Hey all, sorry for the delay. The last few months have been rough here and there, but this time I feel compelled to explain.
May was a difficult month for me. My dad’s cancer came back, I lost an entire week (no work, no writing, little sleep) to an intense interpersonal issue that left me exhausted and heartsick after, and I went to LessOnline, which was incredibly fun but also much more taxing than I expected; a combination of massive back-to-back jetlag and various random complications means I’ve gotten about an average of five hours of sleep every night for the past week, and that’s being optimistic. Also my bike got stolen, and my shoes. No, really. It’s distracting, but honestly small potatoes compared to the stuff I mentioned before, which are weighing on me even still and making it hard to focus on anything for too long.
On top of all that, I struggled with this chapter a lot. I’ve mentioned a few places before that the pokemon battles are the hardest part of the story for me to continue to feel excited by; once in a while I still enjoy writing them, but overall they’ve become something of a slog. I hope that’s not reflected too much in the reading experience; I work hard to think of new dynamics and polish each exchange until I still get some enjoyment out of the end result, and people do seem to still enjoy them.
But overall I wanted to say that, now that I’ve missed my deadline by half a week rather than a day, it seems responsible to say that I can’t be sure what will happen this month, or the coming ones. I still hope to get back on track, and I still plan to finish this story, come hell or high water. I appreciate your patience, either way, and particularly appreciate my patrons for sticking with me through all this.
Take care everyone, and hug your loved ones. Life can be hard sometimes, but there’s still a lot to be grateful for, and I hope this story continues to be one of them for you.
Chapter 141: Sacrifice
The first sensation is a soft, slow settling.
Not of the body, of thoughts. Sediment after a storm, fragments that scattered, noisy, first quieted…
…then slowed…
…then…
Walls. Gossamer thin threads, suggestions of division rather than barriers.
Shredding, almost immediately, shattering the quiet stillness
until the threads reform.
Again. And again
and
again
until
they
hold.
Good. Don’t rush. Rest.
Blue wakes on the morning of his final badge challenge in a cold sweat, fragments of the dream racing through his mind. Within moments the details are a blur, mostly leaving behind the emotions.
Fear. Loss. Grief. Futility. He lets them roll through him, each one evoking memories that are mixed with the lingering nightmare.
Battling Leader Giovanni, but without his battle calm. Panicking, making mistakes, losing… not just the badge, but his battles with the renegades at Silph, losing his pokemon, losing Red… fighting in Vermilion, fighting to save Glen and Elaine and Aiko as the Pressure suffocates him, failing them all, losing Gramps and Daisy to the steelix, losing his parents as Zapdos/Moltres sweeps down toward him…
He breathes, slowly and steadily, until the emotions are less sharp. He reaches for his phone and checks the time.
8:28. A couple hundred new messages, which he skims within a minute of scrolling. Mostly people wishing him luck.
No news about Red.
He sets the phone down on his stomach, letting the emotional noise wash through him again, then again, and again, until it all feels faded enough that he can push himself out of bed and to the shower, muscles somewhat sore despite the extra time he took to rest yesterday.
Giovanni set the challenge date a week after his battle with Arnaud. It’s been a hell of a week.
The motions feel rote. Wash, dry, dress. He doesn’t normally have trouble eating when stressed, but lately he’s been relying on meal substitutes half the time. He drinks one as he straps his belt on, then heads to Viridian Gym.
It’s a short walk from the Trainer House, so it doesn’t make sense to mount up to get there faster. He does his best to look relaxed and confident, to smile and wave at everyone he passes who does the same, or wishes him luck. Their wellwishes are a blur, and Blue is sure he says all the right words, has his tone and expression down pat, but Elaine still gives him a long, crushing hug, and there’s a look in Glen’s eyes as he squeezes his shoulder.
Blue puts his hand over his and squeezes back. Glen nods, and Elaine pulls away, and then he’s free, gliding through the halls until he’s in the main arena’s ready room, hands on his knees, breaths seeming to echo in the silence.
He wants the calm. He wants the reassurance that it’ll be there, when the battle starts.
But stressing about it won’t help, and he reminds himself to go over what he’ll say before the match. Blue’s been wondering on and off for months what pre-match speech or banter Giovanni will give. He tends to be less dramatic than others, often purfunctory; if he does more than recite the formalities, it’s often after, win or lose, and even then usually only for those winning at least their fifth badge.
Still, he reviews the talking points he wants to make, if given the opportunity, and eventually a buzzer goes off, the light above the door going from red to green, and he stands, and walks to it, and steps through.
Focus on the breaths. Move outward.
He knows this. Lungs expanding, then contracting. Expanding, then—
Test each connection.
Who said that?
Which voice?
The boundaries hold, gossammer blowing in tumultuous winds.
—out and in and out and in and—
Sobbing laughter reverbrates wrong, distorted, seeping between—
There. Contain it. Remove it.
Memory fragments refuse to align.
Let them blend.
Whose thought was that?
Whose
mind
are
we?
That is yet to be determined, but whatever the case, you are almost whole.
The main stadium is as big as Pewter’s, built similarly in most respects, with a wide, deep arena of earth and stones below the platforms, a strong border around it, and a wide empty space between it and the bleachers, where protective barriers stand below the hanging monitors. Blue stares straight ahead as he walks, peripheral vision showing the way the last few stragglers rush to find their seats among the packed crowds. He only sees his opponent once he finishes climbing the stairs to his platform.
