Pokémon Version Orange

[IcurasFallen]

Pokémon Version Orange

Arc 1 - The Gathering


Chapter 1
​

---

Smile.

I hate that I've gotten skilled at such a simple thing. At least the fake kind, the one you wear like a mask that's just convincing enough to pass for customer service. I've practiced it in the mirror, adjusted the curve of my mouth, and even learned how to tilt my head slightly for maximum awww factor. Mom says it makes guests feel welcome. I say it makes my face hurt.
"We hope you enjoy your stay at the Kumquat Grand." I slid the room key across the polished counter with just the right amount of cheerful energy to keep me from collapsing on the inside. "Room 218 is all set. Your luggage will be brought up shortly. If there's anything else you need, please, don't hesitate to call the front desk."

The woman of the couple, mid-sixties, wrapped in enough silk and perfume to stun a Weepinbell, let out a delighted coo. "Oh, aren't you just the cutest little bellhop! Such manners! What a helpful young man!"

I smiled harder. Not because I wanted to, but because I had to.

(Otherwise, I might say something not so "customer service".)

"Just doing my job, ma'am." I have to bite back the sigh trying to crawl up my throat.

The pair headed off toward the elevator, still chatting about how adorable the "little staff boy" was. The moment the doors dinged shut behind them, I dropped the act like a rock.

With a loud thud, my forehead hit the front desk.

"If one more person calls me precious today, I'm going to set the nearest luggage cart on fire."

My forehead hadn't been on the desk more than ten seconds when I heard the distinct shuffle of loafers and authority.

"Head up, Mr. Cashion," came Chilton's smooth, clipped voice, like velvet-lined disapproval. "This is a resort, not a crime scene."

I groaned but still peeled myself off the wood. "Yes, sir."

Chilton stood on the other side of the desk, arms crossed in his usual pressed blue suit, every inch the picture of resort professionalism with his neat brown hair and crisp white gloves. The man looked like he'd stepped out of a hospitality brochure and had never stopped being in one.

He leaned in and ruffled my hair under my pillbox cap, in a soft, quick gesture I didn't have the energy to dodge.

"Only another hour, Travis," he said, his voice kinder but still firm. "Then you're free for the day."

I gave him a dry look. "Which means I'll be asked to do two more things before then."

He didn't deny it. Just gave one of his patented hums, the kind that somehow said, "You're probably right, but don't start mouthing off about it," and turned to check on the luggage trolley nearby.

I slouched where I stood, shifting on the step ladder behind the desk as I tried to get comfortable without toppling off. The ladder was sturdy, custom-made with rubber treads and side rails, but that didn't make standing on it for hours any less awkward. Especially when my legs barely cleared the top rung, and my dignity was already clinging to life support.

Slow hours were the worst. There weren't enough people to keep busy, but there were enough that I couldn't just sneak off and read something, which meant I was stuck with my own thoughts.

And that was always…exhausting.

Because the truth was, I wasn't really a kid.

I'd had another life. The usual kind with boring college classes, a caffeine addiction, and far too much time spent trying to pay rent and not get crushed under the existential weight of modern capitalism. Then, one day, poof, lights out. No last words. No grand hero's death. Just…gone.

That probably should've been it.

But no, the universe, in its infinite wisdom and cosmic sense of humor, decided that a second life wasn't quite enough.

No, mine had to be special.

Specifically, I'd been reborn into the world of Pokémon.

You know, creatures with superpowers, ten-year-olds playing professional gladiators, laws that made exactly zero sense, and an entire ecosystem powered by friendship and anime physics.

Yeah, that Pokémon.

And just to make things extra interesting, I hadn't landed as a blank slate or some random trainer. No, I'd come back as the canon son of Luana, the Orange League Gym Leader of Kumquat Island.

The overly affectionate, occasionally deranged, pineapple-scented hurricane of a woman who once tried to adopt Ash Ketchum because he vaguely resembled her kid.

At least, that's the story Mom, Luana, decided to stick with after things got weird, and by weird, I mean mind-reading psychic Pokémon scans and existential crises at age three kinds of weird.

