Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Oh yeah, right. I feel sorry for you. No, really. You're always plodding behind me. So here, I'll give you a little present as a favour…”

Green smiles condescendingly, like Red didn’t just win their Pokémon battle by a landslide.

Green seems completely unaffected, though. He doesn’t rifle messily through his bag, he’s too cool for that now, but he casually reaches into his pocket and tosses the device at Red, who doesn’t fumble too much trying to catch it.

“A chatty gossip like you… That thing's perfect. I don't need it because I don't give a hoot about others.”

Green’s wrong on both accounts of course. Red’s not chatty. He doesn’t talk at all, if he can get away with staying silent. He’s had enough of people laughing at his stilted words and hodgepodge grammar for one lifetime. And Green has had enough of people laughing at him for Red’s issues for one lifetime, too. That’s why he pulled away in the first place. So much for not giving a ‘hoot’ about others…

“All right, this time I really am gone. Smell ya!" Green snorts derisively before turning on his heel again, disappearing back into the streets of Cerulean City.

Red doesn’t watch him go this time. By now he knows that Green is going to leave no matter what, so there’s no point in subjecting himself to that indignity.

Instead, he takes time to inspect the present Green’s left him. It’s a thin little tablet with a glass screen. On the back, there’s a compartment for two triple-A batteries. On the front there are buttons.

Red reads the words flashing on the side of the screen.

FAME CHECKER

He taps the buttons around. A dial on the screen spins for a second as the device loads, and then names and faces pop forth on the screen, and Red scans the list. He even recognizes a couple of the faces. Brock, who he had fought back in Pewter City, and a bunch of other gym leaders that Red remembers seeing on TV. There’s the prime minister. And his mom’s favourite actor. In other places there are no images, only question marks. Red scans the text next to some of the question marks, pulling out a couple key phrases rather than reading the entire thing.

Former Champ-i-on…

Rocket Team Lead-er…

Scientist- Legend-ary Pokémon…

Further down the list, Red can see another familiar face. Green’s sister Daisy smiles up at him from the tiny picture. It’s only a small portrait. She’s wearing a lime green headband against a velvet red background, and the ear of a pink Pokémon, a Clefairy, maybe, pokes into the side of the frame.

Red smiles. Seeing her face is a comforting reminder of home, but he would scarcely call her somebody famous… Until he remembers that Daisy has achieved top rankings in Pokémon contests, and plans to open a beauty salon and spa, one that will service humans and Pokémon alike. Daisy’s dreams and ambitions are so quiet compared to that of her brother or grandfather, it leads Red to forget that by all practical means Daisy is more competent and level-headed than the other members of her family (and probably Red, too).

He scrolls further down the list, but not very far.

Right there is Professor Oak, former star Pokémon trainer, and current world-renowned authority on Pokémon scholarship. With the click of a button, Red can see the list of posts and information people have to offer on the famous professor.

Red snorts and shuts off the Fame Checker. Professor Oak, huh? That answers the question of why Green couldn’t wait to pawn the machine off on him. And for now, he wants to see if he can beat the trainers on the Gold Nugget Bridge.

==

It’s dark by the time Red makes it through the five trainers on the bridge, and after that he has some trouble losing the Rocket grunt that’s trying to convince him to join their organization, so there’s nothing to do but camp out on a soft patch of soil on Route twenty-four and wait until morning.

(Red’s gotten a lot better at pitching tents, if he does say so himself.)

Pikachu and Bulbasaur are curled up, sleeping next to him, and Red is bored, so he decides to take a closer look at the device Green’s left him with.

A half an hour later, Red discovers that the Fame Checker is a remarkably comprehensive machine, when it comes to collecting dossiers on people. The machine syncs directly with the Fame Checker website, which keeps lists of famous trainers and movie stars and politicians up for public record. There are also Fame Checker forums, where people discussed the latest information and speculated about the personal lives of public figures.

But it was also possible to create private files on people, either by downloading and editing public files, or by creating them from scratch. The machine came built in with a keyboard and camera and audio recorder, so you could add text and pictures and audio clips to your files. And then you could upload your data to the public forums for review, if you were so inclined.

Fancy, comprehensive, and blindsided by its own single mindedness.

The Fame Checker was practically made for Green’s ideology.

Red chuckles to himself and scrolls through the public files. There wasn’t one for Green… yet.

Impulsively, Red turns on the audio recorder.

Pikachu’s ears twitch in its sleep.

Green – from Pallet Town. He wants to be the Pokémon League Champion. He’s a jerk who used to wear Ponyta-patterned underwear, Red says.

He stops the recording and replays it to himself.

“Green – from Pallet Town. He go to becomes Pokémon’s League Champion. He’s jerk. Who earlier is wear Ponyta-pattern underwears.”

Red crinkles his brow. That sounds okay. He can upload that to the forums… right?

He replays it again for himself.

This time Red feels even more unsure of himself. He hears his own voice moving quickly through the sounds. (Is it really that high pitched?) He doesn’t hear any mistakes, nothing wrong with it, but he can’t really say what’s right about it either.

He thinks about hundreds of people (thousands, even) listening to the audio clip, all of whom would be able to tell in an instant what exactly was right, and what was wrong…

Red quickly exits the share screen and saves the recording to a private file.

G-R-E-E-N. He types.

There. At least he is confident he knew how to spell Green’s name correctly.

The Fame Checker beeps to confirm that the file was saved successfully before zooming out to another list.

That’s when Red discovers something else.

There is only one other private file saved to Green’s Fame Checker, and it’s all about Bill the Pokémaniac, whose cottage Red’s going to visit in the morning.

Red clicks on it curiously, and the dossier pops open.

          Full Name: Sonezaki “Bill” Masaki

          A genius inventor and Pokémon collector credited with the invention of the Pokémon Storage System used widely throughout the Kanto region.

Below that is the portrait of a young man, maybe five or ten years older than Red, with wavy brown hair that’s cut right under his ears. He’s not particularly handsome. He’s got a couple of pimples on the side of his face and his features are alternatingly too delicate and too rough. But Red has to admit there’s something charming about his smile.

And below that is more information and a bunch of comment threads that Red has to force himself to read in full.

- - Bill has lots of Pokémon! He collects rare ones, too! – B*JArbok, Cerulean City

- - Bill is a Pokémaniac, so he likes all kinds of Pokémon. Apparently the first one he caught was an Abra. – Celio, One Island

- - This guy’s a fake! He stole the idea for “his” Storage System from Lanette in Hoenn, one hundred percent! It’s beyond me how all of you guys can go around worshiping a thief. – anon, Location Unknown

- - - - Hey, ass clown! Lanette worked in cooperation with Bill to make improvements to the Storage System in Hoenn. Lanette admits her Storage System was an improvement on Bill’s original concept, just as Bill admits the value of her input. I’d say get your facts straight before you make a fool of yourself online, but I suppose there’s no helping a stupid mofo like you! – Gr-n, Pallet Town

That one sounds like something Green would say: crass, rude, arrogant. (And protective.) It’s even more likely since the user location is listed as Pallet Town. Red scrolls down the rest of the comments, and sees the same username listed several more times, come to sing Bill’s praises and defend against his naysayers.

So this is what Green cares about now.

But so far this is all information that’s downloaded from Bill’s public file. There are only a few notes that Green has added privately, but they somehow make more of an impact on Red than the entirety of Bill’s public biography and photo collection and testimonies:

Apparently Bill’s done extensive work researching the Eevee evolution line. I’ve heard the line diverges twice, making three mutually exclusive evolutions possible, but rumour has it there are even more possible evolutions. I’ve got to ask Bill about it. It’s really amazing stuff. – G

Bill’s really amazing. His work with programming has really made large scale research possible, since trainers can collect and store such huge teams of Pokémon. – G

There are three privately saved photos. One is of Bill with a rare Pokémon standing on his shoulder. It’s small, and has shiny brown fur and white accents around its neck and the tip of its tail. The next is of Bill by himself with a computer and a bookshelf full of file folders in the background. He’s laughing brightly at something offscreen. The third is a picture of Bill and Green together, standing side by side, with their arms thrown over each other’s shoulders. The photo is at a weird angle, like Green was holding the camera backwards at both of them.

After that is a final note.

Some Pokémon trainer walked in while Bill was showing me his rare Pokémon. I challenged her to a Pokémon battle and won, but Bill kept calling her “beautiful”. Figures. – G

Red’s had enough so he flips off the power and tosses the Fame Checker down on his sleeping bag. His eyes ring in the sudden darkness.

He didn’t realised how long he had spent looking at the Fame Checker. It must be very late, for it to be so dark. The only sound is the wind rustling the grass outside the tent, and the sound of Pikachu and Bulbasaur snoring.

His jaw also feels really stiff. When had he started grinding his teeth?

Red massages it with his palm as he turns over to try to go to sleep.

In the morning, Red is still tired and, when he arrives at the cottage, Bill has somehow switched bodies with a Clefairy.

Yeah.

Red almost refuses to help, if only because the situation is really creepy, but Bill tells him not to be so cold and calls him “chief”, and if Bill’s that worried, Red can’t even imagine how the Clefairy must feel, so he goes along with it in the end.

After Bill’s back in his own body, Red refuses to see his Pokémon Collection, but Bill offers him tea and biscuits anyway and says he’s a real “pal” and thanks him with a ticket to the S.S. Anne before seeing him on his way. And, by the time they’re through, Red does have to grudgingly admit that Bill is a nice enough guy.

But there’s no help for it, really. Nice guy or not, Red dislikes him. Red had disliked Bill before he had even gotten to the cottage at Cerulean Cape. And the Fame Checker is entirely the reason why.

==

Being a Pokémon trainer is a lot of walking. Red doesn’t mind it, but his Pokémon have to battle as well as walk and, since they don’t want to spend the whole day being carried in their Pokéballs, it translates into taking a lot of rest breaks.

Bulbasaur curls up in a soft patch of grass and closes one eye, and Pikachu rustles through Red’s bag for snacks.

They’re heading back into Cerulean City for the night, and Red pulls out the Fame Checker, because he has nothing else to do and has nothing else to be fascinated by.

There is a hot debate going on in the main Fame Checker forums.

Which Female Gym Leader is the Hottest? the top featured post reads.

Red’s browses the entire thread. It’s highly amusing for two reasons. The first is that all the female Kanto Gym Leaders are young and conventionally attractive, and the second is that everybody is so invested in their opinions. (Erika’s an old hag, you idiots. She’s already pushing twenty-six! her detractors say. Well, she sure doesn’t look it! her defenders type back.)

The consensus, or as much of a consensus that can possibly be reached through passing volatile comments back and forth, is that the true battle is between Erika, the proper and traditional beauty, and Sabrina, the dark and dominant femme fatal. Misty isn’t really in the running – her face is too boyish, her shoulders are too broad, and she doesn’t have a curve to speak of.

It’s such a shame, they say, so young and already piling on the muscle from all that swimming. She’ll be a bodybuilder by the time she’s twenty.

She’s nothing like her bombshell sisters, who preceded her in taking over the gym, before they flitted off in all different directions.

Temperamental, serious, and plain.

Of course she has her fans, like anybody else (half of whom assert that she will not become a bodybuilder, and half of whom say that she will and she’ll be more attractive for it), but they are far outvoiced by the posters advocating Sabrina and Erika’s charms.

And Red’s not sure how much of it is just sticking up for the underdog but, so far as he’s concerned, Misty is the cutest by far.

In one of the pictures in the forums, she’s standing in front of an outdoor pool in her swimsuit.

And sure, her figure is stiff and box-like, and her face doesn’t have the delicate angles that characterise Erika or Sabrina, but she looks strong and healthy and, in that picture, she has a shy smile, turning quietly into a laugh.

And that’s genuine.

Sabrina doesn’t smile at all. And Erika’s smile is demure and sly and calculated. Misty’s the only one who smiles for the camera, without a trace of dishonesty.

And when Red actually meets Misty, the next day in Cerulean City, he finds out her best quality.

She’s kind.

“You want to come over for dinner after this?” Misty asks.

Their Pokémon have already battled, and now Bulbasaur and Pikachu are wading in the kiddie pool along with Misty’s Pokémon and one of the other trainers, a swimmer named Luis.

“I invite all the rookie trainers over after they battle me,” Misty says, “even if they do bring in grass and electric types and unfairly slaughter my team.”

She narrows her eyes at Pikachu and Bulbasaur, who have the presence of mind to look contrite.

Then Misty laughs, and it’s clear she means the words only in jest. Bulbasaur returns to whipping his vines through the water happily.

“I know how hard it is to put in the time and money for a good meal,” Misty continues, turning back to Red, “when you’re always on the road.”

Red looks at his feet and blushes. Even if Misty invites everyone over, clearly she should make an exception for him. She’s a pretty older lady and a talented trainer and he’s…

Well, also a talented trainer…

“C’mon. Whaddaya say?” Misty goads, with that cheerful smile.

“S-rry,” Red mumbles quietly. “Can’t spo- speak.”

Misty stares for a moment, her smile never leaving her face.

Then it clicks.

“Well, that’s okay,” she finally laughs. “I can talk enough for five people, my sisters always told me, like they’re ones to talk.”

Misty takes him back to her place after that, and she really does talk enough for both of them – about growing up in Cerulean and taking over the gym after her sisters, about catching her first Pokémon, about the studies she enjoyed while she was still in school – it doesn’t end.

And Red enjoys it. It’s not with many people that Red can just listen and feel completely at ease.

Brock was like that too, back in Pewter City. Although Brock wasn’t a man of many words.

And Green, too. Red had spent hours listening to Green chatter on about Pokémon until it was way past both their bedtimes and he was falling asleep to the sound of Green’s voice.

Once upon a time…

But back in the present, Misty’s the one talking. And Red’s still manages to be completely comfortable, as she directs him to the residential district of Cerulean.

Misty’s place is a small little house with too many things in it – extra coffee mugs and chairs and clothes and four handset radios – the small signs of many absentee residents. Her parents and sisters, Misty explains, are all gone now, in one way or another.

The food is already prepared and waiting in the fridge, so all they have to do is heat it in the microwave. It’s spaghetti coated in a bottled tomato sauce, with steamed vegetables on the side, and Misty is obviously not the world’s best cook – not compared to Red’s mom, who runs one of Pallet Town’s few restaurants and only lunchbox service, and not compared to Daisy and Green, who did all the cooking in the Oak household. But it’s still the best meal Red has had in a long time, and Misty isn’t angry when he dishes out a serving each for Pikachu and Bulbasaur – so he appreciates it. Far more than he can put into words.

Pikachu eats all of it without complaint, but Bulbasaur the one who really enjoys himself, clearly delighted by the long noodles. He wraps his mouth around an entire clump of spaghetti and practically radiates joy when the noodles hang down from his mouth in a long, red beard.

“Bulba-r, he love them,” Red tells Misty, as he serves the Pokémon an extra helping off his plate.

Misty beams. “Really, but your Pikachu ate all of it too.”

“Like more,” Red says, pointing to Bulbasaur, who is taking his time playing with the food.

“How can you tell?”

Red explains in detail about the way that Bulbasaur’s leaves flare out to the sides and how he taps his feet and – there’s something else, something Red can’t quite explain – but all of it means that Bulbasaur is really, really content at this moment.

“Wow,” Misty says, sparkles collecting in her eyes, “I don’t really understand it all, but anybody can see that you really have a way with Pokémon. It’s the kind of bond so many trainers want desperately to have, but you seem to understand how your Pokémon are feeling, their strengths and weaknesses, even their fears, without even trying.”

Misty’s words are light, but there is a clear undercurrent of envy belying her words.

Red frowns. He wants to make it okay for her somehow. “Sorr-”

“Don’t apologise!” Misty cuts him off. She reaches forward and touches his hand. “I think its really amazing, something that all trainers have to aspire to. You’re a real inspiration to all of us in the League.”

Misty leans back, taking her hand with her, and Red is left with a burning red face and the hairs on the back of his neck on end.

Misty sighs. “I mean, I get so many trainers coming through the gym, and most of them are well intentioned, but they really could stand to learn something from how you relate with your Pokémon.”

Misty stands up and begins gathering the dishes. She pats Pikachu on the head as she takes the dish they set out for him, then pauses. Bulbasaur isn’t done with his meal yet, but she scratches him lovingly behind the ear anyhow.

“But, every once in a while, I get someone who’s just… I mean, you wouldn’t believe the guy that came into the gym the other day,” Misty continues. She frowns as she turns on the water at the sink.

Red follows her. He would have done it anyhow, to help dry the dishes. It’s not only because he wants to hear about this other trainer.

“You wouldn’t believe this guy,” Misty repeats. “He sends out a Charmander first and, I’m thinking, this is just a rookie mistake, right?”

Red nods in agreement. Nobody in their right mind would send out a fire type to face Misty’s Pokémon.

“But the trainer is conscientious about avoiding fire attacks. My Staryu takes him out in only a couple of hits, but he’s focusing on high speed attacks and manages to tire out my Pokémon in the process.”

Misty hands him a couple of plates and some chopsticks, and Red dries them off, frowning worriedly.

“Then he pulls out his second Pokémon, and I realise he planned it this way on purpose!” Misty says disbelievingly. “He knew his Charmander wouldn’t stand a chance, so he sent it out against my weaker Pokémon to be knocked out, just in case his other Pokémon needed the advantage of an extra hit or two!”

Misty almost breaks the dish she’s holding, she’s scrubbing it so hard, and Red reaches into the soapy water to take it from her.

Misty startles.

“I’m sorry,” she said, handing the dish over. “Normally it would be a solid strategy,” she explains, “it’s just that a Charmander… it’s got a pretty severe weak point. If the flame on its tail goes out, that’s it. One well placed water attack can kill a Charmander. I mean, it’s against League rules to strike with intent to kill. But mistakes happen! And you’re kidding if you think everybody’s going to just follow the League rules like that. Even among us gym leaders!”

Misty blushed.

“I mean, I- I would never do something like that-” Misty stuttered.

Red shakes his head and gives her a look that he hopes will let her know that he knows that. That he trusts her.

Misty calms visibly and returns to washing the dishes.

“I just really hate trainers like that,” Misty says. “His Pidgey sure picked up the slack afterwards – but that’s just it! He’s not a bad strategist. His Pidgey might have been enough from the start! Any real trainer wouldn’t have risked their Charmander unnecessarily like that. An especially not with a Pokémon that good in reserve.”

Misty turns off the water and hands the last of the dishes, a couple of serving spoons, to Red.

“I just hate people like that,” Misty repeats. “According to League regulations I had to give him the Cascade Badge, but if it was up to me… I wish I could wipe that smug grin right off his face. He doesn’t deserve that Badge one bit!”

With a Charmander, a Pidgey, and a smug grin… That erases any doubt in Red’s mind that the trainer is Green.

That has to be Green.

Red wipes off the silverware and replaces it in the drawer and, suddenly, an idea comes to him.

And Red can’t tell if it’s a wonderful idea or a terrible one, but it is so large, so all encompassing, that he can’t help but reach for it.

Red reaches into his pocket and pulls out the device, its letters flashing animatedly on the screen as he touches a button and the whole thing springs to life.

F-A-M-E------C-H-E-C-K-E-R

Misty cocks an eyebrow at him.

“‘m s-rry,” he says, clicking a button to turn on the audio recording equipment. “Would repeat?” he asks, his expression pleading and his arm hovering, holding the recorder up to Misty’s face.

Chapter Text

In Vermilion City, the Pokémon Fan Club Chairman gives Red a voucher for a bicycle – which gives Red another excuse to spend the next few days travelling between Cerulean and Vermilion.

His last excuse was that the Vermilion City Pokémart was out of Pokéballs, (never mind that their new shipment was scheduled to come in the very next day).

The last time they had met, Misty had taken him swimming at the Cerulean Cape. The waters there were rough, and they had to jump a couple of fences and ignore a couple of warning signs to get to the coast. Misty was a much better swimmer than he was, and she had her Starmie swim after him, to make sure he didn’t get pulled under by the currents.

In the end they only stayed in the water for a half an hour, before the waves got too high and the tides too strong.

“I love the sunsets out here,” Misty had said, sitting with her feet dipped in the surf, wrapped in a red beach towel, and gazing out over the horizon.

Red had agreed with an enthusiastic nod.

Pikachu and Bulbasaur were in the middle of a game with Staryu, but Red was willing to bet that they would have agreed too.

That was last time.

This time Red shows up at Misty’s gym, just as she’s finishing off putting some challenger in their place. Her Starmie hits her opponent’s Nidoran with a spray of bubbles and that’s the end of it.

Red wheels his brand new bicycle by on the side of the pool, and walks up to Misty, grinning expectantly.

“Oh, that’s beautiful,” Misty says, ignoring the whines of the recently defeated trainer, and admiring the bike’s shiny red frame. “For me?” she says, laughing, so that Red knows she’s only teasing.

They go mountain biking on Mt Moon the next day. It’s a sunny Saturday afternoon and the roads are just difficult enough to traverse to make it interesting. Misty flashes a dozen or so photos of passing Clefairy, along with a couple of pictures of Red’s Pikachu stuffing its mouth with berries. They pack vege sandwiches and Pokésnacks for a picnic once they reach the summit, and Misty talks about the difficulties of running a gym and how proud she is of her trainees. Misty’s bike is a worn pale blue model, and she and Red decide to try out each other’s bikes on the way back down.

Then Red crashes Misty’s bike into two trees and a ditch. One of the wheels gets knocked out of place, the chain snaps, and Pikachu startles badly enough to release a Thunderbolt into the air, and now Red really does have to give Misty his bike.

Or Misty tells him he doesn’t, but Red insists. He feels bad about ruining her bike. And he’s grateful that she doesn’t make fun of him when he climbs out of the ditch, trying not to look as embarrassed as he feels.

He’s grateful she’s willing to hang out around him at all, really.

Everything is going well by Red’s measurements, until they’re almost at the bottom of the mountain.

Misty’s walking next to him, steering her new bike down the hill, when Red’s Bulbasaur runs ahead to take care of a couple of wild Geodudes that have blocked their path. Bulbasaur’s vines quickly dispatch the foe, but then he starts to glow iridescently.

“Whoa,” Misty says, propping the bike up by its kickstand and running up to see what’s happening.

Bulbasaur’s entire body grows larger and more sturdy, his leaves are growing longer, and the bulb on his back opens up to reveal a beautiful pink bud.

Red’s Pokedex rings in response, and he digs through his bag and flips it open.

“Ivysaur -- The Seed Pokémon. There is a bud on this Pokémon’s back. If it starts spending more time lying in the sunlight, it is said the bud will soon bloom into a large flower.”

“Wow, an Ivysaur,” Misty says, simultaneously. She squats down and reaches forward, and Ivysaur rubs his cheek lovingly against her hand. “I feel like I got to see something really special.”

Red beams and walks forward to pet his Pokémon on the head, too. Bulbasaur had been with him from the very start, and now…

Ivysaur looks up at him proudly.

“Your Pokémon just get stronger and stronger, don’t they?” Misty says.

Red looks down bashfully.

“Hey, have you challenged Lieutenant Surge over in Vermilion yet?”

Red’s eyes widen, where they’re fixed on the ground. He shakes his head.

“Huh? Why not?” Misty asks.

Red flinches, he pulls out Bulba- Ivysaur’s Pokeball and recalls his Pokémon.

Ivysaur seems startled as he’s pulled suddenly away from Misty’s hand.

Pikachu jumps forward and up onto Red’s shoulder.

Misty stands.

“I mean, I knew you had travelled between here and Vermilion a couple of times, and I was kind of surprised you hadn’t moved on to Celadon, yet.”

Red shifts uncomfortably and pulls on the brim of his hat.

“You’re just such a talented trainer and, well, you never said so, but I thought it was your dream to become Pokémon League Champion. Maybe, I just assumed, but… I really believe in you.”

Red looks sideways at the ground.

Misty believed in him, but it that was someone else’s dream, wasn’t it? Red was just chasing after, wasn’t he? Because he loved Pokémon, and Professor Oak had given him a Pokédex, and it seemed like an okay idea, and it wasn’t like there was anything for him in Pallet town, was there? Not anymore. Was there ever?

What was Red’s dream?

“Hey,” Misty says, punching him encouragingly on the arm, “say something, okay? It’s fine if you don’t say it completely correct. Just say it.” Misty smiles. “I didn’t mean to be harsh, or to force you into anything. I- I just don’t want to be the one that stops you from following your dreams. I’m your fan all the way!”

Misty waves her arms, swinging imaginary pom-poms for his benefit.

“Becoming champion is your dream, right? You can tell me?”

No. Red can’t tell her. Red can’t say anything.

But he nods his head. He doesn’t want to disappoint her.

He doesn’t want her to see he’s weak.

Misty’s smile turns equal parts joyous and sad.

“Okay,” she says quietly.

They walk the rest of the way in silence, the city lights growing closer and closer, and brighter and brighter as night approaches.

When they reach the city border they part ways.

Misty mounts her bicycle and turns back to him.

“Listen,” she says, “if you’re ever in town again. Just…”

She reaches into her backpack and pulls out a pad of notepaper, and scribbles down a phone number.

“I know you don’t have a phone, but you can always use the public ones at the Pokémon Center. Even if you’re not in town. If you just want to talk…” she says, ripping out the sheet of notepaper and handing it to him. “We’re friends, right?”

Red accepts the phone number, but he’s too afraid to nod.

Which is fine, because Misty’s too afraid to wait for his answer. She turns away and pedals the red bicycle off into the lamp-lit streets, until Red can’t see her anymore.

==

Misty hadn’t been a distraction, per se, but she had distracted him.

Without Misty around, travelling through the underground path on the way to Vermilion, Red remembers things differently.

Red had gone swimming with Misty off of Cerulean Cape.

And while he was there, hadn’t he thought that it would be awfully nice if that other gym leader, Brock, was there with them?

And hadn’t he also wished that Green was there too?

And wasn’t it the same when Red had gone mountain biking with Misty? Hadn’t Red thought, it would be really nice if his other friends were there?

Wouldn’t it be nice if Red had friends?

Green would have challenged him to a bicycle race. And laughed proudly when Red lost. But he would have waited for Red at the finish line anyhow, smiling the whole time.

Wouldn’t he?

Red can’t remember.

(There’s nothing to remember.)

But Red can remember learning how to ride a bike with Green.
 

Red’s mother couldn’t afford a bicycle, so Red had had to share with Green. And Green said that, since the bike was his, he got to decide when Red could use it and when he couldn’t.

I think I might be in the mood to let you have a turn. Might. Maybe if you bring me a ice cream smoothie first… Green had said haughtily, pedalling in circles around Red.

Red had tried to push Green off the bike after that, and Daisy had appeared through the back door to tell them both off.

They both got to ride Green’s bike after that, under Daisy’s careful supervision.

Neither of them had gotten ice cream smoothies, though.

Red can remember learning how to swim with Green.

Pallet Town didn’t have a swimming pool, so Daisy had to take them both to Viridian City one summer for classes.

The classes were cheap and understaffed, though, and the swim coach had just let them do whatever they wanted for the most part.

Green had gotten really good and was showing off his Australian crawl. Red was standing at the wall and holding his kickboard to his chest.

Hi, I’m Vanessa! One of the girls from Viridian had crawled under the lane line into his lane. My mom didn’t want me to take swimming classes, but my dad said I was too old not to know how, so here I am. I’ve never seen you around Viridian before though. What’s your name?

Red dipped his mouth under the water and blew out bubbles in lieu of answering.

Green had swum back to the wall in an instant.

Hi. I’m Green, he swooped in. And this is Red. He’s my friend, so he’s pretty cool. Not as cool as me, though. Do you like swimming? I love it! But not as much as Pokémon, though.

Vanessa flustered. Well, I like fire Pokémon best, so it doesn’t go well with swim-

Eh, Red’s a loser, Jeff, one of the boys from Pallet Town in the next lane over, interrupted. He’s a total retard – too dumb to say anything.

You shouldn’t say things like that, Joy, one of the girls from their town, chastised. My mom says it’s not right to make fun of people who are simple.

Shut up! Green said. Red’s not an idiot! And he’s not simple!

The girl shrugged and pushed off the wall, into the deep end of the pool.

Um… Vanessa said.

Is too! Jeff persisted. And Green’s a moron too, hanging out with this idiot! You only like him because he’s too dumb to complain when you start bragging about Pokémon and shit.

Ooooooh! You said a bad word, one of the other kids whispered.

Shut the hell up! Green said, turning angrily at Jeff, whose friends were gathering around, hanging across the lane line to watch the spectacle. That’s not true at all. He talks all the time when it’s just us.

If it’s not true, Red will tell us himself. Jeff shrugged.

They all turned to Red.

Hey, loser, say something.

We know you can.

Tell us we’re wrong.

Say something.

Red, curled up against the wall of the pool, lifted his head above the water and said one word he knew he could get right.

No.

The rest of the kids laughed, as if he had said something hilarious, except for Green, who looked angry, and Vanessa, who was strategically retreating back to her own lane.

Git outta here! Green said, as Jeff and his friends pushed off the wall, still laughing.

Green turned to Red.

Don’t listen to any of them, Green said. We’re awesome. We don’t need any of them.

It’s not true though. Red can see the jealous smear of colour in Green’s eyes, as they follow Jeff down the pool in one direction, and Vanessa in the other.

Red’s not enough for Green. His world is too small for Green.

Red hadn’t wanted to go back to swimming lessons after that. But Green did. And Red’s mother had already paid for the whole season, so he kept going back for the rest of the summer, until he managed to swim in the deep end without a kickboard and Green had managed to learn the breaststroke as well as the crawl.

They couldn’t convince Red to go the next year though. So, even though Green wanted to learn backstroke and butterfly, he stayed behind in Pallet Town with Red, in the world that was just too small for him.

That’s what Red remembers walking through the underground path that will take him to Vermilion.

Red also remembers the Fame Checker, which has been sitting in his bag, forgotten for the past week.

He digs it out and presses the button to record himself.

Green doesn’t know how to swim the butterfly or the backstroke, Red says, but his first bicycle was really cool. It was lime green with racing stripes.

The Fame Checker beeps and the file is saved, and Red’s words echo through the tunnel, reverberating off walls and coming back to him, distorted twice over.

==

Red wasn’t originally planning on using the ticket for the S.S. Anne that Bill had gifted him with, but he’s returned to his Pokémon journey with renewed vigour, and he’s heard that there are a bunch of trainers as well as a master of the Cut technique onboard, so it’s no time to be picky about where his ticket came from.

He flashes the ticket at the ship’s entrance, and is grateful when the attendant doesn’t make him explain anything. And…

“Bonjour! Red!” Green says, brightly.

They’re on the upper level of the ship, and Green slings his arm over Red’s shoulder and sways in tune with the S.S. Anne as it rocks to the tides.

“Si tard. Si tard. Pourquoi viens tu si tard?”

Red startles at the contact. Green’s talking strange. Red can’t understand. Green’s touching him too. He doesn’t understand that either. Green doesn’t touch him.

“Imagine seeing you here!” Green’s saying, jostling his shoulder. He pauses and pulls away looking wide-eyed and surprised. “Red, were you really invited?”

Red’s not sure if receiving a ticket from Bill really counts as being invited, but he doesn’t want to tell Green that. It’s embarrassing, especially since Green could probably wrangle an invitation for every social event from here to Saffron, given who his grandfather is.

“So how's your Pokédex coming?” Green asks, “I already caught forty kinds, pal.”

Green’s leaning awkwardly against Red’s back now. Red forces himself not to pull away. Instead, he reaches into the side pocket of his bag and pulls out his Pokédex. He flips it open in response, so that Green can see the list. He hasn’t caught forty yet, but he’s close, only four species of Pokémon behind.

Green peers over his shoulder and looks at the data in the Pokédex and hums in a way that doesn’t sound as mocking as Red would expect.

“Different kinds are everywhere,” Green finally advises. He pushes himself up off of Red and steps a few feet back. “Crawl around in grassy areas, and look hard for them.”

That’s all the warning Red gets before Green reaches for the Pokéballs at his belt and tosses out the one containing his Pidgeotto, and Red has to quickly follow with his Pikachu.

Except… the whole battle is strange.

It’s too easy, for one.

Green allows Red to fight his Pigeotto with Pikachu, despite the clear type advantage in Red’s favour. And when his Raticate faints under the force of a Thundershock, he’s slow to pull the Pokémon back into its Pokéball. He fumbles badly for medicine in his when Charmeleon becomes paralysed. And when Ivysaur’s vines shoot out to constrict Kadabra, too slowly, Red realises, Green is even slower on the uptake, and the attack connects against all logic.

Green’s movements are choppy, slow, and unpredictable.

Red doesn’t appreciate this new Green.

Green just kind of makes a noise between a sigh and a groan when his last Pokémon is felled, and then-

There’s that arm wrapped around Red’s shoulder again, and Green has moved with a sudden burst of speed and is talking into Red’s ear, and sliding a couple of Pokédollar bills, winnings from the battle, into Red’s pocket.

“I heard there was a Cut master on board,” Green says, grinning widely. “But he was just a seasick old man! Cut itself is really useful! Yup, it'll be handy.”

Too close! Too close! is all that Red can think.

And then he’s gone.

“You should go see him, too. Smell ya!” Green calls over his shoulder, as he wobbles off down the stairs.

Leaving Red behind.

Paralysed. Face burning.

Cupping the ear that Green had breathed into.

And what in all four regions just happened? What was that?

Find out, Red thinks. Commands, really.
 

And that’s the crusade he sets off on, running back through the ship, entering every room, every private cabin, every nook and cranny he left previously unturned.

Talk to every single person on the ship. Ask every person on the ship about Green.

And it gets easier as he does it, Red finds.

He pulls up Bill’s private file in the Fame Checker, crops the picture of him and Green, and imports the correct half into Green’s file.

He starts out with a script, and perfects it from there.

“That boy?” Red asks. “Had you saw him?”

“This boy?” the gentleman in room 1B asks, clarifying the question. “Have I seen him?”

Red listens closely to how he says it, repeats it the best he knows how, and it’s a cakewalk from there. Sometimes he doesn’t even have to say anything. People see the picture of Green, and they’re jumping at the chance to offer their opinions.

Green always left an impression on people.

“You, mon petit! We're busy here! Out of the way!” one of the chefs in the kitchen says. “Eh, this boy! He was down here bothering us for more shrimp in his pasta just a while ago. Too expensive! We have to import the Clauncher all the way from Kalos. Some guests!” he groans before pushing Red aside.

Red doesn’t mind. He’s captured the recording already.

That’s Green. He was always bothering Mother for more shrimp tempura.

“That guy?” the girl in 1D says. “He introduced himself as Green Oak, and then got all pissy when I asked if he was related to Professor Oak. He sure changed his tune quick though. I mentioned travelling around the world, and he was practically eating out of my hand, asking about what kind of Pokémon I had seen there.”

Exactly like Green, Red thinks, as he presses the button on the Fame Checker and tries to smile at the girl.

“He saw the Pokemon I fished up and wanted to know all about where he could get a rod,” one of the fishermen below deck says. “The nerve! After he called our Pokémon weak!”

Nothing new.

But Red saves the recording anyhow.

“When I said that my pa said there were a hundred species of Pokemon, he said my pa was pretty stupid,” offers a sailor up on deck. “I mean- I think there are more too... But he didn’t have to call Pa stupid!”

“Oh, are you talking about that boy, Green?”

The sailor makes his excuses and returns to scrubbing the deck as a foreign couple approaches. The man has red hair, and the woman blonde, and they look much too fashionable to be speaking with Red.

“Are you his friend?” the woman asks.

Red nods. Because even if it’s not true, it’s easier than explaining.

“How wonderful,” the man says. “Your friend was really the life of the party!”

“Yes, he was quite a charmer,” the woman says. “We mentioned we were from Kalos and he was so thrilled to get a chance to chat with us.”

“Couldn’t stop complementing our pronunciation. Asked us all about Kalos. Mentioned how he’d love a chance to study abroad.”

Red doesn’t think their pronunciation is that good. Their accent is a little hard to decipher. He’s not sure how much of this he’s getting – but they are definitely talking about Green.

And ‘study abroad’ manages to stand out – loud and clear.

“Well, we told him that he’d probably need to take a high school equivalency test and a couple of extra classes…”

“But Kalos has some wonderful programs for international students, so we don’t see why not?” the woman shrugs.

Red imagines chasing Green not just all over Kanto, but to Kalos too, and then all over the whole world.

Except he has no reason to chase Green to Kalos in the first place. It’s enough to make his head hurt.

“He was so delighted!” the man says.

“He got ahold of some wine at some point and, my-”

“He started asking us how to say this and that in French. It was pretty funny at first, but he surprised us. I think he really took to it!”

“By the end, I don’t think there was a person at the party who wasn’t falling over themselves laughing at his jokes, hanging off his every word. Everyone was completely enamoured by him.” The woman blushes.

Wine?

“No, that was just you, my love,” the man says, grinning. “I know you have a wicked traitorous heart.”

“Liar,” she replies, smirking at him. “You know it’s all yours.”

That’s the reason he was acting like that, Red thinks. The only reason.

“I didn’t see you at the party though,” the man says.

Red startles. He shakes his head.

He had come too late.

“What a shame,” the man continues. “It was quite the event. Ah! Forgive me- my name is Gerald, and this is Jean,” he says, gesturing to the woman. “And you are?”

“Re-”

Red stops, though. He can’t say why, but somewhere things went off script, and now…

“Oh! Don’t feel pressured to speak French,” the woman says, misunderstanding Red’s silence. “We’re quite well versed in the language of the people.”

Then Red remembers he has the Fame Checker in his hand still, recording Red’s incriminating silence.

He flips it off.

“S-rry” Red says, before running back inside the ship, without looking back.
 

On the top level of the ship is the captain, the rumoured ‘Cut master’, and Red’s feet drag him there. The entire room smells of vomit.

Red can barely stand it, but he channels Daisy, who rubbed her little brother’s back in small circles whenever he was sick.

And, somehow, the captain perks up immediately.

“I feel much better! You have the magic touch,” he tells Red. “So you’ve come to see my Cut technique, right? I could show you if I wasn't ill…”

Red holds up the Fame Checker instead. For completion’s sake. The last person on the ship.

“I know! You can have this! Teach it to your Pokémon and it can learn Cut for you!” he reaches into one of his desk drawers and finds a floppy disk labelled HM01, before he notices the Fame Checker with the photo of Green in Red’s hand. “Huh?”

Red accepts the floppy, but he persists, holding up the Fame Checker. “This boy? Have… seen him?” Red says tiredly, pressing the record button.

“Oh, him?” the captain replies. “Well, I managed to show him and his Pokémon how to Cut.”

Red nods.

“But… what can I say?” the captain shrugs. “Talent comes in all forms. He didn’t have your healing touch. That’s for sure.”

==

Ivysaur takes out Voltorb and Pikachu without much trouble, and then it’s just Red’s Pikachu against Lieutenant Surge’s Raichu.

Raichu is powerful, and fast, but Pikachu is just a little bit faster. Red has him dodge Raichu’s attack at a critical moment, and that secures him the win. If that attack had hit…

Well, he’d be heading back to the Pokémon Center, like he’s about do anyway. But he wouldn’t have his Thunder Badge. And he also wouldn’t have known how to act around Surge. Wouldn’t know how to ask…

Red takes out the Fame Checker, like he’s accustomed himself to doing, and tries to meet Surge’s eyes.

“Need something? Just a minute, kid. Lemme finish my set first. We can talk about it on the way over to the Center.”

Surge grabs ahold of the exercise bar on the side of the room, and does no less than fifty pull-ups.

Red had interrupted, when he made it through the traps into Surge’s quarters forty minutes ago.

Damn, I thought I had time for at least a set of two-hundred before you figured it out, Surge had said, jumping down from the bar and flexing his bicep. You like puzzles, kid? Blaine’s gonna have a field day with you!

“Alright! Ready to go?!” Surge says.

Lieutenant Surge walks forward and Red follows, holding the Fame Checker out solicitously.

Surge doesn’t see it, though. He reaches down and pulls up the hem of his green tank top, to wipe the sweat off his forehead. Red catches a glimpse of flat stomach and toned abs.

Then the world flips upside down as Red trips over one of the gym’s trash cans.

His back hurts, but Red ignores it. He automatically pulled the Fame Checker close to his chest during the fall, and now he chances a glance at it.

Safe. Not damaged at all. What a relief.

“You okay, kid?” Surge asks.

He walks forward and bends down to right the trash can. Red watches his back muscles flex as he reaches to tossing a stray candy wrapper and an old shoe back inside, before he turns to offer a hand to Red.

Red frowns down at the Fame Checker, and pockets it before taking Surge’s hand.

“Good man! Didn’t attack when my back was turned,” Surge says, pulling Red unevenly to his feet.

He pauses just before they reach the gym’s exit, and shouts back to his trainees. “I’m heading out for the day! Wrap it up, close it down, and you’re dismissed for the day, soldiers!”

Outside, it’s just getting to be dusk.

“Usually I’m a bit more concerned about the people who come into my gym,” Surge explains, pushing aside the bushes at the gym’s entrance, and revealing the path back to the streets. “If war teaches you anything, it’s that you can never be too careful. But I heard about you ahead of time from Leader Brock in Pewter.”

Red feels a passing blip of annoyance. So Brock went ahead and explained. Well, at least he knew why Surge wasn’t giving him a hard time about not saying much.

“Anyhow,” Surge continued. “I figured anybody who’s hands-on enough to make it through my trash can test can’t be all bad,” he laughed.

There is something humbling about having to move trash cans around to disable the traps in Vermilion City’s Gym.

Red had already suspected it was intentional. He can’t imagine somebody like, say, the Pokemon Fan Club Chairman, getting his hands dirty like this.

“People don’t passed test?” Red asked, quietly.

A look of surprise ghosted past Surge’s face for just a moment.

“Like you wouldn’t believe, kid,” he replies. “Challengers are always running out of my gym – too snooty to get their hands dirty.”

“…Chairmen?” Red asked.

Surge scratches his head for a minute. “Sorry, kid. Can you repeat that?”

“Like a… Fan Club Chair?” Red tried.

“Oh, that guy,” Surge said.

He groans and sticks his tongue out in disgust, makes a face that catches the attention of everybody else on the street. Red’s a little embarrassed by his expressiveness.

“You’re too perceptive for your own good, kid. That’s an argument that goes waaay back. Haven’t seen him around my gym lately – certainly not after I installed the trash can test.”

Surge clears his throat, and when he starts talking again, the tone of his voice is different.

“‘Your gym fails to display the beauty of Pokémon! Why, my dear Rapidash…’” he says, mimicking the Chairman perfectly for a minute, before resuming in his normal tone of voice. “That guy- he thinks sitting on a couch and talking about Pokémon is what it’s about. Me and Raichu owe each other our lives – that’s not something you can imitate with talk alone. ‘I’ve collected more than one hundred Pokémon,’ he says. It’s better to have a real bond with three Pokémon, than have a hundred and be that superficial.”

Red thinks about the Pokédex and wonders.

“Don’t take it from me though, kid,” Surge says. “Those are answers you find out yourself. No need to get involved in Vermilion City politics. Or politics at all, for that matter,” he grimaced briefly. “Although you seem to be on the right track, I noticed you had excellent taste in Pokémon there, kid.”

Surge winks, and eyes the Pokéball at Red’s belt where Pikachu is resting.

Red pauses. Pikachu is pretty tired from his battle with Surge’s Raichu, but…

Red reaches for the Pokéball and taps the release button, and Pikachu reappears, jumping up on Red’s shoulder.

Surge brightens. “Hey there,” he leans down, reaching a hand out to Pikachu. “You’re a beauty, aren’t you?”

“Pika-pi!” Pikachu says, leaning forward to grasp onto Surge’s fingers.

Pikachu always was prone to flattery, Red thinks.

Pikachu squeaks excitedly and Surge laughs and fishes through his pockets, pulling out some stray berries which Pikachu devours hungrily.

And Red’s relieved. Because things were going well, and now they’re still going well. Because Red doesn’t have a chance to mess it up. Because Pikachu manages to fill the silence for the rest of the way to the Pokémon Center.

Once they’re there, the nurse takes their Pokéballs. Red’s Pokémon heal quickly, and Lieutenant Surge’s Pokémon heal even quicker, and pretty soon Red’s Pikachu was running along with Surge’s Pikachu and Raichu around the Pokémon Center, ducking behind potted plants and jumping between busy trainers and their PCs, as they chased each other around the lobby.

Lieutenant Surge turns to Red and laughs, and Red feels the sudden imperative to speak.