Giovanni stands opposite him dressed as he always does for badge challenges: not in the gym uniform he wears when in the field responding to incidents, but in the three piece suit he began to wear after he became Champion.
Blue admired Giovanni as soon as he learned about him, spent hours reading everything he could about Viridian’s golden child. There were decades-old comments on the net about the young Champion “overcompensating” for his youth by trying to appear more like a businessman, but within days he’d claimed the estates and companies owned by his biological mother, and those comments stopped appearing as his notoriety and fame continued to grow by leaps and bounds.
By the time he took Leadership of Viridian Gym two years later, he’d already cemented himself as one of the most revered names in Kanto history, right alongside older men and women like President Silph, Elite Agatha, and Blue’s grandfather, who had just announced the construction of Pallet Labs.
As far back as Blue could remember, he knew he would face Giovanni and prove he was at least as capable. Tempting as it was to accept his offer months ago, and as twisted as his guts feel right now, he’s glad for it. It would feel hollow, otherwise.
“Blue Oak. Viridian Gym has been anticipating your arrival since you transformed Vermilion.” Giovanni pauses a beat. “I have been anticipating you.”
Blue’s rejoinder, a smiling sorry to keep you waiting, dies in his throat. Instead he feels the compliment spread warmth through his torso. Giovanni already confirmed in private that he had confidence in his abilities, but to do it in public hits different. “I’m sorry if I disappointed. In less dire times, I might have attempted to join your gym and help it realize its full potential.”
“But the world changed since you began your journey, then changed again.”
Blue nods. “I started with the belief that I should get through each gym as quickly as possible. Pewter taught me that was a mistake, and created space to take an active role in most of the later gyms. But the Hoenn Incident, Team Rocket, the Dreamer’s warnings, the unown… I don’t feel I have that luxury anymore.”
Giovanni shifts his stance, hands on the railings around his platform, leaning forward slightly. “What do you feel, Young Oak?”
The arena is perfectly silent, and Blue can hear his own breaths, even as they are, and his heartbeat, steady as it is. He waits a few beats, then a few more, wanting to give the unorthodox question its due.
“I’ve been waiting for this day for as long as I can remember,” he finally says. “Battling for my final badge. Facing you for it, Leader. Strange enough, how now that I’m here, I can barely feel the excitement or thrill I expected. They’re faint compared to my impatience, and my worry.”
“Worry of defeat?”
“Some,” Blue admits. “But what I realized is that there are more important things than this match. There are friends missing in the audience. There are things I plan to do, to help the world become more safe and stable rather than less. Compared to that, this all feels like just another obstacle in the way of the real work.”
“It is the nature of a Gym Leader to play a variety of roles, one of which is a step in a trainer’s ambitions. And yet you chose to challenge me last.”
The question hangs implicit in the air, and Blue lets it, lets the silence linger. He almost breaks it, almost offers an explanation, but something inside keeps him still, watching Giovanni across the gulf of the arena.
Eventually the leader smiles, a sardonic twist of the right side of his mouth. “Do you regret it, now that your priorities have changed?”
Do you regret turning down my offer?
Maybe Blue is reading into it. But the answer is the same, either way. “No. I still have something to prove, to myself as much as anyone, and receiving my eighth badge from Giovanni Sakaki is part of it.”
“Proving what?”
“Could you have defeated your current eight badge team, at my age?”
Giovanni’s smile widens marginally, only visible to Blue because of the monitors around them that are zoomed in on the Leader. “No.”
“Could Lance?”
“Possibly. But becoming champion would require proving your strength over him in any case. You’re taking the hardest path you can.”
“I am.”
“To prove that you’re better than all of us.”
“No,” Blue says, and realizes why this is happening. Giovanni is setting him up… not to knock him down, but to present his case. It somehow means even more to him than the Leader’s offer for a quick, straightforward battle. “To conquer my own fears, so that it’s easier the next time, and the next. To inspire others to do the same. I want to prove that it’s possible for us to take the harder path, and succeed.”
“Some might say that their path is hard enough, the risks great enough. Why add more?”
“You said it yourself, after the Hoenn incident. I began What Comes Next because I felt it too; we can’t be complacent. Our problems are growing, not shrinking.” Blue turns to the audience, head turning slowly from left to right. “I’ve always felt lucky to have been born who I was. Being Professor Oak’s grandson provided a lot of advantages, both in growing up and starting my journey. But all of us, everyone in my generation, and our parents, and our grandparents, we’ve all been lucky.”
He turns so he can continue scanning the audience in a slow circle as he speaks. “The islands haven’t seen war between its regions for generations. Poketech and medicine are more powerful than ever, and when I was still planning my journey, incidents that wiped out entire towns or cities were scary stories from history books, not reality.”
He’s facing Giovanni again, and shifts his attention to the Leader. “Since I left Pallet Town, there have been three that could easily have ruined entire regions. We didn’t just sacrifice good people and pokemon each time to stop them, we got lucky. I spent months helping Cinnabar stabilize and recover from the ditto, and all of it was almost undone by the unown. We still have no idea if these events are connected, and personally, I can’t tell if it would be worse if they were. The world has changed, and we need to change with it.”
Giovanni nods. “And what would you change, as Champion?”