See, I wasn't born with my memories. That would've been much easier, or at least more convenient, but no, I got to be a baby. A drooling, squealing, bite-the-furniture toddler, where everything was sunshine and Poképuffs until my third birthday.

That's when I died for three minutes.

It started with a fever and ended with my heart just…stopping.

Then, just as suddenly, it started up again, and I came back, gasping like a Magikarp out of water. Everyone called it a miracle.

But I wasn't the same.

The doctors thought it was trauma. One second, I was this cheerful, laughing kid; the next, I was quiet, staring at nothing, and barely interacting with anyone or anything.

What really happened? Twenty-plus years of memories slammed into a brain not even finished wiring itself.

It didn't feel like remembering at first. More like being run over by someone else's life and waking up with the tire marks across your soul. Faces I'd never seen. Names I'd never said. Books. Shows. Regrets. College essays. A thousand thoughts I shouldn't have known how to even think.

I wasn't me anymore, at least not just me. Whether I'd always been this, or whether the "original" Travis had been overwritten, I still don't know. Honestly, that question haunted me for a while.

Was I a soul hijacker? A reincarnation with leftover files? Maybe even just some guy experiencing an Isekai granted by some cosmic entity for shits and giggles?

It kept me up at night when I was four. Trust me, nothing says "blessed childhood" like trying to unravel metaphysical identity crises in your Spinarak pajamas.

Eventually though, the change was too much to ignore. Even Mom noticed, and she once spent two days trying to convince a hotel inspector that our Gyarados-themed waterslide was "therapeutic hydrotherapy."

She tried everything from doctors, medication, to even singing me lullabies that included real battle strategies in the chorus. In the end, it was her Alakazam that finally cracked the case.

A psychic scan that performed a deep-level mind check. The kind that could tell you what kind of sandwich someone was craving before they even got hungry. What he found inside my head made him and Mom rethink everything.

They didn't talk to me about it directly, not at first, but I could hear the whispers. Heard Mom's voice breaking behind a locked office door. Felt Alakazam's telepathic turmoil vibrating the kitchen tiles. It wasn't hard to guess what they'd found.

Eventually, therapy was introduced. I was "encouraged" to talk to a professional…and by "encouraged", I mean bribed with Poképuffs and new toys until I sat on a leather couch and started using full adult sentences in a four-year-old's voice.

And through it all…Mom let me stay.

She didn't treat me like a stranger, or a freak, or even some body jacker who might have very well stolen her child. She treated me like her son.

Not because I deserved it, but because she'd decided I was her son, no matter what had happened. That she didn't need to understand it fully to love me completely.

It was frankly a terrifying amount of loyalty and familial love, and I'd never forget it.

Even if she did still make me pay for it all in learning "life skills" and "character building" instead of actual money.

(Because do you really think I would willingly deal with a customer service job before I hit double digits after the horrors of my first go at life?!)

My grip tightened on the edge of the desk, knuckles pressing into the smooth wood. Not out of panic, just…grounding.

It was easy to get lost in those thoughts sometimes. In the tangle of lives, old and new, past and present, thrumming in the back of my head. Especially when the lobby was quiet, and the only sound was the distant hum of the fountains outside the glass doors.

That is, until the bell above the entrance chimed with the grace of a collapsing Snorlax, and in stepped a set of tourists who practically radiated "first-time in the tropics."

The man was wearing socks with sandals and an Alolan print button-up that might've been classified as a visual hazard. The woman had three oversized bags and a sunhat that could've doubled as a parachute in high wind. Both of them were clearly sweating buckets.

What caught my attention wasn't them; however, it was the kid trailing behind them.

Fourteen, fifteen at the most. Pale, sunburnt, and wrapped in a black hoodie like he was trying to cosplay a stereotypical Dark-type specialist in the middle of a tropical island. He looked like the kind of guy who'd monologue about pain being his only friend right before sending out a Haunter.

I could see where this was going already.

"Helloooo there!" The likely father of the group called out far too loudly for even the size of our massive lobby.

