing upright, and spitting.


    When truly cornered or when feeling threatened, the purrloin will showcase aggressive behaviour involving the move double team. Try not to make it feel completely threatened as this will be hard to deal with. But if you fuck up, as you do, you can predict this behaviour as happening after it stands up on two feet, bipedally.


    It paced, each paw step soft, but deliberate. It was just unnatural, watching this Pokemon sway and plod like a human, so that he couldn¡¯t tear his gaze from it. And before he knew it, he was seeing double, triple, quadruple. Each step it took left a sort of echo behind it and as the purrloin took one step left and on step right again, the zigzag made the echoes overlap upon each other, until all he could see was a blurring, trippy, outline, present, past, and future, crashing all onto itself.


    Suddenly, it dashed, moving ever so slowly like it was ten frames per second in real life. And like a laggy piece of shit, one second it was in front of him, the next, it teleported behind, slipping right through his legs. Cheating bastard.


    The purrloins¡¯ victims all share key attributes. One, they are usually women. Two, they are usually screamy and emotional. Three, it will basically target anyone weak-looking with a scratch if only to safely create a diversion. These characteristics are consistent during its thevery over the past year.


    ¡°You¡¯re not getting away,¡± he proclaimed, sprinting at full force towards the quickly bounding feline, his knees raised so much higher than normal, yet it was a vain attempt. The purrloin, having made a clean break, was back on four legs again, practically flying away from him before he could even begin to accelerate.


    ¡°I will, uh, definitely catch you. At any moment now,¡± he said, somewhat out of breath. Even if he would never catch it in a million years, it was important to make the purrloin feel threatened, like there was a massive threat hurtling towards it, full of muscle mass and adrenaline.


    He chucked his Pokeball towards a sidepath again, trying to keep the Purrloin on course. Rocky appeared again, stoic as a stone wall. On the other side, a pidove subtly fluttered its way to block the other alternative routes as well. Yet the Purrloin didn¡¯t seem to be interested in detours, simply just wanting to dash down the wide alleyway as quickly as possible. Which was perfect for their purposes¡­


    Around the corner, came an unsuspecting, innocent-looking, squirmish little girl who looked and acted like a little wuss, reminding him of the girls he used to play with back at school, who at the sight of the rushing purrloin flinched back and squealed, crossing her arms and legs as if that would somehow protect her from the pest. The purrloin pounced at its prey.


    Look, the most vital piece of this puzzle will be¡­ your caterpie. That¡¯s our ace-in-our-hole. Yes, your precious. little caterpie. She sighed. Anyways, Pidove will carry Caterpie''s Pokeball as we split up to search for Purrloin. Whoever makes first contact with Purrloin will just try to stall as long as possible and makes sure that purrloin runs straight into the second person, where-


    ¡°Caught ya,¡± Yuewen said, slowly untangling herself with a grin. Before her, laid strewn a hasty web, its wet string still shimmering in the evening sky, only as wide as around a fifth of the whole alleyway, being present just before Yuewen, nowhere else. And Purrloin had just dove headfirst into the web, its claws having gotten soft from only scratching unsuspecting women. It wasn¡¯t a true street Pokemon. Not really. Its limbs flailed within the web, a sense of confusion must be washing over, as it jerked and tangled, unable to comprehend a world where it tells its body to do one thing and the opposite happens, until you lose individual control of all your limbs all together. He knew the feeling. Add to the fact that Caterpie wasn¡¯t done quite yet, slithering out of a pile of discarded trash, shooting new strings upon the Purrloin¡¯s ankles and wrists, solidifying its doom.


    ¡°It¡¯s my turn now,¡± she said, taking a few steps back and winding up her body. ¡°This is my Yuewen punch.¡±


    She galloped forwards and threw an overhand that went from as far back as she could reach with very lanky arms, to a follow through that kept all momentum over her head until it landed square onto the Purrloin¡¯s skull.


    It was O-koed. Knocked out in one hit.


    Yuewen stared at her fists like she was discovering a part of herself that she never knew existed, mouth practically agape. ¡°Am I¡­ Actually secretly super strong?¡±


    He strolled up to her and knocked her head with an empty Pokeball, doing so several times whilst he had the chance. ¡°I saw you trip halfway through your swinging motion. You just got lucky that it somehow made that punch stronger. A one in a million connection.¡±


    She stared at him stupidly until she suddenly broke down laughing in that weird, untethered way that she sometimes did when acting like a dumbass. ¡°A one in a lifetime connection, huh? Maybe it just is.¡±


    Annoying and perplexed, feeling like there was an inside joke he wasn¡¯t getting, he knocked the Pokeball hard on her head so that it split open. ¡°Here. This one¡¯s yours. For getting me my caterpie and everything. Plus, it kinda seems like your vibe.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean by that?¡± she said as she caught the Purrloin in the Pokeball.


    ¡°It means that you¡¯re a gorilla. A female gorilla.¡±


    ¡°Bitch. I am not a female gorilla. I¡¯m more of a meowth. A cute, baby meowth.¡± She purred softly, holding her two hands up like paws.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± he nodded. ¡°Maybe you are.¡±


    ¡°Wait, no. That was a joke. A joke. I¡¯m not actually a¡­¡±


    ¡°Not a¡­ ?


    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ not a cute, baby meowth.¡± Her pale cheeks held a nice rosy colour before she covered her face in shame, partially hiding behind the Pokeball he just gave her.


    ¡°Meow,¡± he purred before dashing away, an angry gorilla chasing after him.


    Hey¡­  I don¡¯t know what you¡¯ve been through. But it sounds rough. Like some shit that no one should go through. Much less some kid. But that¡¯s how it is sometimes. The evilest shit always happens to the people that deserve it least. That¡¯s what makes it so evil. And guess what? That evil, that bullshit that we go through. That¡¯s what makes heroes. That¡¯s what makes us everything we are.