“… speaks very good,” Red points at Surge. “You be in Kanto, for long?”

It’s true… or so Red thinks. Of course Red can’t tell for sure, but Surge’s accent doesn’t seem to be very thick, much better than that couple on the S.S. Anne (except Red would rather not think of them). And Red’s pretty sure he’s been correctly understanding what Surge has said.

Anyhow, whenever his mother met foreigners, she always complimented them on their speech. It was the polite thing to do, apparently.

Surge doesn’t seem very flattered, though. “Eh,” he says, “by now I’ve been here in Vermillion… ten years? At least! I try not to keep track,” he says.

Silence.

Surge’s Pikachu returns to his side, squeaking excitedly. Red’s Pikachu and Raichu are still racing around one another, but they seem to be getting tired too.

We should go soon, Red thinks.

He pull the Fame Checker back out of his pocket and flips through it to Green’s picture, before holding it up so Surge can see.

I know he passed through your gym, Red thinks. I saw his name on the list of winning challengers at the front of your gym.

Surge sees the picture and laughs.

Red turns on the recorder.

“Yeah, that kid had a little bit of trouble taking me on too, but he managed to pull through in the end. That’s one hell of a Kadabra he has.” Surge nods almost proudly. “And he was darned impressed with my Raichu as well. No kidding. After all me and old Rai have been through together, only a fool wouldn’t be impressed.”

Raichu hears its name and hops excitedly over to Surge.

Red’s own Pikachu gets the message and runs back over, leaping up to the top of Red’s head, which still isn’t as high as where Raichu and the junior Pikachu are perched on each of Surge’s shoulders.

“But ‘parently your friend didn’t know how many Pokémon could be evolved with elemental stones. Seemed real interested in hearing what I had to say about it,” Surge continues. “I told ‘im he could see about getting his hands on some of them at the Celadon Department Store, although they cost a pretty penny. You’re better off digging for them in the mountains.”

Red pauses the recording and wonders why Surge is telling him this.

“So how about you, kid?” Surge asks. “You interested in evolving that Pikachu of yours? You may want to put it off until he grows up a bit and learns Thunder. But here!”

Lieutenant Surge pulls a small red box from the pocket of his cargo pants. And Red’s Pikachu is sniffing the box curiously before Surge has even gotten the chance to open it.

Red saves the recording and pockets the Fame Checker, as Surge pulls the lid off the box.

Inside is a gemstone, a clear green colour with a line of yellow squiggling jagged through the centre of the stone.

Pikachu is reaching to paw at the gem curiously, just like Surge’s own Pikachu is doing, although Surge waves her away.

That’s a Thunder Stone.

Red reaches up and pulls his Pikachu back tightly to his chest.

Surge replaces the lid on the box and preoffers it to Red, holding it out solicitously.

But Red shakes his head, holding Pikachu so tightly he can’t move. No.

Lieutenant Surge looks surprised for a moment.

But it’s only a moment.

His surprised look breaks into a smile and, as he pockets the box, he laughs loudly.

His Raichu and Pikachu are squeaking curiously on his shoulders.

“In that case kid, hold onto your youth as long as you can! Although, be careful: Pikachu or Raichu, Pokémon or People, we all grow up either way.”

==

On the way out of Vermilion, Red runs into a police officer. She’s apprehended a Squirtle who’s been causing problems in the area.

"You have a Thunder Badge? You must be a good trainer!” she declares. “You’ll take good care of it for me, right?”

Red nods and the officer hands over the Pokéball as fast as she can. She’s absolutely relieved to have it out of her hands, and walks with a spring in her step back through the streets.

Places to go. Things to do, Red thinks. Just like everyone else.

Red examines the Pokéball. It’s ordinary – not one of the transparent models either. Pikachu is already outside of his Pokéball, but he takes a moment to call out Ivysaur too. This Squirtle will be their partner, at least for a little while. It’s good for them to get to know each other.

Red believes strongly in the importance of socialisation.

At least where Pokémon are concerned.

Red taps the new Pokéball on the ground, and watches the Squirtle materialise in front of them.

He’s glad he did this sooner rather than later. The Squirtle wasn’t only confined by the Pokéball, its arms and legs and tail are bound to the outside of its shell with a tight coil of rope – leaving dark welts and blisters along its limbs.

Red’s instinct is to blame the officer. This isn’t the way to treat a Pokémon, after all. But then, who knows how much ‘mischief’ the Squirtle had caused after all. It sure makes him wonder.

The Squirtle’s head pokes slowly out of its shell, and Red can see it’s wearing a pair of dark glasses – not entirely appropriate for the rainy weather outside Vermilion (but then how would it even remove its glasses, if its arms were bound).

The Squirtle catches sight of Ivysaur and Pikachu looking on boredly and draws its head quickly back inside its shell.

Red wastes no time in bending down to grab a piece of the rope pulled against the top of Squirtle’s shell.

The Squirtle squeaks in pain as Red yanks it, trying to pull a piece of it out and away from the shell, so that they can cut it safely.

Red cringes in sympathy and calls Ivysaur over to cut the rope.

Razor Leaf, Red commands, and the rope falls limply to the ground.

The Squirtle wiggles its newly freed limbs, and then immediately withdraw them into its shell.

And they all stay like that for a moment – Pikachu and Ivysaur and Red, all staring at the unmoving Squirtle shell with varying levels of bordom and vexation.

Red’s just about to call it quits and get moving when there is a sudden burst of motion.

The Squirtle shell spins as water rockets out of every opening, and Red and his Pokémon jump backwards in surprise.

Intimidation tactics, Red recognises, as Squirtle used the moment to re-emerge from its shell and make a break for it.

The Squirtle runs as quickly as he could towards Vermilion, without looking back.

Squirtles, however, are not known for being particularly quick footed.

Red turns to Ivysaur and issues a command for capture.

Only try not to hurt it! Try to grab it by its shell!

Ivysaur nods, and long vines whip out, easily reaching several meters across the field to recapture the Squirtle.

Squirtle’s too quick for his own good, though.

The vines twist to curl harmlessly around Squirtle’s shell, but Squirtle anticipates the attack. He lashes out with his arms, trying to claw apart Ivysaur’s vines, and inadvertently placing them directly in range for the attack.

The Squirtle cries out again as the vines hit the already tender skin, and he withdraws a second time back into his shell.

Ivysaur isn’t apologetic about mistakenly hurting the Squirtle. He wraps his vines quickly around Squirtle and drags the body up over his head, presenting the shell to Red and eyeing the Pokéballs at his belt meaningfully.

Red can’t (won’t) take that route out of this though. He carries Squirtle, safely tucked in his shell, all the way back to the Pokémon Center in the middle of Vermilion, with Pikachu and Ivysaur following behind him.

When they arrive, the nurse at the front counter takes one look at the shell, crosses her arms, and shakes her head derisively.

Red’s there at the counter twenty minutes, trying to explain that he’s not in the habit of scaring Pokémon out of their wits. It’s not because of him that Squirtle won’t leave his shell. He just now received this Pokémon from an officer, and-

In the end, Red suspects it’s not his explanation that convinces her, as much as the way Pikachu jumps up onto his shoulder and how Ivysaur stands resolutely at his heel, looking with obvious care and concern as Red makes vague hand gestures at the Squirtle shell.

The nurse eventually takes the Squirtle into the next room to begin treatment, and returns a couple minutes later with her apron soaking wet, a tube of skin ointment, and a glare that’s attempting to bore holes through Red’s forehead.

“Apply this to your Pokémon’s skin lesions every twelve hours, until the tube runs out,” she explains. “Starting now. …Outside.”

Red exits the centre and walks out around the side of the building. He places the Squirtle shell down on the concrete and unscrews the cap on the tube of ointment.

Don’t be afraid. It’s going to be okay, he thinks at the Squirtle, placing a steadying hand over the shell.

He manages to pry the Squirtle’s tail out and apply the ointment on it before things go belly-up.

He re-enters the Pokémon Center and walks back up to the front desk. His entire face is splattered with ointment, as is Squirtle’s shell. The nurse purses her lips and frowns as Red holds up the tube – the bottom crushed and flattened under Squirtle’s shell, a gash clawed out of the side, and the top burst off entirely.

The nurse had said until the tube ran out, but somehow Red doubts this is what she meant.

“… refills..” Red mumbles.

Red and his Pokémon push on with travelling after that, even though it’s already getting dark out. Red doesn’t like staying overnight in the city if he can help it. Negotiating with hotels and hostels is a pain, and if he moves out to Route 11 he can set up his tent and sleep there. Red’s gotten used to camping.

He’s moving even slower than usual, though. The grass outside of Vermilion is even taller than usual and hard to navigate. Pikachu and Ivysaur are constantly being ambushed by wild Pokémon. And the Squirtle shell he’s lugging around is a lot of extra weight for him to carry.

Don’t be afraid. It’s going to be okay, Red thinks vehemently. I won’t put you back inside the Pokéball, not yet. I won’t send you to the PC or to Oak, not until you’re ready.

Red’s pretty convinced he doesn’t actually want the Squirtle as a teammate, but that doesn’t mean he can drop the Pokémon now, while it’s still injured and scared.

The stars are already out by the time Red’s set up camp for the night, along with Pikachu and Ivysaur. He’s too tired to heat up any provisions. So he just eats some fruit himself, and pulls out a bag of Pokésnacks for the others. Ivysaur and Pikachu devour their shares voraciously, and Red leaves some out for Squirtle, who doesn’t eat, but does finally pokes his head out of his shell again sometime just before eleven at night.

The others have eaten their food down to just crumbs and are getting ready to lie down for the night. Red can see that the Squirtle still has on its pair of dark glasses as he tucks the blankets around Pikachu, who is already snoring.

Ivysaur is dropping off too, but Squirtle turns away from the camp slowly. He reaches all four of his arms and legs out of his shell and removes the dark glasses from his head, before tucking them away in his shell.

Red watches, and from the corner of his vision, he can see that Squirtle’s eyes are a beautiful watery aquamarine.

Squirtle steps forward on all four legs, allowing his tail to stretch and fan out behind him, before taking a seat out on the edge of camp.

There is a boulder to one side of the tent that Red hopes will shelter them from the wind, and on the other side is grass. Below them the earth slopes down to fields and salt marshes and then the sea, and above them the stars shine brightly and a half moon is dangling in the sky.

Red decides to wait up, until the Squirtle drifts off to sleep.

Then, a couple hours later, it starts.

Squirtle opens his mouth around one in the morning and lets out a piercing cry.

Red startles awake, his head and shoulders slumped down uncomfortably in his seat, with the sudden realisation he must have nodded off at some point.

Squirtle’s looking out over the seascape and he continues to scream, howl, screech into the night.

Red scrambles to his feet and runs forward. He tugs urgently on Squirtle’s shell.

Squirtle flinches, but he doesn’t pull into his shell this time, doesn’t even turn to look at Red. He only steadies himself, digs his toes into the soil and howls again.

And Red lets go.

Red had checked the Pokédex earlier. Was that what Squirtle’s cry had sounded like?

Ivysaur shook angrily as he pushed himself to his feet, groggy faced and with one eye closed. He pulled his vines out threateningly and walked out of the tent towards the howling Squirtle.

Red can tell Ivysaur’s about to strike and tells his Pokémon to stand down.

Ivysaur makes an annoyed face, but he withdraws his vines and lets Red tap him on the head with his Pokéball.

There. Ivysaur can sleep inside peacefully.

Pikachu has also awoken, and is blinking lazily as he exits the tent. Pikachu doesn’t bother turning to Squirtle though. He paws at his ears and winces, as he curls into Red’s lap and buries his face into Red’s elbow.

Squirtle shows no sign of letting up, only pausing to inhale deeply between screeches. Water is puddling around his feet, dripping from his whole body.

Then the wild Pokémon start to appear.

Red nuzzles Pikachu’s shoulder as the grass around their tent rustles.

The little mouse squeaks and looks up at him, tiredly at first, then with eyes that burn stronger, meeting Red’s gaze with determination.

Pikachu fills up the sky with a Thunderbolt to match the sound of Squirtle’s latest cry.

And they go on like that for quite a while, exhausted, but all equally non-relenting.

Pikachu rests the best he can, at Red’s side with Red’s hands clasped over his pointy yellow ears, during the breaks between the endless waves of wild Pokémon attacks.

Red fishes a flashlight out of his bag and surveys the area, casting light on any approaching wild Pokémon.

And Squirtle – his voice becomes raspy, more harsh and more desperate, as the hours tick by.

At least a dozen Rattata and Raticate try to tackle them. Followed by an Ekans that slithered through the grass. Then a Poliwag waddles up. Two Sandshrew burrow up from underground. And then there are more Ekans and another group of Rattata.

And then Red understands.

It’s not going to be okay. That’s why he can’t just send Squirtle to the PC, or stick him in his Pokéball.

Squirtle looks hopefully at each and every Pokémon that appears through the fields to attack them. (To silence them.) And then, as they come into sight...

And he looks the most forlorn after he’s looked the most hopeful, when that clammy skinned blue Pokémon turns out to be a Poliwag.

The cries that are alerting every Pokémon in the area to their presence…

Squirtle’s calling out for his friends, or his family, who won’t (can’t) come.

Red must have recognised it already, subconsciously. That’s why he can’t stop Squirtle. He’ll let Squirtle cry for them, search for them, mourn for them all night. And the next night. And the night after if he has to. Red can’t be the one to put an end to it.

So he doesn’t. Squirtle is wailing, the wild Pokémon have retreated temporarily, Pikachu is burying his ears into Red’s coat, and Red pulls out his Fame Checker.

He records only a couple of seconds of the Squirtle’s cry, before he wonders what in all four regions he’s thinking and turns the machine off.

He saves the recording anyhow, though. It seems relevant. There’s something nostalgic about that cry. Something hauntingly familiar.

When Squirtle’s screeches come to a halt around six in the morning, Squirtle’s not standing anymore. He’s just laying on his stomach on the ground, as the last few wails break from his lips and die off into whimpers.

Squirtle lies in the puddle of mud that’s formed under him on the ground and blinks slowly, exhausted, into the early morning light.

Pikachu falls asleep instantly in the silence, and the last of the wild Pokémon have long since fled, so Red feels safe as he tucks Pikachu back into the tent for a couple minutes.

Squirtle doesn’t move as Red steps forward to see him. Only blinks slowly.

Red picks him up, and there’s no struggling this time, as Red cleans his skin with spare flasks of drinking water, and applies the skin ointment the nurse gave him to Squirtle’s wounds from the other day.

Red gives the Squirtle a bite of apple and a drink of water, and Squirtle chews slowly, before falling to sleep right there, with the apple only half swallowed.

You must be tired, Red thinks.

Red’s tired too. But he’s been tired for a long time now, and the edge of the sun is already starting to break over the horizon. So instead Red returns Pikachu to his Pokéball, and begins packing, taking down his tent and stuffing his equipment into his backpack.

When he’s done, all that’s left is Squirtle, laying curled up in the grass, and the road ahead.

Squirtle feels heavier today, with his limbs hanging limply, dead weight, out of his shell as he slumbers.

Red’s already come to terms with the burden, though, so he just lifts Squirtle up in his arms and begins to make his way towards the bridges on Route 12.

Chapter Text

Lavender Town is small town characterised by uneven patches of light that sink down on it from between jagged cliffs, and the giant looming Pokémon Tower in the north.

It seems more like a necropolis than a living town to Red. The people walking through the streets are jumpy and downtrodden and react with suspicion towards any visitors. And even the Lavender Volunteer Pokémon House, regarded as a revolutionary new organisation in the field of Pokémon study and care, is far more gloomy and dreary than Red would expect.

“This is really Mr Fuji’s house,” a girl in a light pink apron explains. “He's really kind! He looks after abandoned and orphaned Pokémon! But he disappeared into the Pokémon Tower about a week ago, and nobody’s seen him since…”

Red wants to ask just how old Mr Fuji is. Maybe it’s not really so strange for him to disappear and reappear around the tower – not considering the ghost stories that are floating around this place.

Pikachu chitters on his shoulder.

On the other side of the room, a completely different drama is playing out though.

There is a Psyduck quacking happily at the television, a Nidorino snoozing on a plastic mat, and Wartortle. His arms are crossed and his dark glasses are placed firmly over his eyes, as he hovers over the Cubone that’s taking refuge there. The Cubone seemed despondent earlier, but he’s talking with Wartortle now, even if it’s not all that energetically.

Ivysaur is standing between them, stern faced, playing mediator. He has the type advantage over both sides, after all. And he’s had to step in once already, when Wartortle knocked Cubone over the head with an angry slap.

The House volunteers were aghast, but Red thought it best settled between the Pokémon themselves. It wasn’t long before Ivysaur had restrained them both, so it wasn’t as if anybody had gotten seriously hurt. And Cubone was talking now, which was more than they could have said earlier. And Wartortle…

The Pokémon has never quite stopped being a problem for Red. He’s moody often, and antagonistic more than often. But he ends up being a real asset to their party when the bridge on Route 12 turns out to be blocked by a sleeping Pokémon, and they have to detour through the Rock Tunnel instead. Squirtle’s water attacks are a great help on the Pokémon inhabiting the tunnel and, despite tense beginnings, he seems to work well with Ivysaur. They’re not gentle with each other, and more than once one has lashed out, snipping at the other’s heels and growling threateningly, but they’re an amazing team. Their attacks complement each other well and they move in to cover each other’s backs without Red having to tell them to, and it’s not long before Squirtle has evolved into Wartortle.

But, right now, Wartortle has that confident posture that Red knows means trouble, and the reappearance of the dark glasses doesn’t help one bit with that impression.

Cubone is looking with rapt attention as Wartortle goes off on some kind of speech. Red watches the way he jerks his tail back and forth and pumps his arms and legs up and down on the ground, as his growls grow louder and louder.

Wartortle isn’t a very quiet Pokémon.

Then he stops and looks to Ivysaur, as if for approval.

Ivysaur hesitates a minute before nodding, and Red’s a little bit amused that his Pokémon go around making plans without his input at all. Does it go like this for other trainers too?

“Um, sir?” the girl asks. “Are you okay?”

Red remembers he’s supposed to be talking with her about Mr Fuji and looks up self-consciously.

The volunteers are all looking at him strangely, at the way he’s carefully observing how Pokémon interact with each other.

Red flushes and nods at the volunteers. Something pulls at his pant leg and Red looks down, grateful for the reason to look away.

Wartortle looks up at Red and grumbles at him the way he does. His fluffy white tail is twitching expectantly.

Pikachu jumps off Red’s shoulder and begins inquiring Ivysaur. Cubone walks up too, dragging his bone club on the floor behind him.

It’s time to go, Red knows. And the Pokémon show him the way out and through the town.

==

Wartortle leads their little procession through the Pokémon Tower, scoffing at the tombstones and the grave markers. Cubone follows frightened at his heel, with Ivysaur taking up the rear of the front guard. Red and Pikachu are walking a little ways behind.

His Pokémon are acting like it’s an important mission. But to Red, the place seems utterly pedestrian so far. He’s having trouble seeing where all the ghost stories came from – the poor electric lighting in the tower combined with an overactive imagination, perhaps.

They’re climbing the stairs to the second floor and Cubone is shivering. Ivysaur attempts to nuzzle its back comfortingly, but the Cubone jumps at the sudden contact and cries out loudly. This makes Wartortle laugh, earning a whimper from Cubone and a glare from Ivysaur in turn.

“Quiet down!” a voice shouts. “You’re at a gravesite. Don’t you douchebags know anything about respect?!”

Red knows that voice and, sure enough, Green is the one who walks up, as Red approaches the second floor landing.

Either Red’s mistaken, or Green’s eyes are conspicuously red and puffy.

“…oh, it’s you,” Green mumbles, before his face breaks into the cocky grin Red’s so familiar with. “Hey, Red! What brings you here? Your Pokémon don't look dead!”

He makes a show of inspecting the Pokémon at Red’s feet. Wartortle stands on his hind legs and looks up at Green challengingly. Ivysaur looks on impassively. Pikachu squeaks in greeting. And Cubone clings onto the back of Wartortle’s shell.

Green chuckles, presumably at Wartortle’s glasses.

“Nope,” he concludes. “Not dead. But at least I can make them faint! Let's go, pal!”

Green pulls a Pokéball from his belt dramatically, and throws it forward. And Red responds, directing Pikachu forward to meet Pidgeotto’s attacks.

But Green immediately switches his Pidgeotto out for an Exeggute.

And that move sets the tone for the entire battle right there, and it’s entirely different than the last. Green is acting as strangely as he did on the S.S. Anne, but in a completely different way.

Green’s almost overly cautious in the way he directs his Pokémon this time, taking the time to Disable the attacks of Red’s Pokémon, and irritate them with Sand Attacks. He shies away from calling attacks several times, even when he has a clear shot. None of Red’s Pokémon have fainted by the end of the battle, and neither have Pidgeotto or Kadabra (Red could have sworn that Green called them back into their Pokéballs early). And Green doesn’t send out Raticate at all.

Red doesn’t even doubt it when Green tells him, after the battle, that he’s gone easy on Red. It wasn’t until Charmeleon was on the field that Green really went on the offensive.

Green doesn’t seem to notice though. He starts with the usual talk once the battle is over.

“How's your Pokédex coming?” he asks, then continues before Red can answer. “I just caught a Cubone! And it looks like you did too, pal.”

Green squats down to take a closer look. Cubone had taken refuge behind Red’s leg, after Wartortle entered the fray, and he peeks out from underneath his skull mask at Green before darting further away.

“Seems a bit skittish,” Green said, unimpressed, before standing. “I also haven't been able to find the grown-up Marowak yet! I doubt there are any left!”

Cubone cries out in protest, but Green doesn’t hear. Or at least he pretends he doesn’t.

Green’s laughing.

He’s also not meeting Red’s eyes.

“Whelp, I better get going! I've got a lot to accomplish, pal! Smell ya later!” Green says, walking past Red down the stairs.

Red forces himself to stand still. It’s the only way he can prevent himself for turning to watch Green leave.

He does allow himself to watch his Pokémon watch Green leave though. They’re all staring back with different levels of dislike. Wartortle’s shell is shaking with anger, but Pikachu doesn’t seem more than a little miffed.

Cubone’s the only one who’s unaffected. As soon as Green’s headed down the stairs, the little Pokémon perks up immediately, turns forward. He wants only to move further up the tower.

But Green’s appearance has thrown Red off. Thrown all of his team off.

And Red resents the fact that he can’t go anywhere for fun with his Pokémon without questions about Green inevitably popping up.

Why is Green here? Where is he going, and why? Why is he always rushing off so quickly?

Why is he battling strangely? Why are his eyes swollen? Why does he start talking about one thing, and then laugh and change the subject to something completely unrelated?

Why doesn’t he ever leave his Pokémon out of their Pokéballs?

And why is he always, always, so antagonistic towards Red? Why is he so antagonistic, but never angry?!

And, above all, Red’s afraid the answers are as straightforward as they look.

Most people probably don’t go to graveyards just because their Pokémon suddenly feel like exploring.

Red takes out the Fame Checker and starts the recording. He can’t ask any of those questions, but misshapen, ugly words can drown out uglier thoughts.

Heedless of the way it makes Pikachu and Ivysaur turn worriedly towards him, he blurts it out entirely without thinking.

I think Green wants to know what I smell like.

==

That’s around the time that Red’s adventure into the Pokémon Tower takes a dive from unpleasant reunion to insane asylum nightmare.

First they start hearing the voices, only they’re not really voices because Red can’t hear them. The echos move in and out, closer and further, creating a constant thrum to let Red and his Pokémon know that they shouldn’t be here. That they should get out.

Get out!

Red’s Pokémon are unnerved, and trying not to show it. Wartortle is still scoffing in the face of the graves, but he looks nervous every time he thinks the others aren’t watching him. Ivysaur swings his head around at every disturbance, looking around suspiciously for anything out of place. Pikachu lags behind, walking closer and closer to Red, until Red can feel the leg of his jeans brush against Pikachu’s electrically charged yellow fur with every step he takes.

And Cubone looks terrified, but there must be something very important at the top of this tower, because he doesn’t stop walking, one foot in front of the other.

Then the spirit channelers start to appear.

At first Red thinks it’s some kind of prank. The spirit channelers come up to him, babbling incoherently and screaming at him as they throw out their Pokémon to attack him. Afterwards they claim, with wide eyes and innocent faces, to have been possessed. It reminds Red uncomfortably of elementary school, of a cruder and less subtle version of the tricks the other kids played on him. They would approach him and start talking to him, just like he talked, in broken phrases that slowly became worse and worse, turning into gibberish, until they couldn’t keep a straight face any longer, or Red realised what was happening, or Green reappeared and chased them off.

They had the same innocent look too, afterwards, when Green pointed accusing fingers at them, or when the teachers showed up to ask what was going on. They also had the same innocent look when Red bit his lip and tried not to look hurt.

But, as Red makes his way up the tower, he’s less and less convinced this is all an act that the Pokémon Tower channelers are in on, and more and more convinced that there is something supernatural going on here. That there’s something wrong with him for being suspicious of the channelers in the first place.

The fact that there were moments he felt the same talking with his elementary school classmates, mistrustful of his own mistrust, only confuses the issue.

But either way, the spirit channelers become more wild and frantic as they climb the tower, their ghost Pokémon are terrifying, and the voice that’s steadily humming Get out! Get out! is getting louder and louder until Red’s no longer sure it’s not the voice of something tangible.

And his Pokémon are responding appropriately. The channelers’ ghost Pokémon lick at their faces with ethereal tongues and they freeze in horror. Wartortle’s stopped smiling and scoffing. He walks forward silently, and the rest of the Pokémon follow him in equal silence.

They don’t make it past the sixth floor.

As they approach the stairwell, the entire room seems to fill with fog and shadows – even though Red’s sure it’s still midday and sunny outside.

…isn’t it?

Ivysaur readies himself for battle, and Pikachu jumps up onto Red’s shoulders, closes his eyes, and buries his face into the crook of Red’s neck.

Cubone and Wartortle look mesmerised, though.

The room is dark, and Red can’t see more than a metre to his sides or behind him.

But, in front of him, on the stairwell, a white shape floats down. The boundary of its form wavers, as if in uncertainty. The light splits and coalesces, and soon there are a half-dozen shapes that go to stand in front of Cubone and Wartortle, who are still watching, wide-eyed.

Then the fuzzy edges of the figures snap into shape. The form of the ghosts still unknown, but they create a rigid and harsh boundary between Red and his Pokémon, and the floor above.

Get out! Get out!

Begone! Intruders!

GET OUT!

Cubone and Wartortle both snap to attention.

Cubone screams and flails, whacking its bone club at the empty air, and hitting its own head by mistake.

And Wartortle lets out a cry, exactly like the ones Red hasn’t heard since their first night outside Viridian. Wartortle starts to shriek again, but cuts himself off, coughing and choking as he sprays a blast of water towards the spirits on the stairwell, and then rears his head, frantically shooting water everywhere, at the ceiling and at Cubone and at Red.

Red tries to move to recall them, but falls short.

The ghastly shapes are moving, and they’re frightening, but Red can’t find anything in them to fear the way Cubone and Wartortle do. They are curious shapes, and his curiosity paralyses him.

Ivysaur comes to form first. In an instant, he’s wrapped both Wartortle and Cubone in his vines, and is running towards the exit, out of the dark shadows cast by the ghosts.

Pikachu squeaks and throws a bolt of light after Ivysaur, illuminating the hall and signalling Red to follow after.

And so Red does. He runs to catch up with Ivysaur, down through six floors and five flights of stairs, until they’re outside the tower.

Ivysaur is breathing very hard and his vines are worse for the wear by the time they’re outside in the sunlight. He throws Wartortle and Cubone on the ground, not very gently, and looks between them, two parts worried, and one part ready to give Wartortle a get-it-together slap upside the head. He withdraws his vines instead though.

Wartortle doesn’t respond, though. He and Cubone are still shivering, and he peels off his dark glasses and stuffs them back in his shell.

It keeps Red grounded, watching his Pokémon. The sunlight outside is clarifying, but also obscuring. It’s hard to measure how much of what happened in the tower was real, but all he has to do is look at Wartortle and Cubone to know it was real for them.

When they’ve all calmed down a bit more, Red starts asking questions.

“Ghosts?” he tries.

Wartortle wiggles his ears. That means ‘yes’. Affirmative.

“Silph Scopes?”

A shrug. Or the equivalent of one.

“Scare?”

Wartortle shakes his head, which doesn’t mean ‘no’. It just means that Red’s not asking the right question.

“Knew… they?” Red asks, confused.

Wartortle shakes his head again.

“Who?”

Wartortle doesn’t respond.

Red sighs.

“Who is ghost?” he tries.

No response.

“Who does scare?”

Wartortle shakes his head one last time, and he looks frustrated. Which is a good sign. It means that he’s feeling more like his old self.

Wartortle shakes his head again, making it extra clear that Red is still not asking the right question, as he stands up. They’re going to play a different game. Wartortle will provide the answer, and Red can spend his time guessing the correct question.

Wartortle puts on his most intimidating stance, and waves his arm around incomprehensibly.

Ivysaur and Red both look on. Ivysaur impassively and Red completely lost.

Then Ivysaur reaches out a vine. Wartortle grunts in thanks and takes it in his hand, holding it from the middle and waving it wildly so the end flails around.

“…Trains?” Red asks. “Train Pokémon?”

Wartortle glares. He pulls too hard on Ivysaur’s vine, and Ivysaur retaliates by wrapping it around Wartortle’s wrist and twisting.

Pikachu has had more luck speaking with Cubone, though, and he squeaks at Wartortle who grumbles and wiggles his ears.

Pikachu traces a paw along the sand, creating a shape in the dust.

He recognises it before Pikachu is even finished.

R

The answers click into place.

“Whip?” Red asks, pointing at Ivysaur’s vine, which is still twisted around Wartortle threateningly.

Wartortle’s not bothered by Ivysaur’s mostly empty threats at this point. He wiggles his ears. Yes.

Ivysaur withdraws his vine again. He nods at Wartortle and Cubone, before going to lick Pikachu’s face in thanks.

“Rocket?” Red asks, pointing to the ‘R’ in the sand.

Wartortle wiggles his ears. Yes.

That’s the answer. Now there’s only the question to figure out.

“Ghosts?”

Wartortle shakes his head. Wrong question.

“Fault? Blame?” Red asks.

Wartortle wiggles his ears.

==

“No offence, but I thought you were taking Cubone with you,” the girl at the Pokémon House tells him.

The Pokémon are sitting in a circle around the blue Pokémart plastic bag on the plastic mat in the corner of the room, and bickering over the onigiri that Red bought for them. Magikarp roe seems to be the favourite, and they’re making a game of fighting for that flavour, even Ivysaur – although Red’s pretty sure he actually prefers kelp. The Pokémon House’s Psyduck has managed to get two of the roe onigiri for himself, which has effectively made him an object of both anger and admiration by the remaining Pokémon. Wartortle and Cubone are both moodily splitting one with an egg inside. Although Red’s not sure the moodiness is about the food, as much as it’s about the results, or lack of, from their trip to the Pokémon Tower.

Red turns away from the Pokémon, to the volunteer in the pink apron and the conversation that he should probably be paying attention to.

The girl frowns. “Don’t look at me like that!” she says. “What were we supposed to think when you just walked out of here with Cubone, without saying anything?!”

Red hardly thinks that’s his fault. It’s not like Cubone really left with him. Cubone followed after Wartortle and then Red just tagged along.

He begins to shrug, but then doubts himself. He stops. The result is one shoulder slanted up unevenly above the other.

The girl looks at him strangely.

“Well, it is one of our jobs to get the Pokémon adopted into good homes… but we wouldn’t usually just let you walk off like that!” she says firmly. “We were just so surprised that Cubone was finally opening up a little, we forgot to offer you the forms. Cubone usually won’t tolerate anybody other than Mr Fuji.”

Red nods.

“So… are you going to take Cubone with you?” she asks. “I know it’s just the three of them here right now,” she says, nodding at Cubone, Nidorino, and Psyduck in turn, “but we try to keep the turnover here high. We always pick up a lot of Pokémon around winter, and it’s already the beginning of autumn and, who knows now, with Mr Fuji gone!”

It’s too much work to actually follow what she’s saying, but Red doesn’t need to know what she’s saying to understand. She’s venting.

Red looks at Cubone, who looks sad and lethargic, even snuggled up between Wartortle on one side, and Nidorino on the other.

“And are you even listening to me?” the girl says. “Say something!”

She’s venting, and Red knows she’s really just worried. Mr Fuji is gone and Team Rocket’s occupying the town and she’s looking after Pokémon that aren’t even that fond of her.

He should explain to her – Red’s not going to have time to care for Cubone properly. He’s trying to put together a team that can take on Green and the Elite Four. And even if he wasn’t, Cubone is still very young, and obviously very devoted to somebody or something at the Pokémon Tower. It’s not right to take Cubone away just like that.

But she should know that already, Red thinks. Anybody who was paying the slightest bit of attention to Cubone would know.

Red’s already made sure that Cubone knows that he’ll come back once he figures out how to identify the ghosts at the Tower. He’s going to follow up on the rumoured Silph Scope and Team Rocket and return. He’s gone over it with all his Pokémon.

Pokémon always seem to understand him.

Red doesn’t need to waste his time trying to explain it to this girl.

“Say something!” she insists.

Red pulls out his Fame Checker and obliges her.

“This boy? Have you seen him?” Red asks, just like he’s practised. He holds up Green’s picture and smiles as sweetly as he can.

The girl glares at him, but Red barely has time to hit the audio record button before she snatches the Fame Checker out of his hands. She studies the picture quietly for a minute before speaking.

“Yeah, I’ve seen him,” she says. “He came by a while ago. That was just before Mr Fuji disappeared. They talked for a while, but I don’t know about what. You’d have to speak to Mr Fuji if you want to know.”

She tosses the Fame Checker back to Red, who catches it with ease.

“Now, can I, or can I not count on you to take Cubone for me?”

Red flips the switch on the Fame Checker off and whistles for Pikachu.

The Pokémon have eaten all the onigiri, and Pikachu squeaks and runs over to Red. Wartortle and Ivysaur will catch up, once they’ve given their goodbyes to the residents of the Pokémon House. Red doesn’t have to wait for them.

“No,” he says simply to the volunteer. And walks off.

==

Red catches a Meowth on the way into Celadon City. And Red catches Pokémon all the time, but it’s not often that he catches them for keeps.

Meowth is a choice Pokémon for several reasons – as normal type Pokémon, they’re not particularly susceptible to any one type of elemental attack, and of course the extra money that one can bring in is no small amount.

The old folk in Pallet Town used to say that it was good luck just to have one around the house. Professor Oak would scoff and mutter ‘only if it knows Pay Day’ under his breath.

Those are only the beginnings of the reasons he catches this particular Meowth, though.

She doesn’t really stand a chance when Red sends out his Pikachu, but Meowth moves with a precision Red finds unique. She swipes her claws angrily, striking carefully at Pikachu’s red cheeks, and then draws back calmly to regroup. And at one point she just barely sidesteps an attack, but with a grace that convinces Red that the dodge was measured down to the last centimetre.

And, well, after being unexpectedly saddled with Wartortle, Red could use a mild, careful, and collected Pokémon like Meowth.

He’s not the only one to think so. There are a whole host of battle-ready trainers outside the blocked Saffron gates and, between battles, he meets a couple of schoolgirls who seem impressed with his new Pokémon.

“Meowth is so cute!” one of them says, leaning down and beckoning to his Pokémon. “Meow, meow, meow!”

She has three Meowths herself, and she calls them out. They all seem to gang up against his Meowth, but she handles the situation easily, looking unconcerned with their scrutiny and licking her paws clean.

“I just don’t know why anybody bothers with Pokemon that aren’t cute,” she admits, smiling kindly towards Red’s Pikachu.

Red shifts uncomfortably. He’s not sure what she’d have to say about Ivysaur or Wartortle, who are both resting in their Pokéballs.

“Like, I think Pidgey and Rattata are cute too,” she admits. “Even if people do say they’re common. But these nerds,” she makes a face at a couple of the other trainers in the general vicinity, “with their Grimer and Muk and Voltorbs~ How can anybody prefer that to cute Pokémon?”

Red’s not sure he likes her attitude. Pokémon don’t get to choose their species, any more than humans do. His mind starts drifting away from the conversation when she says something that brings him right back into it.

“This one trainer told me off for it,” she scoffed. “Like I’d listen to someone like him! Gyarados? Exeggute?! And he had a cute, little Pidgey at some point, but he just let it evolve into a Pidgeotto!”

“Yeah!” another schoolgirl hastily agreed. “When Pokémon grow up they get ugly! They shouldn't evolve!”

Red chuckles to himself and brings out his Fame Checker.

The girls confirm the trainer they’re referring to is Green, and are happy to repeat their complaints about his ‘ugly’ Pokémon.

And when they’re finished…

“Don’t let your Meowth evolve!” they insist. “Persian aren’t nearly as cute!”

Meowth looks up at him questioningly, and Red returns her to her Pokéball.

He’s smiling secretly to himself as he leaves. He doesn’t really have any intention of keeping his Meowth from evolving. And he can just imagine Green telling the girls off.

What a bunch of shallow morons! The best Pokémon is a strong Pokémon! Red imagines Green saying, completely unaware of the irony.

Wow, Green! Red snarks back in his head, the way he never would (never can) in reality. You really told them, huh? Haven’t run out of causes to fight for yet.

First the simple kid. Now ugly Pokémon who aren’t being allowed to evolve.

Red frowns.

He’s not sure where things took such a nasty turn in his head, but suddenly he’s feeling incredibly stupid.

The fact that he suddenly remembers Lieutenant Surge offering him a Thunder Stone and how he had held Pikachu back is only the least of it.

Who is he to be laughing at anybody?

==

Green’s name is on the list of winning challengers at Celadon City Gym, one name up from where Red’s will soon be engraved.

And the Celadon City Gym is a long time coming, after Red’s detour through the rock tunnel, his trip to the Pokémon Tower in Lavender Town, and having to bypass Saffron.

Erika is a tougher trainer than Red had expected, and she’s amazing at defensive manoeuvres, but Red has practiced hard, so eventually her Pokémon fall.

She bestows upon him the Rainbow badge, and Red has the Fame Checker out. He’s just about to ask her about Green and…

Erika falls asleep.

“Oi, Mary! Could you fetch me one of Erika’s pillows?” the beautiful blonde trainer next to Erika asks.

“Sure,” the other trainer agrees. “Erika likes the purple one best, yeah?”

“She looks so beautiful, even when she’s asleep,” one of the girls blushes.

“Sorry about that,” another beauty walks up to tell him. “Our leader, Erika, suffers from bouts of narcolepsy. You understand, right?”

Narcolepsy?

Red doesn’t know what that means. All he knows is that he’s shocked and embarrassed by her rudeness and nobody’s ever fallen asleep on him mid-sentence before.

One of the trainers laughs. “Well, you did ask her about a guy, you know. What did you expect would happen?”

Red doesn’t know what that means either, but everybody looks at him expectantly.

You understand, right?

“‘m s-rry,” Red says. “‘s nothing.”

==

It’s nothing.

Red and his Pokémon are spending some quality time in the park in Celadon City.

Ivysaur and Wartortle both seem to take well to the addition of Meowth to the team. Or, well, they both seem smitten with her, at least.

It’s nothing.

Meowth sits next to the pond and starts fishing. She’s near the water, paw raised, for many minutes. And then there’s a splash, and she’s captured a Goldeen for lunch in a single scoop. It’s the same laser-guided precision that Red had liked about her fighting style in the first place.

That Ivysaur and Wartortle only seem more impressed and lovestruck when she bites into the Goldeen’s flesh… They’re not bothered by such savagery. It’s what Meowths do.

It’s nothing.

Meowths apparently are good at finding money because, afterwards, she leads him to a game corner. There are a whole bunch of coins, hidden, scattered on the floor.

Nobody questions why he’s there, even though he’s only fifteen. In fact, people seem happy to donate a Coin Case and some starter coins to him.

Red wonders if, and how much, they’re being paid to pull him in. Gamblers start young. A couple of free coins here and there from the Game Corner, and maybe they can buy a customer for life.

It’s nothing.

Gambling isn’t Red’s thing, so he’s not really worried.

Red’s always been good at math, and he doesn’t feel the need to entertain a game for long when he knows the statistics are skewed way out of his favour. Hadn’t Green said something like that too, once? Which was strange, considering he was always challenging Red to Pokémon battles.

You never play a Pokémon against a type it’s weak against, a seven-year-old Green lectured, probably repeating Professor Oak’s speeches verbatim. You don’t play a game when the opponent’s the one setting the rules.

Now that Red thinks about it, that metaphor doesn’t match exactly.

It’s just memories though.

It’s nothing.

Meowth really are good luck, though. Because even though Red’s not all intrigued by the pachinko and slot machines, he picks up a lead on Team Rocket and the Silph Scope.

There’s a suspicious figure at the back of the gambling parlour, and when Red goes to investigate, he manages to find an entrance to Team Rocket’s Secret Hideout. And, when he manages to beat Team Rocket’s best teams of Pokémon, they start recognising him, and the information starts flowing from their mouth like honey.

You’re that quiet kid who ruined our plans at Mt Moon!

Silph Scope? The machine the boss stole. It's here somewhere.

Okay, I’ll talk! Take the elevator to see my boss!

The fact that Wartortle seems to lose control, breaking away from team formation with Ivysaur, aiming his attacks at the Rocket grunts, instead of at their Pokémon-

The grunts aren’t afraid of him, that’s not why they talk.

Red’s not afraid, that’s not why he has to pull Wartortle back into his Pokéball. To seal him there until they’ve both calmed down.

It’s nothing.

And, after that, Red meets the man in charge. He’s able to get ahold of the Silph Scope. Their actual meeting doesn’t leave that much of an impression on him.

Red doesn’t feel just a little bit happy when the man (what’s his name? Giovanni?) says he sees that Red’s raised his Pokémon with ‘utmost care’. He doesn’t feel a little elated when Giovanni says he hopes to meet Red again.

It doesn’t mean anything. Red doesn’t feel anything. Red doesn’t remember it that well.

It wasn’t a hard battle. Battling Green is harder. Green battles with more Pokémon usually: Charmeleon, Pidgeotto, Gyarados, Exeggute, and Raticate. That’s five. More than Giovanni has: Onix, Rhyhorn, and Kangaskhan. Even if you are counting the old Persian that sits behind Giovanni on the sofa and mewls loudly.

And, if Red stops training his Meowth after that- If Red doesn’t want to send Meowth to his PC, where Professor Oak can withdraw her and study her, but he doesn’t want to have her out and battling- If Red lets her out to play only when Ivysaur or Wartortle look pointedly at her Pokéball enough times- That’s got nothing to do with anything.

It has nothing to do with the fact that Meowth mewled loudly across to the other side of the room. Nothing to do with the fact that she hopped over to introduce herself to that man (Giovanni’s) Persian. Nothing to do with the fact that Giovanni smiled – not meanly, but a little amused – at the Pokémon just being Pokémon.

It has nothing to do with the fact that this is Team Rocket, and Red can’t reconcile that smile, and the grunts’ scared faces with what’s happened to Cubone and Wartortle.

Meowth is fine inside her Pokéball and it has nothing to do with anything.

It’s nothing.

==

The Pokémon House volunteer doesn’t seem very amused when Red walks in the door, calls for Cubone, and then leaves. And she seems even less amused when Cubone actually gets up to follow him.

“You can’t just walk in here and take our Pokémon whenever you feel like it!” she insists, chasing after Red with a handful of Pokémon adoption forms.

Red squints and leans back from the papers she’s waving in his face. He pulls off his backpack and digs through it for a moment, pulling out the Silph Scope for her to see. It’s not ‘whenever he feels like it’. Red has the Silph Scope, and that will help them deal with the malevolent spirits inhabiting the tower.

Cubone, to his credit, understands immediately, looking wide-eyed and hopeful at the binoculars.

The volunteer does not. She points at the forms expectantly.

So Red has to fill out the adoption forms. Because he can’t explain himself.

The documents inform him, among other things, that he is fully responsible for anything bad that may happen to Cubone, and that caring for a Pokémon may incur costs upwards of five hundred thousand Pokédollars per calendar year.

==

The ghosts turn out not to be frightening at all, once Red’s Pokémon can identify them.

The Silph Scope gets passed between in him and his Pokémon a good dozen times as they climb the Pokémon Tower for a second time.

Red pulls the scope over his eyes, once Ivysaur has handed it back to him, and looks around.