This is it. The time to make it clear what he wants to do and why he thinks it’s necessary. “Champion Lance has been an inspiration for as long as I’ve been alive.” He doesn’t mention the fact that his own hero-worship of the Champion was stunted early on; Lance was at the incident where Blue’s parents were killed, and a young Blue blamed him for not saving them. As he got older the unfairness of that blame became more clear, but the feeling that Lance had still failed them was an extension of the sense that Lance, and every other Champion, was failing everyone by not doing enough. “Indigo is stronger with Kanto and Johto working as one, and I particularly admire all the work he’s done to help integrate the strengths of each region’s gyms and League culture into the other.
“But the time for reactivity is past. The Master Ball is one potential solution to our problems, but it’s not the only one. If Rayquaza descends on us, if the Dreamer’s nightmares become reality, if a trio of titans rise up in Johto… we can’t put all our hopes on one trainer, even with a legendary on their belt. As a society, we need to take the fight to them, starting with the Stormbringers and Beasts.”
Blue has been practicing some version of this speech for years, unsure if he would be giving it now or in front of Lance (or whoever else might have become champion meanwhile). He’s sure Lance would push back, challenge him to give more specifics, or defend his actions. He’s not as sure what Giovanni would say.
But instead of saying anything at all, Giovanni just lets the ensuing silence linger, gaze steady on Blue… until he just nods, once, and straightens.
“Your ambition has been made clear. What is your Challenge?”
Blue’s surprise only lasts a second, not enough for a noticeable pause. “I challenge for Mastery.”
“Viridian accepts. Our battle will be four against four, allowing two pokemon out at once. The battle will not stop for potential fatalities.”
A heartbeat of silence passes as Blue feels his pulse quicken, and then another, before he hears the first of the murmurs, distant and hushed. But only a few, and they quickly fade. The attendees knew what they were coming to: an eighth badge challenge, against Leader Giovanni.
The battle will not stop for potential fatalities.
Blue understood Arnaud’s comment about keeping his dragonite in, or something equal to it, to mean that whatever he faces here will be as serious as a pokemon battle could get. Blaine had factored the risk of deaths into the battle, but Giovanni basically just said to expect it.
It’s the default ruling for battles against the Elite, and of course against the Champion. The Viridian Gym Leader probably wouldn’t try to kill his pokemon, no more than Elites or Champions would even in battles for their positions, but no one would blame him if it happens.
He knows Leaf would be disappointed. If Blue accepts, he’s risking his pokemon’s lives. Not to fight wilds, but for his ambition.
But his ambition is to save more than he could alone.
“Understood.” He unclips two balls from his belt, then aims them forward. Any moment now the calm would wrap around him, and everything would be fine. “Ready.”
He feels himself wake with a deep breath, so deep it hurts his lungs, or maybe it’s just a normal breath and he’s grown unused to the sensations. Pins and needles spread throughout his body as he becomes aware of other sensations; soft mattress, sheets, pillow. He’s in bed.
He knows what he’ll see when he opens his eyes, but instead of the muted colors and soft lights of a hospital ceiling, what greets him is a young woman’s face.
“Hello,” she says, the word carefully enunciated. He watches her concerned eyes swap between his, sees the cautious hope in them. “Are you awake? Are you able to understand me?”
Yes he tries to say, but a rush of mental noise interrupts, a dizzying cacophony of confused sensations and memories. When it passes he realizes his eyes are closed tight, muscles taut, and slowly relaxes.
“Relax. Go slow.” The woman’s hand tentatively takes his, and he grips it. “One squeeze for yes, two for no?”
He squeezes once.
“Good. Confirm a no?”
It takes him a moment to get it, then he squeezes twice.
“Good. Very good.” Her voice is warmer, losing a bit of its careful distance. “Do you… remember who you are?”
The question confuses him, at first—
you are nearly whole
—but… yes, he knows who he is. He squeezes once.
“Bear with me, okay? Does your name start with an R?”
One squeeze.
“Does your last name start with a D?”
One squee—
No.
His heart is pounding, and he can’t tell why, but he squeezes a second time.
She’s silent for a moment. “Does it start with an L?”
Two squeezes, quicker this time.
“Does it start with a V?”
V for victory. A man’s voice, two fingers pointed up at angles…
Dad.
One squeeze, and Red feels himself settling a little more, feels himself pulling together a little firmer.
“Great.” She squeezes back, relief shining through the single word. “Fantastic. Welcome back, Red. A lot of people are going to be very happy to see you. My name is Marin. I’ve been one of your nurses. Are you in any pain?”
Red unconsciously starts a mental scan, searching through his body methodically. He feels tired, but not sleepy, just some stiffness and aches, and he just noticed he has things stuck on and in his skin, the latter of which does hurt a bit when he moves them too quickly. Otherwise… two squeezes.
“Do you need something? Toilet? Water?”
His attention is drawn to his stomach, which feels… odd. He’s not starving, exactly, but his stomach feels incredibly empty. Two squeezes, and then he pauses before squeezing twice again, but slower.
“Is that a maybe, for water? Or do you want food?”
He smiles and opens his eyes, the expression feeling odd on his face. One squeeze.
She smiles back. “We’ll have to take it slow for your stomach, liquid foods first, but I’ll get you something.” She squeezes his hand back, then releases her grip—
—and he closes his eyes as a sudden spike of panic rises up, like he’s about to be dropped off a cliff, back into the churning, endless dreams. He grips her hand desperately tight as his body curls inward.