    If I had to go through everything again, I would still choose this path. Two years too late, with you, traveling for a shitty dream that will probably come and go. I don¡¯t think of failing though. I don¡¯t really think of achieving it either. It¡¯s beyond our reach right now.


    This is the life we choose to live. And I¡¯ll be here for you. For now. And you¡¯ll be here for me. For now. Life is so much more than its peaks. Life is about finding that bullshit at the bottom of the barrel that can sustain you, for just one more day, and everything in between.


    Me and you. And everything that¡¯s in between.

 no, no

    Leah landed onto the ground with a shocking ''thud'' noise that shocked the entire alleyway worth of stray Pokemon, but mostly served to rattle Yuewen''s ankles. They had just exited what most would consider the ''backstreets'' of Striaton City, the terrible, oppressive air of rotting food and rotting Pokemon finally gone, she was practically dancing, wanting to kiss the only slightly dirtied concrete floors and inhale the slightly tainted night air that she took for so granted. So what was this wench doing, leaping off story high buildings like it was the circus and she was the amazing Crobatman at near the pitch of midnight?


    "Congratulations, darling, you did it. Here, have a honey-mustard skewer of moo-moo meat." She pulled out a meat skewer out of her ass, or to say, out of nowhere would probably be better phrasing, and practically forced it down Helmet''s throat, holding it just before him as he ate.


    "Next time, I want... Um, let''s see. Basically anything but Miltank, please," he said, happily munching the meaty skewer as the wench held him under her naked arm.


    Next time? She questioned briefly before stepping in between them, wrenching the meat-skewer away and handing it to Helmet, so that he could eat it normally. How much Miltank does this guy eat? She watched him for a bit, munching on, before clearing her throat.


    "Hello," she smiled, remembering her painful beginnings as a volunteer substitute secretary. "How may I help you?"


    "Hello there," Leah responded, before bursting into laughter, placing a firm hand on her shoulder instead, only if to keep her upright. "I can''t. You sound just like Jeremy. Are you really such a germ?"


    "The bourgeoisie is blind to the concerns of the working class," she growled, trying to shake her hand off, then having to pry her fingers off, one by one. She had an iron grip. "What do you know about Jeremy? Put some respect on Jeremy''s name, he has to serve customers like you."


    She was too busy laughing to respond. Yuewen hated this wrench the moment she laid sight of her, or more specifically, the moment she was touched by her grossly, dainty, cool hands. First, she hated when people got in her personal space without permission. It reminded her of her friends'' buddies back in the day or that one particularly insistent traveling ''customer''. Second, she hated how she touched him without her permission also. It reminded her of ways that she treated him and because she hated when she did it, in a roundabout way, it also meant that she hated herself. And he seemed to like it more when she did it.


    The wench rubbed her nose as if she did something to be proud of. "Yeah. He said that I was more trouble than his three most troubling customers combined. The champion, Ms. Rose, and Majors. And I was the only one shameless enough to complain that the food was too cold."


    "The champion?" he asked.


    "Yep," she said, wrapping her arm over his head again. Yuewen wished he would just shut up. "I''m- and you guys I guess, because I''m telling you - are the only people to know, because I broke- bothered- Jeremy so much. Everyone strong, or at least a lot of strong people, who pass through this town eat there eventually. It''s kinda like a rite of passage. Not that you suddenly become strong after going there, but people with strength are attracted there. LIke you guys."


    "Uh-huh." He nodded along dumbly. "I handpicked that place myself. First place we went to in the entire town."


    "Good boy. Who''s a good boy? You''re a good-"


    "And what," she said loudly, the noise sharp and shrill in the quiet night air. "Do you want exactly? I caught the Purrloin just as you asked. Feel free to leave at any time now."


    She finally let go of him. But now, she was upon her, rubbing her hair like she was some sort of pet Pokemon. "Oh yes you did. I was watching from the roofs." She pointed at her creepy, wide black eyes that seemed to stare at her soul in the restaurant. She shivered. Being stared at, so relentlessly and completely, made her feel like she was back with Angelina again, playing pretend and laughing along, all whilst they stared at her the entire time, never blinking, never expressing anything but a relenting stare, but she could only laugh along, a puppet on a string, coals eyes not meant to cry. That was probably the third and really, only real reason that she hated Leah. Because she felt as if she saw her. The part of her that she would never let him see.


    "-And then, boom. Bam. You knocked him out with a punch. Holy shit, that was the craziest shit. Who punches Pokemon? You''re out of your fucking mind. I was going to give you a reward for being such a good girl but... You cheated on me. You were supposed to do what I told you all alone."


    She froze. The wench''s arm tightened across her neck to the point where she wasn''t choking, but where it was impossible to escape if she was choking her. Her hair got tucked away, with such grace, but such power, and a whisper trickled in her ears, the cool tickle of hot air assaulting her.


    "Don''t get jealous, babe girl. I love the two of you equally, alright? Chin up."


    "D-Don''t touch me there," she squawked, as long delicate fingers caressed the bottom of her chin, not nudging it upwards as she was taller, but stroking her closer to those eyes. Yuewen tried her best not to smile. She was already blushing. "Don''t call me that. Don''t touch him either. D-don''t make me laugh."


    They laughed together as Yuewen reflected about how unfair it was. How was it that this wrench could do anything we wanted and just be beautiful enough, charming enough, audacious enough to never face the consequences? By all accounts, she should hate her. She reminded her of her own inferiority and formlessness. That was the final reason she hated Leah. Because she should hate her. But she didn''t.