I kept my voice as neutral as I could manage. "Welcome to the Kumquat Grand. Do you have a reservation?"

The dad had a big smile as he stepped up. "Yup! We're booked under the Gym Package! Says here we get a free room if our boy wins the Gym Challenge!"

He clapped his son on the back, who didn't even flinch. Just exhaled a slow sigh and muttered something that sounded like "Whatever."

I didn't blink. I'd seen the type.

"Of course," I said smoothly, already typing into the terminal to find the reservation. "One Gym Package confirmed. The room will be pending until the outcome of the match."

Translation: You're gonna have to pay if you lose.

I gave the moody teen a quick once-over. Four standard Pokéballs clipped to his belt, barely any scuffs on his shoes, and not an ounce of "presence" to be seen. I'd bet good money that this was his first League challenge outside his home region, where he didn't even compete past the fourth badge mark.

And he thought the Orange League was going to be easy.

He wasn't the first.

So many kids came in from Kanto, Johto, Hoenn, heck, even Unova, thinking the Orange Islands were some sun-drenched beginner's circuit. That because we didn't have a massive League tournament with fireworks and full stadiums, we must be soft.

They all learned.

The Orange Crew weren't just Gym Leaders; they were survivors of the sea. Trainers who specialized in their favored field of battle and abused that privilege extensively. They didn't play by standard League rules, and they didn't go easy on someone just because they had only been a trainer for a few weeks.

But hey, who was I to stop another trainer from learning that the hard way?

As I confirmed their booking and retrieved the keys, the woman leaned in slightly, eyes wide behind coral-tinted sunglasses.

"Oh my goodness," she cooed, "you're just so precious! Look at you, working the desk! Isn't he adorable Roger?!"

Then she reached over and booped my nose.

Booped. My. Nose.

It was only Chilton's voice rising from across the lobby that stopped me from attempting to bite the woman's finger off.

"Travis."

I turned, already bracing for a new assignment, but he surprised me with a small nod.

"You can guide them to the Challenge Arena yourself. You'll be performing referee duty, but after that, you're off for the rest of the day."

I blinked. That almost felt like mercy.

Then I caught the slight smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. Ah, he knew I was close to my boiling point. Probably figured the battle would amuse me more than checking in another dozen sunhat-wearing tourists.

I offered him a salute and stepped off my platform.

"Right this way," I said to the trio, gesturing toward a corridor that did not lead directly to the arena.

This was going to be fun.

​

---

The interesting thing about working at a resort run by a Gym Leader?

You learn how to sell disappointment before it arrives.

We didn't head straight to the Challenge Arena. No, I took them the long way, past every glittering, resort-brochure-worthy corner of the Kumquat Grand. I smiled. I gestured. I pointed out every single activity that looked just expensive enough to be worth staying for, even if their "free room" ended up not being so free.

"And over here," I said, sweeping an arm toward the spa wing, "you'll find our battle recovery baths, open to both people and Pokémon, with a certified Aromatherapy Specialist on staff."

(That would be Sal, a former Contest Coordinator whose essential oil blends actually worked. Turns out, if you know what you're doing, a properly diffused Sitrus-Mint infusion can ease confusion in more than just your love life. Don't ask him how he figured that out. You'll regret it. I know I did.)

"To our left, we've got the rooftop battle courts, which are fully equipped with reinforced platforms, psychic barriers, and, if a qualified referee is on shift, the possibility for Bet Battles."

(Guess who that someone tended to be. Spoiler warning: I got my referee license at age 7.)

"And if you're interested in fitness," I added as we passed by the indoor rec deck, "there are yoga classes held every morning on the pool veranda, sometimes with Pokémon partners!"

(Yes, I've been a stand-in instructor. Yes, I have done synchronized downward Houndour with a Machamp. No, I don't want to talk about it.)

The parents cooed and whispered to each other, clearly imagining themselves sipping martinis while their son crushed the Gym Leader. The kid stayed silent, hoodie still up, occasionally mumbling what might have been the chorus to a self-written breakup song.