If he hurts her she doesn’t show it, instead putting her other hand over his. “Okay. Okay. Not yet. It can wait.”
The panic passes slowly, and when he relaxes his grip, shame floods his cheeks with warmth. He opens his eyes again, slowly, looking into her calm and patient gaze, and tries to say Sorry.
Instead the mental noise returns, and he tries to keep his grip around her hand as light as he can through the full-body shudders. The disorientation fades slowly, and when he opens his eyes again, her brow is slightly creased with concern.
“You should rest. I’m going to let others know, and bring you some soup. Okay?”
Red considers this, then carefully nods, and releases her hand. She squeezes his once more, then rises and leaves.
He looks around, taking the surroundings in. It’s spacious, for a hospital room. There are two whole couches, a small fridge, and the monitor on the wall opposite him is bigger than usual. A table is covered in flowers and envelopes, and he realizes after a moment that this isn’t just a hospital room, it’s his hospital room. He was probably brought to the medical wing of the Interpol base.
His things are in the corner. Clothes, folded neat and clean looking. Pokebelt, with the balls detached and on a charging grid. No helmet, but—
Wait, where’s his helmet? It should be with his things in case… he’s needed…
Why am I here?
Memories rise slowly, like bubbles in syrup, each popping with a burst of intense emotions.
Unown, flying in chaotic shapes. Bizarre monsters, Artem in a puddle of blood, Rowan chasing Bill through his lab…
…until they psychically fought…
Where are my powers?
Panic starts to set in as he realizes he can’t feel them at all. He became used to subconsciously checking the minds around him, but he didn’t even try since waking up, and now when he attempts to send out a pulse of psydar he gets nothing, he can’t even feel how to—
Calm.
It’s like a cold blanket thrown over the buzzing panic, and a feeling of reassurance arises next, vague but warmer. Red is surprised to find himself curled up, muscles tense from the re-emerged memories and emotions, and it takes him a moment to realize his unpartitioned self must be sending him the feeling of everything is fine.
The door opens, and Red uncurls slightly so he can turn and see Doctor Zhang enter, followed by Marin with a tray. He’s so surprised to see the psychic doctor that for a moment he wonders if he got it wrong, and he’s somehow in a remodeled room of Sabrina’s apartment building, or the Saffron Gym.
“Hello, Red,” Dr. Zhang says as he approaches. “It’s good to see you awake, but I’ll skip the pleasantries until after we check you over, alright? No need to respond, Marin said you’re having trouble speaking.”
Red almost tries anyway, frustrated and desperate to get some answers to the burning worries he has about what happened with the unown. He half expects his inner self to send reassurance again, but nothing comes, and he realizes his unpartitioned self probably doesn’t know either.
Marin sets the tray down beside Red, and the rich, savory smell of the soup on it makes his stomach rumble. What grabs his attention more, however, is the notebook and pen beside it. He uncurls further as Dr. Zhang opens a drawer and pulls out various tools, then shifts to sit up, body feeling stiff and weak as he reaches for the pen.
Marin’s hand lightly touches his, causing him to pause. “Maybe some soup first?” she asks. “I didn’t heat it too much so it’s comfortable to drink right away, but that also means it’ll get cold soon.”
Red hesitates, then nods.
“Do you feel up for feeding yourself, or do you want some help?”
He looks at the soup, then shifts his arm toward it. Her hand stays with his as it moves, gently supporting, then lifting then lowering it above the bowl, watching his arm closely. After a moment she seems satisfied, and lets him take the handle. “Go slow.”
Red nods, and starts to cautiously lift the spoon toward his mouth despite another eager rumble in his stomach. The taste of seaweed and miso fills his mouth, and he closes his eyes in brief bliss.
The doctor starts removing the various things from around his torso and wrists, the skin beneath feeling slightly sensitive as the adhesive is wiped away. A quick spray of potion heals the punctures from an IV and feeding drip, and Red takes a second spoonful of soup as the doctor listens to his heartbeat, then a third before his eyes are checked, then a fourth after he scoots forward so his reflexes can be tested as well.
All the while, Red’s questions and worries whirl in the back of his mind. What happened to Rowan and Bill? Were the unown labs all destroyed? Did they manage to get the networks back up?
How long has he been asleep?
The door opens, and Elite Agatha bustles into the room, practically shoving her cane off the ground with each movement as she propels herself toward the bed. She plants it between her feet and settles her hands on the top, giving him a stern look that manages to also communicate relief.
“Well,” she sighs. “There you are. Gave us a hell of a scare, boy.” Her voice is quiet and rough with some emotion, and Red lowers the spoon into the half-empty bowl as he feels a lump in his throat, tears rapidly gathering in his eyes.
I’m sorry, he wants to say, body curling inward again, but the bed shifts as Agatha is suddenly sitting beside him, thin but strong arms wrapped around his torso.
“Shh. Shhh, that’s alright. Everything’s okay, now, so long as you are.”
She strokes his back as he sobs, forgetting everything for a moment as he imagines it’s his mother holding him. He wants her to be here, and he can’t even ask where she is, or if she’s coming.
He must have frightened her so much.
And he’s not sure he is okay.
He hears Dr. Zhang and Marin murmuring to each other in the corner of the room, and feels embarrassment slowly creeping through him, until he’s about to pull away from Agatha, who grips him more tightly.