    "Anyways, the reason I''m here." She cleared her throat, wiping away a stray piece of hair that fell to the side. "It''s not only to eat at the Striaton, City of Restaurant, really. I have a proposal. A reward for you guys, but for real this time. Just don''t cheat this time and I promise you, I''ll give you everything you ever wanted."


    "I want you guys to complete the first gym on the last day possible. In two weeks time. Juuust before midnight." Her crazy eyes gleamed under the full moon. "Well? Sounds interesting enough?"


    -.-.-


    Yuewen never felt dirtier or cleaner as she got into the shower. It was nice to let the mind relax for a bit. To have some time for herself.


    "Pidove!"


    Of course, she was never truly alone anymore.


    The skyrat fluttered just beyond the curtains; she could hear the incessant flapping noises of a fat bird trying to elegantly keep itself afloat in a very contained area. Ever since that day Helmet got knocked out by a caterpie, Yuewen had acquired a bad habit of letting out her Pokemon whenever possible, treating them more like pets than the killing machines they were destined to become. Not only was it not very effective, it was also exhausting.


    "Pidove. Pidove!"


    "Oh no you don''t" she said, but it was too late. The skyrat had flown directly into her shower, getting her sticky, wet feathers onto Yuewen''s only recently, not sticky, but wet skin. They gathered onto her faster than she could brush them off and she was paranoid that they were going to stick onto her back or that by squirming and turning so much that she was going to slip in the shower and split her head open.


    "Get out. Get out. Get out." She chased the bird out, stepping out of the shower to yell at it some more like a naked, crazy person. "You skyrat. What do you even want? Birds don''t shower. Wait... Don''t tell me you''re some kind of crazy lesbain like her, right?"


    She slammed the curtain as shut as it could get, which was not very much, and thought of the proposal. Of course Helmet accepted it right away, hardly even bothering to think of it before heading back to his own room. Wasn''t this his dream that he valued over everything? Why did he trust her so much then? He was actually like a Lilipup in that fashion, in the palms of her hands, only thinking about ''training'' and ''getting strong'', leaving her with the important questions like ''budgeting'' and ''not getting fucked in the ass by some stranger that they only met today''.


    If she were to betray us... Yuewen didn''t even want to think about it. How Leah would laugh and laugh and laugh, maybe even do a backflip, tell them that they were stupid little babies or some shit. And how Helmet would react. The light leaving his eyes. His fist curling without permission. The shock and disbelief on his face.


    If she was to let that happen, she would never feel clean again.


    Drying and dressing herself, she strode to the bed in her hotel room where her Pokemon laid. Purrloin had been ignoring her from the moment she had been caught. It was not five seconds after she released her and she started strided away from her that she thought Purrloin might leave her forever for real this time and she couldn''t be asked to find her again, so she only let her out when they were safely secured in their Pokemon Center hotel room.


    She sank into the beautifully soft bed, letting her hair unravel all over the feather-stuffed pillow. Purrloin sprung up and stalked away, not even dignifying her with a Pokemon cry. Besides her, Pidove was already fast asleep, knocked out cold whilst perched on the bedpost right above her.


    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    She profiled the shit out of that Purrloin, but she still didn''t know the first thing about it.


    She sighed, rolling in the bed of her own. All things considered, today was pretty fun. It wasn''t like she was an idiot, y''know? She didn''t force her Purrloin to take a bath, fed Pidove accordingly whilst cooing it as it feasted. She knew what purrloins and pidoves liked and disliked in general. Purrloins will lick themselves clean and will usually be willing to change behaviours until they evolve. And pidoves... you just had to feed them and keep them clean and they''ll be happy.


    Honestly, she couldn''t wait to get to know her Pokemon. To talk to them. That''s what started her on this journey in the first place.


    Yet, she wished that she didn''t have to talk to them, not really. If only she could grunt and point at them, pretending to be happy with the vague platitudes and understanding for the rest of her dreaming life, the nightmare of what could have been, never being dreamt again...


    -.-.-


    "Hi, human. Wow, are we talking? This is so funny. Why am I talking human? Coocoocoo. Haha. Coocoocoo."


    "Coocoo?"


    "Oh. I am just trying to talk nonsense. But I cannot. Sometimes I say Coocoo. Talk without saying anything. Just because I want to."


    "Wow.... Um. Do all Pokemon do that?"


    "How am I supposed to know? Coo. I only talk to other pi- pi- pi-. That''s funny. I cannot say that word that I always say. You know what I am saying? The word that I always say."


    "Pidove?"


    "Yes, that one. That''s the word I like saying. Coocoo. What was I saying again?"


    "The Pokemon you have met?"


    "Oh, yes. Coocoocoo. The Pokemon I have met. I have met so many other pi-coocoo. They are so boring. I like you the best. Because you are funny. I also like Dwebble. He is super cute. Nice to me too. He talks just like us. Tries to anyways. Is very funny."


    "What about Purrloin?"


    "She is beautiful. I like her. I have not heard her speak though. But she does not look at me like I am food. I was scared. But she is beautiful. It is funny too. When you punch her. Catch her."


    "...What don''t you like, Pidove?"


    "I love everyone. Everything. Coocoocoocoo!"


    -.-.-


    Yuewen slammed her head against her mattress. Again. And again. And again. She was on her knees. A bed was right before her. It was night, right? She should be sleeping in that bed, because it was night. And because she was tired. Exhausted. Frustrated.


    She had spent hours talking to Pidove. She spent around half an hour trying to get Purrloin to speak to her. To them.


    What was this? It was the worst. She groaned into her pillow.