It wasn't just for show; however, well, okay, it was mostly for show as it gave them time to imagine themselves sipping Moomoo milk lattes by the pool after their "free" Gym Package fell through, but it was also a timing trick.

See Mom didn't just sit on a velvet throne all day waiting for challengers to show up. She ran this place. Scheduling, supply lines, staff disputes, inspections, beach maintenance, a resort's worth of chaos, and Gym Leader duties on top.

So when someone takes the scenic route with a challenger, it's not just a sales pitch. It's a signal.

There were cameras tucked into the corners of every hallway. Little security measures that relayed location and context directly to the back office. By the time we passed the second fountain, Mom would've gotten the alert: Challenger en route. Start prepping the stadium.

By the time we reached the Challenge Arena proper, the tourists were wide-eyed and clearly impressed. Even the kid boggled at the sheer scale of it.

To be fair, it was impressive.

The indoor stadium was walled off from the world like a high-security League facility. It was massive, with wide stands circling the battlefield like a traditional arena, but that was just the ground floor.

What made it special, what made it Kumquat, were the walls.

Because the walls weren't walls at all, they were hotel rooms.

All along the perimeter, one face of every suite in this section of the resort had been built with reinforced, floor-to-ceiling glass balconies. Not to look outward, toward the beach or the waves, no, here, the luxury rooms looked inward, toward the battlefield.

It was showmanship and functionality rolled into one. A little bit of marketing genius that would allow guests to watch live Gym battles while sipping drinks in their robes. Some even ordered room service and treated it like dinner theater.

And on the arena floor, challengers would feel a hundred eyes watching them from above.

I stepped onto the platform near the referee podium and keyed the intercom panel.

"Challenger registered. Leader Luana, standby for arrival."

The lights shifted across the arena. I glanced upward just in time to see a few balcony doors opening, curious heads leaning out, and the quiet hum of interest beginning to rise.

I turned back toward the kid and his parents.

"Feel free to wait on the red line." I nodded toward the challenger's box. "The Gym Leader will be here shortly."

The dad gave me a thumbs-up like we were teammates in a Pokéathlon. The kid muttered something into his hood again. Probably about destiny. Or betrayal. Or how nobody got him.

I leaned against the podium with a sigh, watching the light cues fade in.

After another minute of waiting, a ripple appeared on the other side of the arena.

Not just a shimmer or heat haze, this was a full distortion, like reality being twisted in place.

FWUMP

In a single flash of light, Mom and Alakazam appeared together, side by side on the home platform.

Mom stepped forward with a dramatic swish of her tropical-green battle dress, sunlight-patterned fabric catching the arena lights. Her gold-rimmed sunglasses sat perched atop her head like a crown, red bob perfectly in place despite the teleport. She looked like someone ready for a beach party and a battle, in that exact order.

She instinctively glanced toward the ref podium first, and when she saw me?

"Ohhhh! My baby's refereeing today!" She gasped, hands coming together in a delighted clap. "Look at you up there, so serious! So professional! I could just eat you up!"

She turned slightly to the balconies above and waved with unbridled pride. "Doesn't he look so grown-up, everyone? He's nine, you know! Nine!"

Some of the hotel guests chuckled. One guy actually gave me a thumbs-up from his balcony like I'd done something amazing just by standing still and looking mildly annoyed.

"Gym Leader Luana has entered the field. Final call before the battle starts," I said calmly, ignoring Mom's antics.

Across the field, Hoodie Kid visibly exhaled, probably with relief. To him, Mom probably looked like an overenthusiastic resort host, not the strongest Gym Leader in the Orange League.

Behind me, the air shimmered again as Alakazam reappeared in a flicker of light, hovering calmly just behind the ref stand.

He folded his legs like he was sitting in midair, arms crossed, spoons floating loosely at his sides.

"That hoodie is offensive," said a voice in my head.

The voice was dry, sardonic, and unmistakably young. Maybe early twenties, if I had to guess. Way younger than I'd expected the first time I heard it.

"Good afternoon to you too," I thought outwardly, keeping my tone flat.