“None of that. After what you’ve been through, it’d be worrying if you didn’t have a cry or two, or a dozen. Understand?”
Red’s cheeks are burning, but he slowly nods.
“Good. Your mother will be here soon, and if she’s not it’s probably because she’s busy crying a bucket first to not put you through that, but she’ll likely cry again anyway, and that’s usually better than either of you crying alone, so take those moments when you can. Right?”
Red nods again, less slowly.
“Right. Now, you take your time, and I’m going to just give you a lookover. Nothing deep, no merging, so feel comfortable with your thoughts. Keep eating if you want.”
Red nods a third time, taking a deep breath. Marin is suddenly beside him with a box of tissues and a gentle smile, which he returns as he blows his nose, then starts to have more soup.
He pauses after one spoonful to take the pen, giving her a questioning look. She nods, and he opens the notepad and writes: How long?
“Over a month,” Marin says, voice quiet.
Red’s heart kicks, whole body flushing cold. Panic shoots through him as he thinks of one thing after another, and only Agatha’s hand stroking his back with renewed vigor keeps him from spiraling.
Rocket? he writes next.
“Oh, I’m not sure…”
“Hm?” Agatha turns to look over at what he wrote. “Ah. I told Looker to let us do our work before coming in here and stressing you, but… no major attacks. Some minor crimes they’re suspected of, but nothing you could have helped with.”
Red feels some muscles relax around his shoulders and neck. Bill? Rowan?
“Bill is fine. Some lingering side effects, but we’ve gotten him mostly sorted.” She squeezes him briefly. “Rowan is dead. I’m sorry, Red.”
He’d begun to relax more at the first bit of news, but the second sends a pulse of pain through him.
Pain, but not shock. Some part of him knew. He didn’t want it to be true, but… he knew what he did. He knew the results.
He cries anyway, tears leaking into his mouth to mix with the taste of the soup.
“No one blames you, Red. Don’t go blaming yourself for not being able to do more. You’ve lost enough from it, understand?”
The pain dulls, little by little, and he wonders if it’s her words or something else, some subtle mental suggestion. It’s strange, having someone in his head but not being able to tell what they’re doing. If he concentrates, he can feel the vaguest of extra-sensory presence, distinct but adjacent to the general, mundane feeling of there-are-others-in-the-room.
“There were losses, but fewer than there would have been without your help,” Agatha continues. “I don’t know who else you knew at the labs, but outside them, your other friends are safe.” She raises her head to look at the others. “Did anyone contact them?”
“I sent a message out to everyone on the recovery team and visitation list,” Marin says. “Though some of them might not see it yet, if they’re watching Blue’s match.”
“Ah, is that today?”
“They were talking about it when scheduling vigils.”
Blue’s match? Red wipes his face, then writes, Badge?
Agatha looks at the paper, then nods. “Number eight. I doubt Gio will make it easy for him, but—”
Red is already writing, feeling a sense of mild panic as he scribbles Can we put it on?
Agatha chuckles as she reads. “Fine with me if it is for them.” She turns to Marin, who leans forward to read the note, then brings it to Dr. Zhang.
He raises a brow, then turns to the Elite. “It won’t interrupt with your diagnosis?”
“Shouldn’t think so. Might even help, right now I’m only getting the full breadth of his thoughts and feelings.”
“Alright, we can put it on while we both run our tests.”
Marin nods and turns the monitor on, and Agatha untangles herself from Red so they can sit and watch more comfortably together. Red takes his soup bowl with both hands and sips from it, eyes on the screen.
A month asleep. He missed so much… he doesn’t want to miss this too.
“Three. Two. One. Go.”
Giovanni’s hippowdon and garchomp appear in a synchronized flash. Both are massive; the hippowdon’s shell is broad enough that Blue wouldn’t be able to spread his limbs across its entire back, and even with the garchomp’s legs wide apart, its head still becomes level with the balcony Giovanni is on when it rears up to sniff the air. Sand starts to stream out of the holes in the hippowdon’s shell, quickly obscuring it from view.
On Blue’s side there appears his two newest pokemon: incineroar and rillaboom.
It was a hard choice, buying and swapping to new pokemon between his matches. He packed as much training with them in as he could. Possibly too much; he wished daily that he had Red around to accelerate his pokemon’s growth through desperation, trying to make up for it with intensity. All the while, Koichi’s comments about how people would turn on Blue if they knew he was utilizing his methods floated at the back of Blue’s mind, causing him to only engage in the most dangerous training with the people he trusted most, traveling to different pokemon centers every day so as not to raise any flags about how hurt they would get. He knew he could always swap in pokemon from his battle with Arnaud if these two weren’t ready by the day of the challenge.
But they were. Both were already strong when he bought them, and eventually became even stronger than his new breloom, corviknight and weavile. Their type advantages against Giovanni aren’t as good as those three, particularly Incineroar… but they have something the others don’t.
Synergy.
As soon as Rillaboom appears, the gorilla shakes its leafy mane, sending glowing seeds all around it. Incineroar, meanwhile, lives up to its name, battle cry echoing through the arena. The garchomp roars back from within the rapidly expanding cloud of sand, but Blue’s pokemon still rush forward at his commands, and his battle calm finally descends.