    So this was how it worked: You go downstairs in the Pokemon Center, grab a waffle or something from the buffet and request a training room as you eat, having already fed all your Pokemon in your little borrowed Center room. Eventually, some teenage, volunteer or intern or otherwise unpaid worker will grab you and guide you to the nearest PC training simulations. And, by some innovative revolution brought by Rotom, you go into the PC like a Pokemon going inside a Pokeball. Inside the PC is everything a trainer could ever dream of. You could even talk to your Pokemon, imagine that...


    Yuewen wished she could virtual saunter towards Helmet''s PC, slap the glass of his window and be demanded to be let in. Ah, help me. I''m just a stupid sheep. I need someone to base my frame of reference on, so I can project some sort of superiority upon them. I don''t know what to do when left to my own devices. They had no real training schedules, so the only way she''d be able to see him for the next two weeks was if she waited outside his PC, just waiting for him to come out. Unlikely story.


    She was always so afraid of letting her Pokemon down. For letting them discover that she had no idea what she was doing. She never considered the possibility that she could be let down by her very own Pokemon. She was rotten. A rotten, rotten trainer.


    She was saved by Pidove. She knew it; Pidove didn''t know it, but she knew it. It was really her presence that made all the difference in the world at the time. Why would she ask for anything more? It was enough.


    Pidove loved everyone. Really? All of them? Wasn''t she... enough?


    There was nothing special about this connection at all. She buried her face deeper into the feathery goodness of a pillow. A good trainer loved their Pokemon no matter what, right? Then why was she so... weird? And don''t even get me started on Purrloin.


    This was the worst. She was the worst. The only way this would get any worse is if...


    It felt like she just had her heart broken. With a dramatic sigh, Yuewen sat up, dragged out some pieces of paper, and began writing again.


    Because that''s what she did best. She swallowed up all the emotion, let herself be consumed by the bullshit, and put her ass to work.


    -.-.-


    "Hi, human. Did you know that I like to eat bread? You should feed me more bread. Coocoo."


    "You don''t really love bread. You love food, Pidove."


    "Yeah. I do. How did you know?"


    She ignored Pidove whilst Purrloin ignored both of their presences, curled in the corner, and took note of her surroundings or lack of, anyhow. It was her visualization of the default setting, the tutorial of sorts. They stood on a plane, its x-axis and y-axis spanning infinitely, a dark grey blanket that was the only placeholder with solid definition in the virtual world, the z-axis less tainted in colour and materialism, but just as infinite. Dotted lines sliced through the white space. She could expand and retract them at will like zooming in and out of a computer screen.


    The only limitation was her imagination and the computing power of the public computers. There was a time where they tried to censor and record the Trainer''s imagination, but as the computers became more widespread in use, it was impossible to limit counterfeits and illegal tampering. So, they decided to just allow trainers to do whatever the fuck they wanted to do in an at least stable environment with trained Pokemon. Is it funny? The freedom of the people is only built on the fear of what that freedom entails. It was freedom to do whatever she wanted, but at the same time, she was trapped in this small, little metal box.


    In this emptiness, where nothing really exists, Yuewen would rather bring her chains with her than risk slipping away. Closing her eyes, Yuewen imagined all the measurements, running through her thoughts with her metaphorical hands, feeling the pulse, the angles, the stats, molding it, tighter and tighter, harder and harder, until it practically sliced through her wrists. Until the blurry lines become so sharp that they become real again.


    She opened her eyes. It was a dark room with a dim light hovering above, buzzing in that depressing, shitty tune. Boxes and files piled high on metal shelves that lined the edges of the room, her old friends that let her touch, so naughty. Yuewen coughed. It was so fucking dusty. Yuewen creaked the door open slightly to let the air out as she always did. She glanced down the hallway, which existed, but slightly less. She could hear the slight voice of someone calling for her to the front desk, but she knew that the further she went, the less there would be. There was nothing outside there. But here... There was something, at least.


    It was consistent. The laws of reality worked here. What goes up came down. What was touched, touched you back, metal being cold, the files satisfying, the boxes stubborn. It was just like real life, the perfect place for her Pokemon to trainer. She heard stories about newbies trying to create their first environment, but creating it in such a way that when they came outside again for battle, they would discover that everything inside was fake, like it was all a physics breaking, reality shifting dream.


    The way that most trainers countered that shit is by thinking towards their living situations, the building where they have resided for the majority of their lives and probably thought fondly of. She could hardly remember a thing, however. She couldn''t tell what she imagined was so much worse than reality or perhaps better. All her memories felt like they lurked, hiding from the monsters hiding in that cave, existing only in the context of them and how they treated her...


    Here she was alone. Only with the cold, hard materials that she spent years sorting and imagining to the very last detail. Only she could make this place. It was a place that only existed in the context of her and other forgotten women. Practically her second home. And that little prison she would never escape from.


    Now came the tricky bit. She closed her eyes again, thinking of all the notes she took. She mentally took those dotted lines faded in the air and yanked them further apart, zooming out of the world. When she opened her eyes again, it was the very same room, but much wider and emptier, a dusty metal room about the size of a battling field, all those boxes and files lined up against a wall, sorted perfectly in categories, chronologically, and alphabetically, a feat she was never able to achieve and would probably never be achieved unless the center got a Rotom for themselves. This type of technology only really existed in the context of Rotoms and there were hardly enough of them to go around.


    She closed her eyes again, imagining what she spent all night imagining, drawing it again and again. It was the perfect partner, the ideal training method for Pidove. She drew multiple versions to prevent boredom and tried to replicate the stats within them, the imagined consensus that most people claimed most people had.