The tower is full of Ghastly. They fly around, unconcerned with Red and his Pokémon for the most part. Occasionally they notice Red watching and fly right at him, their teeth barred and their faces laughing.

They pass right through him, but Red coughs and feels faint every time they do it.

He hands the Silph Scope back down to Pikachu, who’s swatting away a Ghastly who’s been trying to lick at him. It seems more like a stupid prank than an actual act of malevolence, viewed through the lens of the Silph Scope.

And the Ghastly don’t seem overly concerned with esoteric questions, but Red wonders what being a ghost Pokémon must be like. Are they born like that, halfway between the life and death, or are they really the spirits of Pokémon who died too young?

Curious.

When Red’s team reaches the sixth floor, they’re prepared. They haven’t discussed it beforehand, but they all know. It has to be Cubone and Wartortle looking through the Silph Scope when the spirits inevitably appear.

It’s quite a sight, the reappearance of the fog and dimming lights and the eerie white shape on the stairway, and Cubone and Wartortle, their heads leaning in close to one another, each with one eye through a single lens of the Silph Scope.

The white shape splits into multiple figures again, and Red can hear them shouting.

Get out! Get out!

But Wartortle and Cubone aren’t deterred this time.

Cubone leaps forward, leaving Wartortle and the Silph Scope behind, to meet one of them.

The echoes bidding them to leave stop immediately.

Wartortle picks the Silph Scope up, and looks through it one last time, with both eyes this time, before handing it over to Ivysaur’s outstretched vines and walking up to meet the other figures.

Ivysaur and Pikachu both take turns looking through the Silph Scope before handing it to Red.

Under the influence of the Silph Scope, Red can finally see the eerie white figures take shape. Through the Silph Scope, Cubone is embracing an adult Marowak, a female one, who pulls Cubone’s skull helmet off for a minute and cuddles his unprotected face and wipes his tears away.

Wartortle is talking with four Squirtles, one of whom has dark glasses exactly like the ones Wartortle wears. The Squirtles point, heckling Wartortle about his glasses, and Wartortle looks ashamed and starts to remove them, before the Squirtles all protest and he replaces them again. They look like they’re telling him off, and Wartortle’s brow twitches guiltily and they tell him off more for that. Then they’re huddling in close together, rallying in for a cheer that descends into tears and hugs.

Red puts down the Silph Scope. He feels like he’s intruding, even when Cubone points towards him and encourages him to wave at Marowak’s ghost.

Eventually the ghosts disappear into the fog and shadows, and then... That, too, disappears.

Red and the others are left standing on a perfectly ordinary stairwell in a less than perfectly ordinary tower.

Cubone is pointing urgently to the upper level.

Wartortle walks back to Red though, and rests his head against his leg.

Red asks what’s wrong.

Wartortle repeats the gesture he made the other day, reaching for Ivysaur’s vines and imitating Team Rocket’s whips, before pointing up the stairs.

Red asks if he’s ready.

Wartortle doesn’t respond.

Red almost doesn’t need to wait for that answer. He’s a little relieved to return Wartortle to his Pokéball, before they climb up the stairs.

And Pikachu and Ivysaur pick up the slack. They fall naturally to the front of the group, anticipating an inevitable attack from the Rockets.

==

Mr Fuji is a sprightly old man, and in surprisingly good health for somebody who hasn’t left the Pokémon Tower for two weeks.

“Heh, you came to save me?” he chuckles, once Red and his Pokémon have chased off the Rocket grunts. “Thank you. But I came here of my own free will. I came to calm the spirit of this Cubone’s mother.”

Cubone was reaching up for Mr Fuji’s arms, and Mr Fuji finally reached down and plucked him up off the ground.

“And I think Marowak’s spirit has finally left us.” Mr Fuji smiled. “I must thank you for your kind concern.”

Red tries to smile. He’s glad Cubone has found Mr Fuji and that Marowak’s spirit is at peace.

But Red can’t quite find it in him.

He thinks about the business he left unfinished a week ago and digs through his pocket for the Fame Checker.

“Yes, I am familiar with this young man,” Mr Fuji says kindly. He’s still carrying Cubone in his arms, as he shoos Red down the tower. “His name is Green, I believe. This boy came to Lavender Town to bury his Raticate.”

Red freezes, but Mr Fuji takes no note of it, as he continues down the tower, and Red has to force himself to keep up. Especially if he wants the Fame Checker to be within recording range.

“…I thought it very strange,” Mr Fuji admitted tentatively. “I wouldn’t tell a grieving person this,” he adds conspiratorially, “but the burial spaces inside the Pokémon Tower are very expensive. For common Pokémon, like Rattata and Pidgey, most people would not spare such expense for them.”

Mr Fuji smiles again.

“Your friend’s care and tenacity impressed me.”

Red gapes, trying to find a way to ask Mr Fuji about what happened to Raticate.

Mr Fuji anticipates this question somehow, without even Red’s prompting. Without looking at Red at all.

“He felt very guilty,” Mr Fuji says, climbing down more of the Pokémon Tower’s twisted stairs to the forth floor. “Apparently he became inebriated at a party and challenged somebody he knew to be a very strong trainer to a battle. His Raticate was seriously injured in the fight. And to make matters worse, Team Rocket ambushed him on the way to the Pokémon Center.”

Mr Fuji shakes his head sorrowfully. “Such an unfortunate collision of events. Fighting with an already injured team of Pokémon can produce only disastrous effects. I have long since given up on the idea.”

Red wonders how guilty he should feel for this.

It’s not his fault entirely, is it? Green was drunk, and Red had no idea at the time. He was just battling Green like he always did. And Team Rocket they were…

Red has no reason to feel guilty for what Team Rocket did…

Red clenches his teeth.

“Yes, so Green came with me up to this tower,” Mr Fuji continues. “He wanted to confront Team Rocket with me but… whatever he was looking for, he didn’t find it.”

They’re almost at the first floor of the tower when Mr Fuji turns to Red and smiles brightly.

“He became very angry with me when I refused to leave the tower with him. He told me that sitting up here staging a hunger strike wasn’t about to solve anything, that we couldn’t save Cubone’s mother, or stop Team Rocket the way we were now.”

Mr Fuji giggles, a little cold-heartedly, Red thinks. “I told him that we all repent for our actions in a different way, and didn’t he know that better than most.”

That’s when Mr Fuji’s giggles burst into full-blown laughter. Cubone sways dangerously, holding onto Mr Fuji’s arm as the vibrations from the laughter peel off his chest.

“Boy was he furious!” Mr Fuji says. “If I had been ten years younger, I’m sure he would have clocked me. I like feisty youths like that! I don’t think he realised how transparent he truly was.”

Red’s afraid.

Green has never seemed so straight-forward or transparent to him.

“Follow me to my home,” Mr Fuji commands, and Red obeys.

The volunteers are all relieved and gratified to see Mr Fuji return from the Pokémon Tower triumphant. They all want to speak to him, make sure he’s okay, and ask about Team Rocket’s disappearance.

A few of them even have kind words for Red. Even the volunteer girl in the pink apron, who had kept pestering him about Cubone, throws him an apologetic smile.

Red stares back at them all blankly. Uniformly.

When they all leave, Red realises that Mr Fuji has kept him for a reason.

"Without deep love for Pokémon, your quest may fail. I’m not sure if this will help you, but I’d like you to have it," he says, handing Red a present.

It’s a flute. One that can wake sleeping Pokémon, Mr Fuji says.

“And one more thing, if you don’t mind, Red,” he adds.

Red startles.

He didn’t remember giving his name to Mr Fuji.

“I know that Reina had you sign the forms for adopting Cubone,” he begins.

That also takes Red by surprise. It takes him a minute to realise that Mr Fuji is talking about the volunteer in the pink apron. So she had a name…

“Well, I hope you understand, Red, but Cubone is very attached to me,” Mr Fuji continues. “I hope you don’t mind if I hang onto Cubone a little longer. Maybe when he’s older… I’ll have word sent to you at that time.”

And Red, a little relieved, nods emphatically.

==

Red doesn’t think about the bicycle he gave to Misty until he reaches the other side of Celadon City, the sleeping Pokémon formerly blocking the road tucked safely within one of his Pokéballs.

“Excuse me! Wait up please! No pedestrians are allowed on Cycling Road!” the road attendant shouts to him. The volume is too loud, and Red cringes and rubs his eyes. He’s feeling very tired, and was really hoping to be further out of the city by this time of night.

It’s just his luck that a biker happens to be passing by.

“Eh! Give it a rest!” he shouts (too loudly) to the attendant, and revs up his motorcycle. “Get on kid!”

And Red’s a little scared of the bikers. And he knows he’s not the only one, given what other trainers have to say about them. But he looks to the attendant and she shrugs, so Red doesn’t have much of a choice.

Red gets on the motorcycle.

“Hang on tight!” the biker says, and then floors it, and Red’s left sitting behind him, holding on for dear life.

It’s a terrifying couple of minutes. He remembers his mother telling him not to go off with strangers when he was young, and it occurs to him he’s listened to this advice not at all since the start of his Pokémon journey.

The biker slows down a bit once they’re outside the station, though. And Red loosens his grip around the biker’s waist and opens his eyes.

The highway is built above the ocean, and the moon is shining in the sky and reflecting off the calm water. Above them, a group of Butterfree are flying in the crisp night air. And Red sees a flash of flames to the side. He squints off into the distance, and decides it just might be a Ponyta, running on the road alongside a Doduo.

It’s almost romantic, Red thinks. And then thinks about how that would sound, when he has his arms wrapped around some biker he doesn’t know.

Misty would have thought it was romantic, he decides instead. She loves the ocean.

“So, you just going down to Fuchsia?” the biker asks. “’s a beautiful town.”

Red nods, before realising the biker can’t see him from back here.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, feeling unsure.

“No problem,” the biker replies. “I used to work at Miracle Cycle in Cerulean City, before they went under new management. Prices aren’t what they used to be. I worry that we’re the last generation of bikers! A million Pokédollars a pop?! Kids can’t afford that these days. Hell, even I can’t afford that these days! It’s such a shame.”

The biker seems really nice after all. And Red feels embarrassed for being worried about accepting a ride before.

“Or at least none of the nice kids like you can afford ‘em,” the biker says. “There was one kid that came through here – he was a nightmare. Showboatin’ around with his brand new blue bicycle, and challengin’ every trainer on this road. Wouldn’t have been half so irritating if he hadn’t won all the battles. What a prick.”

Red feels tired, and the thrum of the motorbike and the rhythm of the biker’s heartbeat soothes Red. His eyelids droop down.

He wants to know if the trainer is Green. And he’s frustrated he can’t get his Fame Checker out, so long as he’s holding on to the biker.

“Green?” Red asks.

“Huh?” the biker asks.

Red’s brow furrows, as he tries to think of how to explain. “Hair’s brown. Messy. Wears necklace, er, pendant.”

He’s cute.

Red’s brow furrows more. Where did that come from? Red needs to get more sleep.

“Eh, if you mean that kid with the bike, yeah,” the biker affirms. “He had messy, brown hair, and a pendant. You know ‘im? In that case, you have my sympathy, kid. It’s not every day I meet somebody with more rotten luck than me.”

Red hums.

It makes sense that Green wouldn’t still be lugging around that old bicycle with the green racing stripes. He wondered how Green got the money together to pay for it. Red’s been challenged to a lot of Pokémon battles, and he still only has about forty thousand Pokédollars. Maybe Green’s being more discriminating in his selection of opponents. Maybe he only fights rich old gentlemen when Red’s not around.

The motorcycle is rocking Red to sleep and his hand almost slips.

“Hey, kid, try to stay awake until we reach the Fuchsia gates,” the biker says. “I’d hate to have to scrape you off the pavement if you fell.”

Red nods, and mumbles ‘thanks’ again, because there really are kind people in this world.

He forces his eyes open and stares at the moon as he does the calculations.

If Green makes five hundred Pokédollars per battle it would take him two thousand battles to make enough money for a bike. That’s not right though… Maybe he got a thousand Pokédollars from half the trainers and five hundred from the rest, so that would only take one thousand three hundred and thirty-four battles…

The ocean is beautiful, the moon is bright, but Red doesn’t think about that. Red has to stay awake, so he calculates all the numbers he’ll type down in the Fame Checker later.

Chapter Text

It’s around that time that Red realises that he’s not the only one who’s been collecting information on Green.

Red’s back at the beach again, and back on the Fame Checker forums. His Pokémon are visiting Fuschia City’s famous oceanfront. Venusaur and Snorlax and Blastoise are so big that they can sit out in the breakwater, and the waves pass harmlessly under their shoulders. Some swimming children are trying to climb up onto Snorlax’s shoulders, and she yawns and lets them grab onto her fur and hoist themselves up.

Red’s not really in the mood for the sea and the sun and the people though. And neither is Pikachu, who is lying next to him in the sand, under a giant multicolour umbrella.

Who’s Kanto’s strongest trainer? is the title of the thread.

- - You’re kidding right? It’s Lance of the Elite Four. It’s his job to be the strongest. Otherwise he’ll get kicked out. – M*Cellafree, Lavender Town

- - - - But that’s only the official strongest trainer. We’re talking about the de facto strongest! – Alfalfa, Cerulean City

- - I’m thinking… Cynthia’s probably the strongest. It’s all about her Garchomp! – Maril-la, Jubilife City

- - - - This thread is about Kanto Trainers only. It’s called reading comprehension, dumbass. – oLove, Olivine City

- - It’s the Viridian Gym Leader for sure. Nobody could beat him back in his heyday. – Markketo, Viridian City

- - - - Yeah no. Nobody’s seen the Viridian Gym Leader for a good ten years now, and his gym’s gone to rot. I don’t see any reason to keep this guy on a pedestal with how he treated his position in the League. – Caffeined90, Viridian City

- - - - - - Doesn’t change the fact that he’s the best trainer. When a worthy opponent makes themself known, he’ll appear. He’s still the BOSS! – Markketo, Viridian City

- - This is kind of out there, but there’s this up-and-coming trainer who’s going around challenging everybody, and who I think might actually be Kanto’s strongest. I saw him wipe out every single trainer on Route 16 the other day. And he’s young too, couldn’t be more than seventeen or eighteen. – Vicktorium145, Celadon City

- - - - lol, are you talking about Green Oak? – BVreeze, location unknown

- - - - Yeah, Oak’s grandson is pretty good. But I wouldn’t say he’s the best, really. – oLove, Olivine City

- - - - - - I’m not so sure. He knows his way around a Charmeleon. That’s for sure. – Alfalfa, Cerulean City

- - - - - - - - I think it’s a Charizard now actually. – PurpleDrowzee9, location unknown

- - - - - - - - - - Srsly? – Alfalfa, Cerulean City

- - - - - - Does anybody have the link to Green’s page? Somebody put up a public profile for him, right? I can’t seem to find it. – Scarlet O’ Buneary, Mauville City

- - - - - - - - Ugh! Lrn ur way around a search bar :B – anon, location unknown

- - - - - - - - - - Troll – oLove, Olivine City

- - - - - - - -  Here it is. - anon, location unknown

- - - - - - - - - - Thx. – Scarlet O’ Buneary, Mauville City

Red doesn’t actually press on the link to Green’s page as soon as he sees it.

(Pikachu rolls over in the warm beach sand.)

Red’s driven back to pressing the link to Green’s page, by what’s written next on the forum.

- - - - Actually, I wasn’t talking about Green. I mean, Green might be Kanto’s strongest, idk. But I was thinking of another strong trainer that’s been making the rounds. I don’t really know much, but when I saw him on Route 16 he was wearing a baseball cap, a red vest, and was using a Pikachu. – Vicktorium145, Celadon City

- - - - - - I know who you’re talking about. Don’t know his name though. – Midknight, location unknown

- - - - - - - - Does anybody? I heard he doesn’t speak at all. – M*Cellafree, Lavender Town

- - - - - - - - - - And he’s really pale and was spotted around the Pokémon Tower. Sounds like a ghost trainer to me. – Fyrfetched55, Saffron City

- - - - - - - - - - - - That’s dum. – oLove, Olivine City

- - - - - - - - - - Yeah, it’s kind of rude how he just forces trainers to battle with him, without saying anything. Without even introducing himself first. – PorygonPoint, Celadon City

- - - - - - - - - - - - …but that’s everybody. – BVreeze, location unknown

- - - - - - - - - - You guys are right. He doesn’t say much. But he has to turn in his trainer registration card anytime he challenges a gym. I think it says his name is Red on the Vermilion Gym winners’ plaque. – anon, location unknown

- - - - - - - - - - - - Yup. It’s the same at the Cerulean Gym. ‘Red’ it is. – Alfalfa, Cerulean City

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - Has anybody set up a profile for him yet? – Vicktorium145, Celadon City

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - mmm We probably should. Page editors, like myself, are lazy tho. – BVreeze, location unknown

That’s when Red scrolls up, trying to find something (anything) to look at that doesn’t make him contemplate thousands of people knowing his name and saying things about him behind his back.

(But what exactly he thought taking on the Indigo League would accomplish other than that… he doesn’t know. He doesn’t want to think about that either.)

He hits the link, and it’s only Red’s good luck that Green’s Fame Checker profile turns out to be so distracting.

The forumers really have gathered a small wealth of information about Green. An unfavourable amount of it defines him by the accomplishments of his grandfather (and his sister, to a lesser extent), but some of it’s just Green.

Red flips through the photos, downloading one every once in a while for his own private file. Most of them are not photos of Green, as much as they’re photos with Green caught unknowingly in the background, but there are exceptions. He carefully selects a picture of Green on his brand new blue bike, one of Green battling at the Pewter Gym, and one of Green from the party Red missed on the S.S. Anne. That was while Raticate was still alive, but Green doesn’t have him out of his Pokéball, as he pours over the hors d'oeuvres and laughs with the other guests.

Red can’t find a picture of Green’s Raticate.

Red does find a picture of Charizard, though. He had evolved, then. It bothers Red that he’s not the first one to know, even though, when he thinks about it, he probably wasn’t the first to know when Charmander evolved into Charmeleon either.

It hadn’t bothered him so much then.

And then there’s a picture of Green, lined up stiffly in a class photo, at his middle school graduation.

No, our middle school graduation, Red reminds himself. Even if he hadn’t been there, it was still his graduation, too, with his teachers standing to the side, with his diploma hanging on the kitchen wall at his mom’s house.

Green’s only one face in the crowd – not a very big crowd, since it is Pallet, after all – but he’s still only one of two dozen.

But he’s the one people are talking about on the Fame Checker forum.

Red doesn’t download that picture. He’s tired, and Venusaur, Snorlax, and Blastoise don’t look ready to come to shore just yet.

On Green’s public file, people are speculating whether or not his favourite colour is, in fact, green.

Red knows it’s not. It’s black. Or maybe a charcoal grey. But he doesn’t volunteer that information.

Red shuts off the Fame Checker. Retreats into memories that are only his.

==

Green wasn’t exactly popular at school. He was arrogant and bossy. Once he got started talking about Pokémon, you couldn’t get him to shut up.

And his best friend was a mute. More or less.

But even Green had gotten his hour in the spotlight.

Their fourth grade class went on a field trip to Oak’s Pokémon Lab. It was the only place Pallet’s meagre school funds would cover the travel costs for.

Green had confided in him that Daisy’s actually the one who volunteered their grandfather’s lab for the trip. His grandfather hadn’t been too thrilled, but he was resigned to Daisy’s machinations and left his aides in charge for the day.

That really meant that Green got to be in charge. The aides never could match Green’s energy and charisma. They float around, reaching out as if they’re afraid Green will topple the test tubes, and then drawing their hands back in again at the last minute. When they inevitably open their mouths, Green continues talking like he doesn’t even see them, and they let their jaws hang slack, until they close their mouths and swallow and think better of it.

Green’s the professor’s grandson, after all, and they’re not sure where the boundaries are. Not even when Professor Oak tells them to be more firm.

So Green was practically running their field trip, like it’s some overblown show and tell. Except this time the class wasn’t yawning in their seats, they were watching with rapt attention as Green showed them around the lab, and the professor’s Pokémon research pasture.

Jeff and Bryan and the other boys were looking at Green with awe as he showed them the paddock with the Tauros. Green was explaining why you need so many of them to properly measure science things.

Next Green showed them the Glooms, and explained (with his nose pinched) that his grandfather was analysing the chemical components that made up the stench.

The others were thrilled to see such a gross Pokémon (even the girls, although they hide it better), and eagerly asked Green where they could catch one themselves. (Between Vermilion and Fuschia City, or you can just evolve an Oddish, Green replied smartly.)

Red was the only one not listening to Green, for once. He hung back in the class group, even as the others raced ahead. Access to the lab was usually restricted, but that was for people who weren’t in tight with the Oak family. The professor had introduced the lab to him and Green together.

And, anyhow, listening to Green wasn’t as much fun when you didn’t have his undivided attention. Green tailor fit his speeches to his audience. In front of so many people, it would be missing Green’s true character. Together they have a secret language. Green would tell jokes for Red, that only Red would understand.

Green showed them around inside too. (That’s some bookshelf. An important bookshelf actually. A lot of these books are really expensive. My grandfather won’t even let me touch them!) But he got stuck trying to demonstrate the use of the climate-control observation chamber. He pressed at the controls, trying to get the door to slide open.

Just give me a second. I’ve got this, Green said forcefully.

One of the aides chose the wrong moment to work up the nerve to interrupt. But he didn’t step in to work the machine himself. Why don’t you have Red show everyone how to work it? the aide said, obviously (and mistakenly) thinking this to be a nice compromise. Since he’s the one who always helps out when you’re both here.

Red frowned.

Previously forgotten, suddenly the eyes of the entire class were turned to him.

He gets to visit all the time? No fair, Red swore he heard somebody mutter.

Green’s time in the limelight was gone.

N-no! Green protested. Red told me he didn’t want to do it. He told me himself! Look! Forget about him for a minute!

Red tried to meet Green’s eyes, trying to find the one friend among the gazes fixed upon him.

But Green avoided his eyes.

It was true that Red didn’t want to do it.

But he had never told Green that.

But it was just because Green knew him so well. He didn’t have to actually hear me say it, Red convinced himself.

Is that true, Red? the teacher asked.

Everyone was looking at him, even Green now, with wide expectant eyes.

All Red had to do was say ‘Yes’. And then they could all go back to ignoring him, and fawning over Green.

Red curled in on himself. He said nothing.

Green! the teacher seethed. You can’t use Red’s speech problems to put words in his mouth whenever it suits you.

I- I’m not! Green retorted. Too defensively to quite sound truthful.

Jeff snorted and faced the other boys. I told you he was only friends with dummy because it lets him say whatever he wants.

Red’s not dumb! Green yelled and, right in the middle of the lab, he shoved Jeff to the floor and kicked him in the gut.

Green had gotten a week’s worth of detention and been grounded for a month because of that.

And he didn’t talk to Red for two days.

On the third day, he snuck over to Red’s house after dinner. They tiptoed past Red’s mother in the kitchen (although Red wasn’t naïve enough to believe she was actually fooled) and went up to his room, where they sat by the window, the Super NES cords tangled around their legs.

And Green apologised.

I shouldn’t have ignored you like that. And I shouldn’t have lied and said you said things that you hadn’t, Green said, with the kind of hesitation that made Red think he was sorry, but not enough that he could promise it would never happen again.

But how could he promise when Red was such a horrible friend? Green had looked at him pleadingly and Red hadn’t said anything in his hour of need. He couldn’t say even one word to the teacher in Green’s defence. That, ‘Yes’, Green was right and Red didn’t want to show the class how the climate-control observation chamber worked.

Red had failed.

Friends were supposed to stand up for each other against teachers and students. That was why Green had shoved Jeff down after he called Red dumb, in front of the teacher and the lab aides and the whole class. That’s what friends were supposed to do. Right?

And Red had failed.

Red was sorry. But the words didn’t come as easily as they used to with Green, so he took his ring finger and pinkie and wrapped them in Green’s hand, and that was his apology.

Green squeezed the fingers, and Red hoped he understood.

No, he had to have understood, because no one else did.

His mom could understand him, and so could Professor Oak and Daisy, but really they all understand just as well without any words at all. It comes after years of becoming accustomed to one another.

It was the same with Green. So Red gave his wordless apology and hoped it was enough.

==

The buzzer rings loudly over the PA system, and a park attendant Red could have sworn popped up out of nowhere makes a beeline for him, directing him calmly, but firmly, back to the entrance of the Safari Zone.

“Did you get a good haul?” the man at the front desk asks.

He looks up into Red’s eyes with a friendly smile – tailor fit for customer service. He gets the point though, when Red diverts his eyes, and turns back to the computer screen on his desk.

“Wow, not only did you win our fabulous prize for finding the secret house, you captured sixteen different species of Pokémon while you were in there!” the man says. “Impressive!”

Red’s not sure it’s possible that nobody else has ever found the secret house – and does he really need some HM floppy disk to teach his Blastoise how to swim? Things don’t really add up, but Red nods, because it seems like agreeing will get him his Pokémon back faster.

It doesn’t work. The man smiles and makes no move to retrieve Red’s Pokéballs from the locker behind the desk.

“Did you know we have twenty-nine different species of Pokémon here at the Safari Zone?” the attendant says. “That’s why we give you thirty Pokéballs. One for each species, and then another for good luck.”

Red’s looking at the lockers behind the man, where Pikachu’s Pokéball is waiting.

“You did pretty well. Most people don’t catch more than ten types on their first time. And you need a pretty good fishing rod to get some of them,” the man continues. “But we had this one kid in here two days ago – completely gamed the system – came out of here with all twenty-nine types and a Safari Ball to spare.”

What did he look like? Red wants to ask, before he decides a second later he doesn’t need to.

It has to be Green.

“You didn’t manage to catch a Pinsir or a Scyther, did you?” the attendant continues on, shaking his head sadly before reapplying that 500-watt smile. “Do you want to try again? Only five hundred Pokédollars?”

And the counter attendant’s just doing his job, dropping solicitous pieces of information, and it’s ‘only five hundred Pokédollars’, but Red’s convinces himself that’s not the reason that he bites the inside of his lip and actually pulls the money out of his Velcro-fastened wallet.

Red’s beaten Green at his own game before.

The Safari Game plays by its own rules though, Red finds. And that’s why he’s sitting by the water in the zone’s second area, his fishing rod bobbing up and down in the water. Red’s not sure how exactly they’re counting his time in the Safari Zone, but it seems that so long as he just sits still, they aren’t going to rush him out.

It’s been hours and several Safari Games, and Red’s managed to catch most of the Pokémon he missed the first time, but he’s not really sure what he’s even doing anymore. He heard a rumour that there are some Dratini in the water and that’s what he tells himself he’s doing: trying to catch a Dratini. But he hasn’t baited the fishing line properly (fishing is more relaxing when the Pokémon aren’t biting) and he’s not really sure how this should go – is it just a matter of catching all the Pokémon types, or does he have to catch them all in one round of the Safari Game, or is it just about the Pokédex? It’s not as if Red really needs another Magikarp in his PC.

Then something falls through the sky and throws Red face-first into the water.

“…Ugh! Dammit, I was so close! I thought I had that in the bag! All my hard work for nothing!” a voice groaned.

The green landscape and blue sky and purple figure blur into muted streaks as Red struggled to right himself in the water, pulling back and stretching his torso up to the surface, against the weight of his waterlogged clothes. His baseball cap’s fallen off his head and he gropes around for it with one hand, as he reaches for Blastoise’s Pokéball with the other. It should have been at his belt… if he hadn’t checked his Pokémon at the counter at the beginning of the Safari Game.

“Hey! You down there! You okay?” the person yells, although Red too occupied to understand them.

The crest of Red’s head breaks the surface, and he shoots up, inhaling deeply as his mouth breaks the surface. He wipes his bangs and the water away from his eyes, treading water the best he can with his other arm, and recaptures his baseball cap, which is floating somewhere in front of him.

An arm, deceptively strong for how skinny it is, reaches out and grabs him by his vest, hauling him out of the water. Red’s limbs hang limply as he’s dragged up onto the ground and set down roughly.

The first thing Red does is flip his cap back over onto his head, splashing his face with water in the process.

“Are you okay?”

Red looks up from where he’s crouched down on the lakefront.

The girl has coarse black hair pulled back into a stiff looking ponytail. She’s wearing a lightly coloured purple sundress, which matches horribly with her fishnet undershirt and tabi socks and sandals.

“You won’t tell anybody I was here, will you?” the girl asks.

She becomes insistent when Red doesn’t do more than shake the water out of his ears and pull his fishing pole out of the water.

“You can’t tell anybody!” she says. “I’ll be in sooo much trouble if you tell on me. And it’ll reflect poorly on my father if anybody finds out. So you must keep it a secret. You have to!”

Red nods, as he packs his fishing pole back into his bag. Because who would he tell anyhow? And what is there even to tell?

“Ah, I understand,” the girl says, holding a hand up to her chin and nodding to herself. “Your lips are already sealed. Exactly, just like that! Don’t say anything, and we won’t have any problems.”

Red gives her a thumbs-up.

“So have you taken a vow of silence?” the girl rattles off. “Are you actually a monk? A high level holy man? Do you train with your Pokémon in the mountains?”

Red snorts. “No,” he says, feeling a little insulted.

The girl ignores him completely.

“Self-discipline is one of the most important skills a person can learn. That’s pretty noble of you. In fact, you could say it’s pretty cool,” she says sagely. “You’re pretty cool.”

Red can’t help but be a little flattered.

“But you’re still lightyears away from being as amazing as my father!” the girl says, her eyes sparkling. “My dad’s the best of the best. And one day, I’m going to be even better than him.”

Red rolls his eyes and swings his backpack over his back.

“That’s right! I’ll introduce myself!” the girl says, striking a pose. “I am Janine, the thirty-seventh in a line of ninjas from the old capital, poison type Pokémon trainer, and the first female head of the clan since its inception in the Sengoku period!” She pouts. “Or at least I will be… once I’m done with my training.”

Red starts to walk off.

“Wait, don’t go that way!”

The next thing Red knows, his right arm is stuck in place. Along with his right leg. He tries to wave them free, hopping around on his left leg. It doesn’t do much, though. In fact, his limbs are feeling numb.

Then Red turns so the light hits his eyes at the right angle, and Red can see the sun being reflected off of tiny white threads.

“Spinarak!” Janine yells, and the responsible Pokémon crawls guiltily out of the bushes and onto the web.

It’s some kind of bug Pokémon, but Red’s never seen one like it before.

Janine frowns. “C’mon, Spinarak. You can’t pick on civilians like that.”

Spinarak looks chastised and it begins to untangle the web from around Red. Six black and yellow legs crawl over Red’s torso, and it’s a good thing he’s not scared of bugs, the way Misty is.

“Sorry,” Janine says. “But you shouldn’t walk off when I’m talking to you anyhow. …Rude. My father is much more patient. They say he’s got the virtue and patience of ten men, and-”

Janine talks about her father the whole time Red’s getting untangled. And she’s still going by the time Spinarak is done, and has crawled over onto her shoulder.

Red can’t feel the fingers on his right hand. He tries to make a fist and fails. He lifts his limp wrist and looks at Janine accusingly.

Janine startles at the interruption of her speech. (“…my father is strict, too. But not too strict. He’s just the perfect amount of strict, really. He really cares about my training, and-”) She doesn’t seem too pleased with the change in subject.

“That’s just nerve poison,” she says flippantly. “Your leg’s not as bad, right? The worst of it should wear off in ten minutes or so.”

Red glares.

“It comes with the territory,” Janine says. “If you want to raise poison Pokémon, you can’t complain if you get stung.”

Red turns to go, but Janine’s arm reaches out to pull him back.

What right does a little girl have to be so strong?

“No, you can’t go that way,” Janine says, looking a little frazzled. “You’ll get the park officials’ attention if you go that way. And then they’ll see me. Look, there’re motion sensors that way, and cameras over… there. And there. And there,” she says pointing at different posts and trees around the park.”

Red can’t see any of them. He hopes the disbelief shows on his face.

“Look, just follow me,” she says. “You have to sneak around the perimeter of the park, in the blind spots of their surveillance, until I get out… You owe me anyhow, since you messed up my training,” she accuses.

Red stands there, his clothes soaking wet and his arm still paralysed, and doesn’t know how any of this is his fault. But Janine grabs his bad arm and pulls him along and is only too happy to explain.

“I guess I can tell you, since you’ve taken a vow of silence and all. Make sure to keep it to yourself,” Janine starts. “You see, it was my mission to sneak to the other side of the park without being seen by anybody! And it was going fine… until I got to that tree you were fishing under. That tree is part of my super secret ninja route through the park. But you were camped under it for so long, it started to get kind of boring waiting around for you to leave. So Spinirak started showing me how to hang from the tree branches in one place without making any noise.”

Spinirak chittered happily and spun in a circle on Janine’s back.

“But it looks like I’ve still got a lot to learn. A ninja should be able to hang from a tree branch for hours without being spotted! My dad once stayed in a tree for three whole days! And he wasn’t seen once!”

If nobody saw him do it, how can you be sure he was there the whole three days at all? Red wonders. But he doesn’t ask.

Janine ducks into the tall grass and scuttles quickly along, close to the ground, like a Krabby. The back of her dress rides up, but she’s wearing shorts underneath.

“Anyhow, you’re fine and all, but the park officials are going to be really angry if they catch me,” she says. “You’re not supposed to bring your own Pokémon in here. And you have to pay for entry. And my dad would be really upset… He doesn’t know I’m here.”

From his vantage point above Janine, who’s still crawling along the ground, he gets a good look at her Pokémon. She’s not supposed to have her Pokémon in the park, but Red’s glad she brought it. He wants to get its data down in the Pokédex. Maybe she can tell him where to catch one.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Janine says. “‘If it’s part of my training, why doesn’t he know I’m here?’ But self-motivation is key for a ninja! He snuck off lots of places when he was a kid. I’m not going to let myself be held back! This is part of my personal, super-duper training!”

Red follows her along quietly for a while. Janine is still talking about her father, and her training. She’s light-footed and graceful, but she’s not very quiet for a ninja.

When they rest, briefly, hidden behind a rock on the south end of the park, Red pulls out his Pokedéx and points it at Spinirak.

The Pokédex records the size and shape of the Pokémon, but it’s not much more help than that.

“Pokémon unknown. No available data,” it beeps.

“What’s that?” Janine asks, looking curiously at the device, and Red only hesitates a second before handing it to her.

Janine takes it, and spends a moment flipping through the Pokémon entries. (“Oh, that’s where you can catch a Zubat… Dad wouldn’t tell me…”) She eventually tosses the Pokédex back to Red, though, with a smug look on her face.

“It’s pretty good,” she says, “but Spinirak’s even better. He’s not from Kanto, so that’s probably why he doesn’t show up in your thing.”

Janine looks at Red brightly. “It’s a long story. You want me to explain how I got him?”

Red thinks about it for a second, and then nods. So that’s the story that Janine tells him, as they sneak their way across the Safari Zone.

“I have this friend, from when I lived in Johto for a little while,” Janine says. “Anyhow, his name is Falkner, but he’s… a little bit odd.” Janine wrinkles her nose. “He’s always going on about how great his father is. He just can’t admit that my father has his outranked by, like, a trillion times. My father is truly the greatest trainer!”

Janine summersaults from one tree to the next. Spinirak clings to her back.

Red runs to keep up.

“Anyhow, Falkner and I get along great. And he thinks ninjas are cool, so even when I moved back to Kanto, so Dad could take over the gym, we kept in touch. Falkner would call me every other week or so, and we would chat. But it was kind of annoying because he wouldn’t stop going on about this and that about his dad.”

Janine pauses and looks to Red.

“So eventually I got fed up and said that, if his dad was so great, he wouldn’t have gotten sick. It’s obvious who’s better, between a dad who’s at home to train you and to help you with homework and to take you out on the weekends, and a dad who’s in the hospital all the time.”

She leaps forward.

“All I did was tell the truth, but then Falkner got really quiet and wouldn’t talk to me, even when I went out of my way to call him. And my dad told me it wasn’t right to talk about Falkner’s dad like that, and that I had been really insensitive and I had better find a way to apologise.”

Janine jumps down and stands, so she’s walking right next to Red.

“And Father must be right,” Janine says, “because he’s perfect and always right… but I don’t really understand why what I said was wrong. I only told the truth. A father who’s around is better than one who isn’t. I don’t get how that can be wrong.” She bites her lip. “Do you get it?”

Janine looks up at Red, eyes narrowed suspiciously. She’s waiting with thinly veiled curiosity for him to respond.

Red shakes his head. He doesn’t know.

Red has his mother. And Green has Professor Oak and Daisy. Red doesn’t know anybody with a father.

Red doesn’t know, so he shakes his head and places his right hand awkwardly on Janine’s shoulder. (Oh, hey! He can feel his hand again!)

Janine shrugs and continues on with her story, but she doesn’t brush Red’s hand away.

“Anyhow, Falkner likes bird Pokémon best, since he’s a weirdo, and he wasn’t accepting my phone calls, so what I did was sneak into my father’s things and steal a Pokéball.”

Janine suddenly rolls to the ground, narrowly bypassing a couple of fighting Nidorinos. She doesn’t pause in her story, though.

“Then, I went out into the tall grass, and used my super awesome ninja skills to catch a Pidgey, even though I’m technically too young. And I have Falkner’s address in Violet City, so I wrote him a note that I was sorry and sent him the Pidgey.”

She frowns.

“That ingrate though! I didn’t hear back from him for two months, and then he sends me a letter saying he doesn’t need a lame Pidgey that I caught. And I thought he sent it back for a minute, but then I finished reading his letter, and he said he saw this creepy poison bug Pokémon in the forest and thought of me, and that’s why he sent a Pokéball with his letter. And that was Spinarak.”

Spinirak chitters and crawls around to Janine’s front. She takes a moment to stroke at his legs fondly, before she continues forward.

“Anyhow, Spinarak is really cool, right? He’s a poison type that you can’t find, except in Johto, so he’s really rare here. He’s super special. Even my dad said he was jealous, but that, since I had apologised properly, I had earned the right to keep my own Pokémon.

“And Falkner answers my calls now and we can talk normally. So it all worked out in the end. It’s a lot of work not to rub how much better my dad is in his face, but self-discipline is part of my training anyhow and now we’re friends again, so it’s okay. Friends are really important. And Falkner thinks ninja stuff is cool, and none of the girls at school get it, so he’s a really important friend to have.”

Janine turns and smiles back at Red. They’ve stopped at the fence at the edge of the Safari Park. There is a herd of Kangaskhan resting to their left.

Red’s clothes haven’t dried yet, but his right arm and leg definitely feel better.

“So that’s how I got my Spinarak,” Janine says.

That seems like a lot of trouble to go through for a new species of Pokémon, Red thinks. He’ll have to be happy with the new types he caught in the Safari Zone.

“So, this is the way out,” Janine says, pointing at the fence behind her. The Kanghaskhan turn to regard her curiously.

Red looks incredulously at the fence. It’s at least five metres high, and the forest is densely packed behind it.

Spinirak clicks its pincers happily, congratulating its master.

“So I told you a lot,” Janine says. “So, why are you here in the Safari Zone? I know you’ve been here all afternoon. You’ve gone five rounds of the Safari Game, right?”

Red looks at her, wide eyes popping.

“Don’t be so surprised,” she says, striking her martial arts pose again. “A ninja has to be good at surveillance, too! I have my sources, so I can definitely tell everyone who’s been in this park in the last couple days. And for how long.”

That sounds improbable, but Red finds himself sucked in by the idea anyhow.

He pulls out the Fame Checker, and pulls up Green’s picture. It’s doubly useful, as both a method of letting her know why he’s here, and of asking her what she knew about Green’s trip to the park.

Janine spends a long time studying the picture. And when she finally opens her mouth to say something, Red’s ready.

He clicks the audio record button on the Fame Checker.

“I’ve never seen this guy!” Janine smiles brightly.

Red spends a minute gaping at her. Who else would have the stubborn-minded, egotistical determination to go after all twenty-nine species of Safari Park Pokémon in one go?

“Safari Park!!” he says, gesturing to their surrounding area with his hand. “You hasn’t seen-?!”

“Hey! Self-discipline. Don’t break your vow of silence over something like that!” Janine clicks her tongue, scolding. “You’re not as cool as you first seemed, Mr Monk…”

Red feels the blush collect in his cheek.

He’s still holding the Fame Checker up, dumbly.

“I’m one hundred percent sure that that guy hasn’t been in the Safari Park in the last couple of days,” Janine swears. “So I don’t think you should wait around for him.”

Janine salutes, and Spinirak spins in place as a farewell.

“Well, it was good meeting you,” she says. “Tell no one of our meeting, for I am the vengeance, the night!” She takes another dramatic pose. “The park entrance is that way.” She points behind Red. “But I’m sure if you walk off in a random direction, one of the park officials will appear to escort you out.”

And that’s all Red gets, before Janine reaches for the fence and vaults herself upwards. She pulls herself up quickly, hindered not at all by her summer dress, to reach the top of the fence. There, she falls forward, catching herself on the branches of the pines surrounding the park, and escapes through the treetops.

==

Red enters the Saffron City gates in the north.

He’s entered from the east and the south and the west, too. And from the north one time previously. But this time, he’s getting through.

Red walks into the guard station with a dozen bottles of water cradled in his arms.

“Whoa, I'm parched!” the guard says, eyeing the bottles in Red’s arms greedily. She seems surprised when Red actually reaches out to offer her one of them, though.

“Huh? I can have this drink?” she asks, and doesn’t wait for Red to answer, before she swipes all of the bottles out of his arms.

She’s downed two and a half bottles before she turns back to him.

Red watches expectantly.

“If you want to go to Saffron City… you can go on through,” she says carefully. “I’ll share this with the other guards.”

Red beams.

“Cheapest bribe I’ve ever taken,” she sighs, “but what are you going to do? This situation is getting ridiculous. We haven’t been relieved of our posts in days.”

Red nods sympathetically. He’s got to play his cards right, if he doesn’t want the guard to change her mind.

The guard grumbles and gulps a little more water. “Orders are to stay here and keep our heads down, until all this Silph power play is over. It’s disgusting how these businessmen seem to rule the whole city! Nobody knows if they should step in, or if it’s even worth it.”

Red nods, even though he doesn’t understand.

“And then they chew up out for slacking on our jobs, when we’re all sleep deprived and hungry,” she says angrily. “I think we’re all just about ready to quit.”

She sighs.

“Honestly, I usually wouldn’t even consider letting you through for a water bottle, but the last thing I need is another incident like the other day. At least this is quiet.”

Red’s curiosity is piqued.

“Wha-” he begins to ask.

“Oh, it was crazy!” the guard says, clearly looking for the opportunity to relay the story. “We got this one guy… It’s the middle of the night, and I’m stationed over at the west gate. I’m haven’t been home in days, so I’m kind of snoozing at my post…”

The guard pauses dramatically, and Red nods, prompting her to continue.

“The next thing I know, it feels like the whole place in on fire. The station doors burst open, and this boy walks through.”

The guard meets Red’s eyes. “Well, no, that’s not entirely true,” she says. “He rides through.”

Red’s eyes widen.

“He’s riding on the back of this giant Arcanine, flanked by a Gyarados on one side and a Pidgeot on the other. The Pidgeot’s kicking up this big gust, and the Gyarados is throwing water everywhere, and – it’s the middle of the night, remember – I kid you not, the boy’s wearing a pair of sunglasses and has his hair slicked back, acting like he was too cool for school.”

Red has to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

“And so, I’m trying to bring this under control, and call for backup, but all I have is a Growlithe.” The guard taps at the Pokéball at her belt solemnly. “You know there’s no way I can go up against an Arcanine with a Growlithe – pack mentality and all.”

Red nods.

“So the kid just bursts through the other door, shouting ‘Smell ya later!’ and waving, and I get to clean up the goddamn mess he leaves behind here! The floor needed to be mopped up after the Gyarados. The tables were all knocked over. There were burn marks on the doors. And of course my supervisor chews me out for letting this happen. What am I supposed to do?! It’s just me and Growlithe, and people are getting antsy with the gates being closed for so long! It’s really a miracle it took as long as it did for some dick to try pulling a stunt like that.”

Red’s rifling through his bag for the Fame Checker, already.

He finds it and holds it out towards the guard, who eyes it suspiciously.

It sounded like Green was playing the fool, as usual. And Red had had no idea he had gotten ahold of an Arcanine. He’s almost giddy as he holds the Fame Checker up and asks the guard, “Would you repeated?”