Giovanni’s own commands are like firecrackers, one or two syllable words that cut through the sand-whipped air, while Blue’s are split between the clicker in his hand and his shouted, “Oaf!”
Incineroar drops into a crouch, then springs across the arena in a single leap for a grazing strike that still manages to interrupt whatever the garchomp was about to do. Its attention shifts to retaliate, only for the incineroar to leap back to safety.
Meanwhile Rillaboom charges through the sandstorm, massive wooden drum glowing green as it’s raised above its head. The hippowdon rises to meet it, but the gorilla’s leap easily doubles its height, allowing it to land a crushing blow that sends its opponent sliding backward across the arena floor. The hippowdon roars in pain even as it slams its feet on the ground to send a shockwave out.
Blue feels the tremor through his boots on the trainer’s platform, despite the carefully engineered arena border meant to keep attacks confined. Both his pokemon are caught in the attack, but the arena floor has erupted in patches of vibrant green grass as Rillaboom’s seeds took root and spread, disrupting the Ground attack’s power.
Blue’s imagination flashes through what will happen next in seconds; the garchomp is powerful enough that it might take out his incineroar even with its attacks dampened by distractions and the grass, and would strike from within the small sandstorm, making it hard to anticipate. The hippowdon would get swapped out for something that could beat his rillaboom, which means—
His hands are moving even as he thinks, as are Giovanni’s. Light flashes as pokemon swap on each side, the hippowdon replaced with a camerupt that incineroar launches forward to kick-flip off of, bouncing back toward Blue so he can replace it with Maturin, while Rillaboom gets swapped out for Dragonite. A second quick movement replaces Rillaboom’s clicker with a different one that his dragonite was trained to respond to.
If he kept Rillaboom out he’d need to take the camerupt down as soon as possible, but it’s less of a threat right now than the garchomp is. A quick “Bai!” sends Ice Beams lancing from Maturin’s cannons toward the sandstorm, while at the same time he uses his clicker to send Dragonite blurring forward with a flap of its wings, the displaced air blowing his hair and clothes into a frenzy.
Dragonite flies through the miniature sandstorm hard enough to blast a hole through it, nearly colliding with the podium Giovanni stands on before veering back toward Blue… but the garchomp wasn’t visible at all, and Blastoise’s attack merely turns a portion of the sand into powdered snow, dropping enough of it to reveal that the garchomp is gone. He has a moment to think it got withdrawn, distracted by the lack of a replacement—surely it’s been too long?—before he realizes what must have happened… just in time for the ground below Maturin to explode upward.
Not from the garchomp, however. The sandstorm has continued to blow outward, obscuring most of the battlefield, which made it hard to see the glowing path heading from the camerupt toward Maturin. His blastoise roars in pain as hot mud covers her, and Blue knows that the garchomp is arriving next to hit it from below again.
“Ap!” he shouts, and Maturin ducks into her shell just before the garchomp bursts out of the ground beneath it. A rapid series of clicks makes Dragonite leap forward, claws surrounded by an icy halo that spreads onto the earth dragon with each blow… until the camerupt blasts rocks at Dragonite, knocking it away from its ally.
“Wam!” Blue shouts as he clicks another command out, and Maturin pops out of her shell to send a wave of muddy water out toward both her opponents… only for the camerupt to be replaced by a gastrodon at the last second, whose body simply drains the water around it away… though not before the wave hits the garchomp, who gets hampered by the sticky mud covering it. Blue predicted Giovanni would bring a gastrodon to counter his blastoise, not to mention—
“Go, Incineroar!”
It’s risky to bring the Fire/Dark type back out with a Water/Ground on the field, but he saw the Ice Beam coming, and his tiger merely shakes the cold off, roaring a new challenge to its enemies before another command sends it racing toward the garchomp—
—who disappears in a flash of light to be replaced by the hippowdon. Its tough hide easily takes Incineroar’s attack and Blue sends Rillaboom back out in Maturin’s place.
Back to how they started, but with a gastrodon out instead of a garchomp. The grassy field is starting to fade, and Rillaboom hasn’t grown enough new seeds to reset it yet… nor has the hippowdon generated enough sand to reinforce the sandstorm, which has spread wide enough to become diffuse, just a mild irritant that’s easily countered by the healing energy his rillaboom’s grass provides.
“Oaf!” Blue shouts as he swaps Dragonite’s clicker back out for Rilaboom’s, and squeezes out a quick message to Rillaboom. Giovanni will have to predict which of his pokemon Blue plans to distract with a Fake Out, and which will be hit by Rillaboom…
Instead both enemies are swapped out. Incineroar’s Fake Out does nearly nothing to the garchomp, and the camerupt easily tanks Rillaboom’s attack. Blue hurries to swap them both out again, hesitating for just a moment—
—Garchomp will hit Incineroar, should replace with Maturin if it’s a Dragon attack but Dragonite if it’s a Ground attack—
—Camerupt will hit Rillaboom, should replace with Dragonite in case it’s a Fire or Ground attack but Maturin if it’s a Rock attack—
—as indecision feels like it’s tearing his thoughts in two, and at the last possible moment only swaps Incineroar out for Maturin while clicking for Rillaboom to attack the camerupt.
The garchomp dashes forward with a roar, purple energy pouring off its body as it slams into Maturin, claws rending bloody furrows down his blastoise’s belly. The amount of damage is shocking, and he almost misses the way his Rillaboom nails the camerupt with a Stomping Tantrum that nearly knocks it out.