    She opened her eyes. It was a pack of fidoughs, each growling and looking delicious. She had never seen one in person, but one of the files in the Pokecenter had a report of a foreign trainer healing it and having it marked up for breeding. It took her a week to dig up that file when the little pups decided to run away and catch Pokerus. She knew everything she needed, the height, the weight, the moveset, the stats, the 3d model. They were small, little canines with derpy faces and two yellow donuts for ears and donuts for neck and tail and did she mention that they were completely made out of dough? She recalled the taste of all that bread she had bought Pidove. And for a finishing touch, she remembered, faintly, a scent of flowers and jelly donuts. It was strangely nostalgic for a memory that she completely invented.


    "Wow! Pidove has never seen this Pokemon. Did humans see this Pokemon before pi-pi-pi? As pet? As food?"


    It was practically drooling.


    "Listen up," she said, speaking to the birdbrained directly or at least she was trying to. "This is a real Pokemon, not a dream. I did my job properly. I read all the files. I took all the notes. For all thirteen pups and their mother. They are practically... well, human. Real, I mean. I spent all night adding all the extra shit, the life in them. And I''ll be damned if all this work goes for nothing. So, Pidove. Purrloin, you stray shit, I know you can hear me too. We will train until we get tried from oneshotting these fuckers.


    "Can I get them?"


    She cleared her throat, almost coughing again from the dust. "Let me repeat. We will grind levels until we get tired from eating so much fidoughs. All you can eat. And I heard that they taste so good that breeding them is worth a small fortune. Better than that bread, better than that shit you strays been eating. So eat. Work for me and you will eat better food, that''s for certain."


    "That''s why I love you. Coo!"


    "..."


    Yuewen sighed and closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose where her glasses had slipped off. Her brain felt weirdly drained in a way that she never really experienced before. In her head, were hundreds of memories spiraling around, all those Pokemon files she painstaking tired over, that shit that no one else would ever read, but she did, for years and hours on end, each and every day. Back then she cared nothing for the Pokemon on those files, reading the words and only taking them to shove in the deepest, darkest corners she could. But now? She could feel hundreds of them, spiraling through her mind. Fighting to be released. Yearning for battle.


    Hilarious. For someone who didn''t care anything about Pokemon, she knew so much, it was practically spilling out of her.


    She felt a weird danger in her heart that she couldn''t quite imagine, envision into reality. Like a type of hunger. Like a type of pride.


    Like a part of her that thought she deserved to be rewarded for what she was.


    What a fucking joke.

 One more time?

    Question: What are your favori Pok¨¦mon favori foods?


    Yuewen was dressed quite poorly for the occasion, not that he was dressed much better, sitting across from her, the same open jacket and t-shirt combination that she had been seeing, just washed up for the first time in weeks. They sat at an actual table for two as requested, redirected to an entirely new area once they ordered the gym battle special. They sat, golden tainted cutlery and silverware laid before them and facing a grand stage that seemed lighted and fitted for opera. The curtains draped a velvet red, hung in silence framing what to be a romantic reveal of whatever was to come onto the stage, that of anticipation of royalty, the dim lights, a brilliantly, buttery, yellow casting spotlight beyond and a long, dreary shadow onto them, inviting them to watch, feast upon the elegant goodness as they shimmered, invisible to it all. And she was wearing a light blue jacket that she had been wearing since middle school.


    "Well? What do you think?" He said, swirling that piece of card around his index and middle finger and his thumb.


    "Too much for a first date. Usually, you would take a girl out for coffee."


    "What? No. I mean, what are you even talking about? I mean this." He slammed the card onto the spotless, mahogany tabletop, creating a hollow ''thonking'' noise. "This is our menu and we got to order something. What do your Pokemon like to eat?"


    "Pidove likes fidough bread and Purloin... She would probably like anything you can order here, luxurious and all."


    "Rocky likes salted food and Longus... likes the taste of raw meat."


    "Eh? What have you been doing with your poor Caterpie?"


    "Feeding it. You don''t feed your Pokemon?"


    "That was like one time, okay? Why does your Caterpie have a flesh habit?"


    "The name is Longus. Gus, for short. He likes to eat bloody meat, do you have a problem with that?"


    "Let me think about that and I''ll get back to you later..." She pushed her glasses up and faked thinking, the way she used to do to seem like a proper secretary, secreting and stuff. "Yes. I do have a problem. That''s fucking creepy. Maybe for a bug-loving, bug-catcher like you it''s normal, but I find it very weird and slightly unsettling."


    He smiled a slightly unsettling smile. "Go with the flow. We all like what we like, right?"


    Ew. Pervert, she thought, but kept that one to herself. If some ugly guy randomly called her a pervert, that would just be so creepy, right? He was such a creep that it was rubbing off on her to the point where she was saying whatever shit she could just to say it. She sighed, glancing over the table again. This was not the mood she wanted to create in such an atmosphere, before her very first gym battle no less.


    "Look, there''s a bell in the middle of the table," she said. "We ring it and then we order our food."


    "Go ahead."


    "Nah. You press it."


    "Ladies first."


    This really isn''t worth fighting over. Besides, there was no harm in pressing it first, was there? Why did she even have to tell this guy anything? She should have just pressed it already, no need to explain herself to anyone. It was the age of the new woman and she would-


    He pressed the button.


    -.-.-


    "Madam. Monsieur. What will you be having tonight?"


    The waiter''s hair was an unusual light green. Whenever he thought of the type of people who would dye their hair, he thought of wild beasts, a motorcycle gang with outrageously sharp mohawks splattered with pink and yellow dye with thuggish expression. Yet, his green was soft, like slightly dehydrated grass, his eyes and bowties also a similar shade, giving him an almost natural look. He wore one of those fancy suits with white sleeves and golden buttons and the top of his hair ruffled upwards exactly like the eleventh picture of a barber shop. He had a soft expression and an easy smile that actually reached his eyes. Wow.