The guard’s eyes narrow.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, kid, but I’ll have enough people trying to get my ass fired once this is all over, without you spreading around tales of my incompetence!” she growls.

Red flinches and draws back.

“That’s right,” she says, glaring, not relenting even for a moment. “Now, you better get your ass out of my station, and onto the Saffron Streets, before I change my mind and have you held for questioning. And if I do,” she sucks the air in through her gritted teeth, “you won’t have to worry about seeing your Pokémon again. Trust me – you won’t be seeing much of anything.”

Red doesn’t need telling twice.

He shoves the Fame Checker back in his bag and hikes it for the exit.

“Hey kid!” the guard calls to him, as he reaches the door.

Red freezes, and turns slowly.

His hand twitches, but he holds it still. He’s ready to pull Pikachu out of his Pokéball, if he has to. But he can’t let his movements give that away.

The guard smiles to him though, sweet and deceptively unthreatening. She holds up a water bottle and waves to him with her free hand.

“Thanks for the cool drinks!”

==

Red later records the story about Green busting through the Saffron gates himself.

It doesn’t come out sounding as good as when the crazy guard told the story, and there’s some background noise in the recording from Snorlax’s snores, but what can Red do about it?

==

The Silph Company is a mess, a mess that’s bled out into the whole city. And it’s a mess that’s uglier from the inside.

Red’s fought his way through a whole host of researchers and grunts on the way through the Silph Company building, but the last person Red should expect to find in the midst of the Rockets’ takeover is Green.

In reality, Red expects to see Green everywhere he goes and, when Red steps out of the teleporter on one side of the room, he sees Green materialising on the other.

Green shakes his head and grinds his teeth angrily, in the split second before he sees Red.

Then, the disaffected grin returns to Green’s face, and he walks up, saying something about something, trying to look nonchalant, even when he’s practically forcing Red to make eye contact with him.

And then they just have to battle.

It’s nothing like the last time they went head to head. Green unleashes his Pokémon, all at full strength, at Red’s team. And Red’s Pokémon respond in kind.

Pikachu and Venusaur and Snorlax all fight to the limit with Green’s team. Although Blastoise is noticeably more relaxed taking on Green’s Pokémon than he was taking on Team Rocket moments before, and gets knocked out early for his carelessness.

By the time they're finished, only Pikachu is standing, and Red doesn’t have time for this anymore.

All his informal research on Green, and he’s got nothing to show for it. Wasn’t Green trigger shy about letting his Pokémon faint, after what happened to Raticate? What was he doing now, fighting Red to the limit, letting all his Pokémon faint in the middle of Team Rocket’s base?

All his informal research on Green means nothing, because he still can’t figure out what’s going on in Green’s head.

What was he doing, making Red fight his Pokémon again? What if he made Red kill another one of his Pokémon? Red’s Pokémon are dangerous – Blastoise looked about ready to bash the Rocket grunts skulls in, earlier. Red’s dangerous – he almost let Blastoise do it. It was Venusaur who stepped in to restrain him.

Red can’t back down though. He can practically feel Giovanni on the next floor.

And if Green thinks Red is going to escort him safely out of the Silph building… After everything that’s happened… And almost all of Red’s Pokémon are down, and he’s not sure if he has enough healing items for them? But he’ll dig through his bag’s item pocket on the next floor, because he can hardly stand to be here any longer.

Pikachu’s perched on Red’s shoulder and he steps forward to leave. Before Green leaves before him.

He should have known that the one time he wanted to go, Green wouldn’t let him.

Green grabs Red by the forearm as he tries to move past.

Pikachu, the traitorous mouse that he is, scoots over to make room for Green’s hand on Red’s shoulder, as Green reaches up with his other hand to push Red firmly back.

“Listen, Red, take my advice and stay out of this,” Green warns.

His face is more serious than Red has seen in years.

“I don’t know what they told you, but it’s not just Team Rocket – this whole place smells.”

Red shakes his head, and tries to brush Green away.

Green grips his arm tighter. It hurts.

“What?!” Green barks. “You think a company gets taken over just like that. Face it. The reason the authorities aren’t getting involved is because it’s an inside job. You talked to some of the scientists on the way down here, didn’t you? More than one of them has a foot in both camps.”

Red shakes his head, because that’s not what it’s about. He’s not sure what it is about. But he’s smart enough to know that’s not it.

“Don’t you get it!” Green hisses. He grabs both of Red’s shoulders and shakes. Pikachu squeaks in protest as he's tossed back and forth, and grabs onto the side of Red’s face.

“Silph’s using you, you moron!” Green shouts. “Team Rocket paid them off, and now that the Silph bigwigs have cashed their checks and realised what a shit deal they got, they’re using you as leverage. As a fucking bargaining chip.”

Pikachu sparks dangerously, in warning, and Green withdraws his hands.

But it’s enough to get a rise out of Red.

“So that’s what?!” Red shouts. “Just now leave?! We walked out?! Letting Rockets now do what they want?! They steals! Killing!”

“No, that’s not what I meant!” Green protests. “Fuck Team Rocket, and everything they do, it’s just…”

Green sighs. “You can’t fight them here, on their terms. This is bigger than just you and me. You can’t Red. You…”

Red ignores him. He charges forward.

Green reaches out to grab his hand and yank him back, ignoring Pikachu’s warning sparks.

“Stop, Red!” he commands. Then his voice goes soft. “Your Pokémon could get hurt. Seriously hurt. And… you. You could get hurt Red.”

Red huffs, because he knows his Pokémon are strong at this point. Giovanni can’t touch him.

Green feels Red’s disaffection, though. And he reacts to it.

“Dammit, Red!” he flares up. “If I tried to go traipsing off to Unova, you’d stop me! Wouldn’t you?! Or at least you’d come w-”

Green stops abruptly. He lets go of Red and steps back. He raises his hand to his head and laughs bitterly.

Red feels the steady tug on his heartstrings, softening his hard expression. He wants to tell Green he’ll follow him to Unova or Kalos or anywhere in the world, if he has to.

The impulse is too weak, though. And it’s not true, besides.

Red doesn’t say anything.

Green has his eyes covered with one hand.

“No. Never mind. You’re right. How would I know what the fuck you’d do?” Green spits.

That’s not what I said, Red thinks.

Green swings his arm down off his face and grins.

“Fine. So, you are ready for Boss Rocket!” Green says. “Well, Red! I'm moving on up and ahead! Am I a genius or what? I'm going to the Pokémon League to boot out the Elite Four! I'll become the world's most powerful Trainer! And you can do whatever you want. Don't sweat it!”

Green starts to stomp away, but he can’t resist, though, so he turns one last time before stepping through the teleporter.

“Good luck to you!” Green spits out sarcastically. “Smell ya!"

.

.

Red’s right. Giovanni can’t touch him.

Giovanni’s Pokémon fall one by one, starting with Nidorino and ending with Nidoqueen.

All of his Pokémon, except for Persian, who claws his nails against the plush rug on the boardroom floor, and looks on boredly every so often.

The Silph Company President watches with increasing relief and glee.

Persian doesn’t move until all of Giovanni’s other Pokémon have fainted – then he walks slowly, stiffly, as if he might be arthritic, to Giovanni’s side.

Giovanni grabs the Persian by the scruff of the neck, firmly, but tenderly, and holds him back.

Giovanni smiles, and his anger and frustration fail to tarnish the pure feeling there.

And then he leaves.

It takes days for Red to realise why that smile is so familiar.

He’s seen it before in a mirror.

Red’s right. Giovanni can’t touch him.

The problem is Green isn’t wrong. Red’s hurt.

The Silph Company President showers him with praise and gifts. His aide steps forward to present Red with a Lapras, a rare Pokémon with a mild temperament and a penchant for ferrying people across the water. The president offers him a special Pokéball.

“It's our secret Master Ball prototype. It will catch any Pokémon without fail!”

The president pauses for a minute, before he winks conspiratorially.

“…You should be quiet about using it, though.”

And, well, it’s not like Red has anyone to tell anyhow. But, still, it would have been nicer to have the option.

Red accepts the Pokéball and wonders if this is what an ‘inside job’ is supposed to feel like.

==

“The Marsh Badge will make even very strong Pokémon obey you, although there may still be stronger Pokémon that can go wild, ignoring your orders in battle! To avoid that problem, please don't train too your Pokémon too hard.”

Sabrina presses the Marsh Badge firmly into Red’s palm, along with a new TM, although she declines to explain its function.

“The love you have towards your Pokémon, it is something even my psychic powers cannot best,” Sabrina inclines her head slightly and steps back. “Go on, now. You waste valuable time here. There is much more for you to do.”

Sabrina holds up a hand and points to the exit. Behind her sweeps an unnatural wind, blowing her hair up in front of her face and lifting her up off the ground momentarily. It’s cold and bewitching, but Red can’t leave yet. Green’s name is listed at the entrance of the gym, with that of the victorious challengers. He can’t leave without answers.

So he stands fast in front of Sabrina and pulls out his Fame Checker, his fingers moving quickly over the buttons – muscle memory – pulling up Green’s picture.

“You are not intimidated by me. How rare.” Sabrina laughs, and there’s an edge of cruelty there, but she plucks the Fame Checker out of Red’s hands.

Red is intimidated by her. She’s tall and fearless and older than him, and the entire room is filled with an achingly strong presence, radiating out from the woman standing in front of him, leaving Red’s brain feeling groggy.

She’s not anything like Misty, who is sweet company in easy times.

But, like his Pokémon, Sabrina seems to understand him even when he doesn’t speak in words, so there’s something about her that Red appreciates. He can afford respect to that.

“This boy. You wish for me to speak about him,” Sabrina says, pointing at Green’s picture on the screen of the Fame Checker. It’s not a question, and she doesn’t wait before tapping the buttons and holding the device up to her mouth to record her statement.

“I mentioned before I had a vision of your arrival here in Saffron. The advent of this vision was the departure of this boy from my gym. There was nothing remarkable about our fight, save for this.”

Sabrina’s eyes meet Red’s for an instant, and Red’s surprised by how cold they are, even though their colour is warm.

“Ah, it is beyond me how anybody can think your kind are all the same, how you can even make a ‘kind’ in the first place. Erika knows exactly what she wants and pursues it shamelessly. Your friend pursues what he does not want – quickly, recklessly, and with much guilt. And you,” Sabrina pauses briefly, before continuing on resolutely, “you are aimless.”

Pikachu sneezes over the side of Red’s shoulder.

Red accepts the words, but only because it is too much trouble to speak back.

“You are upset with me, yet you still wish for me to keep speaking,” Sabrina says. “Perhaps I was too harsh. You are not entirely aimless, but I beg you be careful regardless. It is entirely possible for people to continue missing each other forever.”

Sabrina shifts her feet at a forty-five degree angle and turns so she’s looking away from Red, out the window at the grey concrete walls and painted graffiti of the neighbouring building.

“I once made a game of trying to connect two points. I have since learned that such games only make mockery of the severity of a line. I have said too much.”

Sabrina taps the button to stop the recording and reaches over to drop the Fame Checker back in Red’s hands, scowling and wrinkling her nose as if the device had started emitting a putrid smell.

Red frowns indignantly, and tries to force the Fame Checker back into her hands. She’s hardly said anything about Green, in the midst of her cryptic babbling.

Sabrina recoils from it though.

“No. I have said too much,” she repeats. “You have tarried here too long. Anything you accomplish, it shall be from your power alone. Go!” Sabrina wheezes. She throws her hands up over her head and the lights over the gym arena begin to dim.

Pikachu growls angrily from Red’s shoulder.

And that’s the last thing Red remembers before his eyes open, standing outside the streets of Saffaron in the night, with the locked doors of the gym to his back, and Pikachu perched on his shoulder, suddenly alert, and facing forward.

Chapter Text

Red passes through Pallet Town on his way back from Cinnabar Island.

It’s been a year since he left, and it hasn’t changed at all. He still doesn’t feel anything towards this place that he grew up in.

Red wishes for the first time that he had had the foresight to train a flying Pokémon, because how much better it would be to fly on a Pokémon’s back, high over the Pallet streets?

But Red doesn’t have a flying Pokémon, so he walks.

He walks through the streets and his neighbours greet him. Everyone greets him. Everyone is everyone’s neighbour in Pallet Town. They nod at him, politely, or surprised, or hesitantly, like they’re afraid he might attack them like a wild Pokémon if they look at him to long.

Nobody tries to start a conversation, because they all know better.

Mrs Miyako, who lives down the street from him, gives him a curt smile and Pikachu an impressed look.

Kaito is out patrolling the streets with his Growlithe. He’s an old schoolmate of Red’s mother, and has never stopped carrying a torch for her, even though he’s had a long-term girlfriend for a while now.

He bows slightly to Red, and Red bows back, more deeply. He doesn’t need to stir up any conflict.

Mrs Abe is out in the yard gardening, like usual, and when she waves to Red, specks of potting soil fly off her gloves and into her hair. There are more Abe family members in the house, and in the house next door, and even a couple of Abe children are playing in the garden.

Red waves back.

There are entirely too many Abes in Pallet Town.

Along the road, Red runs into a couple of old classmates of his, a boy and a girl, Bryan and Sora, walking in their summer uniforms and talking with one another. Bryan was one of Jeff’s old gang, and Sora had never even talked to Red before, but they both brightened when they saw him.

“Hey, Red!” Bryan greets. He smiles nervously, flushing, and glances down.

Red follows his gaze. Bryan’s left hand is hovering very close to Sora’s right hand, like Bryan wants to reach out and take it, but he hasn’t quite yet worked up the nerve.

“Yeah, hi Red!” Sora follows up. “Nice to see you back, and looking so well.”

She smiles at him kindly.

Red nods at the both of them, and they continue along down the path, shyly stepping around each other.

Red looks back at their beige and white uniforms. He would have rather died than continued on with high school, but for a brief instance he wonders what it would have been like. It seems to have mellowed out his classmates, at the very least. For a brief moment, they almost seemed nice.

And finally Red reaches a fork in his path. To the right is Oak’s Pokémon Lab, and Green’s house. And to the left is his mother’s house.

Hmm, he should probably go visit his mom, but she’s probably over at the restaurant right now. Pallet House, on the other side of town. He should probably wait for her at the house, until she got off work.

He pictures sitting at home with his mother, watching her fuss all over him, running between the refrigerator and the sink and the television, in an attempt to try to keep him happy. In an attempt to drown herself out with her actions.

She’d ask about his Pokémon, and about his journey. And she’d patiently ask him to explain himself over and over again, until she understood.

She’d hug him warmly, and her lip would quiver in discomfort and she’d be just as unsure of what to do as Red would.

The restaurant won’t close until nine, and she won’t be home for another hour at least after that, and Red doesn’t want to wait for her.

He turns his head to the right. He could go visit Daisy instead.

Daisy would probably be at home right now, drinking her afternoon tea. She would set out a cup for him and Pikachu, and just sit there with them. She might be doing a crossword puzzle, and she’d silently scratch out the answers with her pen, and she wouldn’t embarrass him by asking him if he knew any of the answers.

And then, when they were done, she’d collect the tea cups. She’d tell Red to take good care of her brother. And she wouldn’t watch Red as he departed.

Red wants to go visit Daisy, but he feels guilty about it. It’s not right that he wants to visit Daisy, and not his own mother.

Well, if he can’t visit his mother, he can’t visit Daisy either, he decides.

Mrs Miyako and Mrs Abe and Kaito and the other Pallet Town residents will tell them he was here, and that he looks healthy.

Red goes on ahead through Route 1, to Viridian City. The Rattata and the Pidgey are no match for the steady pulse of electricity streaming from Pikachu’s cheeks.

He tells Pikachu to go easy on them. He doesn’t want any casualties.

He makes it to Viridian at five o’clock in the afternoon, and the sun is still high in the sky. Spring is almost over.

The Viridian Gym is as intimidating and tall as it had looked during Red’s first trip through the city. The windows are dark and dirty, and the grass in front is brown and unkempt.

Red wonders if the Gym Leader is even inside. How is he going to find them if they aren’t there? This is something he needs to do, if he’s going to challenge the League. And Green.

The gym is a giant behemoth, stretching out over the sky to blot out the sun, and Red wonders how he’s going to ever defeat such a monster. How is he even going to get inside?

He reaches out, not really expecting it to work.

But against all his expectations, it does. The knob turns over in his hands, and the door opens. And Red steps inside into the darkness, into the behemoth’s giant maw.

==

Blastoise is calmer this time, facing the trainers in the gym. But the fact that Red realises he’s calmer means there’s something to be calmer about – something that would otherwise put Blastoise on edge.

That’s why Red shouldn’t be surprised when he finds out Giovanni is the Viridian Gym Leader.

Red is anyhow.

Persian is there, napping on a woven blanket, behind them.

Blastoise and Lapras flood out most of Giovanni’s ground Pokémon, but Venusaur is the last one left out on the field, when their battle comes to its inevitable conclusion.

Ground types are no match for Red’s team, which has a plethora of grass and water types. And Giovanni’s Team is ground exclusively.

But if you like ground Pokémon so much, why not Cubone? Red wonders. How can you raise such powerful Pokémon, and with such care, but still be the leader of Team Rocket? How can you care so much for Nidoqueen and Nidoking, but have Cubone’s mother killed and Blastoise’s…?

Red doesn’t actually know who, exactly, Blastoise lost. Some other Squirtles, who were important to him. A home, maybe. Or even more than that.

It’s too big a question. Red pares it down a bit.

If you like ground Pokémon so much, why not Cubone?

Red still can’t ask that. He doesn’t know how.

“Ha! That was a truly intense fight.” Giovanni smiles. He looks ecstatic. “You have won! As proof, here is the Earth Badge!"

Giovanni steps forward. Red remains where he is, standing behind Venusaur, who waves his leaves and moves in front protectively.

“It is evidence of your mastery as a Pokémon Trainer,” Giovanni continues. “With it, you can challenge the Pokémon League. Also, take this TM. Consider it a gift for your Pokémon League challenge-”

Giovanni is interrupted.

The Persian jumps swiftly out in front of Giovanni. He yowls and hisses and bares his claws.

Venusaur tenses and widens his stance. Their Pokémon are ready to battle.

But Giovanni, as tenderly as he had that day in the Silph Corporation, reaches out to caress Persian’s head. He grabs Persian’s leg and whispers softly.

And Red, unwittingly, does the same. He steps forward with the same firmness, and the same softness, and wraps his arms around Venusaur’s hind leg. He tells him to stand down in so few muffled words, so that only Venusaur can hear him. So that nobody else would hear his mistakes.

Red then turns and catches Giovanni’s eyes across the battlefield. They’re looking at him with something like pride, and Red can’t say anything, but he can’t hide the question in his eyes.

Red lets his arms drop free from around Venusaur’s leg. Venusaur doesn’t seem to understand Red’s embarrassment, though, and nuzzles lovingly into Red’s side.

“Persian, or Meowth I should say, was my very first Pokémon,” Giovanni explains. “He’s much too old and frail now for battle, but his fighting spirit has not diminished in the slightest.”

Giovanni sighs. And Persian responds. He leaps smoothly up to curl around Giovanni’s shoulder, and to lick at the side of his face.

“A stronger man might get rid of such a weak Pokémon,” Giovanni admits, stepping forward. “But I cannot. Persian has been with me from the start. Perhaps a truly strong man can buoy others up with them, should they choose. Or at least that’s what I tell myself.”

He reaches up a hand to pet Persian lovingly.

“And I, once, was buoyed up to great heights, from a pit of weakness. And I have Persian to thank for that.”

Giovanni’s standing right next to Red now. Venusaur tenses, observing the situation carefully.

And Red can’t even look as Giovanni reaches to pluck the baseball cap off Red’s head.

Giovanni examines it closely. He looks down at Red’s features.

And then he sets the cap back down over Red’s hair.

“This TM contains Earthquake,” he says, handing over Red’s prize. “It is a powerful attack that causes a massive tremor. I made it when I ran the gym here, far too long ago...”

And now Giovanni’s looking south, right past Red, to a place Red thinks he’ll never understand, even as the evidence crystallises in his mind.

Giovanni shudders.

“Having lost in this fashion, I can't face my followers.” He squints, looking pained. “I have betrayed their trust. As of today, Team Rocket is finished forever! As for myself,” Giovanni pauses and gives Red a meaningful glance. “I shall dedicate my life to training again. Let us meet again someday!”

Red doesn’t nod. Red can’t move.

“Farewell!” Giovanni says, and he walks away for the final time.

The lights in the gym dim, and when they return, Giovanni is far enough away that Red can’t see him, and Red doesn’t want to follow.

He stands there a long time. Venusaur is there with him, and he looks on worriedly, even licking Red’s face at one point, trying to get a reaction.

And then Red realises he has all eight gym badges. Enough to face Green one more time. And enough to face the Pokémon League.

Red pins the badge against the interior of his vest, right next to the Volcano Badge.

He crushes the TM underfoot, and regrets it as soon as he’s done. Maybe there’s some clue there, about Giovanni, about the Rockets, about all the ‘whys’ that Red never had the courage to ask.

Red flinches. He forgot to ask Giovanni about Green.

Venusaur is regarding him with increasing worry, and Red feels uncomfortable under his Pokémon’s scrutinising gaze. This isn’t any of Venusaur’s business.

Red returns Venusaur to his Pokéball, ignoring the hurt look on Venusaur’s face as he disappears, and walks out of the gym.

He wanders a bit around the town, and he’s surprised at how much of it he remembers – the swimming pool where he attended classes with Green, the stop for the busses to Pallet Town, the place where the old man who showed him how to catch Pokémon. (Although Red had already known how. Professor Oak had shown him long ago.)

Eventually Red found himself in front of the local Pokémart.

Red doesn’t feel like celebrating his eighth and final gym victory with his Pokémon, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have responsibilities.

It’s been a while since he fed her.

“Welcome!” the clerk says as Red enters the store, just like they always do. But Red ignores them. Because these prescribed greetings don’t mean anything, except obeisance to prescription, and every word is precious to Red, not something to be wasted on trivialities. Nobody ever seems to understand that.

An annoying jingle is playing over the store’s PA, and Red tries his best to ignore it.

A filet of Magikarp would be appropriate. But something about giving her something that used to be alive unsettles him. He grabs a tin of Magikarp-flavoured vegetarian Pokémon food instead, along with a bottle of MooMoo Milk.

“Thank you for your patronage!” the clerk says.

Red hands him the exact amount for his purchase. He has the tax calculated out, even before he reaches the register.

“We hope to see you again!” the clerk says.

Red stalks out of the Pokémart, rounding the corner to the side of the building. He pries open the tin of Pokémon food and tosses the top in the trash.

Useless.

He sets the tin down on the ground, and reaches for his most rarely used Pokéball.

When Meowth appears in front of him, she mewls at him softly, before seeing the food. She then steps forward to devour it hungrily.

It’s been… a week? A week and a half? Since he last let her out of her Pokéball… Pokéballs aren’t quite suspended animation, but they’re not quite not either. They slow biological processes somewhat, Red knows.

She’s been in there long enough that she’s hungry at any rate.

Red watches her eat, not quite thinking about anything. When she’s done with the food, he pours the MooMoo milk into the empty tin and watches her lap it up greedily.

She’s not a bad Pokémon, Red knows. But that doesn’t change anything.

He pours the last of the MooMoo milk into the tin, and goes to throw the empty bottle in the glass recycling.

And when he returns, Meowth is done with her meal, and he returns her to her Pokéball.

==

Team Rocket is finished. It’s over, Red explains to his Pokémon, sitting in the rock caverns of Victory Road.

His Pokémon are looking at him with varied levels of scepticism. Well, Pikachu is just curled up in his arms, and Snorlax is asleep. Lapras looks down at him, with a kindness that seems condescending. And Blastoise is... his forearms are tensed, and he’s blowing air out his nostrils.

Red turns to Venusaur, who was there, who heard what Giovanni said, and should know.

Venusaur should be nodding, confirming Red’s words to the others. Instead, he meets Red’s gaze evenly, willing Red to think more carefully about his words.

He said Team Rocket was over, didn’t he? Red asks Venusaur. What? Don’t you believe him? Believe me?

Venusaur pauses a minute, and then shakes his head. It doesn’t mean ‘no’. He’s adapted Blastoise’s mannerisms, after so long. It means Red is, once again, asking the wrong question.

Only Red doesn’t understand how that can possibly be the wrong question. Team Rocket’s gone, and that’s all there is to it. What more is there to say?

Lapras starts singing her lullaby and Pikachu turns over in Red’s arms, squeaking in thanks.

Maybe the smart thing to do would be to drop it. But Red needs to say it. Red needs to believe. So he talks over Lapras’s song.

It’s over. The only way it can be not over, is if Team Rocket is still around. And Team Rocket has disbanded. Giovanni is gone. It’s over, Red says with finality. And next we’re going to the Indigo Plateau to beat the Elite Four, and Green too, if we have to, and then that will be over too. Done.

Blastoise hasn’t calmed at all. He stomps his feet, and roars.

“I doesn’t know what you want me to says!” Red shouts back. “’s over.”

When did talking to his Pokémon start to so horribly resemble talking to everyone else? A mess of emotion and expectation and insecurity.

Blastoise leans forward and roars in Red’s face and, for just a brief moment, Red is scared. He’s a superior trainer with eight badges. His Pokémon are supposed to follow his commands, not act so rebelliously.

Blastoise is ninety kilos of pure muscle. And he’s taller than Red is.

“Quit it!” Red commands. “’s over.”

Blastoise’s water cannons click dangerously. And he opens his mouth to roar again.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, a body comes and crashes between them.

Red and Blastoise both spring backwards.

Snorlax has planted herself as a barrier right between Red and Blastoise. Red quickly examines her face. She’s asleep again now, so either she woke up just to do that, or she’s has some extra-cognitive ability and rolled over in her sleep exactly the way she needed to.

Blastoise roars. Pikachu, now fully awake, jumps out of Red’s hands, up and over Snorlax’s sleeping body, to face off with Blastoise. Red can hear Lapras screeching in protest of the circumstances.

Red can’t see anything though, and he has to run around Snorlax’s impressive circumference to see what’s happening.

As he makes the turn around Snorlax’s head, the rest of his Pokémon turn towards him.

Pikachu is still standing on top of Snorlax’s stomach. His cheeks are sparking dangerously as he antagonistically faces off with Blastoise. Venusaur has wrapped his vines around Blastoise’s right leg, and tugs on them meaningfully. Blastoise looks mostly cowed, but Red can still see him give an aggravated twitch.

Lapras is looking a little lost, and sings out a lone note.

Then Blastoise tugs his foot away from Venusaur’s vines. He gets down on all fours, and runs away as fast as he can, through the Victory Road caves. When he’s about two hundred metres away, he abruptly stops, and pulls himself fully into his shell.

The sparks at Pikachu’s cheeks die. Then he turns in place, curls up right there on top of Snorlax’s stomach.

Lapras nuzzles Red’s face with her snout, and throws him a gracious look, before turning away to waddle after Blastoise. Red can hear her hum softly to herself as she goes.

Then it’s only him and Venusaur, standing there.

“’S over,” Red says, a little unsure, desperate for somebody to agree with him.

Venusaur gives Red one of those looks he usually reserves for Blastoise when he’s being particularly stupid. Red can barely see the vine moving, before it whips up, knocking Meowth’s Pokéball up and out of his belt.

Red fumbles, grasping wildly for it in mid-air, before it finally lands steady in his hand, still unopened.

Red lets out a sigh of relief, and directs a glare at Venusaur. But Venusaur only gives him a meaningful stare, before turning to lumber slowly after Blastoise.

Red replaces the Pokéball at his belt, and begins digging through his pack for a flashlight, so he can keep his eye on his Pokémon from the other side of the cave. He sits down, leaning his back against Snorlax’s bulk, and watches for a long time.

Lapras is singing to Blastoise, in her softest song if Red is reading her motions correctly. She’s swaying her head back and forth slowly, in tune with the song.

Blastoise remains withdrawn in his shell, even as Venusaur moves up and begins to engage him.

Venusaur flips Blastoise’s shell upside down and begins slapping it with his vines, in tune with the song, like a drum. After a few minutes, when that doesn’t seem to work, Venusaur peers into the shell and starts growling at Blastoise.

Blastoise still refuses to move, so Venusaur unleashes his vines again and directs them through the shell’s opening.

The shell rattles around, as Venusaur and Blastoise struggle with one another. Lapras falters in her singing and looks on worriedly.

And then Venusaur, looking triumphant, pulls something out of Blastoise’s shell.

Blastoise remerges after it in a heartbeat, but his shell is still lying upside down on the ground. Blastoise rocks back and forth, but he can’t get up that easily.

Red has to squint and redirect his flashlight, but he finally recognises Blastoise’s pair of dark glasses, when Venusaur snaps them open.

Blastoise roars angrily, but Venusaur meets his gaze fearlessly.

The glasses are too small to fit over Venusaur’s eyes, but he sets them on top of his head, hanging over one ear.

And Red can’t read Blastoise’s expression, but he calms down.

They stay there for a minute, Blastoise stuck lying on the back of his shell, and Venusaur standing over him, wearing the glasses.

And then Venusaur signals to Lapras, and they both push into Blastoise’s side, flipping his shell right-side up again.

Blastoise grumbles his thanks, and Venusaur removes the glasses.

They’re too small to fit Blastoise too, at this point, but Venusaur carefully sets over Blastoise’s ear, the same way Venusaur wore them a moment before.

Blastoise looks chastened, but he doesn’t get a chance to recover, before Venusaur steps forward and licks up the side of his face.

Lapras chirps happily and Blastoise looks startled.

Venusaur is often affectionate with Red and the other Pokémon, but not with Blastoise, as a rule. They’re battle partners sometimes. They play the role of troublemaker versus stern caretaker more than sometimes. But sharing such tangible expressions of love and concern…

That’s usually something that’s too far beyond them.

And Red thinks he understands.

He lets his Pokémon be for a little bit longer, but eventually he stands up and crosses the cave, away from Snorlax and Pikachu, so that he can make amends.

The Pokémon realise he’s coming, and Blastoise curls back up into his shell. Red can see his tail twitching, though, so Red knows he’s only embarrassed by his earlier actions.

Lapras and Venusaur give Red encouraging looks, though, so Red places a hand on Blastoise’s shell and apologises – in actual words.

“‘m sorry,” Red says. “Team Rocket are over. But… are not for you.”

Blastoise glances nervously out of his shell. And maybe he’s not completely satisfied with what Red’s saying, but he’s slowly emerging back out, so that’s a start.

And Red explains, for the first time in words, that he hadn’t originally been planning to keep Blastoise on the team, when he had first picked him up as a Squirtle in Vermilion City. But that was a long time ago. He’s since seen Blastoise at his best and his worst, and they’re playing for keeps now. Red won’t be scared away. Just like his last family of Squirtles, Red and his team would never leave Blastoise behind by choice.

And Blastoise is annoyed and bothered, hurt and embarrassed by Red’s words. But mostly Red can feel the relief and gratification radiating off of Blastoise. And Red’s surprised by how much Blastoise needed him to say this.

And, eventually, Blastoise stands up, and goes with Red and the others to rejoin Snorlax and Pikachu over at camp. And Red doesn’t know what or how they’ve been before, but he really feels his team is united this time.

It feels good.

And they’re going to need it too, when they go to defeat Green and the Elite Four.

==

Charizard is raging fire everywhere, and Red knows Green would like him to believe this is strategy, but Red knows it’s desperation.

Green’s hanging on to his Championship by a thread, and his anxiety is rippling outward, through his Pokémon, at this point.

Pikachu has his hands full trying to dodge the worst of Charizard’s blaze, and Red doesn’t bother him by issuing the commands for every single dodge. Pikachu has good instincts. Red only has to signal encouragingly for him to keep on going.

But the heat is still getting to Pikachu – Red can see him growing fainter and fainter – sweating and struggling to breathe.

That’s why, when the chance comes, Red doesn’t hesitate to take it. He stomps his foot forward and points to where Pikachu can slip through.

Pikachu listens without hesitation, slipping through the gaps in a dangerous gauntlet of flame. The electricity is charging in his cheeks, and Red can see Charizard, putting the pieces together, too late, as Pikachu charges straight for Charizard’s chest.

“Chu- chuuuuuuuu!”

Charizard roars and falls, and Green can’t hide the horror on his face.

Red’s attention is elsewhere, though. Pikachu is thrown back from the force of the Volt Tackle. The recoil was more powerful than Red expected, and Pikachu doesn’t make more than a snorting sound, before he goes out cold.

Pikachu doesn’t faint, Red thinks, in clear contradiction to the evidence, even as he pulls out Pikachu’s Pokéball and withdraws him.

Across the field, Green is doing the same with his Charizard.

Their eyes meet once they’re done.

Lance is reffing the match from the side. Bruno and Lorelei and the television cameras are all watching, listening to him intently.

Agatha’s looking boredly to the side.

“That’s all six of Green’s Pokémon down!” Lance says. “And five of Red’s. All Red has to do is call out his final Pokémon.”

Red crouches down on the field, over the space where Pikachu used to be. His last Pokémon is… He doesn’t want to call her out. He doesn’t want to win with her.

Red’s still looking at Green, who looks back, stone faced.

“He only used five Pokémon in his battles against us,” Lorelei says, adjusting her glasses. “What if he only has five Pokémon? Then…”

“Then Green wins by default,” Lance confirms, gritting his teeth.

That’s the point when Green cocks a smile. He’s got another chance. Another chance to defend his Championship. Another…

Anger boils up inside Red’s gut, seemingly from nowhere.

Green’s used up all of his chances. Red won’t let him have this.

He reaches to his belt and throws out his last Pokéball.

Meowth blinks up, surprised, at the breadth of the battle stadium and the bright lights overhead. She yowls and hops around the stadium floor, still steaming hot from Charizard’s fire attacks, until she finds a cooler spot on the ground and sits down to lick at her paws.

“A Meowth?!” Green shouts. His indignance fails to cover up his hurt. “That’s the Pokémon you’re beating me with?! It hasn’t even evolved?!”

He’s staring resentfully at Meowth, the Pokémon he’s never seen Red with before. Red had wanted it that way.

And Red’s regretting this decision already. Ashamed, he quickly pulls Meowth back into her Pokéball.

It’s too late though.

Red’s already the new Champion.

==

“Congratulations, Red! You and your Pokémon are Hall of Famers!” Professor Oak says.

Red thanks the Professor and shakes his hand.

It’s a great honour, to have known Professor Oak so well in his childhood, and to be taken into his confidence with the Pokédex project. His mother had always told him so. And, now, to receive his congratulations upon his appointment as the League Champion…

Red knows, and he’s proud.

It’s dark in the Hall of Fame, and Red looks up at the screen, where his and his Pokémon’s data are recorded. There are little icons showing the species of his Pokémon team, Meowth included.

It confirms his abilities as a trainer.

He wonders if Green’s information will be listed here too, next to his. Green was the Champion, too, even if only for a few short hours.

He imagines two little blips on the Hall of Fame computer screen. Two Champions and their entire story and struggle, recorded here together, in so few numbers, for all eternity.

Oddly, it’s not a happy thought.

Red exits the Hall of Fame, and the mayhem starts.

There is a small crowd waiting for him – the Elite Four and Green, who is standing with a scowl and his arms crossed.

Professor Oak stands back and beckons Green over to him. And Green doesn’t look happy about it, but he only hesitates for a minute before obeying.

Red steps forward and is surrounded by Lance and Bruno and Lorelei all at once, leading him forward, talking at him and trying to shake his hand.

“Congratulations! You were amazing out there!” Lorelei says.

“Very well done! You, too, have worked hard, living and training with your Pokemon,” Bruno says.

“I’ve been looking for someone like you for a while now,” Lance says. “A strong and a hard worker, and a kind trainer…”

“Yes, I look forward to working together with you,” Lorelei confirms.

Red feels overwhelmed by their enthusiasm.

They keep talking, but Red can’t catch everything they’re saying.

Bruno and Lorelei are talking about the details of his Championship battle. Lance is mumbling, as much to Red as to himself, about future plans and everything they need to be doing.

Red’s all turned around. He glances quickly behind him, and then down to his feet.

“…and, of course, there will be a televised announcement of your victory,” Lance says. “We’ll also be televising the footage of your battles with us and the former Champion. And afterwards, there will be your initiation ceremony… The Celadon Department Store will probably host something as part of a marketing bid,” he adds thoughtfully.

Red doesn’t know what to say. Lorelei and Bruno don’t look bothered by this at all.

And then Lance goes too far.

“And, we’d like you to give a speech accepting the position of Kanto Champion,” he says easily.

“B-b-no,” Red sputters quietly. He feels himself leaning backwards, away from Lance and the others slightly.

Bruno blinks at him. “C’mon, it won’t be that bad. Just a quick five minute speech. You can talk about whatever you like, just so long as there’s something in there about why you became Champion, and what it means to you.”

Red feels his face heat up like a torch. He wants to call Pikachu out of his Pokéball. Pikachu is simple and endlessly understanding and comforting. Pikachu would help him deal with everyone else, who are either unfamiliar or, in the case of Professor Oak and Green, ...complicated.

Pikachu had fainted during the last battle, though, so he was just going to have to figure out how to get out of this mess himself.

“Ugh! I can’t believe you, Gramps!”

Bruno and the others are still trying to talk to him, but Red redirects his attention to the two people standing back by the door to the Hall of Fame.

Professor Oak’s face is aggressively expressionless and his mouth is resolutely shut.

Green, on the other hand, is practically radiating violent fury. He’s glaring daggers at his grandfather, but then he turns quickly to the rest of the room. Five consecutive Pokémon battles have apparently not sated him. Green is itching for a fight.

His eyes pass over Red, and Red’s afraid they’re going to stay there for a moment, because he’s been getting more used to Green being angry lately, but there were always the disaffected chuckles and false pride to soften it.

Green gaze doesn’t halt in its path though. It connects with the back of Bruno’s head.

“Morons. He’s not going to give a speech,” Green says contemptuously.

Only Lorelei appears to hear him, and she glances over her shoulder with a bored expression.

“Hey, I’m talking to you, Beefy or whatever,” Green says louder this time, stomping his foot and pointing with his right hand. “I said he’s not giving a speech!”

Bruno does turn this time. He looks more put out than truly annoyed by the offensive nickname.

“I don’t think that’s really for you to say,” Lance interjects courteously. “You no longer hold the Champion spot, so you’re not in a position to-”

“The hell I’m not in a position to-” Green cuts off, face turning beet red. It’s a split second, before he reins his temper back in and makes a second attempt. “You idiots, it’s not just he’s not going to. It’s that he can’t, okay?!”

Lance looks sceptical, and Red can’t read Lorelei’s face at all, but Bruno and Agatha turn to Red with thoughtful looks in their faces.

“What, did you just think he was the strong-and-silent type?” Green sneers mockingly. “He’s got Specific Language Impairment – he doesn’t understand language the same way the rest of us do.”

“Oh, seriously?” Burno says. He turns back to Red. “Can-you-un-der-stand-me?” he says, enunciating each word carefully. “What-is-your-fav-ou-rite-Po-ké-mon?”

Red raises and eyebrow and looks at Bruno with something like pity.

“He’s not an idiot!” Green explodes. “He understands what you say! Just because he can’t speak correctly himself doesn’t mean he’s stupid! He beat us all in math class, and he beat you all at Pokémon, didn’t he?!”

Red’s annoyed. Part of him wants Green to shut it, because they’re not four years old anymore, in the kindergarten playground surrounded by the other kids. Red doesn’t need Green to protect him, and Green doesn’t need to regress back into some childhood temper tantrum. But, another part of him wishes he could go hide behind Green’s back, the way he used to when people got to be too mean and things got to be too much.

“He’s smarter than all of you! A fucking genius!” Green spits, in a way that Red’s not sure is complementary.

“Geez, how am I supposed to know?” Bruno says. “Anyhow,” he flexes his arm and turns to address Red, “it’s not about predisposition or talent. It’s about training! You know that, right kid?” he slaps Red’s shoulder lightly, perhaps apologetically.

“m- mm,” Red nods, feeling a bit more at ease. Bruno’s clearly trying to be friendly, at least.

“Hmm,” Lorelei hums to herself, with her hand pressed under her chin, as if lost in thought. “If we plan the speech out ahead of time- We can practice, teach him how to say it beforehand…”

“I don’t think you’re going to get him to memorize more than a sentence or two correctly,” Green deadpans. “Unless you’re going to stand behind him during the broadcast and tell him what to say word-by-word…”

It’s not exaggeration. The only way Red managed to make it through the nerves and confusion during his short greeting for elementary school graduation was by drowning out everything else, and focusing on the sounds – not the words – that Green was whispering fervently into his ear.

By middle school graduation, Green wasn’t speaking to him, and Red spent the entire day hiding in the crawlspace under his house.

“Don’t you think you’re being, at the very least, a bit defeatist?” Lance says critically. “Red’s the new Champion. Don’t you think he deserves some recognition for it, or the chance to say a few words about it?”

The unspoken comment is that Lance clearly doesn’t think Green deserves any recognition for his Championship, short-lived or otherwise.

“Of course, he does!” Green shouts. “Of course, he fucking does! But sometimes we don’t always get what we want, or what we deserve, and making him give a speech in front of all those people like that, it’s just-”

“It’s-” Lance begins to say, but Red never hears the end of it.

“It’s cruel!” Green shouts over him.

There is a pause, and the tension in the air is thick, and suddenly Red’s aware of the fact that Green’s looking at him with a face that’s burning red.

“And you!” he says, advancing.

“M-me?” Red croaks.

“Just why the hell do I have to speak up for you?!” Green yells. “If you want to do it, do it! But if you don’t want to, tell them to piss off yourself! I’m sure you’ll find a way to get the message across,” he says bitterly.

Green backs up turning towards the rest of the room and backing away to the door.

“A-all of you just do whatever the hell you want!” he shouts.

Then he flips the bird to everyone in the room, taking a minute to wave the offending hand clearly in all directions, before storming out the front entrance of the Indigo Plateau.

There is a moment of absurd silence before Lorelei speaks up.

“Thank god that kid left,” she says, sighing. “I thought I’d go deaf from all his screeching.”

“Ahem, if you’ll please excuse my grandson.” Professor Oak smiles and bows shortly. “He’s just going through a rebellious phase.”

Agatha, who has thus far been watching the proceedings in silence, clicks her tongue irritably. “Your son went through ‘just’ a rebellious phase, as well. If I remember correctly, he abandoned his new-born son and six-year-old daughter and ran off to start a new life in Unova.” Again, she clicks her tongue. “One might just be a coincidence, but with the second one… Your parenting clearly leaves something to be desired.”

Red cringes, and he can see the rest of the elite four reacting similarly, for all that he’s avoiding their eyes.

Professor Oak’s smile has disappeared. “Agatha, this competitive streak is ridiculous. And in your old age… You said that with no purpose but to hurt me!”

Agatha chuckles this time and reaches into her pocket. She withdraws a Pokéball and casually twists in her hands. “Oh, and don’t I know it!” she crows. “Nothing hurts like the truth!”

==

…

They don’t make him give a speech, but he still has to go to the celebration they hold a week later and say a few sentences.

He’s dressed up to the nines in a stiff black suit, and he’s not allowed to wear his baseball cap. He’s not the only one though. Agatha has put on traditional clothing, a kimono woven with a grey and black pattern in the shapes of leaves and branches. Bruno is actually wearing a shirt, for once. Lance allows himself to wear his cape, but he’s also put on a suit that doesn’t suit him.

“I’m not much for this kind of thing, but it’s necessary,” Lance says. And Red has to admit that, excepting the cape, Lance seems like a very down-to-earth kind of guy.

Lorelei’s the only one who looks even remotely comfortable, in a sheer blue dress. She’s wearing her customary heels and her smart-looking pair of square-framed glasses.

“Sexy as always,” Bruno says deftly, as she approaches Red and Bruno’s table in the Indigo Plateau lobby. Red’s amazed with the ease they have around each other. And they’re not even a couple, according to Agatha.

Lorelei smiles and sways her hips a little bit more, teasingly, before sitting down next to them.

The event’s actually being held in Celadon City, sponsored by the Department Store, as Lance predicted. And they’re going to travel there together via helicopter but, while they’re waiting to leave, Lorelei and Bruno go over what Red’s meant to say another dozen times.

They’ve helped Red write out something short and generic over the past week, and helped him practice it every other night, trying to correct his intonation. They’re both patient. They don’t get frustrated or ignore him when he stumbles over his words, or forgets the script for the tenth time.