Instead it keeps its feet, swaying, and hits Rillaboom point-blank with a Fire Blast.
Blue’s battle calm cracks as the telltale humanoid shape of the top tier Fire attack engulfs his pokemon. His body leans forward to make sure he’s in return range as he thrusts Rillaboom’s ball forward, the ape’s whole body set ablaze, and nearly drops Maturin’s ball in his rush to send Dragonite back out.
The garchomp isn’t letting up its attacks, and Blue belatedly realizes it wasn’t Dragon Claw that Giovanni commanded it to attack with, but Outrage. It won’t stop on its own until it exhausts itself, and won’t take any further commands.
Desperation rises up as more of Maturin’s blood splatters the arena floor, and Blue almost yells Bai to get her to Ice Beam the garchomp—
—but he needs to take that camerupt down, and none of his other pokemon can do it as well—
—but Giovanni will just swap it for his gastrodon, which will then Ice Beam Blue’s dragonite—
—can’t bring Rillaboom back out, it might already be dead—
—Something at least as powerful.
Arnaud’s voice, flitting across Blue’s mind. His hesitation costs him another precious second as the garchomp strikes again. Maturin’s agonized roar echoes through the arena… but she doesn’t fall. She’s been through worse, in their recent training to make her and his new pokemon as powerful as possible.
Power.
That’s what this is about. That’s what all of this is about, and always has been.
He’s still treating it like a regular match, trying to keep his pokemon alive, trying not to overcommit on attacks and lose face by killing any of Giovanni’s pokemon.
But none of this matters if he can’t risk his pokemon to win.
“Bi!” he shouts, and instead of attacking Maturin withdraws into her shell like before, enduring more and more attacks as Blue’s clicker sends Dragonite not toward the garchomp, but at the camerupt, who gets swapped for a gastrodon—
—which immediately gets rent by glowing claws as Blue’s pokemon also enters Outrage.
The Gastrodon is built to last, and gets an Ice Beam off at close range. But Blue’s dragonite doesn’t stop, and even when Giovanni commands it to start healing itself, the rampaging dragon just barely manages to outdamage the repeated Recovers.
Blue swaps which balls are on his belt, heart pounding as he breathes deep to recover his calm. There’s something nerve-wracking about being so near such powerful pokemon going all-out, but now that he’s committed to this course, the path to victory seems clearer, and his battle calm fully returns.
The arena is filled with the sound of both dragons tearing into their opponents, and while the garchomp started first, that’s no guarantee it’ll tire itself sooner. Blue’s gaze keeps hopping between the two dragons, looking for the first sign of exhaustion. He sees the gastrodon getting beaten further and further down into a bloody mess, and part of him expects a withdrawal at any moment… but if Giovanni swaps his pokemon before Dragonite finishes, he’ll just put another pokemon in harm’s way. The cold but smart play is to sacrifice his pokemon to take down Blue’s largest threat.
Which is what Blue is doing as well. Maturin is practically vibrating in pain as the garchomp’s claws rip and tear at her shell, prying scales off and occasionally scoring deep cuts beneath, and within the battle calm he feels a tightness in his chest as he watches his starter endure blows that would kill a lesser pokemon.
He ignores the murmurs of the crowd, barely audible over the sounds of battle. He ignores his fear, and his pain, focusing instead on the pride he feels in his starter. Pride, and the sense of victory, closer and closer, if only his pokemon can hold out…
It’s Dragonite that tires first, purple flames fading as it reels back in exhausted confusion. Blue feels the tightness spread to his throat at the sight of the gastrodon, which is almost certainly dead. Giovanni calmly withdraws it without a word, and summons the hippowdon to take its place.
Now.
The garchomp’s energy is just starting to fade around it when Blue shouts “Bi!” again, and his vibrating blastoise finishes its Bide, unleashing a pulse of energy strong enough to send the garchomp flying back to strike a boulder hard enough to crack it. He withdraws Dragonite at the same time, swapping Incineroar back in, and his pokemon’s battle cry echoes for the third time as it locks onto its opponents. The hippowdon’s body jerks at the predatory cry, and the rocks it heaves at Blue’s pokemon go wide.
Maturin is shaky as she rises to her feet, blood dripping down all four legs, but Blue has one more job for her as he clicks a command for Incineroar while Giovanni swaps his downed garchomp for the camerupt. “Pah!”
Incineroar leaps forward to distract the hippowdon again as the Hydro Pump takes the camerupt down, black smoke rising from its hump as high-pressure water tears into its body. A second “Pah!” misses as Maturin collapses onto her side, the water scoring a deep mark along the ground before it peters out, and Blue quickly withdraws her as he watches Incineroar leap forward in a burst of flame to body-slam the weakened hippowdon, reeling backward afterward and getting caught in the Earth Power that erupts beneath it.
One last swap to bring his dragonite back out, one last set of clicks, and his pokemon blurs forward in a wash of purple flames to once again tear its foe to shreds—
—only for it to be withdrawn by Giovanni, and not replaced.
Blue quickly withdraws Dragonite too, heart leaping into his throat as the battle calm fades, and he looks up at Giovanni to confirm…
The Viridian Leader is smiling.
“Well done, Young Oak.”