    "I''ll be having, um, your salty food," he started. "Maybe like rock candy, but it has salt on it? That''s for my Rocky, my dwebble. And I want some rare miltank steak, cook it as rare as you can cook rare. My Caterpie is kinda bloodthirsty."


    "And Madam?" He wrote it all in a like notepad reminding him of a certain Madam.


    "I-I will have... whatever he''s having..." She was practically whispering.


    So annoying. What did he see in this person, for real? She was always loud when making fun of him or teasing him or laughing at him and now she chooses to be quiet. There was really no point in kicking her when she was down, but felt that if the positions were reversed, she would never do the same.


    "She''ll have bread, probably made of fidough and the finest warm soup this establishment has. Probably a stew with a lot of expensive ingredients."


    "Is that it Madam?"


    She nodded.


    "Thank you. I''ll be back with your orders. It should be ready in around an hour."


    "Thank you very much," he said. He glanced at Yuewen, but wished he didn''t as she felt the need to mutter out an awkward ''thank you'' of her own, too quiet to be heard, but just loud enough to understand, whilst being on the verge of blush the entire time. He turned away and stared at nothing in particular, just some pointlessly empty stage, not wanting to make eye contact again.


    "Hey," he said. "Gonna talk about it?"


    "Shut up."


    "There''s the Yuewen I know and... Do you want me to call you a bitch or something?"


    "What? Shut up."


    "Bitch."


    "You can''t call me that in public. And I am not a bitch. If anything, you''re a bitch for calling me a bitch and being such a bitch about it... Bitch."


    He buried his face into his hands. I literally can''t. "Public space, Yuewen. I thought you said that you worked at a hospital or something as a secretary. Why can''t you act like a normal human being?"


    "They fired me in like a week. Probably less if I''m to be honest. Moved me to the backrooms."


    "Have some shame lady." She was too far across the table to comfortably smack without standing up, so he let her off with a shrug instead. "And don''t apologize either. Just saying thanks is normal people behaviour."


    "...Thank you?"


    "...I was totally right in my ''sorry'' prediction, right? Was I cool?"


    She smiled and rolled her eyes and head to the side, hitting him with bombastic side eye. "...Want me to call you a creep? Pervert."


    He paused, then hid his face behind his hands whilst rubbing his temple, looking away for good measure. This person was just too embarrassing to be around. He wondered if those that looked the most normal were actually the most scary.


    They remained relatively normal the rest of the hour whilst they were waiting, casually talking about the last two weeks and if anything interesting happened during training. They barely saw each other throughout so it was useful to hear how she went around training and she was surprisingly knowledgeable about the computer system and how to maximize efficiently, also talking about EVs and IVs and other stuff he knew in theory, but wasn''t quite putting into practice. Next gym, he wondered if she would agree to meet up for lunch perhaps once every few days if only to make sure that she would be alright mentally.


    "Bonjour. Here, we''ve brought Pure Sea-Salt Minior Crystals, King''s Bouillabaisse Royale, Goldenrod Reserve Filet, and Heirloom Fidough Sourdough. No need to pay. It''s on the house."


    Two other waiters came up besides him, one with blue hair, the other with red, each with distinctive, barbershop-picture hairstyles, the red one having his hair flare out like a flame, the blue one having the hair curve over his left eye, an entirely emo wave. They both carried two dishes each in those metal plates with lids that you only saw in media, but never in real life, on either arm, white towels draped over their arms. When opened, he was hit with a beautiful fragrance, that of hearty meat and this sticky sauce that surely was created in the heavens themselves. He wasn''t too interested in the sea-salt minior crystals, but wondered if Gus was willing to share.


    Apparently, he didn''t really know his own Pokemon like that.


    "Caterpie. Caterpie!"


    He no longer wanted to eat his steak. Longus was rolling away in the brown sauce like a tepig, literally bug biting it from all angles, looking more snivy than caterpie, wild than domesticated. The steak now looked more of a rotten apple, holes throughout it all, eaten from the inside out. Rocky licked his sea-salt minior crystals, crystalized rocks crushed into chunky pieces each the size of a small nugget. He was as happy as he had ever seen him. He smiled and patted his shell haphazardly, the crux of the situation finally upon him. He was here. For the last month, he had traveled, eaten food he never thought he would, did not the impossible, but that he didn''t even knew existed, from the hazy nights of a body so battered to the ocean-like pressure of computerized white spaces to even just these small moments with his Pokemon, devouring their favourites or just longing in the background, their presence a miracle in themselves.


    "Thank you," he said, wiping away the sauce from the overstuffed caterpie using the given white towel. It looked too bloated to move, but he was planning on using Rocky anyways, so all was well by him. "The food was delicious."


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    "Monsieur. The only one delicious here is you."


    -.-.-


    She chortled. This is kinda hot. She tried to stiffen her laughter even harder.


    Yeah, she understood the subtext. Even she could feel the simple-minded passion radiating off him, that dreamy gaze she saw through her rounded spectacles that he gave to his Pokemon. And to say that the food was delicious without eating any himself? Truly a starstruck lover. Makes you want to push him down and eat him.


    "Hmph," she hastily coughed.


    "What was that, Yuewen?"


    "Nothing."


    "Stop giving me that understanding look, you-"


    "Please. Continue. Please."


    It turned out that these boys were the Gym Leaders, much to no one''s surprise, except for maybe Helmet, because he''s a dumbass. What could she say? She just really didn''t like authoritative figures or perhaps adults or stuck up kids who thought they were adults altogether. It made her feel... inadequate. She rather look down at the weirdos. Laughing at the gays. Hilarious.


    They had apparently passed the first trail with ease. The only way you fail it would be if you were to try to feed your fire-type Pokemon ice cream or something. That would even get you disqualified from the first gym, I guess. Truth be told, it didn''t really matter what you fed your Pokemon, but... She thought of their smiling faces. All of them, even Rocky, Gus, and him as well. She was ready to take on the world.