"Do you think he cries to Giratina songs, or is he more of a Gengar-core artist?"

I covered my smirk with a cough, before tapping the mic and letting my voice roll across the arena.

"This match will pit the visiting challenger-" I glanced down at the reservation paperwork and had to stifle a sigh-"Danny 'Raze' Morrison against Kumquat Island Gym Leader and Orange Crew member Luana Cashion."

There was a faint beat of silence. Somewhere in the balconies, I swear I could hear someone choking at the cringeworthy nickname.

"The format is a one-round Double Battle. Victory will earn the challenger a Jade Star Badge and a complimentary room at the Kumquat Grand Resort."

I glanced at both competitors and, upon receiving nods from both, raised my hand.

"Battle! Begin!"

"Let's give our guests a good show," Mom beamed, tossing two Pokéballs into the air.

In twin bursts of white light, her Marowak and Farfetch'd landed on the field with practiced ease. No showboating or dramatic posturing, just clean, experienced movement, the kind that only came from years of real battles.

Both Pokémon held themselves with quiet confidence. You had to look closely to see the small scars, the slight asymmetry in muscle from repeated strain and recovery, which were all signs of long-earned strength. Marowak's grip on his bone club was casual but tight. Farfetch'd balanced on the balls of his feet, eyes focused and ready.

They didn't just look trained. They looked seasoned.

On Danny's side of the field, a Houndoom landed heavily on all fours, letting out a low, deliberate growl. Beside it, a Murkrow started to fly, circling low with a faint glint of mischief in its eye.

I spared them a glance.

Decent, but nothing to write home about.

The Houndoom had solid footing but lacked the tightness of true discipline. Murkrow's movements were decent but twitchy, probably used to unstructured battles, maybe street-level scraps. Together, they had synergy on paper, but not much to suggest they'd hold up under real pressure as a team.

I could already tell how this was going to go.

"He's going to start with a combo move and panic when it doesn't land. Five bucks says the Murkrow gets overwhelmed first."

I didn't dignify that with a reply.

(Not because I was against betting mind you, I just didn't take sucker's bets.)

Danny didn't waste a second.

"Flamethrower Houndoom! Murkrow use Gust! Boost it!"

The kid had the smirk of someone who thought they'd just called a championship-winning play. Houndoom reared back, jaws lighting up with a stream of orange flame, a classic straight-shot attack.

As the fire blazed into the air, Murkrow flapped its wings hard and fast, stirring up a rushing wind that caught the Flamethrower mid-flight. The stream of fire stretched, thickened, and surged forward with added velocity.

And Danny, naturally, couldn't help himself.

"Fry 'em!"

I twitched, holding in my exasperation.

Mom didn't even look fazed.

"Farfetch'd," she called easily over the roaring flames, "use Air Cutter!"

Farfetch'd shot forward with a short flap and a sudden, sweeping leek slash. A wave of compressed wind burst out and sliced straight through the Gust-empowered Flamethrower like it was smoke before a fan. The burning stream broke in half, fire scattering wide and fading harmlessly onto the sides of the field, missing both of Mom's Pokémon entirely.

"Marowak, Bonemerang please."

Marowak didn't hesitate and hurled its bone with a sharp flick of the wrist.

The spinning weapon soared straight through the gap created by Farfetch'd's Air Cutter, whistling past Murkrow and slamming into Houndoom mid-inhale to continue the Flamethrower. The Dark-type let out a surprised yelp as it staggered back, eyes wide. The bone arced behind it midair…and came back around for a second hit right to the back of its head before flying back and snapping back to Marowak's hand with a soft whump.

The look on Danny's face, the way his smug grin had vanished like someone flipped a switch, said everything.

"Murkrow, keep the Marowak busy with Wing Attack!" He barked. "Houndoom, shake it off and hit that dumb bird with Thunder Fang!"

It wasn't a terrible call. Murkrow dove sharply toward Marowak, wings glowing faintly white, while Houndoom snarled, sparks crackling along its fangs as it surged toward Farfetch'd with bared teeth.

Mom didn't even flinch.

"Switch."