If Red had had teachers like them in school, Red thinks he might have made it through his language classes without his mother’s emergency intervention in the principal’s office at the end of each year.

Red repeats the scripted lines again, and this time Bruno and Lorelei’s faces brighten.

“Perfect!” Lorelei says, giving him a thumbs up. “Just like that! Don’t change a thing!”

Bruno nods enthusiastically. “Yes, you’re going to sound great.”

Red has no idea how that was any different than the last ten times he said it, but he nods his head anyhow.

Lorelei and Bruno’s help is gratifying, but terrifying. Red’s not used to having people count on him, at least not with something so difficult as public speaking.

Lance and Agatha, too.

The helicopter arrives overhead, and they make their way outside, and Red asks Lance, Why is all this so… formal?

Stuffy, pompous, superficial, is what Red means. It’s the celebration’s fault for being so shallow, not Red’s fault for being nervous.

“People’s perception of the League is very poor right now,” Lance says, looking skyward up from the helicopter pad, “and this kind of thing – the helicopter, what we say, how we dress – it helps show the public we are calm, organised, and in control. The people of Kanto are still very critical of the League and its political position and, although the televised presentation of your Pokémon battles was helpful to our image, people haven’t forgotten that the final Elite Four position has been absent for over a year, and the Viridian Gym Leader position has been absent in all but name for even longer.

“… Although I suppose it’s official now,” Lance mutters under his breath, almost too quietly for Red to hear.

Lance grits his teeth, and it’s not a good look on him

“Not to mention the continued problems with road blockages and organised crime. You don’t know how many problems I’ve had over the last four years,” Lance says darkly.

Red flinches. He knows too well how many problems there were with organised crime, and he thinks it’s awfully pompous of Lance to assume otherwise.

But Red doesn’t say anything, so Lance keeps talking.

“Every day… damage control… following up leads… for a predecessor, Agatha’s no help at all…. You don’t know what I had to go through. I had to talk Sabrina out of quitting her position every week. And, of course, the Karate Master was being stubborn about taking the Saffron position back, if he couldn’t properly defeat Sabrina first. It was even touch and go with Brock for a while, since he has all those siblings to take care of, and the Pewter Museum was withholding information, and…”

Lance sighs.

“I should have dealt with Team Rocket myself,” he admits. “I didn’t have the time, but I should have done it myself, anyhow. Working in the field, with your own Pokémon, and your own two hands – that’s the kind of thing that inspires trust and respect.”

“I’ll do better next time,” Lance says firmly.

There won’t be a next time. Team Rocket’s gone! Red’s boiling. He walks away.

He ends up right back at Lance’s side later in the night, because when they arrive at the event hall in Celadon, there are a lot of people. A lot of people. Photographers and reporters and administrators and anybody who’s anybody in the Pokémon battling circuit. And Lance is charismatic enough to divert the reporters away, or otherwise direct attention off of Red.

Red wants to dismiss all these people. They’re not important to him.

Except sometimes they are.

He spots Misty, who waves at him tentatively from the other side of the room.

She’s wearing a shimmering white number, and has her hair down. She looks as beautiful and cool as she always does, which is still way too cool to pay any attention to him. And Red remembers that she gave him her phone number, but he had shoved it away in the bottom of his bag, because he would never work up the energy or the courage to actually make the phone call, so it was better just to forget all of it.

Red raises his hand halfway, and then lets it drop. They both hover for a moment, unsure of whether to cross the hall to speak with the other, until Red decides not to.

He’s too ashamed. How can he even face her? Maybe if he had made the phone call a month ago. Or five months. Or right after Misty had first handed him her number on that slip of paper.

He’s a bad friend. Misty deserves better than him.

There are more people after that, and Red doesn’t realise Daisy and his mother are there, along with the Professor, until all three of them are right next to him.

“Oh, Red,” his mother says, hugging him, but hesitating, unsure of whether to pull him close or not.

“I’m so proud of you, Red,” she says. “I always knew you could do it! I always said you knew what you were doing with Pokémon! Everyone who told me you would fail, I knew they were blind! I knew you could do it! And I’m so happy for you!”

His mother is actually crying into his shoulder now, and Red looks panicked to Daisy and the Professor.

Daisy just smiles at him, but the Professor, thankfully, steps in.

“Now, Delia,” he says. “You’re embarrassing the poor boy.”

Professor Oak places a comforting hand on her shoulder and she draws back, rubbing the tears out of her eyes.

“I’m sure he understands how proud you are,” the Professor says. “We’re all very proud of you, Red.” Professor Oak smiles at him.

“I’m sorry,” Red’s mother says, still wiping away her tears with her palm. “I’m just so emotional. Should I not have come?” she asks Red. “I didn’t receive an invitation from you, but Daisy said you were probably just busy and I could come as a plus one. I’m sorry. I just really wanted to tell you how proud I was.”

Red feels his stomach sink and he rushes to reassure his mother that she’s welcome here. He just forgot about having to invite anybody. He never wants her to think that he doesn’t want her around, even though it’s true sometimes.

He’s a bad son. His mother deserves better than him.

His mother and Professor Oak make their way to their seats, and Daisy stays behind to impart a few words.

“Congratulations, Red,” she says. “You’ve worked very hard to get here. My grandfather said as much, but I saw your battles on TV and I could see how much your Pokémon adore you. You’ve taken very good care of them.”

Red nods and says his thanks to Daisy.

He glances around her. If Daisy is here, maybe…

Daisy smiles.

“He’s not here,” she says. “He’s been feeling a bit mopey, since he lost the Championship. …I think he said he said he had a friend that hates ‘fancy shindigs’, who he’d be with tonight.”

Daisy must have seen something in his face, because she frowns.

“Don’t look so bothered. You’ve always been good to my brother,” she reassures. “I didn’t always do so well in my Pokémon Contests… If somebody defeats you because they’re more disciplined, or more talented, or even out of luck – it’s not a personal insult. It doesn’t make all you’ve done meaningless. Green will realise that sooner or later.”

Daisy bows to Red, and Red returns the gesture.

“He’ll come around. Thank you for being so patient with him,” Daisy says, before she walks off after her Grandfather.

Red leaves to go stand behind Lance again.

Daisy’s reassurances, which seemed so nice and logical while she was there explaining them, disintegrate into dust as Lance moves through the guests, saying all the right things, and telling people, no, Red won’t agree to an interview.

Red hadn’t expected to see Green tonight, but somehow it’s shocking that he’s not here now, when Professor Oak and Daisy and Red’s mom all are.

There are too many people here, and Red has to keep closing his eyes. There’s just too much and too much and-

Can he even trust what Daisy’s saying? She’s always nice, even when Red doesn’t deserve it. She and Professor Oak never stop being nice to Red. Even when they’re bothered by Green, they have time for Red.

And Red’s a bad friend. He’s chased Green out.

Green should be here instead of him.

Green would make jokes and laugh and talk, and not constantly think about how much he wanted his Pokémon out of their Pokéballs with him.

Red closes his eyes, and Lance leads him up onto a stage. Lance introduces him as the new Champion of the Indigo League and passes the microphone to him.

Red forces his eyes open and doesn’t look at anybody.

“I’m really glad to be here,” Red says, just like he practiced with Lorelei and Bruno. “After so many battles, and so much hard work, I have a lot of respect for Pokémon, and the trainers that take care of them. I hope we can all continue to work together, for everyone’s sake.”

The audience applauses, but Red doesn’t look to them. He looks to Lance pleadingly.

Red’s sweating bullets. His throat feels scratchy.

Please. Please. Let me leave.

Lance nods to him, tacitly, and Red doesn’t wait before turning and descending down off the stage.

Lance is now talking about the strategies the League take in dealing with public safety in Kanto and Johto.

Red runs down, past the table he’s supposed to be sitting at.

“You did really well,” Lorelei beams at him. And Bruno nods.

And Red catches their eyes, but doesn’t do more than that as he rushes swiftly past them.

The way outside into the courtyard is blocked for the ceremony, so Red hides in the men’s bathroom instead.

This place is a maze, he thinks. Outside of the bathroom stall, he can’t even find his way around. His sense of space and distance is completely off, with so many people to wade through.

Red climbs on top of the toilet, pulling his legs up with him, and calls Pikachu out of his Pokéball.

And Pikachu stays with him.

Brock and Lieutenant Surge, and even Blaine, eventually, come into the bathroom looking for him over the next three hours, but Pikachu’s the one who stays with him. And Pikachu’s the one who stays silent, as the other voices and footsteps moved past on the other side of the stall.

Pikachu stays with him, right up until Bruno busts in with his Machamp, and tells Red that everyone else has left, and they’re going back to the Indigo Plateau.

Lance seems annoyed with him the whole ride home, which makes Red want to sink down into his seat in the helicopter and disappear, but he doesn’t say anything until they arrive back at the Plateau.

“Everyone left you messages,” Lance says, stepping back inside the Indigo Plateau’s residential quarters. “Or the Kanto Leaders did, at least. They were worried about you, so Brock suggested they each write you a note on some index cards, to show their support. They asked me to give them to you.”

Lance hands the stack of cards over to Red, who takes them hesitantly.

“Somebody must have slipped an extra card in, though,” Lance says. “They’re eight of them.”

Lance nods and he walks off down the corridor to his room, his cape swirling behind him.

Red turns and goes to his own room.

The room has a balcony, with a view of Vermilion on one side, and Mount Silver on the other, neither of which Red can see so late at night.

It’s the room’s one luxury. The room is small, and furnished spartanly with western-style furniture (just like his mom’s house in Pallet). There’s a twin bed, a dresser, and a writing desk. Most of his Pokémon are too large to keep indoors, but he’s also given two cushions for his smaller Pokémon to sleep on.

He lets Pikachu out of his Pokéball, and watches as Pikachu curls up on a cushion and falls to sleep.

Red turns on the desk lamp, and goes to lie down on his bed. The room is full of shadows, and it’s hard to see, but if he holds the index cards at just the right angle, he can read what’s on them.

The Gym Leaders call him gutsy… strong… inspirational…

Brock talks about how large the world is, and how many tough trainers there must be out there.

Red, within the walls of his new room at the Indigo Plateau, thinks the world feels very small. He’s never met a trainer as strong as he is.

I’m going to keep training here in Cerulean. When I get better, I’d love to hit the road and travel, Misty writes to him. She’s written something else after that, but she scribbled over it with her pen and Red can’t read it.

The last index card is a surprise.

There is nothing I wish to say to you. I will concentrate solely on bettering myself, and none other, Red reads. It’s followed by a boldface capital ‘R’.

Red grits his teeth angrily. Why did Giovanni even bother?! Why sneak this note into an event he isn’t welcome at, if there’s nothing he ‘wishes’ to say?!

Red gets up. He wants to toss the index cards in the trash, but he illogically takes pictures of them with his Fame Checker first.

He carries the Fame Checker back to his bed and pulls up Green’s file. He flips through the pictures and admires Green’s smile and Green’s carelessness and everything about Green. He wished Green could have been at the party earlier.

Red turns on the audio recorder.

The Professor says Green’s just going through a rebellious phase, Red says.

He remembers what Agatha said about Green’s father, and how his “rebellious phase” had lasted all of Green’s life.

The room they’ve given him is only two down from Agatha’s. She’s probably still awake. He could go knock on her door and ask her. But he doesn’t want to hear about it.

He knows she’ll tell him it’s too broken to be fixed, and Red doesn’t want to hear that. Not since it’s probably true.

Red flips over onto the Fame Checker’s public site and looks at the news.

They’ve already done a brief write-up on the night’s celebration and Red’s initiation as Champion, complete with video footage of Lance’s speech and Red’s introduction on stage.

Red doesn’t bother reading the article. He doesn’t watch the video.

Red goes straight for the comments, catching snippets here and there.

The new champion wasn’t on stage for very long, was he?

Did you hear him talk? What’s up with that accent?

He kept on pausing in the middle of words and everything. Did he even know what he was saying?

Must be a returnee.

He grew up abroad, and now he’s trying to relearn the language.

What message does that give about Kanto? Your kids have to be trained abroad to have a shot at being Champion?!

Yeah, it’s really irresponsible to let somebody like that into the League’s top position. You should have to be Kanto down to the bone, to even be allowed to face the Elite Four.

This last comment attracts a lot of attention. Some commenters say that foreigners and returnees should just go back to Unova, or wherever they’re from. More say that the League and the Elite Four are better for accepting returnees and foreigners – Kanto and Johto citizens of all backgrounds. They point out Lieutenant Surge’s prominent position in the League.

But nobody points out that Lieutenant Surge is blond and bilingual and speaks perfectly in both languages, while Red’s can’t get one language correct and he’s never been outside of Kanto for a day in his life.

Red wants to scream, but he doesn’t. He places the Fame Checker face down on the floor next to his bed and rolls over.

He buries his face in his pillow and hopes, in the middle of the night, when he’s asleep and can’t feel a thing, it will suffocate him.

Chapter Text

The best part about staying at the Indigo Plateau is that meals are provided, and they take requests, so Venusaur can have spaghetti three times a day, if he likes.

Red doesn’t know what the worst part about it is, but he suspects it has something to do with the way everybody smiles at him, excited and expectant, as Lance leads him off to his office to go over the management of the League with him.

“I’m still filling in for you right now, but this is actually your job,” he says, tapping at the piles of paperwork that he has spread out over the desk.

Pikachu looks curiously over the papers – lists of trainer profiles and job candidates, documentation of rare Pokémon sightings, maps of regional weather patterns, order forms for gym badges and training equipment.

Lance’s Pokémon are not out of their Pokéballs.

Just like Green, Red thinks, but he knows it’s not the same. Lance doesn’t only let his Pokémon out for training. He puts aside a couple of hours each evening to take his dragon Pokémon flying, up and over the highlands around the Indigo Plateau.

Red shuffles through the papers, leafing through them without really looking.

Lance misinterprets the look on Red’s face.

“Don’t worry,” Lance says, trying to be comforting. “I’m not just going to drop this all on you and take off tomorrow. I’m planning to keep my position as the fourth and final member of the Elite Four. There will be plenty of time for me to teach you how to manage your duties yourself.”

Lance doesn’t look at Red when he says this, though, and Red wonders who he’s talking to.

Lance tells him to go through the list of rare Pokémon sightings and check them for veracity.

Red asks what that means.

Lance sighs. “Just, tell me if any of them sound legitimate. We’ve had several sightings of the Legendary Birds, for instance – enough that we believe there is some truth to these rumours… It’s the League’s responsibility to preserve the livelihood and habitat of rare species of Pokémon, and prevent them from being caught, especially by unworthy trainers.”

Red goes through the paperwork, even as Lance goes through his own paperwork – drafts for legislation to ban Farfetch'd hunting. Lance is done in a quarter of the time it takes Red to go through a comparable stack of papers.

He can’t just skim the files and grasp the meaning the same way Lance can. Reading and writing are a chore for Red.

Pikachu sits on Red’s lap and nuzzles into Red’s elbow, and Red spends as much time secretly petting him as he does pretending to read.

The clock ticks the hours away.

Lance makes several video calls – to politicians, to Johto Gym Leaders, to- Red doesn’t care.

Ignoring Lance’s critical gaze, Red edges just out of the range of the video camera.

If Lance ever expects him to make calls like that…

Not ever.

Isn’t Red supposed to be battling? Pokémon battles… Isn’t that what a champion is supposed to do?

Red asks that but, even as he does, he’s not sure he wants to know the answer.

Is that what Red should be doing? It seemed like a good idea, when he finished middle school, and could follow Green away from Pallet Town that way… But is he really prepared for a whole lifetime of Pokémon Battles?

“Yeah, you’d think it’d be more battling,” Lance says, “but there aren’t that many trainers that can get past Lorelei and Bruno and Agatha.” He sighs. “I sometimes think Agatha lost to the previous Champion on purpose, so she could focus more on her work in the battle arena. This Champion stuff is actually all outlined in the paperwork they make you fill out when you apply for your Pokémon Training License.”

Lance pulls a form out of his desk drawer and tosses it towards Red.

Red doesn’t pick the form up, but he squints at the top line. Pocket Monster Battle and Training: Request for License and Registration it announces. Red vaguely remembers Professor Oak handing it to him, a week before he left on his journey. He turned it in last minute, the night before he left Pallet Town. He remembers scribbling his signature on every blank space on the form.

Lance is still explaining. “…not on a five-year contract, like me and the other members of the Elite Four, but still salaried. And the winnings are split between the Champion and all members of the Elite Four. But you probably won’t be facing any challengers anytime soon. Especially since we don’t have anybody passing out Earth badges right now. We have to work on finding a replacement for the League’s eighth Gym Leader, ASAP.”

But, against Lance’s predictions, after a week of paperwork and disappointments, a challenger breaks through the ranks to face both of them.

Lance sighs, putting on a show that he’s frustrated, but Red can see the excited, competitive gleam in his eyes.

“Keep reviewing the possible candidates I’ve picked out,” he commands Red, as he walks out the door.

When he’s gone, Red can’t focus at all, though. He sits eagerly on the edge of his seat. Pikachu is sleeping in the corner of the room, and Red wakes him up, excitedly.

For a trainer to make it all this way, to defeat three members of the Elite Four – that’s no ordinary trainer.

Maybe it’s Green, come to steal his dream back from Red. Come to rescue Red from this hell of uncertainty and the weight of every Pokémon and trainer in Kanto and Johto combined.

Lance eventually returns through the office doors and signals to Red. He pauses a moment before he speaks.

“Don’t lose,” he says simply, as he waves Red out the door.

The trainer isn’t Green.

The girl has on a black dress, and a wide-brimmed white summer hat.

She calls out her attacks confidently, and she doesn’t flinch when their Pokémon clash against each other. She doesn’t shudder when they scream and roar and fall.

It’s a little bit less like he’s fighting another trainer, and a little more like fighting a strange copy of himself. She has a Blastoise, just like he does. And her Ditto is so well trained, the clones it makes look almost identical to Red’s Pokémon.

For a brief second, Red loses track of which Lapras is his, and which is the Ditto. He realises which is which only a moment later, but he still feels guilty about it.

If the girl trainer feels guilty, she never shows it.

She’s not as good as Green though. Red wins in the end.

The girl calls her fainted Wigglytuff back into her Pokéball, and looks off across the arena at Red. She stretches her arms above her head and winks at him.

Red looks down at his feet.

“Woohoo!” she calls across the arena at him. “I didn’t think I’d make it this far, but that dragon guy wasn’t so tough – since my Ditto could copy his Pokémon, and all of them are weak against their own type.” She smiles at him. “I’m glad I got to fight you, before I took off for Hoenn.”

Red blinks at her.

She’s the one that crosses the stadium to shake his hand.

“We were in school together in Pallet,” she says.

Red’s eyes widen. He remembers. She never used to wear her hair down. She always had it pulled up in a bun, or cut short. She was quiet and studious, and always had her eyes trained forward at the chalkboard in the front of the class.

Red looks down at her petite figure.

She never used to have hips that wide either.

Then he realises what he’s thinking and blushes.

He looks back up at her face.

He never would have pegged her for the type that wanted to go on her own Pokémon journey. Certainly not the type that would want to continue onto Hoenn after that.

“Yanno, this sounds kind of silly now,” she laughs, “but I saw you talking to a Poliwag at Pallet’s southern coast once. You seemed so gentle with him that, after that, when I looked over at you during class, I always imagined we were secret friends. Or that we could have been… if things had been different.”

Red doesn’t reply.

“What a laugh, right?!” she says, and she doesn’t seem ashamed when she actually laughs in his face. “I didn’t even know you! How could I, when I never worked up the courage to say anything to you?!”

Red flinches, and pulls back.

“But I guess I want to say thanks anyhow,” she says. “I was going to tell you at graduation, but… watching you come to school everyday and look everybody in the eye, even when they made fun of you – it made me think I could be brave enough to follow my own dreams.”

She pauses.

“Is that a horrible thing to think?” she asks. “Even if it is, I don’t really care.”

Red nods. At what he’s not sure.

The girl is talking merrily about her plans. She’s leaving for Hoenn for six months. She wants to see everything from the underwater rifts to the top of Mount Chimney. And then, she’s thinking about spending some time travelling in Sinnoh after that.

“Green?” Red asks, impulsively, interrupting her. He pulls the Fame Checker out of his pocket.

He doesn’t need to show her the picture. She’s from Pallet. She’ll know.

“Green?” she asks, wrinkling her nose, making a face. “What about him?”

Red shrugs, pressing the record button on the Fame Checker, without even having to look at it.

The girl pauses for a minute, and then it comes rushing out, from her, from him, like a dam had been broken.

“I know you always admired him and were his good friend, but he was always kind of a total ass,” she says, heatedly.

“…smokin’ bod, though,” she adds, as an afterthought.

==

Red’s mom couldn’t afford to buy him any Pokémon cards. She was too busy paying for his clothes and food and school fees.

I’ll buy you a pack in a couple weeks, she told him, once I finish filing my reports for last business year.

His mom kissed him on the forehead, and ran her fingers through his hair, brushing it down flat against his head.

Can I come with you? To pick-? Red asked her.

I’m sorry, honey, I don’t have time to take you, she said.

Her eyes were starting to turn watery, and Red regretted asking.

Just… tell me what kind of pack you want, she said, wiping her eyes before the tears could even fall. I’ll try to pick them up in Pewter City after I’ve made my lunchbox deliveries. In a couple of weeks…

Red was trying to decide between the Pokémon Jungle and the Mystery of the Fossils booster packs. You couldn’t actually play the game without the big box. But even just having a couple cards that were his own felt important to Red.

Green’s grandfather could afford the big box. Plus a dozen booster packs! Both the Jungle and the Fossil ones! Green always had a new backpack at the beginning of every school year, and he always had copies of the latest video games.

(Red only has Kirby’s Dreamland 3 and Mother. And that’s only because they were a birthday gift from Professor Oak and Daisy.)

But Professor Oak wouldn’t buy Green any Pokémon cards, for whatever reason.

Professor Oak said it was because Pokémon cards undermined the responsibility and effort needed to raise and train Pokémon, and denigrated his entire field of work.

Gramps just hates me and wants me to be miserable, was Green’s take on the matter. He was sitting right behind Red in class, like always. He had his elbows propped up on his desk, and his head resting on the palm of one hand.

This sucks, Green said angrily. We’re getting left out of everything. Again!

He glared at Red, like it was somehow his fault. Even though it wasn’t that time.

What was Red supposed to do about it? He had already asked his mother to buy him some, and she had told him she would. In a couple of weeks!

There was nothing Red could do if everybody else was using their time between classes to trade and play with Pokémon cards.

The girl sitting two seats up and one across from Red – the one who never wears her hair down, and doesn’t have wide hips, and whose name he can’t remember – had had Pokémon cards, too. She was talking with the girl in the seat next to her.

I like this one best, she said quietly, pointing to one card. But I don’t think I’ll hold onto these.

She held up a set of Spearow and Fearow cards.

I- I don’t really like bird Pokémon. Th- they’re kind of scary, she said, softly.

Green heard that and, sensing an opportunity, bolted up from his desk and walked quickly past Red.

You don’t like ‘em, huh? He sneered, snatching the cards out of her hands. You don’t mind if I take them off your hands, then?

Well, I was actually going to… trade… them…

The girl’s speech trailed off.

Green was examining the cards with a big grin and wouldn’t look at her. She hadn’t yet taught herself the difference between futility and unwillingness to stand up and fight for yourself, but she knew too well what it was to be dismissed.

Heh, heh! Thanks for the cards! Green said, and he practically skipped back over to Red.

Look what I got, he said, dropping down into his seat and waving the cards in Red’s face.

Red scowled. He looked side to side and, when it seemed like nobody was paying attention, he leaned in and whispered.

You shouldn’t do that. You should give them back.

It came out wrong, like usual.

Huh? What was that? Green said. He cupped his ear mockingly, before redirecting his attention back to reading the Fearow card.

Red knew Green understood, and that he was just pretending not to because he didn’t want to listen. It made Red angry, so he crossed his arms and puffed out his cheeks and didn’t repeat himself.

Maybe if Red gave Green some of his own Pokémon cards, once his mom was finished getting them, Green would stop being a bully and give the girl’s cards back to her.

The truth was Red forgot all about the girl by the time a couple weeks passed, but he had since promised to give Green a couple of his cards anyhow. Green was in a bad mood because the Spearow and Fearow cards were not very popular. Nobody would trade with him for the ones he really wanted, and Red felt bad for him.

Green was with him at his house, when he broke open the plastic seal on the Pokémon Jungle booster pack.

They flipped through the cards. Most of them were common things, like Venonat and Oddish and Nidoran. But there was a rare shiny Scyther card, and…

Ooo! Green pointted. I want that one!

Red looked at the card.

He expected Green to want a strong-looking Pokémon, not this fluffy normal type one. The illustration showed it playing in a sunlit meadow, cute and carefree.

Which would have been fine… except Red kind of wanted that one, too.

He held up the Scyther card – the most valuable of the lot, offering it up instead. When that didn’t work he added a Mewoth… and a Weepinbell…

I’ll take those too, Green said, snatching them up and putting them in his pocket. But I really want this one, he said, holding up the coveted card.

And Red looked at Green and, even though he was resentful that Green got new bikes and backpacks and everything most of the time, he feels like he owes Green. For some reason.

Red thought of all the times Green stood up for him, against Jeff and the other kids and even the teachers. And he didn’t even have to force himself to smile. It happened spontaneously, when Green’s face lit up, after Red nodded and said ‘yes’.

==

At some point, Red fails to feel happy, even when Venusaur taps his feet and his leaves rustle and flare out sideways as he digs cheerfully into his tenth consecutive plate of spaghetti.

It’s only the life of a Champion, Red tells himself.

“Are you feeling alright?” Lorelei asks him each morning, with increasing concern as their time together progresses.

“Have you been caring for your physical health?” Bruno says, after a couple of weeks. “If you train your body, your heart and soul will follow.”

“That’s not the aura of death around you, child. But not to worry.” Agatha cackles. “Life can hit you just as ruthless and just as harsh as death ever could!”

The Gengar that follow her around everywhere make funny faces at him. Even ghosts are livelier than him.

Lance pretends not to notice, long after everyone else has given up.

But it’s starting to bleed through him though. Through his actions. There are some things that Red’s never going to be able to manage, and even Lance seems aware of that on some level.

Lance hands him the accounting.

“Can you give some feedback on these radio tower building plans, and the possibility of displaced Pokémon?”

“Look closely at how these files – about known Gym hazards – are organised.”

“We’re starting a campaign for the right to host an international battling tournaments. I’m trying to arrange a good location, but the venue I was considering, in Vermilion City’s waterfront district, fell through. Do you have any other ideas?”

Lance doesn’t say things like that anymore. He just hands Red the accounting. Because Red can do the accounting.

But then…

“I don’t suppose you can interview half of these Gym Leader candidates, can you?” Lance asks him, a couple days later. Out of the blue.

But he doesn’t give Red a chance to answer, before he groans and runs his hand through his hair.

“Of course you can’t!” Lance snaps. “What can you do?! What will you do?!”

Silence.

“I didn’t mean that,” Lance says quickly. “I apologise. I didn’t mean that. This isn’t your fault. I just have a lot on my plate, right now and I- I was really hoping…”

Lance shakes his head.

“I don’t know what I was hoping for,” he says.

It sounds like a lie.

Two days later, Lance calls him into the office and gives him some time-off.

“You’re mood obviously isn’t improving by sticking around here,” Lance tells him. “And my workload obviously isn’t decreasing, either,” he adds with a wry smile.

Lance hands Red a radio receiver.

Red takes it.

“I considered the options and decided that putting you on field work might be a worthwhile venture,” Lance says. “There are some things that we need investigating down in the Sevii Islands. We’ll radio you, if anything comes up… or if there’s a challenger and we need you back here at the Plateau.”

Red knows what this is, even if Lance won’t say it.

This is Lance giving up on him.

“And anyhow,” Lance adds, “Professor Oak has been calling for you. I think he also wanted to send you down to the Sevii Islands – and with a new Pokédex too – if you’d like to stop by his lab before you go.”

Red doesn’t know why Lance didn’t tell him earlier. Red would have been gone sooner, if Lance had relayed those calls earlier.

“You can leave whenever you’re ready, and return whenever you’d like,” Lance says, smiling.

Red doesn’t need telling twice. He leaves that very afternoon, with all six of his Pokémon strapped to his belt.

He stops at Professor Oak’s Lab in Pallet Town and then travels to the Sevii Islands, perched safely on Lapras’s back.

They arrive at Knot Island first, and all that’s left for Red is to work his way south from there.

==

On Lance’s command, Red ends up rendezvousing with Lorelei at the Icefall Cave in Floe Island.

The trainers they meet there aren’t difficult to chase away, but it’s who they are, and who they’re working for that leaves an impression.

Red can’t calm down, because even as his Pokémon give him pitying and understanding looks, he was wrong before. He was too trusting. Giovanni didn’t keep his promise and Team Rocket is back.

Lorelei seems torn up about the sudden appearance of Pokémon poachers in her hometown.

She’s shaking when she tells him, “I had no idea that those horrible criminals were loose here. If anything were to happen on the island where I was born… I wouldn't know it if I were in the Pokémon League.”

Red’s not able to comfort her, not even with a few kind words. He’s too on edge.

Giovanni didn’t keep his promise and Team Rocket is back.

He leaves Lorelei to look after Four Island, and takes off after the criminals.

He’s angry. Giovanni has made a fool of him for the last time.

Giovanni didn’t keep his promise and Team Rocket is back.

He focuses on the anger and ignores the excitement.

It’s harder to ignore the excitement once it’s gone. The hallow feeling left behind in the base of his gut makes him feel completely empty.

And completely alone.

The Rocket Administrators clearly have no idea what they’re doing. They don’t even know what’s happened, more than a month prior, on the mainland. They’re frustrated with him, only a kid, for interfering.

Giovanni isn’t involved. He isn’t even there.

Red can’t meet him here, in this place.

Completely alone.

"We will abandon this warehouse…” the Admin says. He’s an odd looking man, with slanted eyes and a handsome face and his short hair bleached and dyed turquoise. “But don't think this is over,” he assures. “I won't let this be the end. I will find Giovanni. And I will resurrect Team Rocket! I will… Until then, farewell!"

The Rockets make their escape out of the building, and Red’s so disappointed he lets them go. Even if they are Rockets.

One of the scientists stops on the way out, though, and looks at Red over the rims of his thick glasses.

“You... You're not-”

Red braces himself before he’s even heard the rest.

“-Giovanni's kid… are you?” the scientist says.

Just like Red thought he would.

Red turns to his Pokémon – Pikachu, Blastoise, and Snorlax.

They’re overseeing the exodus from the warehouse along with him, standing close around, in case the Rockets decide to launch a last minute attack.

Red knows they understand what the scientist said.

They meet his eyes – calm, cool, without a hint of surprise.

Pikachu’s ears twitch. Blastoise and Snorlax purr at him softly.

They don’t move, even as the floor drops out from under Red, and he falls. He’s falling, falling, even as the rest of the world slots together.

The same coarse black hair, sharp empty eyes, the large hands with their prominent knuckles. Pallet, just south of Viridian. Persian and Meowth. Meowth.

The world is already reorganising itself. It’s becoming clear and distinct.

But Red? Red is falling… falling… headfirst… down…

“No… that can't be right. Giovanni's kid has red hair.”

Abruptly, the world fragments again, but Red’s feet hit the floorboards. He’s still reeling, but the ground under his feet is stiff and firm once again.

The scientist shakes his head and departs, and Red is left in the empty warehouse.

Red spends a long time there, searching the warehouse for trapped Pokémon, and releasing them out into the nearby meadow. Red doesn’t know if they’ll live or die there, but at least they’ll have a shot.

And then, hours later, it’s Red and his Pokémon, alone in the empty warehouse, and Red laughs.

His Pokémon look at him like he’s lost his mind.

Snorlax reaches out her hand, and tentatively pokes a finger into his shoulder.

Pikachu jumps up to his head and lays himself over the top of Red’s baseball cap.

Blastoise leans down over him and blows warm air into Red’s face, and then nuzzles his head into Red’s chest.

Red doesn’t stop laughing.

No wonder his Pokémon are acting strangely. Have they ever heard him laugh aloud?

How long has it been since he last laughed like this?

Probably not since some time in elementary school.

And then his eyes overflow, and at some point Red’s laughter turns into sobs.

How long had it been since he last cried?

Also some time in elementary school. He used to cry all the time, when he was in first and second grade.

Probably the last time had been the summer before sixth grade.

Red wonders when Giovanni last laughed or cried. It’s a difficult expression to imagine on him, but he must have done both, at some point. Even if it was only as a newborn in his mother’s arms.

Red laughs because it doesn’t matter though. Giovanni is somebody else’s father.

Red’s so relieved, so so relieved, he can’t contain it.

He laughs and laughs, and cries and cries, until there’s nothing left of him. And then he takes his Pokémon and leaves.

He reports back to Lance and tells him the Rockets have been expunged from the Sevii Islands, but he wasn’t able to capture any of them.

“‘m s-rry,” he says over the Five Island Pokémon Center intercom. Even though he doesn’t mean it.

Lance accepts his apology anyhow. He seems happy that Red has stopped Rocket’s operations, regardless of the details.

Red stays on Chrono Island for another day or two. At the north end of the isle, on Resort Gorgeous, they say a wealthy young socialite, Selphy, has wandered off into the Lost Caves and, aptly, gotten lost.

They stop short of asking Red, Kanto Champion, to venture into the caves and find her, but Red sees the request in their eyes.

Red won’t follow in after her, though.

Part of him suspects he’s already entered the cave, and he just can’t remember anymore. He’s already lost in there, been lost in there for years, and everything he’s seeing is only the images his mind projects onto the dark and empty cave walls.

Red’s afraid of going deeper. He knows if he does he’ll never get out.

He leaves the island, not learning who Selphy really is. He’s never talked to her, after all.

==

Green catches Red just outside the Pokémon Center on Six Island.

Only, maybe ‘catches Red’ isn’t the right way to put it. It’s not the same as the other times, when Green possessively commanded Red’s attention.

It’s sunset. The island’s locals are winding down for the night. The sandy beaches are glowing gold in the twilight.

And, for once, Green’s demeanour matches his setting.

Green has a Pokémon on his right shoulder, just like Pikachu is sitting on Red’s shoulder. He’s feeding her some berries and petting her fur softly.

It’s a Pokémon Red has never seen Green with before, but Red remembers someone else with a Pokémon like this one. That’s right, a long time ago… It had been the Pokémaniac Bill!

And Red hadn’t known the name of the Pokémon then, but he knows it now.

Eevee.

Green has an Eevee standing on his shoulder.

Green notices Red and waves to him lazily.

It’s not the same as the other times, when Green possessively commanded Red’s attention.

Green doesn’t shout. He doesn’t invade Red’s personal space. He doesn’t make grand, violent gestures.

Red’s pulled in by his beckoning hand anyway.

Red doesn’t say anything, but somehow they silently end up deciding to take a walk on the beach together.

They watch as Pikachu and Eevee sniff at each other and immediately warm up to each other. Their Pokémon race ahead, ducking between palm trees and playing in the sand.

“Hey, Red! How's your Pokédex filling up?” Green finally says, by way of greeting.

Red turns his attention away from their Pokémon, and shakes his head. His Pokédex is not going well. He’s been distracted, by Lorelei and the Rockets and trainers and thinking about Green and Lance and the peace and the sometimes deafening quiet of the Sevii Islands.

“You too, huh?” Green says. His lips curl into a wry smile. “It looks like it's impossible to get all the Pokémon by hanging around just these parts. Maybe there are Pokémon we don't know about somewhere far away…”

Green turns away from Red and looks out over the horizon.

Is he thinking about Hoenn, or Sinnoh, or even Kalos? It looks like Red isn’t the only one who’s had entirely too much quiet time to himself since he came out to the Sevii Islands.

“I'm not going to get all desperate over this,” Green says, still looking away. “I think it’s time for me to start… letting things go. You know?”

Red doesn’t know.

Green keeps talking anyhow.

“I caught over a hundred and sixty different types, did you know that? And you too. I know you got a bunch of different types.”

Green sighs and shrugs his shoulders. In defeat, Red thinks.

“I’m never going to catch all of them. I couldn’t even get all hundred and fifty on the mainland, and even if I had… there are all these other regions, all with their own Pokémon… It’s sort of like they say… you can take the boy out of Pallet Town, but you can’t take Pallet Town out of the boy.”

Green laughs and kicks idly at some palm fronds lying about.

Red doesn’t understand.

Pikachu and Eevee are looking at empty seashells that have been deposited in the sand.

“Daisy was actually the one who said that. Daisy’s always travelling for Pokémon Contests, you know? She may stay in Pallet to look after Gramps… but I don’t think she carries Pallet around with her anymore.”

Green looks forlornly out over the water.

“Anyhow, she said for someone who travelled so much, I was surprisingly dense. She got fed up of me sitting on my ass in Pallet, after I lost the Championship to you. She told me to try leaving again, and maybe open my eyes and look around this time.”

Green smirks.

“I told her where she could shove that piece of advice. It took Gramps offering me the National Pokédex to get me to go but, hey, whaddaya know, it ended up being Daisy I listened to, once I was here.”

Green notices Red’s vacant stare.

“Sorry, man, did I make it too confusing there? Sorry, my mind’s a bit…”

Green shrugs.

“Frankly, I don’t understand Gramps. He’s busy studying the hundreds and hundreds of Pokémon that you and I left in our PCs. And I get that you need that many, if you’re trying to simulate Pokémon population dynamics, and learn about all the different species, but…”

Green shrugs again.

“It’s not my thing. I’m not sure why I put so much effort into it in the first place… For me, six Pokémon is enough. I’m still learning new things about my team. Every day.”

Green smiles.

“I'll keep collecting Pokémon at my own pace while I train them. That's what I'll do. There's no point staying here. I may as well leave for home,” he admits.

Pikachu and Eevee are jumping back from the waves, as they turn over into the shore.

Red gets the distinct impression Green’s not talking about Pallet Town.

“Where was home?” Red asks, terrified. He then doubts that’s the right question. “Is home?” he tries.

Green shrugs. “I don’t know,” he admits. “It’s not like I’m not planning on going too far all at once,” he says. “First step’s the hardest, Daisy says.”

Red purses his lips, and hugs his arms close to his body.

Green chuckles nervously. “I can never tell what you’re thinking, pal. Ah, well…”

He slaps his fist into his hand, like he’s just thought of a really good idea.

“Hey, Red, you still don’t have a flying Pokémon on your team, do you?” Green asks.

Red pauses a minute, before shaking his head.

“Heh! No wonder you’re always lagging behind me.”        

Green reaches down to his Pokémon trainer’s belt. There are his six Pokéballs, and Red knows his entire team by heart.

Except, apparently not, because Green unzips the carrying pouch he has resting over his right thigh and pulls out a seventh Pokéball. According to League Rules, you’re only supposed to have six Pokémon with you at all times, and Red remembers that Green’s already got that extra Eevee with him that’s running around with Pikachu right now… and hadn’t somebody had mentioned an Arcanine before?

Red realises he has no idea what Green’s team even looks like now, and he’s baffled.

Six Pokémon are enough for me, Green had said.

“Let’s trade, okay?” Green says, flipping the seventh Pokéball up in the air, and catching it as it arcs back down. “Like real trainers, for once.”

Red panics. He wonders what Pokémon Green is offering him. A flying type by the sound of it. Maybe Pidgeot.

Green cuts in to prove Red wrong, once again.

“You know I only chose Charmander because you decided on Bulbasaur…” he mutters. “That wasn’t how I wanted to start my Pokémon journey. I didn’t treat any of my Pokemon as well as I wanted to, but Charizard was always the worst.”

He reaches out to offer Charizard’s Pokéball to Red.

“I’ll do better this time,” Green promises.

Red’s eyes widen. He just stares at the outstretched hand, doesn’t reach for it.

Green jostles his arm. “C’mon Red, don’t hold back on me,” he pleads.

That breaks Red out of his silence. “I- I doesn’t have Pokémon…” Red stammers. “Don’t has a Pokémons for trading…” he protests.

Charizard is a very rare, high level Pokémon, and Red has nothing to reciprocate such a gesture with. Or no Pokémon he’s willing to use to reciprocate such a gesture. Lapras, Snorlax, Blastoise… He’s certainly not going to give away his starter Pokemon like that. Venusaur deserves better than that.

He’s not going to trust his precious Pokémon to Green.

“I’m not asking for Venusaur.” Green snorts. It’s as if he can read Red’s mind. “I know you have that Meowth. The one you never let anyone see… Let’s trade. Why not? It’ll be a new start for both of us. Each doing our own things.”

Red wants to protest, because Meowth is one of his precious Pokémon, too. Even if he does never have time for her.

Red knows he doesn’t have an excuse, though. He reaches down and pulls Meowth’s Pokéball from his belt, holds it up with trembling hands.

Green, in an unusual display of sensitivity, reaches up to gently grasp Red’s wrist, holding it steady, as he swaps their Pokéballs with the other hand.

When he lets go, Red isn’t shaking anymore.

“There we go,” Green says. “I know you’ll take good care of him for me.”

Likewise – that’s what Red should say, but he doesn’t. He just clutches Charizard’s Pokéball close to his chest.

The sun goes down shortly after, and Green calls Eevee back to his side. They should get going, before the last ferry for the night leaves.

Green’s one-sided conversation winds down into ‘Smell ya later!’

Just before he leaves though, he turns back to Red.

“Huh? Did you say something, pal?” he asks, as if he can hear all the things Red isn’t saying.

Red shakes his head.

“No.”

==

Red doesn’t leave the Sevii Islands along with Green. There’s another chain of islands southwest of them, and he wants to go see them, for whatever reason.

Red likes the Sevii Islands. The people and the customs and the language are familiar, but everyone is so much more relaxed. Nobody worries about anything, except the impending hurricane season.

They’re not as caught up in the Pokémon battling circuit either. On the Kanto mainland, he can hardly step outside anymore without everyone recognising him as the Champion. Everyone there wants something from him.

Here – people sometimes recognise him, but they don’t seem to care.

Red shows the island people the picture of Green in his Fame Checker. If people know of him, it’s usually because he stopped in the town a couple days ago, not because he was Champion for a few hours. Red learns some interesting things – like Green tried eating Qwilfish eggs while on Kin Island (a local delicacy) and got sick.

Red decides to stay around a little bit longer.

He ends up at an archaeological site at the south end of Quest Island.

“The Tanoby Ruins date back at least fifteen hundred years, but it's a baffling mystery as to why they were built in the first place!” one of the researchers tells him.

Red spends a couple days wandering the ruin site.

The Pokemon there, Unown, come in all different shapes and sizes. He catches a rare one in the shape of a question mark on a whim, and sends it to his PC box for Professor Oak to examine.

Red likes the feeling he gets from all the history and all the secrets he’ll probably never get to the bottom of. Being an archaeologist doesn’t sound too bad, he thinks to himself.

And maybe he would have stayed there, if he listened to himself.

But Lance radios him the next morning and tells him they need him back on the mainland immediately, and he’ll brief him on the details over the intercom, once Red arrives at the Vermillion City Pokémon Center.

So Red goes.

==

The inside of the Cerulean Cave has obviously been flooded more than once. Stalactites are hanging from the ceiling, dripping water onto the heads of Red and his Pokémon. He wishes he had better shoes than the threadbare pair of running sneakers his mom gave him ages ago. Red has to watch his step, re-balancing his feet and trying not to slip on the wet rocks, as they make their way through the caverns.

Red caught the ferry back to the mainland, and then flew on Green’s Charizard the rest of the way to Cerulean. He thought about stopping in the city proper, but decided against it quickly. That Lance had said he needed to pacify or restrain the Pokémon inside the Cerulean Cave as soon as possible was only an excuse.

The Pokémon in the cave are strong, and more aggressive than the Pokémon he’s used to facing. Angry Golbats fly up with their teeth already bared and their jaws snapping. Primeape and Machoke swing out from around corners, with their fists flying. As Lapras ferries them across the enclosed lake, a Gyarados jumps out of the water and tries to take a bite out of her neck.

The Raichu are rare, but they’re the worst. Like nightmarish versions of Red’s Pikachu, they let their electricity loose, so that it bounces off the walls and surges through the puddles of water at all of their feet. Red and his team get the worst of it, but the Raichu also shake and go stiff under the shock of their own electricity.