    They stood on the golden stage now, the prince and princess of the gala. She wondered if everyone got this type of treatment, or if this was only some type of show for those who were last to arrive, the last dance in this lonely ballroom.


    "Je Te Choisis. Pansage."


    A bipedal creature emerged, a small grassy bush sprung up on its head like a bush. It had the same head shape as the decapitated creatures in The Monkey King though with alive facial features, of course. So that meant it was a monkey or similar to one anyways. She had heard a lot of crackpot conspiracy theories in the Pokemon center, something about how humans had evolved from monkeys or some shit. It was how she knew that place was trouble before they stepped in. Was this monkey going to be trouble for her too?


    "Pidove. Your time to shine."


    The stage was set. Her overthinking and monologuing had rapidly been getting boring. She pushed her glasses up and yelled, from the depths of her lungs, making sure to get the enunciation right.


    "Pidove. Quick attack. Aim for the head."


    "Dodge. And counter."


    Swearing down, Pidove furled its wings diving Passage straight as a bullet, as it sidestepped, then rebounded back for a tackle, yet Pidove was already gone, fluttering its wings again, just beyond reach.


    "Another quick attack. Aim for the body."


    "Met it head-on with a tackle."


    Again, Pidove dove, its wings tethered to its sides, the speed of which sending all the curtains swooning just as her heart leapt, the Passage dashing forwards, readying his body to meet the smaller bird.


    "NOW," she screamed. It was just as the Passage turned its body, lifting its shoulder up to meet the blunt of the impact, creating a blind spot to its left. Pidove fluttered her wings, finding footing in the air as Passage hurled right past her, inches from smashing her into a Pidove sized pie. Flapping, flapping, flapping, her wings hummed with power as she fought against her momentum and turned herself around to dive the monkey once again, her wings freely shimmering beside her as she did so.


    "Passage. Turn around quickly and bullet seed."


    "Quick attack into peck."


    A small child watched them on the big stage, it all moving in slow motion. She watched as Passage shot seeds out of his mouth, the kissy face unmoving, but eyes tracking, white pupils growing larger and larger as the pidove dove closer, two blank expressions locking gazes with each other, knowing nothing but their next moment, only their momentum keeping them moving forwards, so thoughtless, they were practically drooling. The small child had nothing on her plate so she could only watch, vaguely hungry as well. As they neared, they glowed a golden radiance, almost blinding, but ultimately cinematic and just before they reached, all froze in time. Her beck was just before it; a seed split across it, shot at point blank range. The small child got up and walked towards the stage. She got as near as she could, just before the light. She could never get that close, but from here, she could see it. The light. Even if it didn''t reach her surroundings, she could see it. The light. She held it all in her eyes.


    -.-.-


    If death was a dream, he would be the one to die dreaming. With a smile on his face, he would wave them all goodbye and kill himself. Running away, dreams dying. Be yourself. He was dreaming.


    Helmet gripped onto his dreamcatcher, the red of his palms, the white of his fingertips. He swayed, if only slightly, that rhythm that only he could hear, that strumming string, the snaring beats, the crashing metal, the booming hollowness. The solo blowing of hot air, the breathlessness thickening.


    What he wouldn''t give to be in a dream right now. To close his eyes and watch it all go black.


    There were noises beyond him. Pulling him back. Telling him to open his eyes again. Telling him to open his mouth. But it was so magical. He didn''t want to ruin it with his shitty self. If only he could stop time, in this very moment, forever. It was closer than it ever was.


    He opened his eyes.


    "Dodge, Rocky. Then rock slide." he said.


    Water shot like out of a hose, a constant stream of pressure. Rocky skirted around it, his claws skating across the stage and whilst the water gun followed, he materialized rocks, each around the size of his own shell, slamming the valve shut, water bursting against the stones like a waterfall crashing into a dam.


    "Rocks. More rocks, Rocky. We''re the rock kings."


    They fell, like rain, pelting the stage, a constant bombardment of all that Rocky knew, all that he had. Rocks, rocks, rocks. More fucking rocks. They would drown the world with rocks until they begged for more, drain all the oceans, crumble all the mountains. When you truly loved, it was unstoppable.


    The panpour powered forwards and leapt, hosing from a height, above their stacked kingdom.


    "Dodge. Into the rocks."


    Rocky slipped to the side again, only being clipped and soaked by the water, but never blown away. Clutching his teeth, he slid into the rocky pile and flipped over a stone to enter the thick of it. Scuttling in the way only bugs could, he wiggled his way from rock to rock, closing in onto the monkey standing on a throne of his own creation.


    "To the side again. More rocks. Focus on elevation."


    The pampour was in the midst of a big breath- Rocky, who was on a mission, a beeline, suddenly flipped, rolling again over his shell and landing on his scuttling feet-only inches away, the burst of water, crashing rebounding like a gunshot.


    The rocks were all the same sizing; texture, coloring, shape, they were all identical, yet they came in different timings, falling, then stacking, then sliding into a coarse home, an entire ecosystems of stones, a thickly layered cake that covered half the stage at least, two, three, four complexions high, the amount of small canvases and cracks endless, beneath and above. Rocky dipped and flipped and climbed, the water chasing like a laser to the end of the world, tracking, splashing, but never quite getting that necessary hit, bouncing off the shell, bouncing off the rocks, the water simply draining.


    Helmet crackled. More... more... more. This was the way, the way of the strong, to play their own game. They were the strongest. They could do it all. Each stone materializing seemed more and more separate, inevitable, impossible, even they just were. They appeared, in stacks, in falling, beyond seeing, without understanding nor source. Rocky was just another rock now, one in hundreds.