That was it, one word, and both her Pokémon moved.

Farfetch'd shot forward in a tan blur, a streak of motion carried by an Aerial Ace that launched it diagonally across the battlefield, away from Houndoom entirely and straight into Murkrow's path.

The impact happened in midair.

Murkrow tried to adjust, but it was too late as the speed and angle of Farfetch'd's strike clipped it clean across the chest. Not enough to knock it out, but enough to completely kill its momentum and send it spinning back.

Houndoom, meanwhile, lunged forward even as it tried to hit the already gone Flying Type, and ran right into Marowak.

The ground-type ducked low and met the descending fangs with a rising Bone Club uppercut that cracked against Houndoom's electrified jaw just as its attack made contact.

Houndoom stumbled back, blinking in shock as his fangs sparked uselessly.

Danny's mistake was classic: assume the biggest threat, focus on that single opponent, forget the other typings on the field.

Behind me, Alakazam gave an audible mental sigh.

"They always forget about the Ground-type on the field."

"Yup," I muttered under my breath.

Mom smiled, not smug or cruel, just pleasantly amused, and called across the field in that ever-cheerful voice of hers:

"You've given it a good try, now, let's finish strong. Marowak, delayed Earthquake! Farfetch'd, let's ground that birdie!"

Marowak gave a small grunt and slammed his bone club into the ground with a sudden, forceful crack. The arena floor trembled, subtly at first, then with a growing pulse as stone tiles began buckling and shifting outward in jagged waves.

Danny immediately panicked. "Dodge it Houndoom! Murkrow, stop the Marowak!"

Murkrow wasn't even given a chance, as Farfetch'd was already gone, bursting into the air and rising quickly to meet it mid-flight.

The two clashed in the center of the arena skyscape. Murkrow lunging with Pecks and glancing Wing Attacks. Farfetch'd parrying and circling, its counters and strikes keeping it airborne even without a wingbeat. For a moment, it was a dance, and Farfetch'd clearly knew the steps better.

Then Farfetch'd spun midair, leek glowing dark and wide and swung.

The Brutal Swing connected hard with Murkrow's side.

The smaller bird Pokémon squawked and spiraled downward, feathers scattering as it hit the ground with a thud, just as the intentionally delayed Earthquake hit full force.

Houndoom, still off-balance from the repeated hits to the head, couldn't even attempt to follow its trainer's orders. It caught the brunt of the wave and was thrown off its feet entirely, slamming onto its side with a pained whimper. Murkrow, grounded from the fall, had just enough time to flinch before the tremor rolled over it.

The shaking settled, and both of Danny's Pokémon were down.

I raised my hand.

"Both of the challenger's Pokémon are unable to battle. Victory goes to Gym Leader Luana of Kumquat Island."

Mom smiled sweetly and waved to the watchers above.

Danny, meanwhile, just stared at the field like it had personally betrayed him.

Alakazam's voice floated back into my head, drier than Unova's Desert Resort.

"I give it… ten seconds before he claims it was rigged."

I gave it seven.

 

[IcurasFallen]

Pokémon Version Orange

Arc 1 - The Gathering


Chapter 2
​

---

The elevator chimed like a lazy bellhop as I followed Mom into the penthouse suite with all the enthusiasm of a Slowpoke.

"Drinks?" Mom chirped, already halfway to the kitchen. "I'm thinking Oran smoothies with a Citrus twist!"

"Water's fine," I muttered, kicking off my shoes and collapsing onto the couch like gravity owed me a favor.

Alakazam floated past me and took up his favorite hovering spot near the balcony window. A bowl of Wiki berry ice cream was already floating its way from the kitchen. "You could've called that match before it even began," he noted alongside a bite of berry-flavored goodness. "He had the same combo, even the same panic pivot. Kid needed more than hoodie-based confidence."

"Yeah, well, at least he didn't cry," I grumbled, grabbing a nearby throw pillow and burying my face in it. "That was new."

"Yes, such wonderful progress." Going by his tone, he probably just rolled his eyes. "Maybe next time we'll get a challenger who doesn't think Gengar-core is a battle strategy."