None of this is not normal Pokémon behaviour – to be vicious at the price of recklessness. Most Pokémon have a natural tendency towards hesitation and self-preservation. Red had to teach Pikachu Volt Tackle, and how to withstand the pain of the recoil. Even now, he and Pikachu don’t use attacks like that lightly.

Something is making these Pokémon act strangely. If Red focuses, he can feel the oppressive pressure of psychic waves. As they get deeper in, he doesn’t have to focus to feel it anymore.

Lance had summarised several reports to him, over the Pokémon Center’s intercom.

We don’t have pictures, or any complete reports on this Pokémon. I can tell you it’s a psychic type. And bipedal. It’s also one of very few species of viviparous Pokémon. That is, they had to use a surrogate from a closely related species to carry the developing foetus to term, at which point the surrogate gave live birth.

Lance had sighed.

Have you been to the Pokémon Mansion, in Cinnabar Island?

Red had nodded, and tucked the intercom’s earpiece closer into the side of his face.

Lance sighed again.

Then you know. As much as any of us know.

Red is on the upper floor of the cavern. And the placement of these obstructions is not coincidental, Red realises. This was created intentionally. He’s entered a maze.

Well, if there’s a challenge, he’ll solve it. If there’s a solution, he’ll find it.

Red wishes all solutions were as easy to find as this.

Red pulls a marker out of his backpack and pulls off the cap with his mouth. He places his left hand on the rock wall adjacent to him. Reaching across with the marker in his right hand, he begins to draw a map on the interior of his arm, just below his elbow.

Between these two methods, he’ll find his way through, so long as it’s there.

If not, Blastoise and Snorlax can break through the rocks blocking their path.

It doesn’t come to that, though. The path he’s on is a dead end, and Red has to descend back down to the first floor. But the next passage he tries upwards has a way through.

I didn’t think it would come to this, but do anything you need to do to restrain that Pokémon – capture, death.

Can’t we just leave it alone? Red had asked Lance. He was feeling tired already.

We used to think so, Lance had replied. We placed guards at the cave entrance. We told people the area was off-limits. But over a dozen people have snuck inside in the last two months. Most of them came out injured. A couple had their memories altered. One person is still missing, presumed dead.

Lance had looked grim.

It’s practically an urban legend at this point. You can’t take a step or listen in on a conversation in the Cerulean or Saffron Downtown without hearing about the Cerulean Cave Killing. Nowadays, we don’t bother with guards or prohibitions at most sites with rare or dangerous Pokémon.

You know people. Lance had smiled. You tell them they can’t go somewhere and then they can’t get it out of their heads.

The rest of his Pokémon won’t fit through the narrow cave opening to the lower level, so Red returns them to their Pokéballs and drops down with Pikachu on his shoulder. It’s more profound on the lower level, how the cave ceiling is constantly leaking little tear drops down onto their heads.

Red descends a slope, and climbs another. The landscape of this bottom floor rolls up and down smoothly.

And then Red can see it – the Pokémon they’ve been searching for. It’s a small white dot, sitting off in the distance, on a small island across the water.

Its eyes are closed.

Red runs down to the water’s edge, and releases Lapras from her Pokéball. She hums softly, as she allows Red and Pikachu to climb onto her back.

She carries them across the clear and quiet water, filtered through the limestone stalactites above.

They drift closer and closer, and Red feels the psychic disturbance grow more and more dissonant.

Mewtwo opens his eyes.

Go slower, Red whispers to Lapras. And Lapras hums and her fins slow, propelling them forward at a snail’s pace.

Then they are only a couple of feet away from Mewtwo’s island.

Red hugs Lapras’s neck fondly and pulls her to a stop. With Pikachu still perched on his shoulder he slides off Lapras’s back and into the water, where his pants and shoes release rivulets of dirt into the pure, clean water.

Red walks forward hesitantly. To Mewtwo, who’s sitting stiffly in place.

And then Mewtwo moves and Pikachu jumps forward, just barely jumping in the way of a wave of hostile psychic energy that’s aimed directly for Red.

Lapras cries out loudly in distress, but Pikachu is silent as he’s knocked backwards, flying to land in the lake. Red suspects he’s out cold, before he even hits the water.

Red turns forward, wide-eyed.

Mewtwo is already charging up his next attack.

Red doesn’t hesitate. He calls Venusaur out of his Pokéball.

Petal Dance! Giga Drain! Red calls, in short succession.

Venusuar’s petals fly up, in an astounding array of pink, even as his vines lash out, trying to twist their way around Mewtwo and sap his energy.

Neither of the attacks meet their mark.

Mewtwo’s fast. He flashes across the field, knocking the petals away with short blasts of energy, and then makes a cutting movement at Venusaur.

Venusaur shuffles sideways as quickly as he can. The attack connects to the left of its intended mark, and Venusaur looks shocked to his side, as one of his large green leaves is cleaved right off at the stem.

Venusaur’s eyes bulge. Those leaves do not grow easy.

Red thinks of how many hours Venusuar can spend, just sitting in the sun trying to photosynthesise enough energy for his large form. It’s a loss they can make up for with extra food, but…

Venusaur screeches and starts rampaging wildly.

If that attack had hit Venusaur head on, it could have killed him.

Red withdraws Venusaur and sends out Snorlax. She can barely fit within the cramped confines of the cave, which is just about the size he was hoping for.

He hides behind Snorlax’s large girth, and she holds her position in front to protect him.

Red desperately tries to think of a plan.

I mean, it’s against League rules to strike with intent to kill. But mistakes happen! And you’re kidding if you think everybody’s going to just follow the League rules like that, Misty had told him once.

Red remembers back to his fights with Team Rocket, some (but not all) of whom would definitely have killed him or his Pokémon, if they had had the skill.

Giovanni had had the skill, but not the intent.

Mewtwo has both.

Snorlax groans, and she rolls over to face him.

She’s still conscious, but her stomach is covered in bloody slash marks. She grimaces, as Mewtwo attacks her backside instead.

Right then and there, Red makes his choice. If he could summon up the rage and the willingness to kill to match Mewtwo, that might be one thing. But he’s not sure he can and, even if he could, he’s not sure he’s willing to risk his Pokémon like that.

His best choice is to try to redirect Mewtwo’s attention, and then chuck Pokéballs at him from his blind spot.

He digs through his bag and finds ten unused Pokéballs.

Good job. Return! he calls to Snorlax. She nods in thanks.

He doesn’t wait before calling out Blastoise and pointing him off in the other direction.

Hydro Pump! he calls. Avoid attacks! Go all out!

Blastoise doesn’t need more prompting than that.

Mewtwo moves forward to face his next opponent.

Red runs to the vantage point behind Mewtwo, clamouring up to the island’s high ground.

Blastoise manages to shoot a jet of water straight in Mewtwo’s face. Mewtwo looks more annoyed than hurt.

With a swipe of Mewtwo’s arm and a burst of psychic energy, Blastoise cries out and his knee collapses under him.

He meets Red’s eyes, though, and sends another jet of water at Mewtwo.

Red throws a Pokéball.

It hits Mewtwo in the back, and Mewtwo disappears inside.

The ball clicks against the cave floor, and Red and Blastoise just watch it.

The ball rattles – once, twice…

And then the Pokéball bursts open again, and Mewtwo emerges in a burst of smoke, looking furious.

Oh, no.

Nine left.

Red throws another Pokéball, and another.

Mewtwo bats them away, and turns to approach Red.

Red throws three more Pokéballs, one Mewtwo has to knock back. The other two miss entirely. Red’s fear has made him careless.

Four more left.

Blastoise pushes himself off the ground and goes to tackle Mewtwo.

Red throws another two Pokéballs.

Mewtwo heads off both attacks like they’re nothing. With a pulse of psychic energy, he throws the Pokéballs back, and Blastoise back down to the ground, unmoving.

Two more.

Red throws.

One more.

Mewtwo approaches. He knocks the final Pokéball away before it’s even left Red’s hand.

Zero.

Mewtwo’s standing right in front of Red.

Red hears Lapras’s cry.

She’s swum back up to the island, having fished Pikachu out of the water. She drops Pikachu’s unconscious body on the rocks, before charging up to come to Red’s rescue.

Mewtwo turns, and Red knows that she’s not going to make it, none of them are, unless he does something.

He digs frantically through his bag, looking for another Pokéball, for some way out of this mess.

And, perhaps ironically, he finds both.

He remembers as soon as his fist closes around it – the bribe from the Silph Company President.

And it’s only a prototype, but Red has to take the chance, while Mewtwo is still distracted by Lapras approaching.

They’re standing so close. He reaches out and taps the Master Ball against Mewtwo’s heel.

Mewtwo spins and is absorbed within the ball, and Red fumbles and drops it to the ground.

It doesn’t rattle or click or shake. The Master Ball only snaps shut with a finite clack.

Lapras keeps running, doesn’t stop until she’s right in front of him.

Red picks up the Master Ball in one hand.

Lapras nuzzles into his face, and Red leans back into her. They’re both breathing hard. They’re relieved to be alive.

Red checks the rest his Pokémon. Venusaur and Snorlax were badly hurt, when he withdrew them. But they were still conscious, and still alive.

Red makes his way across the cave’s small island to find Blastoise and Pikachu. He returns them to their Pokéballs. They’re both out cold, but still alive.

Lapras and him aren’t hurt, and they’re alive. They’re all alive. They are all still alive.

Red looks down at the Master Ball, still clutched in his hand.

They’re alive.

Now what? Red wonders.

He’s has perhaps the world’s most powerful Pokémon here in this Pokéball, and absolutely no way to control it. No clue as to how.

He digs through his bag for his Pokedéx and flips it open, searching for the latest entry.

Lapras leans over his shoulder.

“Mewtwo – the Genetic Pokémon. Created by recombining Mew's genes. It is said to have the most savage heart among Pokémon.”

This doesn’t really surprise Red. Mewtwo’s genetic sequence was supplemented with the DNA code of a human being. Of course the most savage Pokémon would be part human.

(Unless humans are a type of Pokémon too. What a thought!)

But…

Red snaps his Pokédex shut, and strokes the side of Lapras’s face tenderly, as they both scoot over to the water’s edge, back the way they came.

Red thinks of Mewtwo’s hunted, fearful eyes as he saw Red approaching from across the water.

It takes a moment, but Red finds he agrees.

Hiding alone in a cave, angry, afraid of anybody who approaches – that truly is the most savage a Pokémon or a Person can become.

Chapter Text

Even you were never this bad, Red tells Blastoise, as Lance is arranging the anti-psychic measures in the safety room.

Blastoise looks irritated that he’s even being compared to a murderous psycho Pokémon. But when he goes to growl, Venusaur slaps him upside the head with one of his vines.

They glare at each other for a moment, before turning back to look at the metal band Red’s holding up in both hands for them to see.

It’s heavy, at least ten kilos, constructed almost entirely of magnets. And the lock is so secure that Lance had assured them they’d need a drill saw to remove it without the key.

Blastoise, Venusaur, and Snorlax nod approvingly.

In contrast, Pikachu squeaks in discomfort and Lapras hangs her head low. They’re both uncomfortable with this.

Red can’t blame them. They can call it a band or an anklet all they like, what it is is a shackle.

But it’s not like they really have another choice. Red and the Elite Four don’t want Mewtwo to be put down – but so long as he can use his psychic powers, there’s no way that Red can attempt to train him without endangering them all. The shackle will absorb all manifestations of psychic energy around Mewtwo – no telekinesis, no levitating, and no attacks – like a portable version of the safety chamber.

Charizard’s the only one who seems completely unconcerned with this development. He’s looking around the training hall, and at the adjacent safety room through the fiberglass pane. He spreads his wings and flies as high as the ceiling will allow, sniffs at the roof tiles. And even after he hovers back down to the ground, he seems more interested in observing Red and the other Pokémon than trying to puzzle through the situation surrounding Mewtwo. Red hadn’t been willing to risk somebody else’s Pokémon during the battle with Mewtwo in Cerulean Cave, so Charizard’s the only one who hasn’t seen first-hand the devastation Mewtwo can bring.

Well, he’s not the only one.

“Alright,” Lance says, smiling as he approaches Red and his Pokémon. He takes the shackle and drops the key into Red’s hands instead. “We’re all ready to go.” He pulls Red over to the safety room’s control panel, located on the exterior wall next to the observation window.

“You open and close the doors like this…” Lance explains. “And you seal and lock them with this button. And the lever for the psychic suppressors is here. It takes twenty minutes to charge, but it’s already on, so we don’t have to wait any longer. And don’t let your Pokemon touch anything,” Lance warns, giving Pikachu and Snorlax stern looks, as they bend over the control panel curiously.

Red relays the message, and his Pokémon all reluctantly take a step back – except for Charizard. Charizard stands there confused, only to yelp and cough out a stream of flame when Snorlax steps back right onto his foot.

Snorlax turns and apologises, and Red spends half a minute trying to fix this transgression, as Lance waits patiently, looking amused.

“If you can get these guys to get along, there shouldn’t be any trouble,” he says easily. “Okay, here’s the plan. You need to put Mewtwo’s Pokéball… here!”

He indicates a slot to the side of the control panel. Red hesitates a moment before handing over the Master Ball. Lance fits it into the machine, without comment on the Pokéball’s unusual model.

“You’ll be manning the control panel, while Dragonite and I take care of the hard part. Once we’re safely locked in the room, I’ll nod, and you’ll press this button to release Mewtwo. Within the safety room, there shouldn’t be a problem attaching the magnet band. Once it’s locked in place, or if anything goes wrong, I’ll give you this signal” – he holds up his hand in a peace sign – “and you’ll press this same button to withdraw Mewtwo back to his Pokéball. And then you’ll able to train Mewtwo anywhere, without worrying about his psychic powers.”

Are you sure this is going to work? Red asks.

“Positive,” Lance says.

They lock Lance inside the room, with Dragonite standing, looking somewhat confused, at his back. Lance nods and Red presses the button to release Mewtwo in after him.

Red doesn’t miss the way his Pokémon, save Lapras and Charizard, flinch at the sight of Mewtwo.

Mewtwo wastes no time before reaching for his psychic powers, raising his arms to attack.

Red gulps, but the safety room’s suppressors hold. The psychic waves do not manage to manifest, to Mewtwo’s distress.

Lance advances on Mewtwo from the other side of the room with the magnet band. He waves Dragonite back a couple of paces. Lance is putting in special effort to appear friendly and unintimidating.

Mewtwo recoils. He takes a minute to gather his bearings, but then he extends one arm forward, and one leg back, just as Lance reaches him.

It takes a minute for Red and Lance to realise what the stance is and, by the time they do, Mewtwo has karate chopped Lance in the side and spun to kick Lance’s legs right out from under him.

Lance topples to the floor. Dragonite roars and flies forward to his trainer’s defence, but Mewtwo ducks, before leaping up to perform a flying kick that hits Dragonite right in the stomach and makes his eyes bulge out comically.

Red doesn’t wait for a peace sign before withdrawing Mewtwo. And, once he’s sure Mewtwo is safe back in his Pokéball, he rushes to meet Lance in the safety room.

“Thanks,” Lance says, dazed, as Red pulls him up. He leans back on Dragonite. “So, outlook was less positive than I thought…”

.

.

They have to call Bruno in to get the job done. It takes Hitmonlee, Hitmonchan, Machamp, and Bruno himself to hold Mewtwo down and keep him from struggling as they attach the magnet band.

Bruno gives Red a grin and a wave as he exits the safety chamber and into the hall, his fighting Pokémon trailing behind him. And Lance, holding an icepack to his gut, hands him back Mewtwo’s Master Ball, deceptively light for containing an extra ten kilos of shackle.

Both give off the distinctive air of it not-my-problem-anymore.

Red only wishes that were the end of his troubles, though.

He ends up staying at the Indigo Plateau. Lance tries to reinitiate him into the routine of paperwork and politics, but Red’s afforded a large amount of time with which to ‘train’ Mewtwo.

It’s really more like rehabilitation.

Each morning, Red lets Mewtwo out in the large gymnasium with the other Pokémon.

Mewtwo makes multiple escape attempts, armed with nothing more ferocity and determination and the heavy metal shackle attached to his leg, which Mewtwo swings like a pendulum into his kicks.

When that doesn’t work, Mewtwo makes multiple attempts to remove the shackle, pulling at it angrily, even attempting to break his own leg trying to remove it.

When that doesn’t work, he curls into ball in the corner of the room and violently lashes out at anybody who comes within a couple of metres.

One day, when Red tries to get close, Mewtwo makes a dive to snap his neck.

Venusaur is the one who stops him, holding Mewtwo back with his vines. And then Lapras and Snorlax tackle him down to the ground in short succession.

And Red thinks this is the root of the problem, more than anything.

Venusaur is the most upset. He’s still bitter about his teammates getting hurt, and the loss of one of his leaves during the battle with Mewtwo. And Venusaur’s also the one bearing the brunt Mewtwo’s outbursts, since his vines are the most effective method for restraining a crazed Pokémon.

At the other extreme, Lapras and Pikachu may be apologetic, and Charizard may be clueless, but none of them actually manage to be welcoming towards Mewtwo.

There’s something disturbing about having to foster a Pokémon who’s tried to kill you.

Red tries anyhow though.

He tries training Mewtwo with his other Pokémon, but Mewtwo refuses to run drills, unlike Charizard. Charizard takes to the drills with unnatural ease and enthusiasm, almost as if he’s afraid Red will dismiss him from the team if he doesn’t do an extra five laps around the gym.

Red tries to include Mewtwo when his Pokémon are playing games. They all like duck, duck, goose, and hot potato, and musical chairs. But even as Charizard warms up to the other Pokémon and learns the rules to the games, Mewtwo remains steadfastly in his corner.

Red tries simpler things, like getting Mewtwo to eat with them, but Mewtwo won’t touch the food that Red gives him. Red’s afraid they’re going to have to force-feed Mewtwo, if they don’t want him to starve. But, when Red finally catches Mewtwo nibbling in secret on the rice and grilled Magikarp that’s left out for him, it’s a cause for frustration as much as relief.

It’s a miserable couple of weeks at the Indigo Plateau, calling his Pokémon out each morning and waiting warily for Mewtwo to snap.

And then, one day, Red doesn’t let Mewtwo out of his Pokéball.

He just doesn’t bother, and training goes so easily that morning, he ends up re-evaluating the situation entirely.

Why is Mewtwo his responsibility?

Mewtwo is the product of genetic experiments and chronic mistreatment – none of which are Red’s fault. Red has never mistreated any of his Pokémon, he thinks guiltily. He’s never done anything to deserve this – so much for karmatic justice.

Red only captured Mewtwo in the Cerulean Cave, on behalf of the Indigo League. Red has no responsibility towards this situation, otherwise.

But Red knows who is responsible. And he’s not going to suffer the consequences of somebody else’s mistakes.

==

It’s the middle of the night when Red bangs harshly on the door.

It might have been better to do this during the daytime – but other people are always around during the daytime, and they always have something to say to the League Champion.

Rudeness is the price Red has to pay for privacy. He bangs on the door again, and goosebumps raise on his arms in the chill of the night air.

A person doesn’t come to answer the door.

Red hears a creaking sound though, and he looks down.

A Pokémon is peeking its head outside the miniature Poképet Portal installed on the main door.

Red can see only the Pokémon’s hesitant eyes at first, but then the Pokémon squeals cheerfully and steps out to meet Red.

It’s Cubone, and he waves his club excitedly. He looks around and, when he sees it’s only Red standing there, he looks hopefully at the Pokéballs at Red’s belt.

Red pats him on the head and tells him maybe later, once they’re inside.

Cubone wilts a little, but then stretches his body forward. He goes up and down on his tiptoes, pointing up at a flower pot on the window sill with his bone club.

Red reaches for it, looking back at Cubone for approval. When Cubone nods, he picks up the flower pot.

The flower is small and purple and Red thinks, kind of proudly, that Venusaur’s flowers are nicer.

He offers the pot to Cubone.

Cubone waves his arms and shakes his head, pointing back towards window sill.

Red puts the flower pot back – and then takes it down again when Cubone waves his arms even more frantically.

They’re back and forth like that for a minute, before Red finally reaches up to the bare window sill and feels the jagged edges of a key, sitting right under where the flower pot had been.

Red blushes. He replaces the flower pot on the window sill – the key safely in his hand this time.

Cubone nods and taps the leg of Red’s jeans fondly, as Red twists the key in the lock and steps inside.

The inside of the Volunteer Pokémon House is unnerving in the dark. Red pulls off his shoes quickly. He thinks he can make out the plastic mat in the corner. He wonders if Psyduck and Nidorino are still around, but he doesn’t get a chance to check. He follows Cubone, who’s leading the way further into the house.

They enter a long hallway, and Red can already hear the wheezing and coughing from the other end, through the shōji screen doors.

Cubone doesn’t stop until they’ve reached the last couple of doors. He turns to the right and raps his bone club against the wooden frame, before sliding it open.

The room is plain and mostly unfurnished. There is a wooden dresser to the side, and an arrangement of flowers and river reeds in a vase.

Mr Fuji is catching his breath. He’s sitting cross legged at the edge of his futon, waiting expectantly for his visitor. The quilt on his futon has been pulled up. Red doesn’t think it’s that cold out, but Mr Fuji has put on a pair of indoor sandals and a heavy wool jacket, that weighs on his shoulders so heavily that Red’s afraid they might crumble.

“Ah, Red! I was wondering who my midnight visitor might be,” Mr Fuji says. “Please sit down. You’ll forgive me, for not providing further hospitalities.”

Mr Fuji’s breath catches and he wheezes again.

Cubone seems accustomed to it. He goes to lie at the foot of the futon, next to Mr Fuji, and begins to drift off.

Red doesn’t sit down.

He remembers thinking that Mr Fuji seemed energetic and healthy, even after his hunger strike in the Pokémon Tower.

Apparently the trauma took a while to catch up with him. Mr Fuji looks like death warmed over. His skin is wrinkled, puffy, and sallow. The flesh in his hands has withered away completely. His movements are slow and laboured.

Red stops himself from wrinkling his nose.

Even the smell in the room is sickly and bad.

“Are you here for Cubone?” Mr Fuji asks.

Red startles. He looks at Cubone’s sleeping face. He hadn’t even considered that Mr Fuji might have seriously expected him to return for Cubone.

“It’s still not time yet,” Mr Fuji says. “But it won’t be long… Cubone is helping me relocate the gravesites in the Pokémon Tower to a new location.” He coughs. “I’m sure you’ve heard, your League okayed plans for the Pokémon Tower to be converted into a new radio tower.”

Red shakes his head, even as he remembers Lance saying…

Can you give some feedback on these radio tower building plans, and the possibility of displaced Pokémon?

Red had brushed him off without another thought.

But Mr Fuji accepts whatever shows on Red’s face, and shakes his head.

“What’s done is done? And who am I to say that life isn’t for the comfort of the living? But the graves will be preserved. I am opening a House of Memories to make sure of that.”

Red nods.

He stands there, over Mr Fuji, watching the old man breathe.

“If you are not here for Cubone, why are you here?”

Red stands for a minute. He came here to unburden himself of a failure and a responsibility that wasn’t his. But…

He forces himself to say it anyway.

“…mew…two…”

Red reaches for his belt and pulls up the Master Ball.

Mr Fuji looks at him, calmly for a moment.

Then something happens. Mr Fuji begins to laugh.

The sound comes up harsh and cold. Cubone turns in his sleep, disrupted by the sound, and for just a minute, Red can believe this is the man he came here to see – cruel and calculating, willing to sacrifice people and Pokémon for the sake of power. For the sake of controlling the world’s most powerful Pokémon…

But then Mr Fuji’s laughs turn into chokes and he gasps for breath. He looks up pitifully, and Red can see how his eyes are leaking.

Mr Fuji pulls himself into proper sitting position, before bowing completely down to the floor.

“I told you before – Without deep love for Pokémon, your quest may fail,” Mr Fuji says. “I’m the biggest fake of all. I only know, because I have already failed – failed to love.”

Mr Fuji sucked a deep breath in between his teeth.

“Mewtwo… forgive me. I have suffered for you. I have repented. I abandoned my research. I dedicated myself to helping orphaned and abandoned Pokémon. My former friend and protégé, Blaine, will not even speak with me anymore, after what I have done. I have suffered it all without complaint. But I still fail you. I still have not learned how to love.”

Cubone turns again in his sleep, and Red feels a pang of righteous anger. Because he doesn’t know the details of what Mr Fuji did, but it can’t be worth tossing what he’s done for Cubone in the mud like that.

“Boy- Red,” Mr Fuji coughs out, looking up. “The Lavender Town House of Memories will be my last project.”

Red’s eyes widen, at the frank way this is spoken.

“Even the legacy of the Pokémon House is up in the air,” Mr Fuji says. “My granddaughter has expressed interest in picking up my post here, but I worry about burdening her too much. There is no help I can give you, boy. I will carry my sins and my suffering for Mewtwo into the next life.”

Red opens his mouth to protest. Because Mr Fuji doesn’t need to be so frustratingly dramatic. Because Mewtwo doesn’t need people to suffer for him. He only needs people to help him, and to teach him to be better than a killer.

“There is not enough life in me for anything else,” Mr Fuji cuts Red off, before he can speak.

Red looks down at the man bent over the tatami mats.

He’s small and weak and Red knows that he’s right.

“Red,” Mr Fuji says. “It seems that I can ask nothing of you but favours but… will you take Cubone, look after him for me, when my time comes.”

Mr Fuji meets his eyes. They are clear and free of guile, and Red already knows what his answer will be.

“Y-yes,” he says, nodding.

Mr Fuji relaxes. “I must rest a little, before the morning,” he says. “But one more thing, if you don’t mind, Red…”

Red watches the old man, and nods.

Mr Fuji bows again, and much neater, less haphazard than before.

“All the evil that Mewtwo has wrought – it is only the evil that was inside my heart all along. I know it’s not your place, but, please!”

He breaks his form to look desperately up at Red.

“Forgive me!” he implores.

Save me!

“…no. No could not. Me- I don’t- can’t-” Red says. He bristles and groans to himself. That sounds wrong even to him. He’s frustrated by his own lack of finesse.

Mr Fuji’s eyes show nothing but despair.

Red steps forward. He tilts Mr Fuji’s torso up off the ground and, with his right hand, Red reaches down and pats Cubone on the back. Cubone turns to cuddle into Red’s hand even in sleep.

“But thank you,” Red says. “You always are look good after those one. Cubone. Love him.”

It may not be what Mr Fuji wants to hear, but it’s what Red can say.

.

.

The sun’s finally cracking over the horizon, when Red goes to leave, replacing the key to the Lavender Town Volunteer in its hiding place under the flower pot. Just past the doorstep, he releases Charizard from his Pokéball, and gives him a minute to stretch, before relaying the instructions softly.

The world is cast in a pale grey, as Red flies up into the skies on Charizard’s back, and he can finally see what’s become of Lavender Town.

There is construction equipment, wrecking balls, and bulldozers outside the Pokémon Tower. The top floors were already broken open, so the exterior was exposed to the cold morning air. The shadow the ruined tower leaves on the ground is jagged and crooked.

At the same time, there are several new construction projects popping up – a memorial with new gardens in the south, what looked like a circus tent, and new residential districts in some of the more remote neighbourhoods.

Red remembers how his first impression of the town was that it was empty and lonely and dead with the mountains and the Pokémon Tower floating over it – but it seems even worse now.

Red remembers how Green had had to pay for his Raticate’s burial space in the Pokémon Tower, and now they’re moving the gravesites from here to there and there to here just as easily.

He looks at the town and is disturbed by how much has changed here in only a year. He’s disturbed by how lifetimes and hard work and years and years of personal history can suddenly vanish, like they never existed at all.

His world is moving too fast, and Red clings to Charizard and speeds ahead, trying to keep up.

==

The receptionist hands Red the mail as soon as he walks through the front door of the Indigo Plateau, still exhausted from his trip to Lavender Town and irritated at the lack of solutions it has provided regarding Mewtwo.

Red doesn’t wait before going through it. There’s no reason to. The mail that comes for him is for the Champion anyhow. Red only needs to flip briefly through the envelopes, before passing it off to Lance.

But one envelope stands out against the others – clean and white, with a fancy gold trim that he recognises from somewhere. He tucks the rest of the mail under his arm and opens it.

Inside the mailing envelope is a second envelope, in a rich scarlet colour, with his name penned on the back.

Inside the second envelope is a formal announcement, printed on thick paper.

Red reads.

You are cordially invited-

Red cringes and crumples the heavy cardstock in his hand.

It’s too late. His eyes had already shot ahead, catching the important phrases from the rest of the invitation.

Gym Leader-

Viridian City-

-Celebration-

The rest of the mail falls out from under his arm. The white and gold mailing envelope, that he now remembers is from Daisy’s stationary set, flutters to the ground.

In one hand is the crumpled invitation, and in the other is the scarlet envelope. Red turns it over in his hand and looks at the word ‘Red’, written neatly on the back in Green’s smooth handwriting.

He crumples the envelope too, just to be safe.

The receptionist crosses in front of the desk and bends down to pick up the dropped mail.

“Let me help you with that,” he says.

Agatha passes by.

“Control yourself, boy.” She chuckles at him. “Nobody likes getting bills in the mail, but you still have to suck it up and pay them.”

Red ignores them both. He steps over the receptionist and the fallen mail and walks briskly down the hall.

“Is everything okay?” Red can hear Lorelei call to him.

“Don’t yield to your worst instincts,” Red hears Bruno warn him.

But he can’t even see them. He can’t see anything, except the walls of the hallway moving in on him, crushing, suffocating, as he reaches the door of Lance’s office.

He doesn’t knock before entering, kicking the door wide open and throwing the crumpled invitation at Lance’s face.

It falls short of its target, and drops down on Lance’s desk, on top of the sea of paperwork.

Lance looks calm.

“Hello, Red. You’re up awfully early,” he says. “I didn’t think I’d be seeing you at all today, frankly, after I found your note a couple days ago and learned you had decided to fly all the way across Kanto.”

Red can’t prevent the embarrassment from rising up in his stomach, in spite of how angry he is.

Yeah, so he should have told Lance personally that he was leaving for Lavender Town. But that doesn’t even come close to Lance not telling him this.

“Did you need something?” Lance asks. “Or have you come to help with the League?”

Red’s mouth is trying to make words, but he’s so upset all he can manage are sputters.

Lance picks the crumpled invitation off his desk and begins to unfold it, smoothing it out in his hand. It helps Red find the word.

“T-t-this!” Red says, gesturing at the invitation in Lance’s hands.

Lance holds it in up and squints at it.

“Oh, he sent you an invite?” he asks. “It’s a bit redundant, given who you are, but, hmm… maybe he’s taking this a bit more seriously than I thought.”

He sets the invitation back down on his paperwork.

Lance’s calm reaction incites Red.

“Wha-?! Why-?! Th-this! Wh-?!”

“Calm down,” Lance says. “You’re going to need to enunciate better, if you want me to understand.”

Red bristles, but inhales deeply before starting again.

“When is Green given-? Why was he choose a Viridian Gym Leader? Why do you not tell me?”

“Why didn’t I tell you?!” Lance barks.

Red startles. It’s the first heated response Lance has given since Red burst into the office.

“Have you listened to anything I’ve said over the past few months?!” Lance says.

He stands up, and leans over the desk to face Red.

“I have done nothing but tell you abouthow much I need this position filled, and about how the selection process was going to go! I showed you the entire list of trainer candidates! And Green Oak’s name has been on there the entire time! If you even bothered to look!”

Red shrinks back from Lance’s glare.

He had looked. Maybe not as well as he should have… but he would have noticed Green’s name… probably…

“I have done nothing but try to include you in this decision!” Lance hisses. “But at some point, the Gym position had to be filled, and responsibility had to be delegated!”

Red withers.

Lance continues.

“The previous Gym Leader ran Viridian into the ground… and I was wrong to let him keep the title, after I became Champion, but it’s what it is, and I’m not going to let the place languish and rot more than it already has! Somebody had to make a decision, and so I did it! And now that it’s all done, after you’ve waffled on this for the past three months, don’t you dare tell me I did it wrong!”

Lance sits back down, and Red’s left standing there, red-faced.

“Your friend Green wasn’t my first choice,” Lance says, calming visibly. “But you can’t argue he’s a talented trainer.”

And that’s nothing that Red hasn’t heard before, over and over, recorded ad infinitum on his Fame Checker. But the rest of what Lance has to say is unsettling.

“He’s still on a temporary contract, like a trial period, but I’m… I’m optimistic about this. I was scared to death, when he won the Championship right before you, but he seems to have calmed down over the last couple months… He gave a pretty good interview, despite our less-than-cordial beginnings. Seemed to have thought it through.”

Red’s still trying to make those words fit in with the Green he knows, when Lance drops the next bombshell.

“And – I won’t lie – I was positively influenced by the information he had to share about Team Rocket.”

Red freezes.

“Apparently he was in the midst of things, right when the deadlock at the Silph Company Headquarters finally let up and the city came out of lockdown… Did you know that?” Lance asks, eyes narrowing.

Red shakes his head, without even thinking about it.

Lance sighs. “He said you were there.”

Red grits his teeth and looks down at the floor.

“I couldn’t get much more out of him,” Lance says, “but I’m shocked you didn’t tell me yourself. The Champion of Kanto taking on Team Rocket single-handedly and winning – it’s amazing, something to be proud of…”

Lance looks at Red questioningly.

“…unless there’s something else you’re concerned about. Green wouldn’t give me a straight answer, but he seemed to imply that your vendetta against Team Rocket was personal. Is that true?”

“I-” Red begins.

His throat seizes up for a minute, but Red forces himself to answer.

“N-no.”

Lance studies him for a minute, and then shakes his head.

“If you’re going to lie, you at least need to get better at it,” Lance mutters, before sighing again.

And Red can’t take that. He can’t believe that. He can still hear them.

You can’t tell what he’s thinking at all. He’s always serious, and quiet, and he never reacts to anything we say. Even if you yell or scream or make faces, he acts like he can’t see or hear.

They used to tell their parents, while he was still within earshot.

Red’s creepy.

Only, now, even that’s not enough. When he wants to hide his thoughts, he’s completely transparent. There’s just no winning.

“It’s fine,” Lance says, waving his hand. “We’ll all discuss it together, after the celebration for the reopening of the Viridian City Gym.”

Only Red won’t take that either. Red remembers just how well the last celebration went. How he dressed up in an uncomfortable suit. How he walked around behind Lance and dodged questions from reporters. How he went on stage and spoke aloud and had made a fool of himself. How there were hundreds of people there that he didn’t know and didn’t care about and, worse, how there were people there he did care about and he still hadn’t known what to say to them.

And how much worse would it be, to have Green there…

“No,” Red says.

Lance frowns. He holds his hands clasped on the desk and looks up to meet Red’s eyes firmly.

“It’s non-negotiable. There have been some concerns about gang activity around Azalea Town recently, and we need to be prepared for Team Rocket, or their imitators, to resurge… Not to mention the public needs to know what happened with Team Rocket in Saffron City. We’ll discuss it more with Green after the celebration, and prepare for a press release from there.”

“No,” Red says.

“If you, the Champion, defeated Team Rocket, that’s something that people have a right to know.” Lance shakes his head in frustration. “Listen, you are a public official now. You need to be able to communicate the League’s ideals to the public. I can’t keep coddling you.”

And Red can’t remember ever having been coddled for a day in his miserable life. All he can remember is fighting and struggling – for gym badges, for money, for Pokémon, for attention and for affection, for the right to travel and the right to even exist.

And Lance doesn’t understand him, because he’s talking about Team Rocket and press conferences and things that are so far in over Red’s head he can’t even think. And Red’s only thinking about…

Green.

“No!” Red says. He reaches forward and lifts the invitation to Green’s party off of Lance’s desk, holds it up meaningfully, before slapping it back down again. “No, I – not going! No!”

Lance blinks at the invitation.

“This is an official League event! You are Indigo League Champion!” Lance says, enunciating his words slowly, trying to get through to Red.

Red can’t hear him.

Lance sighs again. “You look terrible,” he says. “You just flew back in from Lavender Town this morning, right? You must be exhausted. Why don’t you get some rest, before you catch cold? We can discuss this when both our heads are clearer.”

Red takes the dismissal as well as he can, which is to say he storms back to his room and slams the door and refuses to sleep, just to spite Lance.

…and Green.

Because how… how dare Green blabber to Lance about what happened with Team Rocket. What happened at the Silph Corporation was between Red and Giovanni! And at least the Silph Company President knew to keep his mouth shut!

Red’s eyes are beginning to water, but he’s not crying. He can’t be crying, because he doesn’t feel anything.

He lifts his hands up to cover his eyes and, and he realises he’s still holding the scarlet envelope, crushed in his hand. He left the invitation back in Lance’s office, but he still has this envelope, with Green’s handwriting on the back. It catches a couple of tears, staining the red envelope even darker, before Red manages to hold back the tears with will alone.

And, when Red was appointed Kanto Champion, he couldn’t even send his own mother an invitation! And here Green goes and sends him one – like Red’s not his greatest rival, like he doesn’t resent Red, like everything is okay between them…

If they’re not rivals, if he doesn’t resent Red, if they’re friends after all, then why has he put Red through all of this in the first place?!

How dare Green just send him this invitation like it’s nothing!

Red calls Pikachu out of his Pokéball.

We’re leaving, he says.

Pikachu blinks at the light in the room, like he’s just waking up, and he understands Red’s anger and distress better than he understands those words. He leaps up to cradle and to comfort his trainer.

Red’s in a rush. He doesn’t have time to be comforted. He reaches up and pulls Pikachu off of his shoulder, pushes him away. He sets Pikachu lightly on the writing desk, in his small room in the Indigo Plateau, and turns away to get his clothes from the dresser.

We’re leaving, he repeats, as he shoves his clothes into his bag.

“Leaving,” Red says. “No returns.”

Pikachu nods and his ears twitch and he watches helplessly.

His small room, within the enormity and grandeur of the Indigo Plateau.

The Indigo Plateau is more than just the League building. It’s the grassy highlands and the rising mountains behind it. It’s waterfalls and jagged rocky cliffs. It’s wild Pokémon and even wilder trainers. It’s everything he and Green had ever worked towards – the sum of Green’s dreams and Red’s efforts and his journey around Kanto. It’s what it means to be successful in this world.

Red is the lone victor.

And, like the king in that fable, Red’s prosperity would be the end of him. He could only watch helpless, as he ruined everything he deigned to touch.

The rest of his things are bound tightly in his backpack. Red opens the balcony doors – he need only call Charizard from his Pokéball, and they can leave – but he turns back to the writing desk first.

Pikachu watches at Red places the three items down on the desk – the Pokédex, the scarlet envelope, and the Fame Checker.

Squirtle, Charmander, and Bulbasaur.

Which one will you choose for yourself? Professor Oak asks.

And really, Red can take all three items with him, or none at all. But it feels like a choice. And, just like picking Bulbasaur had, it doesn’t really feel like a choice at all.

Red pulls a pen out of the writing desk.

He flips the envelope over, so he can’t see Green’s writing.

Sorry, he writes. Professor Oak, he adds, so they won’t think it’s for anyone else.

He pins it under the Pokédex, and Red is sorry. He’s sorry that he can’t complete the Pokédex, and fulfil the professor’s dreams. But he’s already fulfilled Green’s dream and become the Champion, and other people dreams are too heavy and too wrought with disappointments.

People are too wrought with disappointments.

Red leaves them there on the desk, and pockets the Fame Checker.

“Let’s go,” Red says.

And Pikachu takes only a moment to sniff at the heady ink drying on the envelope, before jumping down and following at Red’s heel.

He’s heard the Pokémon on Mount Silver are very strong. Red likes hiking, and it’s far enough from people that he can safely work on training Mewtwo there, along with the rest of his Pokémon.

On the way up, Red stops at a shop at the foot of the mountain and leaves with two weeks’ worth of provisions and camping supplies, and a couple of free homemade biscuits from the elderly lady that works there.

He doesn’t plan on staying on the mountain for two years. But a couple of months in, long after the last of the store-bought provisions have dwindled, Red’s still there.

==

“Here!”

Red waves his arms, introducing his Pokémon to the snowy green field and rocky cliffs that stand right above the sloping icy crater at the peak of Mount Silver.

His Pokémon regard him sceptically, before spreading out to explore their new home.

The view from the top of Mount Silver is limited. Being above the first cloudline, all you can see are the neighbouring Mountain peaks. But Lapras and Snorlax go off by themselves to gaze across the horizon anyhow, motioning towards interestingly shaped clouds as they float over the earth.

Venusaur is moving around the field, testing the ground in different spots with his vines and sniffing contemplatively at the soil.

Blastoise walks along the cliff face, following a series of bushes. He’s so enthralled, he almost ends up stepping on a pair of sleeping Onix, curled up together, and he has to retreat hastily and quietly, on tiptoe.

Pikachu coos worriedly at Red for a minute, before Red nods reassuringly, at which point Pikachu finally hops off to investigate the plant life with Blastoise.

They look like they might be berry bushes, which Red knows could be useful. Vegetation is sparse this high up the mountain, but there seem to be sporadic patches of berries and herbs. And, even though Red can’t determine which plants are edible and which are poisonous, Pikachu has a good nose for that kind of thing.

Red pulls off his backpack, and pulls out his tent and waterproof tarp. It’s a little early to be setting up camp, but they’re all tired from the trip up the mountain, so it doesn’t hurt to get a head start. He starts clearing away the snow on a patch of ground, near where Charizard is standing.

At first, Charizard turns his head to the other Pokémon, distressed, looking for cues as to what he should do. He’s at a complete loss of what to do with this bit of time and nobody to please but himself.

But then he looks down, feeling tentatively at the snow with his feet.

Charizard perks up, appearing far more excited than any of Red’s own Pokémon. It’s not long before he’s rolling across the field, flapping his wings in delight and throwing the snow up into the air so it spread out into powder and fluttered back down onto his face. At one point, some of the snow flies directly at Venusaur, who has finally found a good spot to sink his roots into the soil.

The snow hits Venusaur on his right ear, and Venusaur growls. He collects a bunch of snow in his vines at hurls it directly at Charizard.

Charizard turns, startled by the flying projectile coming into his peripheral vision, and huffs. His breath hits the snowball before it can reach him, and melts to water in mid-air. Charizard blinks in awe, and from there it becomes a whole new game – Charizard walking through the field with his head bent down to the ground, breathing hot air over the snow and watching, fascinated, as it turns to water. Venusaur seems pleased at how little input this game requires from him, and he closes one eye, before lying down with a satisfied sigh.

Red wonders if this is the first time Charizard has seen snow. He’s sure acting like it is. But that’s ridiculous. Green has had Charizard for over a year now, and Red remembers Pikachu and Bulbasuar playing in the old snowfall at Mount Moon, and the rest of his Pokémon facing a couple of smaller flurries outside of Saffron.

Charizard must have seen the snow before, but it occurs to Red that this might be the first chance he’s gotten to play in it. He watches Charizard rub his belly against the snow and flap his wings happily.

He wonders what first chances he and his Pokémon have missed, without even realising it. He wonders if there’s still time and chances left for them.

Those thoughts would have probably consumed him, if he didn’t have so much work to do, busying himself trying to set up camp.

.

.

Red’s Pokemon drift back towards him as the night descends. But, even with their help, it takes Red over an hour to set up the tent and get a fire pit ready. He loses a good twenty minutes messing around with matches and fire starter gel before Charizard steps forward hesitantly and ignites the branches in the fire pit.

He heats up several tins of Pokémon food and distributes to his waiting Pokémon, and then heats up several more just for Snorlax. (Snorlax would eat her whole weight in food each day, if only Red would let her.) When he’s done, he contemplates heating something for himself, but ends up idly chewing on an apple instead.

It’s crunchy and sweet, but it’s a struggle to stomach the whole thing. And, when he’s done, he picks out the seeds and snaps the core in two to divide between Blastoise and Snorlax, who swallow their portions whole.

Then they huddle together, on the tarps or in the tent, close to the fire, to go to sleep.

Red’s tent is not adequate protection against the winds. And Red spends a lot of time drifting between sleeping and waking, shivering, and wondering if the news of Green’s appointment as Gym Leader, and the details about his inauguration, are posted to the Fame Checker forums. He’s too tired and drowsy to get out of his sleeping bag and dig through his bag for his Fame Checker, but he dreams that he’s reading off the forum anyhow.

Lorelei and Agatha post smiley emoticons. Brock writes a whole paragraph about the responsibilities of a Gym Leader. Everybody agrees that Green will do a good job, except for the Sandshrew, the Sandslash, and Giovanni. The forumers concede that the Pokémon are entitled to their opinion, but not Giovanni, who they agree is only bitter about being usurped.