The words seem shockingly loud in the ringing quiet that followed the end of the battle. Blue can hear his own harsh breaths, and makes an effort to get himself under control, aware of the eyes of the region on him.
“Your gastrodon?”
Giovanni takes a pokedex from his pocket, and unclips a ball from his belt to check. Blue does the same with Rillaboom’s ball.
Dead.
He mechanically checks the rest of his pokemon, hands shaking briefly when he gets to Maturin last.
Alive.
Alive.
Alive.
He briefly closes his eyes, muscles in his shoulders and neck easing. When he looks back up, Giovanni is calmly waiting. “Unfortunately, the gastrodon perished. Your rillaboom and blastoise?”
“Maturin is okay.” Hopefully. “I’m sorry for the loss of your pokemon.”
“And I yours. But as trainers, we understand the necessity of sacrifice.”
Blue knows Leaf would disagree with that, and feels a pang in his chest as he wonders what she’ll say to him. “Even more so, for champions?”
“Precisely. Sacrifice without power is meaningless. If you would ask the region to spend its sweat and tears and even blood for some cause, you must ensure that you and they are strong enough that it is worth it.”
Blue slowly nods. “I appreciate the lesson, harsh as it was. I know I need to be stronger, to fight harder, to do what must be done.”
“I hope so, Young Oak, for all our sakes.” Giovanni reaches into his jacket pocket and takes out a small box, opening the lid to show the gleaming Earth Badge to the cameras, its viridian shades filling half the screens. “Come, and take your prize. The final key to Victory Road is yours.”
Noise, an assault of applause and cheers from every corner. Blue feels it wash through him as his victory finally hits, deep in his chest.
As he descends from his platform he feels himself shaking slightly, and swallows the lump in his throat, doing his best to hold his head high as he walks across the battle-scarred arena, shoes caked with Maturin’s blood by the time he meets Giovanni in the middle. The leader hands him the box, then takes his wrist and raises it high, causing the crowd to roar its approval anew.
It’s done. The eighth badge is his.
He sees his friends in the crowd, sees Gramps and Daisy, knows even more are watching through the cameras. He only wishes Red were one of them.
“Well, that wasn’t quite as satisfying as I expected,” Agatha says. “Still, a double battle is novel enough to have made it exciting.”
Red nods, feeling slightly numb. The battle was more intense than any he’s watched, causing his muscles to tense until they shake and his stomach to flipflop with every major blow… though maybe that’s his guts wrestling with the soup.
His body has mostly recovered thanks to a diluted stream of specialized potion being sent through his veins to rejuvenate his muscles. The doctor tried to be respectful of his viewing experience, but occasionally had to ask Red to hold still for a moment rather than trying to crane around for a better look as he administered various treatments. His muscles still feel weak, and Dr. Zhang said they could only slow muscle atrophy so much; a rigorous physical workout regimen would be instituted as soon as Agatha gives the all-clear for his mental health.
Red is almost afraid to ask her how things look. Watching the match delayed grappling with reality for a bit, but he feels it sink in again that he’s been out cold for over a month. He knows he has time before Blue gets through Victory Road and faces the Elite Four, but part of him already feels anxious that he won’t be well quickly enough to fight beside Blue when the time comes for his friend to take on the Stormbringers.
He steels himself and turns to Agatha, then draws a ? on the notepad. She looks at it and sighs before meeting his gaze.
“I believe your inner self is keeping things together, more or less. It seems you had some help from the Dreamer… quite a bit of it, in fact, aside from what Jason, Sabrina, Zhang, and I provided. I’m glad for it, but it complicates things. A lot’s happened since you’ve been out, Red, and Looker isn’t going to like knowing that the Dreamer’s been in your head for spirits know how many days.”
Red frowns at her, not understanding. Did the Dreamer take some action against Interpol?
He can ask for details later. Instead he writes, But I seem okay?
“More or less. Your partitions are more smoke than substance right now, but they’re holding, and your inner self is likely going to keep you from using your powers anytime soon, as a precaution. I don’t disagree, but… there are a few things that worry me. Changes in the channels of your mind…” She trails off, then turns to Dr. Zhang. “You noticed?”
“I’ve been avoiding even basic scans until you okayed it.”
“Good man, but go ahead now, please.”
Red watches anxiously as the psychic doctor’s face goes calm, eyes sliding closed… and then a frown twitches across his features.
“Yes, that. Mmhm. That as well.”
Red’s heart starts to hammer and he quickly writes What?
“I’m not sure,” Dr. Zhang says, eyes open to read what he wrote. “Some parts of your brain activity are working oddly.”
“Scars of the madness that infected Rowan, no doubt. I believe it was fully exorcised, but as for the aftereffects… I think we already have a pretty big clue to one of them.” Agatha turns to Red, pity in her gaze. “Try to speak again.”
Red looks between them, the sense of panic growing. He takes a deep breath, then tries to say, “Test.”
What comes out instead is a croak as something in his head goes sideways, a shudder passing down the nerves along one side of his neck. Agatha grabs him as he tilts, strong arms easing him back onto the pillow.
“Easy,” she murmurs as the disorientation fades, and he finds himself weeping in alarm and fear. Her hand strokes his hair. “You’ve only just returned. Don’t despair yet.”
Red tries to listen to her, to accept what she’s saying. But in his mind there’s an echo of sobbing laughter, and the gossamer-thin walls in his mind shudder in their wake.