From the kitchen came the whrrr-whrrr-CLANK of a blender being slightly overpowered by frozen berries. Mom's voice soon joined in the mechanical chorus. "I know that face, babycakes. That's your 'I'm exhausted but pretending I'm not' face. You want Bliss to do a Heal Pulse?"

"I'm fine Mom."

"Too late! Bliss!"

A ding came from the hallway as Blissey soon waddled in with a basket of laundry in hand and an expression of maternal concern across her face. She offered me a protein bar, a chilled towel, and a pat on the head before I could even sit up properly.

"I'm drowning in affection," I grumbled even as I placed the towel across my forehead.

Mom settled beside me a moment later, drink in one hand, remote in the other. The battle replay was already queued up on the big screen, though she paused before hitting play.

"Oh, before I forget." She nudged me with an elbow to make sure she had my attention. "You remember what next week is, right?"

I groaned loudly. "Please don't remind. I've been trying not to think about it!"

Mom giggled at my dramatics.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic, it's just our year to host the Family Gathering." She grinned like a woman who didn't care that she was dropping a Thunderbolt on our collective calendar. "We've gotta make sure everything is perfect!"

Muffled curses into the throw pillow were my only reply.

I knew what she meant, of course. The annual parade of palm-leaf business cards and passive-aggressive compliments. A full-blown summit of hoteliers, businessmen and women, and more high-strung individuals than a Beedrill hive.

Because, of course, my family couldn't be normal. No, we were resort owners, world-class architects and artists, and business-class battlers with beachfront empires and enough decorative fountains to irrigate a small town. The kind of people who argued over pool tile colors while wearing Versace and prepared to fight over it with a Pokéball in hand.

And they were all coming here.

"…Please tell me Chilton is at least handling logistics," I pleaded.

Mom just laughed. That wasn't encouraging.

Before I could continue questioning the wisdom of inviting a whole army of hospitality moguls into our home turf, a soft ding sounded from the wall beside the kitchen, drawing attention to the dumbwaiter.

Mom perked up immediately. "That'll be Marowak and Farfetch'd. I had them sent down for a post-match pamper."

She got up and opened the hatch to retrieve the two Pokeballs from the padded compartment inside. I recognized the faint decals etched along the surface. Marowak's had a stylized bone crest, and Farfetch'd's bore a silver leek flourish that he insisted on polishing himself.

"Home sweet home~" Mom sang, giving the balls a little twirl before popping them open in the middle of the living room.

Farfetch'd materialized with a practiced flick of his wings, chest puffed just enough to suggest he knew he looked good.

Marowak arrived with far less flair, simply emerging mid-stretch. He rolled one shoulder, then the other, before settling into a squat against the wall like he was two seconds away from taking a nap.

"Evening fellas. Enjoy the spa package?" Pretty sure I already knew the answer, but it was still polite to ask.

Farfetch'd gave a satisfied kaaa and trotted over to the fruit bowl, clearly expecting it to be replenished since his last raid. Marowak grunted in agreement, absently grabbing up some high-quality sandpaper nearby to temper his weapon of choice. He didn't look at me, but that was normal. Marowak's love language was more about proximity than communication.

Mom clapped her hands once, clearly delighted. "Oh, look at you two! So refreshed! Marowak, your shoulders look looser already. And Farfy, your feathers are glowing! Did you get to try the new conditioner from Kalos?"

Farfetch'd paused mid-melon skewer and nodded with the gravity of a spa connoisseur.

I snorted. "You know they act spoiled because you let them."

Marowak, still squatting, tilted his head at me and gave his club a casual tap against the floor.

I sighed. "Okay, more spoiled."

The truth was, they'd been around me since before I could spell my name. Technically before I could even spell my new name. Marowak was the quiet sentinel, the one who'd stood outside my nursery door like a club-wielding bouncer the week after I got sick. He'd never said much, but I'd caught him more than once adjusting the thermostat when I woke up from an existential nightmare.