Red wakes up in the early hours of the morning, just as the sun is rising.

He gets up and immediately reaches for his pack. He pulls out the Fame Checker and turns it on, before his mind clears enough to realise that Green’s inauguration won’t be happening for another week or so, and there’s nothing else on Green’s public profile that Red hasn’t seen before.

Red sighs and replaces the Fame Checker in his bag, before pulling out the Master Ball instead.

Pikachu is lying next to him, and Red shakes him awake softly, before cradling Pikachu in his arms and lifting him up as he stands.

Pikachu yawns, and goes stiff when he sees the Master Ball clasped in Red’s hand.

They exit the tent together. The rest of Red’s Pokémon are still asleep, and sneaks off as quietly as he can, trying not to wake them.

Between Red and his Master Ball, and Pikachu and his electricity… well, he knows it would probably be safer to bring another Pokémon with him, but Red doesn’t anyhow.

When they’re about thirty metres from camp, near the cliffs, Red finally stops. Pikachu perches on his shoulder.

It’s still dark out, but there’s a light glow in the sky, from where the sun is dancing just below the horizon. Red hopes Mewtwo finds the clouds and the sky and the mountain just as calming as he does.

Pikachu squeaks, signalling that he’s ready, and Red calls Mewtwo out of his Pokéball.

Mewtwo appears, and he hisses and cringes, cowering away from Red, watching him with eyes full of anger and apprehension. He looks around wildly, and it occurs to Red that there isn’t a place for Mewtwo to hide here, on the open and empty summit of Mount Silver. He can’t curl up in the corner of the gymnasium, like he did at the Indigo Plateau.

Mewtwo hisses again warningly and takes a step back, and Red has to stop himself from reaching forward. Mewtwo might try to attack if he does.

Pikachu’s standing at the ready on his shoulder, and Red signals for him to hold the electricity away from his cheeks. Mewtwo hardly needs to be provoked further.

Mewtwo takes another step back.

“Does. Don’t run,” Red says.

Mewtwo stops. The way he holds his body is hostile and tense.

“You wants- be alone-” Red says, “-I thought.”

Red’s not sure Mewtwo understands. His other Pokémon seem to understand, for the most part. But Mewtwo is an unknown.

Mewtwo’s still looking at him, though. His face is partly turned away, but Red can see he’s still watching with one purple eye. So Red continues.

“Me too,” Red says. “Others… don’t want.”

This is the best I can do, Red thinks. Mewtwo’s too dangerous to release back into the wild, but he and Mewtwo can stay here alone together.

Mewtwo stays where he is, watching Red wearily, like he’s waiting for a chance to strike. He holds his position, still and rigid.

Red thinks Mewtwo might have heard, might have understood, but Mewtwo’s unwilling to surrender any more than that.

==

Snorlax and Blastoise carve open a cave in side of the mountain.

And, with Pikachu guiding them, they gather the last of the autumn berries and edible greens.

The bad thing about moving to the top of the mountain in the middle of fall is pretty soon it’s winter. Mount Silver is routinely buffeted by snowstorms. Everything is freezing cold, and it’s not only uncomfortable, but dangerous, to leave the cave and the campfire at the top of the mountain.

Certain Pokémon are better suited for the weather than others. Pikachu can’t leave the fire, or the confines of his Pokéball, for more than a few minutes. Blastoise and Venusaur (and Mewtwo) are likewise sensitive to the extreme cold.

Snorlax and Lapras are not so bothered by the climate though, and Red’s almost embarrassed by how much of an asset Charizard turns out to be.

Charizard can fly against the winter winds, and the fire in his gut keeps him warm. So, in addition to keeping the campfire well lit, Charizard’s the one that goes out to hunt for food when the rest of them are stuck inside the cave during blizzards. He arrives back with half-eaten (and half-burnt) pieces of game from the lower elevations. Usually it’s Duduo or Dodrio, and Red has to laboriously scald the skin, and pluck the feathers, before he can even begin roasting the meat. Other times, Charizard manages to take down Ursaring, and even an Aipom, on one occasion.

Red’s finds himself more and more repulsed by eating.

Venusaur, Lapras, and Blastoise are all limited in their ability to digest meat. Venusaur especially. Red has to break and boil bones for marrow, to feed him through the winter.

Charizard can’t digest anything but meat.

But Red can digest pretty much anything, by whim of biology, and he’s now seeing how much of a luxury it was to be able to choose.

At home in Pallet, and in the cities, meat and fish aren’t eaten more frequently than on a weekly basis. It’s saved for special occasions – or at least saved for Saturday afternoons once you’ve gotten out of school. Pokémon are so deeply integrated in the personal and industrial lives of Kanto’s people, that a certain amount of restraint is necessary to prevent from toppling the careful line between food and friend. And, even so, with the exception of Magikarp, most meat is imported from abroad.

It’s more comfortable that way.

And, caught between the discomfort of eating another Duduo, and the discomfort of going hungry, Red decides to sleep.

The more Red sleeps… The longer Red’s Pokémon stay in their Pokéballs… The less energy they all use, the less they have to eat.

Snorlax sleeps too. She’s probably hibernating for the season, except she sleeps so much normally that the condition is practically perennial.

She’s warm, and Red snuggles into her fur and sleeps.

When he wakes up, he turns over and falls back to sleep.

Being asleep is sometimes better than being awake, and not only because of the food and the winter. The warm claustrophobia of sleep seems to occupy him more thoroughly and more comfortably than wakefulness.

Even when spring comes, Red sometimes finds himself rolling over and dozing off again. Sometimes he lacks the energy and resolve to get up.

==

We’re okay here, right? Red asks Venusaur. Are we safe here?

Venusaur opens one eye lazily.

He’s sitting in a patch of sunlight, as is his custom now. During the daylight hours, Venusaur crawls across the mountaintop, following the sun. He digs his vines into the ground to absorb nutrients and snoozes.

The leaf growing in to replace the one he lost during the battle with Mewtwo has reached half the size of the others.

Red knows it’s difficult for Venusaur. Red doesn’t usually bother him for training until it’s sunset. They conduct their drills at night, by the light of Charizard’s campfire.

Are we safe here?

Red has asked the others, but he feels Venusaur is probably best adept at gauging this question. Venusaur is always grudgingly looking after the safety and wellbeing of the other Pokémon.

Are we safe here? Red repeats.

Vensuaur yawns, sways side to side, licks Red’s face, and does something that looks like a shrug. All at once.

It’s a confusing mess of signals and Red doesn’t understand it. But when he looks into Venusaur’s eyes, he feels like he can hear the response.

Safe from what?

==

If he had asked a couple of months later, Venusaur’s answer might have been more definitive.

But, then again, a couple months later, Red’s hearing has become even more selective to match.

==

Charizard is the first to realise that a visitor is coming.

He flies the perimeter of the summit and sees the dot moving up the mountainside. He just watches for a while, observing curiously as the dot oscillates back and forth through the switchbacks, before he recognises the smell of human.

Charizard tells Lapras first. She’ll know what to do. And she’s calm and nice and doesn’t take things out on everybody else when she gets angry.

Lapras tells Snorlax, who lumbers off towards the trail to get a closer look, and then she tells Pikachu, who goes to find Red while Lapras makes her way towards Blastoise and Venusaur.

Red nods. He’s not sure if he’s correctly understood Pikachu’s signing, but he feels the rush of fear and excitement and determination all the same.

He goes to find Mewtwo and return him to his Pokéball, and follows Pikachu to outlook above the trail. The news of the arrival has thoroughly capitulated through the ranks of his team, and the rest of his Pokémon meet him there.

Red exhales, trying to ignore the question burning in the back of his mind.

Is it Green?

He signals his Pokémon to be quiet, to be discreet. They hunch down close to the ground. Red’s elbow hits the snowfall as they peer over the ledge, trying to catch a glimpse of the trainer without being seen.

They’re still too far down the trail for Red to see properly, but Red’s breath hikes. Their dark brown hair could be Green’s, Red thinks. It could be almost anyone… but it could also be Green.

Red’s Pokemon are not very good at discretion, though. Blastoise, Pikachu and Lapras are doing admirably, trying to keep low to the ground and out of sight, and Venusaur is trying his best, but Red suspects the top of his bright pink flower is visible from the trail. And when Snorlax makes her way to the edge of the cliff, there’s no hiding her huge size, as much as she ducks her head and pulls her ears down with her hands.

Charizard gives up completely. There’s no room for him on the edge of the cliff, and he eventually takes to the sky in order to peer over their shoulders.

The trainer spots them. Red still can’t see them properly, but they turn their head up and wave.

They call a Pokémon from their Pokéball, and Red recognises the Pokémon, even before the trainer climbs on and lets the Pokémon fly them the rest of the way up the cliff face, where Red is waiting with his Pokémon.

He’s already been spotted, there’s nowhere to hide.

His Pokémon back away from the ledge to make room for their guests. Pikachu first, and then the others.

Dragonite overshoots the landing, flying up a little too far, so Lance can jump down to the ground dramatically. His snow boots grip the earth firmly, and his cape billows behind him. Dragonite lands next to him, breathing heavily. The air is too thin here, so high up. Flying Pokémon can’t carry passengers easily.

Lance grins. It’s wider, more cheerful, than Red expects.

“I’m glad I found you,” Lance says.

Red flinches.

“Don’t worry,” Lance cuts in quickly. “You don’t have to do anything. I’m not here to get you to come back, or anything.”

Lance lets out his Pokémon and shows them around, before Red sets up a place for Lance’s sleeping bag in the cave, for overnight.

“The view is really beautiful up here. I can see why you like it so much,” Lance tells him.

Red nods hesitantly. Lance has carried up some food provisions and supplies, and Red’s feeding the fire and chopping vegetables for soup, while Lance sits across from him, petting his Dragonite’s head. He’s keenly aware that Lance is going out of his way to be pleasant and complimentary. He doesn’t want to scare Red off until he gets what he wants.

“How- you knew I’m here?” Red asks, suspiciously, as he arranges his stew pot, full of snow, over the fire.

Lance brightens. “We asked around, and got reports from people who saw you travelling west the day you left the Indigo Plateau, but none of you flying over Johto. This isn’t the first place I checked, but Mount Silver has a certain amount of cultural significance, compared to the other mountains in this range, so it stood to reason it might be your destination.”

Lance beams, clearly pleased with his little bit of detective work.

Red’s not nearly so impressed. He shoves the chopped green squash into the stew pot a little too roughly.

“Why’re you… here?” Red asks, questioningly.

Lance reaches up to scratch at his temple nervously.

“I felt bad for how things got left. We forwarded your note and Pokédex to Professor Oak, but I wanted to make sure you were okay. You look…”

Lance hesitates, looking a bit doubtful.

“… not bad,” Lance decides. “Your Pokémon seem okay. Have you been keeping up with their training? …You’re all healthy?” he asks.

Red shrugs. He resumed his Pokémon’s normal training since the snowstorms died back. He feels pretty optimistic about it.

“All fine,” he says. “Pokémon – good.”

“Mewtwo still under control?” Lance asks.

Red nods. Unwilling to give further details.

“That’s good,” Lance says agreeably. “Everything’s fine with the League, too. I’m really excited about the direction things are heading,” he admits.

Dragonite perks up and sways happily back and forth as Lance relays the recent developments.

“Lorelei moved back home,” Lance says, “which is a shame, but there’s been some good talent that’s come in to replace her. Just- overall- we’ve had a lot of great trainers shoot up through the ranks. Lots of good challengers with different types of training methodology. And there have been some major breakthroughs on the subject of Pokémon breeding from this Professor in Johto.”

Lance pauses.

“We’ve still had our share of problems… but I’ve got a much better grasp on how to handle things now,” Lance says proudly. “We signed on this trainer called Will. He’s a psychic type specialist, and he’s provided some useful connections in Saffron and Celadon, in addition to being a big help with general management… And my cousin – she’s a total pain – but, attitude aside, she’s been a great asset for scouting out things in Johto.”

Red waits, only half-listening, for Lance to mention Green.

But Lance never does.

“So, I want to apologise. It wasn’t fair of me to expect you to shoulder so much,” Lance concludes.

The apology is so general, it’s vague. But Red feels a bit better, anyhow.

The snow in the stew pot has melted. Red stirs the water and adds the tomatoes.

“So, are you going to keep training up here?” Lance asks.

Red doesn’t deign that with a response.

“Is there anything you need from me?” Lance offers. “Should I send up some more supplies? Do you want me to relay any messages to anyone?”

Red shakes his head. His hand twitches. Pikachu is resting with his other Pokémon in the back of the cave. He wishes Pikachu was here with him.

“You don’t- Can’t… say anything,” Red says.

Don’t tell anyone I’m here.

Lance looks worried.

“Alright,” he agrees.

Red sighs with relief. It’s followed by the absurd impulse to offer Lance tea. Even though he doesn’t have any tea.

It’s a long time until Lance speaks again, after they’ve finished their meal.

“I told you there’ve been a lot of good trainers lately,” Lance says, looking sideways toward the cave’s entrance.

Red pauses a second, before nodding.

“It’s becoming popular for trainers to challenge both the Kanto and Johto gyms. People like the travelling. And they like the challenge.”

Red waits another moment before nodding.

“Do you mind if I send some of the best ones to you?” Lance asks. “I know you don’t want people knowing you’re here, but we can probably keep your identity under wraps. It’d only be trainers who have gone through all the gyms and the Elite Four… If you miss Pokémon battling at all, I think you’ll be surprised at the level of talent that’s surfaced lately.”

Red’s first instinct is to refuse off the bat.

But… if the challengers have to go through all the gyms… that means that everybody has to get past Green first…

“O.K,” Red agrees. Shrugging his shoulders and trying to look nonchalant.

Lance nods and goes back to paying attention to his Dragonite.

Red can’t ask Lance about Green, without betraying himself further, but these trainers…

He reaches into his pocket and taps idly at the glass screen of his Fame Checker.

He’ll see what they can do. And when he’s done, he’ll know exactly what to ask them.

==

Mewtwo isn’t sociable. He always sits at a distance from the others. He gets twitchy when the rest of them get too close, and he doesn’t like to be touched.

But he sits with them for meals now. And when Lapras bumps into him by mistake, he doesn’t try to eviscerate her. He only scoots over.

Red’s not scared of Mewtwo anymore. Although, he probably should be.

But Red forgot to return Mewtwo to his Pokéball one evening, and when he woke up Mewtwo hadn’t hurt anybody, and he hadn’t run away.

Red had found Mewtwo watching the sunrise on the opposite end of the mountain summit, and when Red ran up to him, Mewtwo swivelled around to meet his eyes in acknowledgment, before turning back to the sun.

It shouldn’t have been enough to ease Red’s fears, but it had been. After that, Red remembers to be more cautious and return Mewtwo to his Pokéball each night. He can go through the motions- He can remind himself that he shouldn’t be so trusting, even though that’s a battle he’s already lost.

And, even worse, Red realises Mewtwo’s not scared of him anymore either.

If they’re not scared of each other, what’s keeping them together?

Red leaves his Pokémon to their own business most afternoons. They enjoy exploring the mountainside and getting into scuffles with the wild Pokémon, among other things. Mewtwo, in particular, enjoys meditating. So Red lets him.

There is a smooth flat rock on the southern end of the summit, and Mewtwo will sit there for hours and hours.

Red’s never really tried meditating before. Although Bruno had spoken highly of its benefits, when incorporated into a daily routine.

“C-n… I try?” Red asks Mewtwo, one afternoon.

Mewtwo opens one eye and peers out to Red with it. His eye is a cold purple colour, but the iris and pupil are cut round, like a human’s eye. It makes Red uncomfortable.

Then Mewtwo closes his eyes again. He gives Red no more of an answer, but the empty space on the rock next to him seems to almost… glow…

Red climbs up and sits down.

He spends a while shifting in place, trying to get comfortable.

Mewtwo holds his posture still, unwilling to let Red’s fussing bother him.

Eventually, after scooting back and forth on top of the rock a dozen times, Red crosses his legs and arranges his hands upturned on his knees – the way he thinks people are supposed to meditate, from what he’s seen on television.

He sits there for only a moment before opening his eyes and glancing sideways at Mewtwo.

Mewtwo’s posture is a little different. His back is hunched, and he has his hands entwined close to his gut. His right leg is splayed to the side, so the shackle on his ankle doesn’t get in the way.

Red tries to imitate him, but switches back to his original position when he realises Mewtwo's isn’t really any better.

Red closes his eyes.

He tries to drive his thoughts away. He tries to forget about what his Pokemon might be doing right now. What do they have to do later? How long will the clear weather last? What’s going on on the Fame Checker forums? How did he end up here? What is he thinking? What is everybody else thinking?

Red focuses on his breath and focuses on the sensation of occupying his own body.

…

When he’s not busy thinking about everything else, he realises he’s really cold. His body shivers and his chest tightens, every time he inhales.

His wrists and ankles are freezing, where his pants and sleeves have grown too short to cover him completely. The edge of the fabric is rough and irritates his skin.

His palms feel a little bit better, but the tips of his fingers are numb.

There’s a pain in his lower back that he can’t account for, except on the basis of having slept on it wrong.

And, the more he shivers, the less he thinks it can be blamed solely on the cold. His muscles seem to spasm independently. Every so often they twitch violently, like an acrophobic standing over a precipice.

Red stands abruptly.

“‘m s-rry,” he says, interrupting Mewtwo’s meditation without thinking.

He feels ashamed, but Mewtwo only opens his eyes calmly and observes Red curiously.

I’m sorry, but I don’t think this is going to work. This isn’t for me, Red tells him.

Mewtwo nods and turns away.

And Red stands there, cheeks burning. Mewtwo doesn’t seem particularly bothered, but Red still feels like he owes Mewtwo an excuse. Or an explanation.

In the end, Red walks away without finding one. But at least he can’t feel how cold he is anymore.

==

Then something horrible happens. The worst thing that can possibly happen, when you’re living up on a mountain by yourself –

Red’s battery dies.

The little icon at the top of the Fame Checker menu screen flashes. For days and then minutes and then seconds.

Low battery! – Low battery! – Low battery!

And finally Red’s fears culminate and the whole screen flickers, and flickers again, and it’s out.

Gone.

And Red’s not even sure how and why it’s so important to him, but it’s unbearable.

Even though Red doesn’t usually check his Fame Checker in the mornings, he does that day. He checks the dark and blank screen, over and over again, until he just can’t!

This can’t stay like this. It can’t.

What if some trainer comes up the mountain to challenge him? What will Red say, once the battle ends? What if the trainer says something to him before Red can ask about Green? What if he can’t even ask about Green without his Fame Checker? What if they say something before Red can disappear into his den?

What would they say to him?

What if they asked him about himself?

The questions are too much to bear, so Red starts preparing for an emergency trip down Mount Silver, to be carried out the following morning.

He takes Pikachu and Charizard with him (and Mewtwo, tucked safely within his Pokéball). He leaves the rest of his Pokémon at the top of the mountain – his promise that he’ll return as soon as possible.

It’s nearly a whole day’s journey down to the base of the mountain. First walking down, until they reach the entrance to the mountain caverns, at which point Red calls Charizard out to fly them down the rest of the way.

Their destination is slightly southeast of the mountain’s base. Red has them land quite a ways away, hopefully far enough so that he can return Charizard to his Pokeball without anybody seeing him first. Pikachu jumps up on Red’s shoulder, and they walk across the meadow. It’s sunny out, and the field is filled with tiny yellow flowers that have just come into bloom.

And, across the meadow, Red can finally see his destination. It’s a tiny, family-run store, presided over by an elderly couple.

Red remembers stopping in to buy some camping supplies, some fruit and bread, and five plastic bags packed full of Pokémon food and snacks, when first heading up the mountain.

But that was then, and this is now.

Red sits down in the grass, ignoring as Pikachu squeaks at him curiously.

All the Pokésnacks had long since been eaten, and… and…

Red hadn’t seen the store owners in well over a year… What if they ask him what he and his Pokémon have been eating since?

It’s not exactly difficult to survive, between foraging for vegetation and eating Charizard’s kills… but what if they’re not satisfied with his answer?

Or what if they ask him how he’s doing, or why he’s there?

He’s lost a lot of weight since his last visit. What if they ask him why?

What if they recognise him as the former Champion? What if they cause a fuss and tell other people where he is? What if they recognise him as the former Champion and decide that he’s unfit for raising his Pokémon?

What if-? What if-?

What if Red sends Pikachu inside the store to buy the batteries for him?

Red blinks. That’s an idea, to say the least.

But what if they think Pikachu is a wild Pokémon? What if they attack him, or try to capture him? his thoughts protest.

But those are just one or two what-ifsin a thousand, so Red pulls some money and the old batteries out of his pack. He shows them to Pikachu and explains the best he can.

Pikachu looks uncertainly at him, but Red shoves the money at him and shoos him off as quickly as he can. Before he rethinks things and has to go inside the store himself.

Pikachu’s whiskers twitch as he decides he’s up for the challenge. He leaps forward across the field, with a couple of folded bills in one paw, towards the store.

Pikachu squeezes through a gap in the doorway, and Red can’t see him anymore.

The thoughts don’t stop though. Red takes off his cap and runs both hands through his hair.

Pikachu will be fine, he thinks. He lets his Pokémon go out and about by themselves all the time.

Yes. But should he…? And it’s one thing to send them out alone in the empty wilderness, and another to send them alone to see people, some of which are possible greedy trainers.

What if the store wasn’t run by the nice old elderly couple anymore?

What if Team Rocket had taken control of the store? Or some other group, styling themselves after the Rockets?

Red thinks about his Meowth, inadvertently styled after Giovanni’s Persian.

Red can’t breathe.

What if the people running the store kidnapped Pikachu?! What if they killed Pikachu?!

The thoughts don’t stop, even when Red sees Pikachu re-emerging from the shop doors.

He’s a small yellow dot in the distance, that grows closer and closer, so that soon pointed ears and red cheeks and black stripes are visible.

Pikachu is carrying a biscuit in his mouth and has a pouch tied around his belly – holding a pack of AAA batteries, Red learns later. The store owners have apparently been more than kind to their little visitor.

Red still can’t breathe. He coughs, gasping for air.

Pikachu stops right in front of Red.

“Chuu!” he squeaks happily, and nibbles on his biscuit.

Red bends down, scoops Pikachu up, and crushes him to his chest.

The biscuit drops to the ground in the commotion, and Pikachu squeaks in protest.

Red doesn’t move though, and Pikachu finally softens and nuzzles his cheek into Red’s arm.

He tries to catch his breath, but all Red can think about are Misty’s judging words, warped and come to life and thrown back in his face.

Any real trainer wouldn’t have risked their Pokémon unnecessarily like that, her voice says, clearer and louder than anything that’s real.

==

The Cinnabar Island Volcano erupts two months in, and Green’s popularity explodes.

At least, that’s what Red’s able to gather from the only information he can get four kilometres above sea level.

Green’s public file on the Fame Checker forum board has had a steady influx of entries since his appointment as Gym Leader. They’re mostly angry entries, full of slander and complaints, from trainers who tried and failed to obtain their Earth Badges. But there’s also a gradual trickle of pictures and gushing from the rare admirer.

But never like this before.

Before Green was an arrogant, in-over-his-head trainer who, through good luck and better familial connections, had somehow managed to land himself Kanto’s number one gym position.

Now Green’s a hero.

There are pictures of Green, only a speck in the distance, flying into Cinnabar on his Pidgeot. Pidgeot comes into focus before Green does, and when, finally, they’ve flown in close enough that Green’s recognisable, you can see that it’s not only Green. Brock is there as well, clinging to Pidgeot’s feathers, looking as calm and determined as ever. And Misty is following in the blue sea, under the smoke-filled sky, on the back of a Golduck.

There are pictures of Green evacuating the island’s citizens, corralling them onto Arcanine’s back, having them ride on Gyarados out over the water to the rescue boats waiting outside the harbour.

There are pictures of Brock’s Onix and Misty’s Starmie and Green’s Pidgeot, working as a team to use earth, water, and wind to push back the lava and poisonous air spewing from the Cinnabar Volcano.

There are pictures of Green welcoming Lorelei, Sabrina and Erika, and an injured Blaine into the fray, when they finally appear to help with the evacuation efforts. Lorelei goes off to help with the rescue boats, while Green pulls out a map. He shows the other gym leaders the escape routes they’ve secured so far, and lets Blaine point out the locations of more remote roads and dwellings where other survivors might be trapped. It’s Green’s good planning that allows Sabrina and Erika, along with Blaine’s Ninetales and Rapidash, to return from their rescue mission with three dozen survivors and their Pokémon.

And, unlike the blurry amateuristic photos from the crisis, (which makes Red wonder, just who was following Green around during the evacuation effort snapping photos the whole time?!) there are pictures of Green afterwards, during the press release. Green thanks everybody for their help, and offers well wishes to those that died and their loved ones. And when the critics tear into Lieutenant Surge and Koga and the Elite Four for their failure to appear during the crisis, Green defends them. Surge and Koga were responsible for dispatching the rescue ships from Vermilion and Fuchsia. And the Elite Four were arranging temporary housing for the survivors.

There are pictures of Green shaking hands with Misty afterwards. (And Misty’s supposed to hate Green! Red has the audio recording to prove it!) But Misty explains that they didn’t get off to the right start, but they’ve managed to patch things up now. Green’s not so bad, and he really gave it his all, both for the people and Pokémon caught up in this tragedy.

Misty shakes Green’s hand and laughs, and Green looks away, embarrassed, but he’s smiling. Misty cuffs him on the shoulder and says he’s supposed to return the favour, and tell everyone that she and her beautiful, amazing, water Pokémon really saved the day. Green laughs and apologises and says he really thought that went without saying.

That was supposed to be me, Red thinks. All of it was supposed to be his. The gym leaders, the struggle, and the glory.

There are more pictures of the evacuation. Green carries a pair of twins on his back, a boy and a girl, in place of a sickly mother who’s too weak to carry them herself. It’s the perfect combination of sensitivity and masculinity. His hair is messy, covered in salt water and sweat and soot, but his face is determined and, as every girl on the forum is wont to point out, devastatingly handsome.

Exhausted and struggling, wearing yesterday’s white t-shirt and covered in filth, Green has never looked more like a rock star.

He delivers the twins and their mother safely to the docks, where Lorelei takes them the rest of the way to the boats, and it’s enough to convince anybody that Green is a hero. Except for Red.

But only because Red doesn’t need to be convinced.

Red had known Green was a hero ever since the first time Green had stood in front of him on their elementary school playground and protected him from the other kids – kids, who had jeered and kicked Red in the shins and demanded he say something (anything) (correctly).

Except heroes don’t just suddenly throw you to the wolves one day. And if Green’s a hero, where is he to save Red from… whatever Red needs saving from?

Red clicks off the Fame Checker.

Chapter Text

Wouldn’t it be nice if Red had friends?

Red had thought that a long time ago, trying to qualify his relationships with Brock and Misty and his Pokémon, and wondering in what measure they had fallen short.

(Most likely in the measure of Red.)

Red’s friends, or lack thereof, are one consideration.

But what about Green?

Wouldn’t it be nice if Green had friends?

And, just like that, revealing every bit of how petty and spiteful Red really is, Red finds the answer.

No! It would not be nice if Green had friends!

Because between Green getting what he deserves, and Red getting what he doesn’t deserve, Red will choose himself every time.

.

Green hadn’t talked with Red for over a month by the time Red finally confronted him about it.

It was the beginning of summer vacation, a couple of days before August. The rainy season had come to an end, leaving a dry heat to smother the midday landscape into deadly quiet. Even the Pidgey had stopped chirping. They would rest until dusk, when they went out hunting for bug Pokémon.

Red was on the move, though. He and Green had fought before, sometimes for nearly as long as this. But it was high time they made up, with the whole of August ahead of them, without the tension of school and classmates.

Red looked into his closet for clues for how to best make up with Green. On the floor of his closet, there were a couple of Lego building blocks from when Green brought his set over. There was a Mr. Mime costume that Red’s mom had made for some holiday celebration. There were a couple of tin toy planes, and a Vulpix doll that Red didn’t like to admit he still had.

Red’s favourite, though, was his fishing rod, and that was what he reached for. He manoeuvred it carefully out from behind his clothes, so the line wouldn’t catch and the pole wouldn’t bend or break.

Fishing wasn’t Green’s favourite, but Red liked it, even if he had to let all his catches go. He liked baiting the line, and sitting by the water, and listening to Green complain and joke and prattle on about nothing in particular.

And if Green really didn’t want to go fishing, they could always sit in at his place and play video games. Or something else. Green had better toys at his place anyhow.

But Red prepared his miniature tackle box anyhow. He found his only decent pair of sandals waiting at the door. His mother was already at the restaurant, preparing to open for lunch, so Red triple checked the lock, before heading out. Everybody in Pallet Town knew their spare key was hiding under the welcome mat, but his mother had warned him there might one day be visitors from elsewhere. So it was better to keep the door locked, even when (especially when) he was inside alone.

It was a ten minute walk to Green’s house. Just like it always had been. His thoughts were suspiciously empty on the way there. For someone who hadn’t spoken with Green in a month, he didn’t feel very apprehensive.

He walked up the narrow corridor of sidewalk to Green’s door. He set the tackle box down on the step, rung the doorbell, and waited, with his fishing pole in his right hand and his feet crossed over one another, just for fun.

Green was smiling excitedly as he swung the door open, but his smile died, once he saw Red standing there.

Oh… It’s just you… Hi, Red, Green said.

Green stood in the doorway, just stood there, blocking the entrance and leaning heavily against the doorknob with his left arm. He didn’t say anything more. He didn’t invite Red inside.

Green! Who’s at the door? Daisy’s voice echoed through the hall. Are your friends here?

Green cursed under his breath.

Er, no. Not yet, he called out. It’s just that Abe brat playing with the doorbell again. He ran off as soon as I got to the door.

You shouldn’t call Abe Shichirou a brat, Daisy called back.

Green waited expectantly.

…even if it’s true, Daisy added, once a couple of seconds had passed.

Yeah, yeah, Green grumbled, before stepping outside. He shut the door behind him, so that Daisy couldn’t interrupt any more. Or so that he wouldn’t have to lie to her again.

Whaddaya want, Red? Green asked, walking off to the side and away from the doorstep. He frowned and glared at a patch of dry grass, right next to Red’s feet.

Red made himself look at Green. He lifted up the fishing rod in his hands and answered.

I was going to go fishing, he said.

Huh? Green replied. His eyebrows were furrowing. He was distracted.

Red tried to repeat himself.

Green cut him off.

I can’t go fishing or anything. You heard Daisy. Bryan and some of the other guys are coming over.

Red felt himself flinch.

…Are you hanging out with Jeff now, too? Red asked.

Jeff? Green exhaled deeply and managed a smirk. He was obviously pleased that Red had asked a question he could answer.

Nah, Jeff’s a wuss! I can take a few punches and let bygones be bygones. But I don’t think Jeff’ll ever get over how many times I smashed his face in.

Green was smiling maliciously – the way he always had when he talked about fighting, even before Red had known what malice was.

Green paused. His smile twitched and disappeared, and Green continued speaking, hesitantly this time.

I talked to him the other day though, Jeff, and… he’s not so bad.

Red’s eyes bulged.

It was so far from the usual story Green told about Jeff and Red’s other tormenters. Red couldn’t have been more surprised if Green announced he was going out naked in the wilderness to live life as a wild Pokémon.

I don’t think we’ll ever get on, Green continued, but when I was talking with him the other day he didn’t seem too bad. He told me he didn’t really think you were stupid or anything. He said that he didn’t know what else to say. You just stand around and never say anything – even when you look like you want to, or when other people ask you things – and it’s kind of bad and weird. So he just didn’t know what else to say, and called you dumb because of that.

And Red listened and he wondered why in all four regions Green was telling him this, because he didn’t care!

He didn’t care why Jeff bullied him, or if he had a good reason or not. He didn’t care if Jeff did it to be cruel, or just because he was too stupid to think of how else to approach Red. He didn’t care if Jeff had been hurt or afraid or confused, didn’t care about any of Jeff’s feelings.

And he didn’t care if Jeff thought he was stupid or not. In fact, he didn’t care what Jeff thought of him at all.

All Red cared about was that Green cared about what Jeff thought about Red. That Green cared enough not to hang out with Jeff, or Jeff’s friends, because what they said about Red was not nice. That Green would reject Jeff and his friends unconditionally, after all he had been through with Red.

Except all that was out the window now, and Red wasn’t even sure if Green had ever cared as much as he said.

No – Green had never said it. Green had thrown punches. And Red had assumed.

Anyhow. You need to leave. Before they see us together, Green was saying. They’re going to be here soon.

And Red should have left, and he knew it. But, because he was desperate, alone… Because he didn’t know how to have anybody other than Green…

Red dug his heals into the ground and stayed put.

Fishing tomorrow, Red was saying, clutching the fishing rod in both hands.

No. I can’t, Green was saying. You have to go.

Green was stepping forward, so he was only about half a metre away. He put one outstretched hand against Red’s shoulder and another against Red’s upper arm, and he pushed, leveraging his full weight to shove Red away.

And Red pushed his own body back against Green’s arms, and didn’t budge.

Then go fishing with me the next day, Red said.

No! Green said. He was pushing harder, more forcefully, straining against Red’s shoulders.

Go fishing with me the next day! Red insisted.

Green was pushing against him so hard, Red was about to topple over.

No! I won’t! Green screamed.

Red’s left foot lifted up off the ground and Red knew he was going to fall backwards but, at the last minute, Green took pity on him.

Green pulled his arms back down to his side. His mouth contorted angrily, miserably, as he looked at Red.

Red was still standing.

Fine! Green said. Stay here! If you want. But I’m going back inside to wait for the others!

In two days, go fishing with me, Red said. He pleaded, because he was going to let Green have the rest, if only afterwards they could go back to having their summer vacation like normal.

I won’t! Green yelled. Don’t you get it! We’re not friends anymore!

They aren’t friends anymore.

Red felt the pinprick in the back of his eyes, and he bit his cheek.

Green was going to walk away, go back inside in a moment, and if only Red had a way of communicating it. If only he knew how to communicate how much Green meant to him.

Red inhaled deeply. He dropped his fishing rod and ran forward, ducking down slightly, to wrap his arms around Green’s chest. He held on as tightly as he could.

I won’t let go. I won’t let go, Red thought.

He held on as tightly as he could, ignoring everything that told him he shouldn’t be holding Green like this.

He half expected Green to brush him away, or to knock at his hands angrily – Don’t touch me like that! Or, Stop being such a girl, Red! Or, Quit it! The way Green usually did when Red reached out to grab his arm as they were walking someplace together, and Red was afraid of getting separated. The way Green had acted when everything between them was okay.

Green didn’t do that though. Green was standing there, and Red could feel the way his spine went ramrod straight. Red could feel the gulp that sunk down into Green’s chest.

Red looked up.

Green was looking down at him. His cheeks were glowing red, and he was wearing a lost expression that Red couldn’t fully understand.

Red straightened his posture and arched his neck up, trying to see Green more clearly. And Green turned into his face.

Their noses were almost touching.

And then Green thrashed. He pulled his arms up and finally shoved Red down into the dirt.

Don’t touch me, Green said, softly. You should go, before they get here.

Green wasn’t looking at him, and then he turned away from Red completely and ran back inside.

Red sat there, on the dead grass and the dirt. He pulled himself to his feet and rubbed his left buttock. When he looked down, he realised he had landed right on his fishing rod.

He picked it up hurriedly. He wanted to leave. The fishing line was already hooked and baited, and he almost left without his tackle box. But if Green decided to throw it out to destroy the evidence, Red’s mom wouldn’t be able to afford a new one. He walked up to Green’s doorstep, and plucked it off the concrete, the hated stretch of ground that Bryan and the others would soon be walking in on.

And then Red turned and ran.

He ran down the dirt roads, biting his lip and blinking rapidly. And his neighbours smiled at him, and gave their greetings, and laughed in a good-natured way when he ran past without acknowledging them. Because it was summer vacation, and kids weren’t supposed to have time for anything except having fun.

And he ran right past Abe Jiro, who may have been going to Green’s house, but Red didn’t say anything to him. He kept running and turned the corner until he was out of sight, and out of mind.

And the tackle box jostled as he ran and rapped against his thigh, and the tip of his fishing rod bent back against the wind.

And, by the time he arrived at the estuary fishing hole, just before the ocean, he no longer felt as if he were going to burst into tears at any moment.

He dropped the tackle box roughly on the river bank, and rearranged his grip on his fishing rod, so he could cast the line.

But then he saw it.

The reed that had made up the pole of his fishing rod had snapped. It wasn’t quite cleaved in two, but it was holding on by only a couple of fibres, and Red had no doubt there was no way it could hold against a fish, even if it were only a splashing Magikarp.

And feeling light-headed, Red sat down and placed the fishing rod gingerly next to him on the river bank.

And he could probably fix the fishing rod. It would never be so nice again, but with a little bit of duct-tape he could probably still use it, but-

Red felt the tears spring into his eyes- cold and hot all at once.

Because it was one thing to lose your best friend, but it was another thing entirely to break your fishing rod. And Red wasn’t even sure where one began and the other ended anymore, but-

Red buried his face in his hands, and sniffled and hiccupped into his palms. And he only cried harder when the tears slipped down through his fingertips, away from him and out of his control.

==

The trainers come, just as Lance promised they would.

There aren’t many of them, but they trickle into Red’s life at uneven intervals.

First, there’s a middle-aged man with a beard. His Dewgong isn’t much help against Pikachu.

“Yes, I battled Green before taking on the Elite Four,” he says, into the Fame Checker microphone. “He seemed good-hearted, and didn’t begrudge me for my win. Although, he did say we should have a rematch sometime, and that he would beat me eventually.”

.

All the trainers are very driven. They’re still inspired by the challenge and romance of Pokémon battling. Which is more than Red can claim.

Second, there’s a boy, who looks like he’s a handful of years older than Red. He’s wrapped in three different snow jackets, and he’s using fighting-type Pokémon, many of which aren’t from Kanto.

Hariyama! the boy cries out, as he unleashes his final Pokémon.

Red doesn’t recognise the Pokémon, but that doesn’t mean they’re any match for Blastoise.

“I heard that guy made quite a splash here in Kanto,” the boy says. “But I can’t say I know him personally.”

Red can respect that. He clicks the save button.

.

The battles are satisfactory. Red notes with pride that the strength and skill of his Pokémon hasn’t waned, since they moved up to the top of the mountain.

Third, there’s a woman in her early thirties. She has an Arbok that managed to wind itself around behind Snorlax, and bite at her heels to take her out. Pikachu downs Arbok in the next round with his Volt Tackle, though.

“The Viridian Gym was undergoing renovation while I first visited, and I thought I’d have to return later for my battle. But Green said not to worry about it. He hosted our battle outdoors in the yard, instead. It was a close battle and, by the time we were done, it seemed like half the city had gathered to watch and cheer us on.”

.

The Pokémon run and fight. Red has to towel them off afterwards, before their sweat freezes on their skin.

Red shivers.

Fourth, there’s a girl with long hair pulled into pigtails. She’s giggling when the battle starts, but the anger and the hurt erupt slowly on her face.

“Who gives a shit about him?!” the girl cries at Green’s picture. “My Tauros! My poor Tauros! You knocked him out! You utter asshole!”

She’s stroking the fur on her Tauros’s cheek softly. It groans weakly. She’s crying furiously, as she withdraws her Pokémon into their Pokéball, and she flees back down the mountain path before Red can say another word.

.

Red wonders if this is the first time some of these people have lost a battle. He remembers the first time Pikachu fainted, and shrugs.

It’s inevitable, he thinks. They’ll have to learn some time.

But he’s afraid, because he knows that’s not really true.

.

Fifth, there’s a boy. He uses a whole arsenal of healing items during their battle, but Red’s hitting harder than the boy can heal.

“Hikari!” the boy calls, as his Vaporeon crumples down to the rocky ground.

Red walks forwards and stands over him as the boy cradles the Vaporeon in his arms. Red pulls the Fame Checker out of his pocket and holds it up.

But, before he can ask his question, the boy reaches up and clutches his arms.

“Hikari’s fainted,” he says. He’s crazed. He sounds on the verge of tears. “What am I going to do? How am I going to make it back down the mountain?!”

Red looks at where the boy’s clutching his arm. It makes him uncomfortable, but somehow it feels wrong to just shake him off.

Red shrugs.

“Revive?” he asks.

The boy’s eyes are leaking now. “What Revives?!” he says, frantically. “I used up the last of them in the fight with you! What am I going to do?! The wild Pokémon are going to kill me on the way back down!”

The boy is trembling and twitching, and Red points, unamused to the Vaporeon on his lap. He shouldn’t leave Vaporeon out of his Pokéball like that, unconscious and in the cold.

The boy flinches, but lets Red go. He reaches for his Pokéball and calls Vaporeon back inside.

Red sighs, irritated, and turns away.

“Wait! Where are you going?!” the boy cries. “You can’t just leave me up here!”

He bolts up and follows Red, as he makes his way back to his cave.

He grabs at Red’s shoulders and Red really does shake him off this time. Red whistles for Pikachu, who growls at the trainer menacingly.

The trainer backs off a little, but he still follows Red inside the cave. His teeth chatter nervously, even when he’s not pestering Red with his whining.

Red ignores him and digs through his bags. It’s completely irresponsible to use all your Revives in a trainer battle. It’s irresponsible, and foolish, and potentially fatal to your Pokémon. Especially in areas that are so far from the Pokémon Centers.

Red hates this trainer.

He digs through the front pocket of his bag. He doesn’t have an unlimited supply of Revives, but he decides he can spare two for the boy.

He walks out of the cave, so that the boy follows. Red waves him over, and passes over the pair of Revives.

The boy looks at the Revives in his hand, and his face contorts in distress. “What?! You’re just going to give these to me and send me on my way?! How many Revives do you think I went through getting up here?! There’s no way I can make it down like this!”

The boy is crying again in earnest, and Red just wants to shut his eyes and cover his ears and curl up in a ball and make it stop.

“I’m gonna die if you leave me like this!” the boy whimpers. “You have to help me! You and your Pokémon have to guide me back down the mountain.”

Red sighs and massages his forehead and nods.

The trainer is twitchy and nervous the whole way down.

“…I don’t even know why I came up here,” he says pitifully. “It was just a fluke that I managed to beat Lance, after all. It took me ten battles to-”

His shoulder bumps into Red and Red pushes him away again. It’s the thirty-second time (and counting) that he’s had to push the boy out of his personal space. Red has a horrible headache, which he’s attributing entirely to the trainer.

Pikachu leans his back over Red’s left ear, from his perch on Red’s shoulder. Lapras is leading their entourage through the caves, and she turns back to look worriedly at Red.

Finally, they make it to the exit of the caverns, close to the base of the mountain.

Red sighs in relief. He calls out Charizard and returns the rest of his Pokémon to their Pokéballs.

He waves to the trainer, as Charizard stretches his wings.

“What?! You can’t leave now!” the trainer protests, wringing his hands. “It’s still over three kilometres to the nearest Pokémon Center! What if-”

“Tough,” Red says, as he climbs up on Charizard’s back. Red commands Charizard skywards before the trainer can say another word. It’s not safe for Charizard to fly him all the way to the summit, but he can help Red escape, at least.

The trainer yelps and makes a grab for Charizard’s tail, but it slips out of his grasp. He’s waving his arms frantically, and calling and chasing after Red, but it’s no use. Pretty soon, Charizard is climbing higher and higher in the sky, and Red can’t even see the boy anymore.

What a nightmare, Red thinks. In that moment, he’s so happy to be alone again with his Pokémon, so happy to be rid of the trainer, that he’s not even disappointed he never asked about Green.

But, slowly, the disappointment sets in, once he’s back on the summit, with a conspicuously missing audio recording on his Fame Checker.

Red checks the public forums for news on Green, to help fill the void, but there hasn’t been a new post about him for almost a week.

On a whim, Red checks to see if anybody is talking about him. Since Red’s started receiving Lance’s challengers, he’s been a little worried that people would start talking about a mysterious trainer on Mount Silver, and that people might speculate it was him.

He does find one post about it. Somebody mentions that they heard about a legendary trainer at the top of the mountain. Another person suggests it might be Red, or the former Kanto Champion, among a whole laundry list of candidates. But the post is over two months old, and it only has five or so comments.

Red sighs and looks away.

Maybe people have just stopped caring.

.