    The pampour stood just before the rock pile with the expression that it had no idea of what to do, but curling its body as if it was about to do something.


    Not that I''ll let you. "Rocky. Hit it with a combination of rock slide and stone edge."


    What did it mean to become unreactable? In their computer simulation, Helmet had Rocky throw stones and rocks at him until he couldn''t dodge them anymore. Yet, no matter how hard Rocky tried, if he could see them coming, the lines of its face, the movement of his claws, he could dodge out of the way before the rocks even came. Practically with his eyes closed. But if there was no startup animation... You had to react to what wasn''t there. Like dodging an explosion without being able to see the grenade. Was it possible to be that strong? Show me something.


    Stoned. The monkey was stoned. Right, left, up, down, left, right, down, right, left, up, down. It wasn''t fair. Life wasn''t fair. Pokemon wasn''t fair. These blunt objects appeared just before it, almost always out of sight, having it turning, twisting, and scattered. There was nothing to do than to disappear... or to become. To become more.


    Here it comes... "Rocky. Get in your shell," Helmet screamed.


    He ducked. A rock, the size of a dwebble''s shell and the size of his head, shot right past him, where his head used to be, the exact place he ducked. See what I mean? Completely reactable.


    His kingdom was blown into pieces, eradicated from existence. The stones laid scattered, from the east to the west, from the south to the north. He took a quick glance to make sure none of the stones flew off the stage. Good. He slapped himself, both cheeks stinging. Get your head back into the game.


    The pampour swayed, its lanky arms hanging limply to the side as it stepped forwards, its eyes narrowed to a slit. Rocky propped himself up, groaning, the impact not making direct contact, but instead rocked him, shook him a milkshake, shellshock. Helmet bit his nails, eyes jutted as open as he could force, trying to read what his Pokemon could not.


    The pampour pulled his hands together, hovering its palm and thumbs around, not quite touching, not quite separate either, like he was holding an invisible ball...


    "Stone edge. Aim for the hands."


    The monkey didn''t dodge. The stone was chuckled, bursting straight onto the fingers, yet the monkey kept the position, half of its left hand busted in a weird direction.


    "Shit. Again. For the hands, stone edge and rock slide. Don''t stop. Never stop shooting."


    It was too late. The monkey held power within his hands, a brilliant blue destruction, an orb that swirled and held, the pure tension of it holding the water together. The monkey intercepted all the stones, one by one, evaporating them in the orb, palming it with one hand, then switching, then kicking it, and tailing it, flipping it with one hand, holding it on its head, complete mastery with the ball. There was no angle to hit it from. All they could do was continue throwing stones, only the slightest hesitation necessary to give the pampour the opening it needed.


    No. I don''t want to die. I''ll fucking kill myself if I die again.


    "Rocky. Tackle."


    Did he feel it? He felt it. The endless depth of the orb, swirling around a brilliant white calm, the blue rush, staring into it, the very hair of the skin get plucked and as you draw closer, the gravity of crashes over you, the droning sound of kinetics overcoming until it is all you can hear, until it was all you can see. And it is massive in your small hands, larger than the world itself, burning white hot, the waves crashing open, the orb trembling and that''s when you know you have to let it go, hurling it with all your strengthen into the flying stone, a white explosion just before you-


    "KILL HIM, ROCKY."


    A lone rock scuttled, hidden by the swooping curtains of mist, the fading vapour, its orange crab legs, skating across the pebbles of the blown-up, tackling stone. In each blink, the legs disappeared, leaving only a scuttling noise and a fading shadow in the mist. Yet in silence, in the dim awakening of waiting for the end, that hearts bested too loud and the anticipation too deafening, to see what was right in front of them.


    What was death? To Rocky, death was the crushing of a million stones.


    It sprung, his right claw, a solid right punch to its jaw, burning white with what he knew, as the power to smash through rocks. The monkey twisted and turned, using its flexibility just enough to turn its head and turn its chin. It flailed, limbs folding, but caught itself with its tail, trying to spring away. A rock caught the back of its head, causing it to stumble forward yet again into the opposite claw, the opposite side of the jaw, a flush connection, sending it sprawling backwards. It wiped its mouth, smearing away the blood it might have coughed up and took a deep breath. Rocky sprang forward; the pampour spat it all out. The gentle flood of water, small, but deadly, like a bullet shot out of a gun, knocking Rocky right on his exposed head and following it up with an uppercut to his exposed underside where his legs gripped onto the fist and followed along as the monkey subconsciously retracted its hand and then jumping onto its face, all six of its legs latching on his two claws going to town at pulling and tugging at the monkey''s silly little hair on the top of its head, outright and out-of-place like it was spouting out water from an invisible blowhole and Rocky could tear it off, the water itself able to be battered and bruised. The monkey screeched and began flipping and dashing, less about finesse than pure movement, contorting its body in devilish ways before finally tearing Rocky off by blowing water into his shell. Again, the monkey palmed his hands together, forcing a ball of pure, pulsing water in between as Rocky trembled, pointing a claw towards it-


    "Wait," he said. "Wait until it finishes."


    They waited. The humming collection of water the only lie in the silence. They breathed, readying themselves for the explosion to come.


    Rocky... You are the strongest, aren''t you?


    "Dwebble!"


    The monkey created its ball, the ball of mass destruction, held it in its hands, sweat pouring down its body. This will end, in one way or the other. It took a step back and then flung with all its strength.


    "Rocky. Rockstorm."


    It had never once worked in practice. But now...


    On the precipice, they stood on the narrowest of cliffs. Looking down. Closing their eyes. And dancing.


    Hundreds of rocks flew against one, singular blue orb. The first stone flung made contact. And the world exploded, the whole world going white.


    Then black.