There are a couple more trainers that visit him after that – a sixth and a seventh. They tell him something about the trainees that Green has at the Viridian Gym, but Red isn’t really listening to them. They kind of blend together with the others in his mind, following the hassle and the disappointment of the fifth trainer.

And after that, well… it’s a beast of another colour entirely.

==

The clouds do not part of their own volition, but are cast aside by a force more indomitable than anything they’ve ever seen. They can’t see the Pokémon responsible for a long time, she’s such a small little thing, but they see the clouds peeling to the side. The clouds fly apart and evaporate, and the Mount Silver summit becomes the vortex in the eye of the storm.

Red checks the Fame Checker forum’s main board for anything on unusual weather patterns, but nothing comes up. It may be a platform to share opinions on celebrities but, hidden between the lines, he used to be able to find other information more reliably. If Red isn’t just imagining it – the frequency of new posts seems to be dwindling.

Red pockets the device, feeling frustrated.

There’s nothing to do but wait, and there’s a certain amount of levity to that. Red and his Pokémon gather outside. They stand in a circle in the middle of the snowy field, and watch the sky open above them. Mewtwo seems calm, standing a few feet away, with his arms crossed, but Red can see him shaking nervously between breaths.

Red asks him if he’s okay, or if he wants to be returned to his Pokéball. Mewtwo only snorts dismissively and turns away, and Red decides it’s better left alone. He takes time to address the rest of his Pokémon, but none of them give any indication that they know what’s going on. Red pulls out an empty Pokéball, and they try to start a game of hot potato to pass the time, but everyone seems too anxious to play properly. They keep getting distracted, and turning towards the sky in anticipation of something they can’t quite seem to pinpoint.

Snorlax, when she has her eyes open, has the best eyesight out of all of them. That’s why Red knows it’s serious when she looks up to the sky and gasps.

It’s a moment, then she turns outside their circle, to Mewtwo, and gurgles out a few muffled sounds.

They all turn to look at Mewtwo, and Red has never felt so out of the loop. Because Pikachu squeaks and Blastoise purrs and Mewtwo, against all expectations, responds to them.

His eyes go wide, and he growls and grumbles and crumbles in on himself, looking shaken.

Lapras waddles forward, to comfort him, but Mewtwo slaps her away angrily, prompting Charizard and Venusaur to step forward. Charizard reassures Lapras while Venusaur reprimands Mewtwo. Lapras hums softly. Mewtwo shakes his head, looking furious and guilty all at once. But nobody is hurt, so it gets left at that.

At least until Snorlax, who’s been glancing between the sky and Mewtwo this whole time, raises her voice again.

Mewtwo cringes and barks back. He grimaces and pulls at his face with his hands, but Pikachu chirps encouragingly and Blastoise nods his head.

Mewtwo turns up to the sky and releases a long cry. It rises and falls in haunting, hollow crescendo, and ends in a high squeak.

They look up at the sky, but there is no response.

Red shivers. He turns to Blastoise, who is nodding again, and Red thinks involuntarily of the first night with Squirtle, who had cried endlessly for hours out in the fields and marshes outside of Viridian.

Mewtwo inhales deeply and cries out once again, louder this time, until his voice cuts off hoarsely.

No response.

Mewtwo turns away and squats down to the ground, wrapping his arms and his tail around him.

Pikachu chirps, and Blastoise nods.

Again.

And if you don’t find them…

Red remembers Wartortle reuniting with the ghosts at the Pokémon Tower. And Blastoise curled up in the caves of Victory Road, surrounded by Lapras and Venusaur and Red.

Even if you don’t find them, we’ll all still be here.

Mewtwo inhales and stands again. He cups his hands around his mouth and shouts.

This cry is the loudest.

But it’s nothing compared to the sound that rings out in response.

The howl reverberates off the mountain peaks, much louder than it should naturally be. And Red almost mistakes it for an echo of Mewtwo’s cry. Except it’s pitched higher, and lasts longer.

His Pokémon turn up to the sky in amazement.

The clouds are swirling away completely, for miles and miles. Behind them, the sky is revealed in shocking streaks of blue and orange.

The Pokémon aren’t looking at that, though. Their eyes are fixed on one spot and, pretty soon, Red can see it too.

A tiny pink dot appears, out of the blue.

It spins, whirling down on them, diving straight down to the summit.

It lands in a small explosion of snow, on the other side of the field.

Red’s breath catches. He hears his Pokémon cry out worriedly. Pikachu poises himself to run forward.

But if the pink shape has hurt itself, it doesn’t show. It’s zipping towards them, across the surface of the summit. Snow powder and blades of grass fly up into the air in its wake, and behind it Red thinks he can see a shining light like the tail of a comet.

The pink blur – the Pokémon - she pulls up short in front of Blastoise.

Blastoise barely has time to grumble, before she darts away through the air, pulling up next to Venusaur, then Snorlax.

Next she stops in front of Red. She hovers in front of him, with her tail waving back and forth.

Red watches at her, and she watches back. Her eyes are a deep and beautiful blue. She chirps at him and reaches forward to touch her nose to his.

And then she’s gone, before Red can blink. The tip of his nose itches, and Red reaches up to rub at it with the back of his hand.

He turns backwards, searching for the Pokémon.

The rest of his Pokémon are watching. She’s hovering in front of Mewtwo, swaying back and forth.

They’re the same, Red thinks, recognising the resemblance.

Mew.

Mewtwo’s shoulders are hunched and he’s hiding his face in his hands. Mew chirps questioningly. She circles him, and tries to duck her face to look at him. But he turns away.

Red’s in shock. He’s seen Mewtwo afraid before, but…

Mewtwo is trembling.

Mew chirps again, more sadly this time. She’s looking at Mewtwo with a lost expression. Like she’s not sure what she’s seeing. Not sure what to do.

Blastoise is the one to speak up. He roars, and soon his voice is joined by the others. Lapras trills, and Pikachu squeaks, and Charizard lets out his gruff whine.

Mewtwo shakes and quivers, but he lets his hands drop down.

He opens his mouth, and trills back at Mew.

And then there is complete silence and Red’s afraid.

He’s afraid that somehow he’s misjudged. He’s afraid that they haven’t found who they’re looking for.

Connection is the stuff of make-believe, he despairs.

Red’s afraid what he’s looking for doesn’t exist.

Mew closes her eyes and drifts forward. She strokes Mewtwo’s brow and lifts herself over his head. She turns and leans down onto the back of his neck. Her psychic powers cut out, and she collapses over his head and shoulders.

She’s so much smaller than him.

But she holds on. She clings to him, and nuzzles the back of one pointy ear.

She’s so much smaller, and yet she’s cradling him.

Red closes his eyes.

He’s miserable. He really is. But that can’t stop the heavy wave of catharsis from passing over him, and leaving him breathless.

Somehow, in this moment, the world is as it should be.

It’s dark, behind Red’s eyelids, but not unreachable.

Pikachu’s voice bubbles up in the silence. He squeaks. He shouts. He cheers.

==

She’ll stay for him, Red knows.

Mew will tug on Mewtwo’s arm and pull his feet off the ground. When she lets go he’ll be pulled back, inevitably, to the ground, by the shackle on his leg.

She’ll tilt her head in confusion, and he’ll hide his face, but neither of them will go anywhere.

She’ll stay for him.

But she shouldn’t have to, Red thinks. Mewtwo as well. None of them should have to stay.

The key is attached to a keyring built into inner pockets of his backpack. The metal is freezing cold and course, and it cuts and rips the skin on his fingers as he tries to pry the wires apart.

The key comes free though.

Venusaur is waiting in a patch of sunlight at the cave’s exit. He’s watching Red as he approaches.

I’m going to free Mewtwo, Red tells Venusaur. Of all his Pokémon, Venusaur is the most likely to try and stop him.

Venusaur looks at Red appraisingly. He blinks several times, very slowly, and nods. And now Red doesn’t have a choice, except to go through with it.

Mewtwo and Mew are sitting in the field, not doing much of anything, except being together.

Directly surrounding Mew, a bunch of flowers have come into bloom, sprouting up from the grass, even though it’s not the season – regardless of the fact that, even if it were the season, there wouldn’t be so many of them.

Mewtwo is pointing at the petals with a curious look. Red would guess that he wants Mew to explain how she made it happen.

Venusaur follows behind Red, and then breaks off to go join the rest of Red’s Pokémon.

They’ve gathered close to where Mewtwo and Mew are playing, along with Charizard and even some of the wild Pokémon. They’re hovering at a safe distance. Protectively, Red thinks.

Red walks forward. They know he’s coming. Mewtwo turns to acknowledge him.

Mew watches, and dances up into the air, out of reach.

I need you to hold still, Red says. I’m going to have to touch your leg.

Red holds up the key.

Mewtwo watches him, and Red can’t read his expression, but he bows his head and extends his foot out from where he’s sitting on the ground.

Red squats. He reaches forward, and pulls gently at Mewtwo’s ankle, and the shackle, before fitting the key in the lock.

The key turns easily. Click, click.

Red remembers Mewtwo trying to break his leg to remove it. Lance had said they’d need a drill saw to cut it off. But, if you have the key, it’s so easy.

They pull back from each other. Red stands. He’s holding the shackle in both hands, with the key hanging out of the lock.

Mewtwo shakes his leg gingerly. He looks up at Red questioningly.

And Red swings the shackle sideways, and tosses it aside.

The weight leaves his hands, and he’s instantly afraid.

How horrible – to have been locked away.

Mewtwo stretches and lifts himself up into the air, flying up and reaching tenderly for Mew’s hand.

Mew returns the gesture, just as soft. She waits patiently as Mewtwo allows himself to float back down to Earth.

And Red stands there, waiting guiltily for Mewtwo to attack. Red winces, awaiting a punishment for a crime that he can’t even qualify.

But then, hesitantly at first, then stronger- Clear as a bell, a voice rings in his head.

Th- thank you.

Red blinks, looks up and meets Mewtwo’s eyes. They’re that cold lavender colour, but deeper and more full than Red can recall.

Thank you, the voice says. My mother – she… I never thought that this world could be so big… and yet so small… Thank you for taking me to this place. Thank you for looking after me, until this time, when I could meet Mother again.

Mewtwo exhales deeply.

Behind Red, Lapras chirps and Pikachu’s ear twitches expectantly.

I would have let myself sit in the dark underground by the cold water forever. But even though I tried to chase you away, and much worse, you didn’t let me. You stopped me.

Red can barely understand the voice, it’s so clear and measured and perfectly comprehensible, in a way nobody else’s voice has ever been to him. He listens in awe and slowly comes to realise the voice has no actual volume, no actual physical presence. Like a second steam of thoughts materialising in his head against his will.

Thank you for stopping me, Mewtwo is saying.

Red opens his mouth to say something, but only coughs.

He- You can talk, Red thinks.

I cannot talk. Like most Pokémon, I lack a speech apparatus that could effectively vocalise human speech, Mewtwo says. But I am very skilled at telepathy. I always have been.

If you could talk, why didn’t you say something?! Red thinks, even though he already knows the answer. There was no way for Mewtwo to communicate telepathically with the anti-psychic shackle attached to his leg. But, even so- When we came to Cerulean Cave. When we came to meet you at the bottom of the Cerulean Cave, why did you attack? Why didn’t you just try to speak with us?!

Mewtwo, if anything, looks embarrassed. Well, the truth is… he begins. Although I have always perceived the thoughts of others telepathically, I have only very recently learned to form my own thoughts into words, and hypothesised a way to send them out to others. And Lapras, Pikachu, and Charizard were all talented teachers, who urged me to speak aloud in the Pokémon language. …and Blastoise, Venusaur, and Snorlax, and even the wild Onix, were all helpful conversation partners, as I advanced in my studies. You all have my greatest thanks.

Mewtwo preforms what can only be interpreted as a bow towards each of his teachers. Red’s Pokémon all beam happily at Mewtwo, excepting Venusaur, who gives a grudgingly affectionate snort that means just as much.

And Red wonders when all this happened. How has he missed so much? How have his Pokémon all found it in themselves to help Mewtwo? Without Red even realising it. And when Red can’t find it in himself to help anyone.

And, even now, none of it makes sense. Because Mewtwo isn’t just growling or whining or signalling to him like the other Pokémon do. He’s speaking (or thinking) in human language. In the words, phrases, and sentences of the language Red should know. It makes no sense. How can Mewtwo imitate what he never should have heard?

Even the shackle could not fully suppress my psychic abilities. Even under its influence, I still managed to hear your thoughts, Mewtwo explains.

But Red knows his thoughts are not correct. The language in Red’s head is as disorganised and poorly formed and full of doubt as the language he speaks aloud. And yet Mewtwo is composing his sentences perfectly, with a kind of effortless grace that Red can never hope to match.

You still do not understand, Mewtwo says. He floats up into the air and gestures around vaguely. Mew moves to his side comfortingly.

You may be not be able to put everything together, he admits, but you have all the pieces of the puzzle.

Mewtwo closes his eyes.

Pattern. Wisdom. Meaning, he says, pointing at three points in space Red can’t see. With you, there are all three.

Mewtwo opens his eyes.

With you, there are words, he says, holding Red’s gaze steadily.

And Red holds Mewtwo’s gaze right back. He’s breathing heavy, like Mewtwo has just pulled him above water, and Red’s only just realising that he’s been drowning.

And, to Red’s waterlogged mind, it seems like Mewtwo and Mew are both smiling down at him.

The synapses in his brain fire, and Mewtwo’s words connect with him.

And, one day, there will be understanding. You will know, one day, how much I owe you. Everything I have learned, I have learned because you taught me.

And, if Mewtwo’s right… If even Red’s imperfect and ugly words can result in something so divine as Mewtwo and Mew’s reunion, then perhaps everything is a little easier to bear.

I’m going to depart now, Mewtwo announces. But believe me when I say I wish you all the very best.

He nods to all the Pokémon that are present in turn. First to Red’s team, then to Charizard, and then to all the wild Pokémon, who have ventured out from their hiding spots to observe the legendary flight.

Mew chirps and the other Pokémon respond in kind. Pikachu jumps up to Red’s shoulder and squeaks happily.

I hope we can meet again, Mewtwo says. Maybe someplace far from here. Someplace completely new!

And Red can only watch with wide eyes as his Pokémon wave and Mewtwo and Mew rise higher into the sky, flying circles around each other, before rocketing off to the west.

The wild Pokemon roar enthusiastically, joined shortly by Blastoise and Venusaur and Snorlax. Lapras is singing a high tune. Pikachu snuggles comfortingly into Red’s cheek.

And Charizard – he jumps up into the sky, his wings beating madly as he hovers in the space that Mewtwo and Mew just left. He watches them fly away and breathes fire above his head, so that the embers fall down like fireworks, or red rain. Burning the sky crimson in celebration of their combined triumph.

Red breathes in the hot air left in the wake of Charizard’s flames and, all together, they watch. They watch until Mewtwo and Mew are only specks on the horizon, and keep watching until the specks disappear completely.

The Pokémon take a long time to calm down after that.

It takes Red a long time to calm down after that, too. Hours later, his cheeks are still burning red.

He’s embarrassed, but also relieved, knowing that Mewtwo had probably known exactly what he had been thinking – that, in the face of whatever horrors would precede or follow, what Red had just witnessed was nothing short of a miracle.

==

All things come to an end eventually, although Red doesn’t know that at the time.

Things like public opinion, the kind of trash that gets posted on the Fame Checker forums – rumours, friendships, loyalties, enmity, love – those kind of things change all the time, coming into and out of existence in tiny lifetimes, like that of a fly. He remembers how quickly his own hatred of Giovanni died, once he saw that Persian leap onto his shoulder and recognized something of himself somewhere in the man’s greedy and tired features.

But Mount Silver seems eternal, enough so that Red can believe it will last forever. The white snow and the desolation preserve him, somehow. They’re keeping him as he is, freezing his body and soul, preserving his being in time, long enough so that it takes on a weight and reality that everybody else somehow lacks.

Red’s immortal, so long as he’s on Mount Silver. They all are.

“Well aren’t you a poetic bastard,” Green snickers, years later. “You do know that Mount Silver is an active volcano, right?”

Red hadn’t known that. And he says so.

“Yeah,” Green replies, hopping onto the couch and passing over a mug of cocoa. He’s holding it precariously by the rim, with the handle considerately turned to face Red. “Just like the Cinnabar Island Volcano. It could go off at any moment. It always amazes me – disgusts me, really – that we’re really living and dying by nature alone. So~ Have I ruined it for you, your precious ‘eternal’ Mount Silver, now that you know it could have just exploded in your face one day?”

Red rolls his eyes and accepts the hot cocoa. Green’s eons too late if he wants to ruin Mount Silver for Red.

“And immortal my foot!” Green adds. “By the time you came down from that mountain you were fifteen kilos underweight, and you were suffering from moderate to severe vitamin A toxicity.”

Red decides to concede this fight, as he has so many times before. He leans forward and kisses Green on the cheek.

“S-rry,” he whispers in Green’s ear.

And then he leans back against the armrest of the couch and props his feet up on Green’s lap in a way he knows Green will hate.

All things come to an end eventually, Red had learned. Although, at least now he knows that includes bad things too.

And it took Red a very, very long time to realise just how bad his time on Mt Silver had been. Much longer than the time it took him to leave it.

==

The end of Mount Silver has a name, and that name is Hibiki.

Hibiki’s not really a cause or a start or a reason, but he’s the chapter title, at least. He’s the only word Red knows that can even begin to explain how he’s suddenly sensitised to the crushing weight of his tiny, tiny world.

Here’s how it starts:

There’s a trainer.

He’s young, younger than Red, no older than sixteen, fresh out of middle school. He’s also wearing a cap over black hair. Except he’s wearing the cap the wrong way. And the cap’s black and yellow, instead of red and white. Red is actually surprised by how little the trainer resembles him. He’s started seeing himself in almost everyone he battles.

That’s the first thing that goes wrong, although Red’s scarcely aware of it at that point. He’s got the Fame Checker in his right pocket, ready to record whatever the trainer has to say about Green, once their battle is over.

The trainer doesn’t seem at all exhausted from the climb up Mount Silver. He’s looking at Red with wide eyes full of awe and reverence and so much excitement that Red suspects he’s about ready to burst.

Red manages to direct the challenger over to the flat edge of the summit without saying anything. He’s not too worried.

The kid can’t be anything other than an expert trainer, if he got past Lance and Green both, but he’s greener than a Caterpie. The most Red has to worry about is getting cried on again or, worse, the boy wanting to get a photo with him once they’re done.

“Six-on-six, right! Yeah, let’s do this!” the kid shouts. “Noctowl! Go!”

Red silently calls Blastoise to the field and immediately begins trying to weigh down Noctowl’s feathers with water, turned icy cold at this altitude.

The trainer seems to struggle through his fights with Blastoise and Venusaur. They’re avoiding direct type advantages so far, presumably to avoid scaring each other into switching out their Pokémon. Venusaur and the boy’s Ampharos are poorly matched to one another, although Ampharos has been well trained with Iron Tail to make up for the ineffectiveness of its electricity against grass types.

They’re not halfway through their battle when things start to take a more sour turn.

Mantine is facing off against Lapras, and Red can see what needs to happen, but he abruptly realises it’s not going to happen.

Red presses forward, because they don’t have a chance if he doesn’t call for an attack. He signals for an Ice Beam from Lapras, but at the same time-

“Wing Attack!” the boy calls out.

The Mantine darts quickly across the field, slashing at Lapras as it spins through the air. Its speed is tremendous and Lapras falls before she can complete her own attack.

Red is forced to call out Pikachu early.

It’s like misstepping off a gradual slope. The trip down is slow, with the full weight of knowledge and anticipation. But despite all Red’s efforts to climb back up, all his feet can catch is falling gravel.

Pikachu dispatches Mantine with ease, but the trainer follows with Donphan. Red’s already used all his water and grass types, and he’s feeling frantic, for all his face is a calm mask. Before he can even think of what to do, Donphan bulldozes Pikachu to the ground.

Red calls out Snorlax, but the boy withdraws Donphan and sends out Sudowoodo instead.

Snorlax can meet Sudowoodo’s strength, but not her deft fighting manoeuvres. Sudowoodo uses Snorlax’s weight against her – swiping low at Snorlax’s feet, until Snorlax topples over hard on the ground.

Red only has one Pokémon left, and he hesitates only a moment, before calling Charizard out.

Red signals for Focus Blast but, before Charizard’s attack can hit, the trainer calls Sudowoodo back and sends out Typhlosion.

From there, it’s a battle of pure strength. Charizard flies up over Typhlosion, and Typhlosion turns up to Charizard, and they blast each other with flame.

Typhlosion’s flames reach easily as far as Charizard’s and Charizard flies down low to the ground, to attack Typhlosion from below.

Their flames meet each other head on and spread out, melting the snow and burning the grass and the ground. The heat is radiating out, and Red has never felt so warm during all his time on Mount Silver.

This… this is…

Red can’t do anything but watch. He and the other trainer have stopped calling out attacks. Charizard and Typhlosion are dancing to a tune that’s all their own.

The flames engulf both of them. Red can only see the leaping embers of red and orange and white but, bizarrely, he already knows what’s going to happen.

When the embers have cleared, Charizard has fallen. Typhlosion is left standing. The air around his body shimmers with the heat, and his blue skin shines against the cloudy sky.

And, as much as Red wants to look away, it’s beautiful.

…

Red pulls out a Pokéball (Green’s Pokéball) and withdraws Charizard (Green’s Charizard) and looks dumbfounded at the empty space that’s left behind on the mountaintop.

For a few seconds he stands there, looking at the charred stripes on the field, where Charizard and Typhlosion burnt the ground.

Venusaur hasn’t quite fainted yet, although it had been a close thing after the battle with Ampharos. Red could call him out.

But, even if Venusaur did manage to one-up the kid’s Typhlosion, Donphan and Sudowoodo were still kept in reserve and...

Red imagines a tally of all his victories, so numerous he can’t even begin to count. And across from them, a single swipe of the pen – made more significant by its singularity.

There’s no getting away from it.

Red’s lost.

The kid is waiting expectantly on the other end of the field with Typhlosion, and Red pulls his cap over his eyes, and nods.

The trainer blinks, then smiles. He whoops and throws a fist into the air in his excitement. Typhlosion turns to him and nuzzles his cheek. They’re indulging in a small celebration of their victory together.

Red, dumbfounded, reaches automatically into his pocket for the Fame Checker.

He catches himself doing it.

Red rationalises – Things haven’t deviated so far from the script that he can’t ask the boy about Green. He can still ask. He can still ask and…

Red drops the Fame Checker back down and reaches for his the opposite pocket on his jeans.

He pulls out his wallet.

Two thousand, four thousand, six thousand… 33543 Pokédollars he counts up quickly, the numbers flowing quickly in his head, despite the anger he feels bubbling up. Half of that rounded up is sixteen thousand seven hundred seventy-two and…

He quickly counts out 16700, and throws an extra hundred coin on top. There. Nice and even. And hopefully he won’t have to waste time getting into an argument over exact change.

He crosses the field and presses the money into the trainer’s hand. The boy accepts it, wrapping his hand around the wrinkled bills and rusty coins with barely concealed excitement.

In a small moment, Red feels almost bad for the kid. A few Pokédollars and these icy heights are the only prize for victory. There’s nothing for him, and there’s nothing Red can do about it.

Red nods in acknowledgement and turns to walk back into his cave, before the anger, burning hot in his stomach, can get the better of him.

Because who cares what this trainer has to say about Green? For that matter, who cares what any of them have to say about Green? Red’s Pokémon are hurt, and Green’s Charizard is hurt, and what can anybody, anybody, say about Green that Red doesn’t already know? Or, more importantly, what can anybody say about Green that matters more than what Red already knows?

Red practically stomping by the time he reaches his cave. He upturns his pack on the rocky ground and sorts through it. There are a lot of useless items – awakenings… stationary… a Clefairy Pokédoll that none of his Pokémon seem to like… what looks like a gold nugget…

Finally, he manages to find what he’s looking forth halfway through the pile.

It’s a small book of matches. He opens it, thankful for all the world that they aren’t too damp, and pulls one out to strike on the strip of sandpaper on the outside of the package.

It takes Red too long to get the fire going – he’s become too reliant on Charizard for that sort of thing – but eventually the kindling in the fire pit ignites.

Red picks out the necessary medicine from the upturned pile, and arranges it in order along the ground. He then calls Charizard out of his Pokéball.

Charizard is heavy, but Red pulls on his tail and neck and limbs, laying his fallen body next to the fire, and begins tending to him – dabbing his wounds with antiseptic. Once he’s done, he feeds Charizard a Revive. He calls out Snorlax for similar treatment, while he waits for Charizard to come to.

It’s a long time, before Red can rest. Once he’s done nursing his Pokémon’s wounds, he still needs to make them all food. And most need to be spoon-fed – they’re still so weak from the battle.

It’s the middle of the night when Red finally gets a moment to himself. His Pokémon are resting, and Red should be too. But, even though Red is usually perpetually tired, he feels awake. All throughout the evening, and all through the process of caring for his Pokémon, Red has turned a muddle of confused thoughts over in his head.

If Red doesn’t care what that trainer thinks about Green… If he doesn’t care about what anybody has to say about Green… What has he been doing? What does he need all these voices on the Fame Checker for?

Red’s angry. Whatever the reason, it can’t be worth letting his Pokémon getting hurt like this.

Red’s sitting in the back of his cave, far from the fire. The Pokémon are all curled up around it, trying to keep warm, and feel better.

It not a good feeling, but it’s almost… inspiring…

Red reaches for the Fame Checker in his pocket.

He opens the audio recording screen, with a few taps of his fingers.

He holds it up to his face.

Green is-- Red begins, trying to make this like any other recording, before realises he’s failing spectacularly.

He has nothing to say about Green.

Red starts over.

I- I haven’t gotten over sixth grade, Red says. I haven’t gotten over it. It wasn’t fair.

And Red’s startled by how true it is. And by the fact that it isn’t fair doesn’t change anything. Red doesn’t expect it to.

But saying it, putting it into words, gives him the courage to continue.

It wasn’t fair, and I know why you did it. I know you couldn’t make any friends so long as you were with me. And I’m grateful for the times you were there, but it still wasn’t fair and I didn’t do anything to deserve it! I didn’t do anything wrong!

And, against all his expectations, Red believes himself. He really can’t think of anything he could have done differently back then.

And I’m really angry at you for it, Red admits. You didn’t have to drop me the way you did. You could have explained it. You didn’t have to shove me away, or make fun of me with the others, or ignore me when I tried to talk to you. If you had explained… I…

Red pauses.

I would have let you go, Red says, as softly as he can. I would have. Or maybe I wouldn’t have – Red admits, louder now, because he doesn’t really know what he would have done back when he was twelve – but I’ll let you go now! I’m ready! …or maybe, I’m not ready… but I’ll do it anyhow! I’ll let you go if that’s what you want. But I don’t want to because, even if I hate what you did to me, even if I’m still angry about it, I- I like you.

Red stops. He’s breathing hard. He probably hasn’t said as many words in the whole of the last two years, and the task has a physical toll.

Mentally, he’s shocked at how easily it all feels. He’s never even really thought about how much and how he likes Green, but now that he’s said it, the events are recontextualizing themselves in his mind.

Red remembers Green breathing into his ear on the S.S. Anne and touching his shoulder. He remembers how afraid he had been that Green would push him away, like he had when Red hugged him in the summer before sixth grade and tried to get him to stay.

And Red suddenly feels as if he’s never been as sure of anything in his life.

I like you a lot, Red clarified. And I don’t mean only as a friend.

Red cuts the recording there, and watches as the Fame Checker blinks green, reassuring Red that his message is saved – tucked away in Green’s private file.

Red looks through it briefly – his modest shrine-to-Green. He’s spent countless hours compiling it, but he’s never really reviewed it. He flips through the pictures and the public news posts he’s downloaded about Green. He scans the short notes he jotted down and the extensive collection of audio files he amassed while interviewing trainers, and the other people he met on his journey.

All about Green.

He looks through the list – taking in the ambiance, without reading any of it or listening to any of the files.

And Red realises why he put this all together. It wasn’t so that Red could listen to it.

If somebody found this, it would be pretty embarrassing, he thinks. Letting somebody find it – it’s practically handing them a weapon.

The Fame Checker probably has a way to set up a password lock. Why hadn’t Red ever thought to install one? He had never even considered it before now, now that he was thinking about giving the Fame Checker back.

He could still set one.

But it’s only a weapon so long as Red doesn’t want anyone else to have it. It only has value, so long as Red holds it close to his heart. If he lets it go…

The Fame Checker is meant for Green. And maybe he’s tested Green enough.

==

Red agonises over the decision for three days, until his Pokémon are healthy enough to travel. Until Charizard is healthy enough so that he can fly them down the mountain.

And three days later, Red’s still scared and unsure. But he hasn’t decided against giving Green the Fame Checker. And he hasn’t decided to install a password either.

Charizard’s a good flyer. He might be able to take off directly from Mount Silver’s summit, if he had to. But Red decides to walk partway down the mountain, just him and Pikachu. They start walking at midday, and they break down past the snowline at around dusk. Pikachu is tired, and Red returns him back to his Pokéball before calling out Charizard.

All his Pokémon are tired. He’ll take them to the Pokémon Center as soon as he’s back home.

Charizard roars, but bends down to allow Red onto his back. Red crawls on gratefully and holds on.

Charizard’s wings spread out over the cold, hard earth and propel them up into the sky.

“Viridian,” Red whispers, and Charizard nods and turns east. He flies up into the clouds, so that it’s just them. The clouds whip against Red’s backpack and clothes and face, turning them soaking wet, but Charizard’s body is warm, heated with flames, and Red’s alternatively freezing and boiling, but he doesn’t complain. The sky darkens and Charizard eventually drifts lower and lower, out of the clouds, and the insurmountable heights of the mountains, so Red can see the lights from the Indigo Plateau.

It takes forever to reach them, and once he does, he can barely fathom the extra distance to the lights in Viridian.

His ears pop horribly, and he has a splitting headache as they drop more quickly towards the ground. The sudden change in air pressure is brutal, but Charizard is gentle with him. He swoops down in slow motions, rocking Red through the air and through the sky, down to the quiet city nestled between the rising slope of the land to the west, the Viridian Forest north, Pallet Town in the south, and south further to the ocean.

By the time they reach the streets of Viridian, everything is quiet, and more than half the lights they originally saw in the airway above the Indigo Plateau have dimmed and gone out.

Charizard lands softly on the ground, and walks along the sidewalks with a grace Red didn’t know he had. The pads of his feet hit the ground lightly, and he goes out of his way to prevent his tail from swinging into buildings and lampposts, as he rounds the corners. It’s as if he knows not to wake anyone up. Green probably taught him. Charizard knows. He’s still carrying Red on his back, refusing to let him dismount and make this leg of the journey on foot. Charizard listens closely as Red directs him through the city grid and to the Viridian City Pokémon Gym.

It’s the third time Red has been to the Viridian City Gym. The first time he only looks at the abandoned building, its damaged roof and tan-coloured paint chipping off the side. The second time, he meets Giovanni inside. Now… he can’t really see it. It’s had work done on it, and Red can see that there’s a yard with freshly planted grass in the back, but that’s about it.

Red’s vision is a little blurry when he tries too hard to squint in the darkness.

The mail slot is his primary concern – and a new one has been installed at the gym entrance, but it’s not particularly secure. Red sits down on the ground next to the mail slot and tests it out. His arm is skinny enough to fit through it, and to reach down into the mail basket on the inside of the building.

Red asks Charizard if he wants to wait for Green inside his Pokéball, or outside, and Charizard snorts and flaps his wings in answer, craning his neck over to the yard.

So Red finds Charizard’s empty Pokéball and drops it down the mail slot, along with a note he’s prepared ahead of time.

At Pallet. Return Meowth, it says. And it’s been so long since Red’s seen Meowth, he wonders if Green’s evolved her into a Persian yet. He’ll find out sooner or later.

And then all that’s left is the Fame Checker. He holds it in his hand, fells the weight and years and feeling that’s in it.

And, very carefully, he reaches inside the mail slot and lowers the Fame Checker down into the basket, knocking Charizard’s empty Pokéball aside, and letting it rest on a blanket of letters.

Red draws his hand back out, and the mail slot knocks shut after him.

And that’s all there is to it. Just like that, it’s out of his hands.

Red stands up and wobbles onto his feet. His head still hurts, and he’s surprised how dizzy he feels – how simultaneously heady and light his brain feels.

Charizard’s watching him intently, and Red gives his goodbyes, grasping the Pokémon’s side and thanking him for those times on the mountain, and for carrying him back down.

Charizard snorts, like he doesn’t really believe this is goodbye, not for long. And Red can’t quite bring himself to hope that Charizard is right, but somehow he can’t bring himself to feel too worried about it either.

It’s out of his control, and that doesn’t bother Red as much as he thought it would. There’s nothing more Red can do and, for once, Red doesn’t hate himself for that.

Charizard snorts again, warm air in Red’s face, and lifts his wings, flies over the fence into the yard of the Viridian City Gym and curls up in a ball on the grass.

And then Red turns and goes.

It’s just a short distance until Red’s down in Pallet Town, just like the start of his Pokémon Journey, over three years ago now, except in reverse. He doesn’t even really have to walk through the high grass to get there, just jump down the ledges.

Red thinks about taking Venusaur out of his Pokéball for this. There was one time it was only the two of them travelling on Route 1, young and naïve and ready to face the world, ready to meet Pikachu and all the others.

But Venusaur is much larger and more cumbersome than Bulbasaur had been, and he’s tired from their time on Mount Silver.

Let him rest for tonight. There will be plenty of time tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that.

Red’s head is killing him. And he doesn’t have the energy to properly jump down the ledges into Pallet Town. Instead he sits down and slides himself down, off the side of the ledges into standing position. His jeans are getting dusty, but he doesn’t care. He probably needs a shower or twelve anyhow.

Red reminisces about everyone else too. How long has it been since he’s thought about Daisy or his mom? How about Brock and Misty?

It’s strange, Brock and Misty’s public files have been on the Fame Checker all this time, and Red doesn’t even think of checking them until he’s already given it away. He wonders what they’ve been up to all this time. Were they still running their gyms? Did they win any awards, or compete in any tournaments? Did they go on any vacations, or find love?

Oh, well.

Red remembers that he still has Misty’s phone number, on some scrap of note paper at the bottom of his backpack. He can call her first thing in the morning.

Unless he lost it, or it got damaged, or something.

But even then, he’s sure he can get it from Brock, or someone. Or, better yet, he can go to Cerulean City to visit her. It’s been too long since he’s seen her.

That’s right. He’ll go to Pewter City, and then Cerulean and visit both of them. He’s been out of touch for too long. He’ll go see them, first thing in the morning. First chance he gets.

Red finally walks through the grass down into Pallet Town.

The street lights are all out, but Red knows his way by memory, and he turns in and out of the streets like a phantom, making his way back.

Maybe nobody’s awake at all. Pallet is a very small town.

If somebody is awake and does see him though, everyone will know by nine in the morning the next day. Pallet is a very small town.

The thought doesn’t bother him much though. In fact, it doesn’t seem like anything’s bothering Red at all. His head feels so light, it’s almost euphoric.

He rings the doorbell five times before the lights flip on inside the house, and it’s another few minutes before his mom comes to answer the door. She cracks the entrance open only very slightly, and Red wouldn’t put it past her to be holding a kitchen knife or a frying pan in one hand.

She recognises him right away though.

“Red?!” she says, aghast, throwing the door aside, along with whatever weapon she’s holding in her right hand. Her mouth gapes, but she’s too overcome to say anything else.

She’s wearing a white nightgown with a baby blue floral pattern, her hair is in curlers, and the age of the last three or four years shows on her face. But Red can’t take that all in right now.

He’s never had a perfect relationship with his mom, but right now he’s so, so happy to see her.

“’m home,” Red says. He forces himself to use the voice that’s no more than a muffled, raspy croak, but a real, genuine smile breaks out on his face.

And that’s the last thing Red says before his head, and his bladder, give out.

He faints, dead away, into his mother’s arms, and her scream manages to wake all of Pallet Town.

Except Red.

And poor Delia has to call the offices in Pewter City first thing in the morning, riding along in the ambulance to the Saffron City hospital. She’s haphazardly dressed and sleep deprived and she calls to say...

No, she won’t be able to make her lunchbox deliveries today. No, she’s not playing favourites, she’s not making deliveries in Viridian or Pallet Town today either. The restaurant, too. The whole business is closed today. And, yes, she knows this is last minute. No, she can’t have someone else do it, she runs the whole business by herself. Yes, she knows, quality of her cooking aside, they can find another lunchbox service if she doesn’t get her act together. And, yes, she’s very sorry, but they’re just going to have to find another way to get lunch today. Period.

Chapter Text

When Bonita arrived at the gym on Tuesday morning at eight o’clock, not quite ready for the whole day of work, Green was, predictably, already there, sitting in his office like he usually was.

Green was a morning person and a notorious workaholic, something that sat poorly with all the other trainers who worked under him. Bonita, along with Salma and Elan and Ida, all kept late nights and would often meet up after work for drinks and to complain about the endless demands of their leader.

(Arabella was a loner. Who knew what she got up to in her free time?)

But all of them, Arabella included, knew that Green was the best at what he did. They could complain that he opened his gym so early in the morning. They could whine when he demanded they run laps around the gym along with their Pokémon. They could curse furiously to themselves when he picked out a trainer’s and a Pokémon’s weak point with laser precision and then forced them to work on the areas they found most difficult. But none of that changed the fact that they all showed up first thing in the morning to start their training exercises.

Because they were improving, all of them. Their Pokémon were getting stronger, and they were more confident of their own abilities by the day. The Viridian City Gym, once perpetually closed, a source of shame for the residents of the city, was now open and bustling. And the city was thriving, partly due to their own efforts, since Green had signed them up for several community improvement projects. Spending all day last Thursday out in the hot sun, planting new trees in the park was exhausting but, now, every time Bonita passed the park on the way to the store, there was something comforting about the fact that the third Sycamore along the path was his tree.

But at the moment that knowledge was poor comfort to Bonita, who rubbed at his eyes wearily and did a double take when he realised the exercise equipment hadn’t been set out for the day, the windows were still drawn, and that Green’s Rhydon was napping in the yard.

Bonita made his way to the office door. Inhaling deeply, he knocked on the door briefly before cracking it open to reveal the too bright glow of fluorescent lights.

“Er, Green? Sir?” Bonita said, squinting as his eyes adjusted. “You know we open an hour from now, right?”

“Shhhh! Shhhh!” Green hushed, waving Bonita in the room, before cursing under his breath. “Shit. Already that late?”

Bonita walked inside tentatively.

Green was sitting with one hand over his mouth and his legs propped up on his desk. There was some kind of electronic devise resting to the side on top of some old paperwork, playing an audio recording.

“Sir, is that Pokégear?” Bonita asked.

“No, you dolt! It’s a Fame Checker. Now quiet!” Green barked back.

Bonita blinked in consternation. Green was rarely so abrasive and insulting. Back when he first opened the gym and started training Bonita – sure. But he had mellowed out a lot over the years, and was usually more courteous now.

Green realised his mistake.

“Dammit,” he said, sitting up in his chair and flipping the pause switch on the Fame Checker. “I didn’t mean to snap at you, Bonita, it’s just… It’s been a while since I’ve thought about this one person and they just drop this in the gym’s mailbox last night and, well… It’s almost three hours of audio recording. I’ve already listened to it once, but…”

“You’ve been at the gym for three hours already?!” Bonita said incredulously.

Green turned to glare at him.

“Just listen to this with me and tell me what you think, okay?!” Green said. “I’ll fast forward to the important part.”

Bonita nodded, as Green reached forward to fumble with the devise again.

Bonita heard the volume increase, and the audio zip through a plethora of voices, young, old, male and female, before Green released the controls and the recording resumed at normal speed.

Bonita sat quietly for a moment, taking it all in.

The experience was bizarre, and absolutely fascinating, because Green didn’t have his feet propped up on the desk anymore. He was sitting on the edge of his seat, staring at the Fame Checker as if it had the answer to all life’s questions, if he could just reach out and-

“Sir?” Bonita could wait no longer for an answer. “Do you actually understand- Is this person even speaking-? Is that English?”

There was a long pause, during which the Fame Checker wheezed out more unintelligible dialogue, coughs and grunts and things that sounded almost like words but that halted and started again unnaturally.

Green sat silently, not looking at Bonita, and Bonita was afraid he had said something terribly wrong when Green finally responded.

“I… He’s gotten worse… And I completely underestimated- It’s a lot easier to understand what he’s saying in person, when you’ve got facial cues to go on.”

Bonita listened to the recording. It continued on for another few seconds, before it petered out and stopped.

“So you didn’t understand?” Bonita pressed.

Green shook his head, before growling and massaging his forehead in frustration.

Bonita looked at Green, who was rarely so emotive about anything that didn’t have to do with sadistically handing out assignments to his trainees.

“This really seems important to you, Green, sir,” Bonita said, sympathetically.

Green stopped. He looked at Bonita with wide eyes, like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t, but he dared to hope anyhow.

It made Bonita nervous.

“J-just because… If you’ve put off getting the gym ready for opening for this…” Bonita hastened to explain. “I mean, you always yell at us even if we’re only a moment late in opening the front doors…”

Green blinked, eyes peeled wide, before standing and turning away from Bonita.

“I’m sor-” Bonita started to apologise.

But Green interrupted.

“No. No, you’re right. This is important to me. It’s really important to me,” Green said quietly, reaching for the coat he had laying over the back of his chair, and pulling his arms through the sleeves. “I need to go take care of this. In fact, I’m going to take the day off.”

Bonita could barely believe his ears.

Green? Take the day off?

A day off from Green’s training, and the gym? A whole extra day to hang around at home, not doing anything. His co-workers would be thrilled! He couldn’t wait to tell them.

Actually, scratch that. He’d leave a note on the door for his co-workers. He wasn’t wasting any time getting back home and back to bed.

“You really mean it? We can have the day off?” Bonita asked, and he could have sworn that, behind him, a choir of angels had burst into song.

Green clicked his tongue. “We?” he asked incredulously.

The choir of angels abruptly started choking.

Green turned to Bonita and flashed his usual cocky smile. “You’ve got a gym to run, don’t you?”

“What?! You mean…” Bonita began.

“If you open even one minute late…” Green warned.

“You mean you actually trust me to defend the Earth Badge all by myself?” Bonita asked.

Green snorted. “Of course not.”

Bonita deflated.

Green dug into his pockets and pulled out a collection of Pokéballs.

“This is Exeggutor, Gyarados, Arcanine, and Pidgeot” Green said, as he handed over each Pokéball in turn, “and Rhydon is in the yard.” Green paused for a minute. “And Eevee too,” he allowed, “although I doubt she’ll listen to anyone other than me.”

Bonita gulped, accepting the Pokéballs with both hands.

“If you can’t even win with my Pokémon, Bonita, there may not be any hope for you after all,” Green laughed, reaching to grab the ring of keys on the table.

“You don’t mean that,” Bonita whined, as Green pressed the keys into his hands.

“No,” Green agreed with a mocking smile, “but you better not let this place go to rot while I’m gone. Tell everyone to run their laps, like usual.”

Bonita’s mind raced. “Wait!” he insisted right as Green marched up to the door.

Green turned impatiently and tapped his foot.

“You gave me all six of your Pokémon.” It was the first thing that popped into Bonita’s mind. “What will you take with you?”

Green smiled and tossed a Pokéball up into the air, before catching it on its way down.

“A Charizard,” he said, before sweeping out the door. “You can do it,” he shouted back, assuredly, from the Gym’s main hall.

And suddenly Bonita felt that he really could do it, somehow.

Bonita lost three Earth Badges by the end of the day, and hadn’t gotten any of his co-workers to do their laps.

But he had also successfully defended the Earth Badge from an additional three challengers, so he figured that was worth something.

It took Green an hour to walk back to Pallet Town.

Then it took five minutes to discover neither Red, nor Red’s mother Delia, were home.

It took another half hour to work up the courage to ask his grandfather where they had gone, and then four hours to fly to the hospital in Saffron.

From there, it took ten minutes to convince the Emergency Room staff to let him through, and five minutes to walk to the room Red was assigned.

It took two seconds to realise Red was asleep, and nine thousand seconds of making small talk with Delia (and serious talk with the doctors) before Red woke up.

And everything after that took years and years and years. But Green didn’t mind so much, because Red was there with him for that part.

~Fin~