Farfetch'd on the other hand had been a menace since day one. He used to swipe my flashcards and hold them hostage until I traded snacks. Once, he'd stolen my homework and returned it graded, in Alakazam's handwriting mind you, but they were still partners in crime.

Mom flopped back onto the couch beside me with an annoyed sigh as she turned on the replay of the battle. "I swear, if I had a Pokédollar for every cocky first-timer who tried that Gust-boosted Flamethrower trick..."

"Right? It looks cool, sure, but the minute your Flying type can't control the updraft, it's just flaming confetti."

She beamed at me. "Classic rookie mistake. I told you, sweetie, that combo's only useful if they've actually trained it."

"Yeah, yeah." I waved her off and took another bite of my protein bar. "Still. You wiped the floor with him. I can already tell the smug levels in here are about to be unbearable."

Farfetch'd squawked in exaggerated offense and immediately pointed his leek at Marowak as if to say, It was all him!

I snorted at the attempt. "Nice try. At least Marowak pretends to be humble."

Marowak shrugged, not even bothering to look up from his tempering.

Mom hummed. "You know," she started slowly, "I was thinking. With the Family Gathering coming up, maybe we can do a team showcase this year? Some friendly duos, add in a little flair, something to show off the Grand's battle staff?"

I shot her an exasperated look. "Mom. Half our family are hoteliers. You know, businesspeople. They don't care about team synergy or move efficiency. They just want to one-up each other with wine lists and how many fountains they installed this year."

She wiggled her fingers. "Exactly! Which is why we have to remind them that our fountains have combat applications!"

Farfetch'd flared his wings in agreement. Alakazam tilted his head and gave me a look that said, 'You're not winning this one.'

I sank further into the couch.

The Gathering was coming, and with it, the full might of the Cashion clan was going to be crammed into one building.

Blissey waddled back in with a tray laden with dinner and gave me a sympathetic pat on the shoulder as she passed.

"Thanks, Bliss. I'll need it."

---

The next few days passed in a blur of logistics, linen samples, and way too many pastel-colored spreadsheets.

With the Family Gathering looming like a Sharpedo fin on the horizon, the entire resort had shifted into high gear.

And by "resort," I mean an actual ecosystem of moving parts. The Kumquat Grand wasn't just a single building after all. It was practically a small town.

The main resort complex alone housed well over a thousand rooms, nearly two hundred suites, a League-grade stadium, two spas, three restaurants, a rooftop garden, a dozen sets of exercise rooms for all your various needs, and an indoor-outdoor pool system that spanned the entirety of the southern wing. And that was just the core.

Surrounding it was an entire beachfront boardwalk lined with specialty shops and vendor stalls, all technically part of the property. Everything from the guest robes to the room soaps was locally produced: artisan linens, small-batch lotions, hand-carved incense diffusers. You name it; we made it. Mom liked to call it "in-house luxury," and it made her very popular with the island's public sector.

It also meant we didn't just have a front desk to prepare.

We had a supply chain.

I spent the better part of one morning elbow-deep in inventory records, helping Chilton cross-check delivery times for custom Moomoo milk soaps while also tracking down a box of misprinted invitation envelopes that had somehow been rerouted to the water filtration annex. (Yes, we had one of those. It was next to the staff-only saltwater therapy bay. Don't ask.)

Blissey, who doubled as senior nursing staff and part-time logistics coordinator, made sure I was hydrated and not dead on my feet. She had an uncanny way of appearing with snacks right when I thought about skipping a meal. She never said a word, just handed me a protein bar, patted my head, and walked off like she'd performed a sacred duty.

Then there was Momo.

Momo the Machamp had been part of Mom's team longer than anyone but Alakazam. Built like a brick house in motion, Momo ran heavy lifting, onsite construction tweaks, and occasionally helped move stubborn guests who thought "no Pokémon in the western spa pool" was just a suggestion.

I ran into Momo twice that week, once while hauling half a dozen crates of tropical centerpiece arrangements through the main lobby. The second time, she was helping the maintenance crew reinforce the aerial platform seating in the stadium, with one arm, while also eating an entire durian fruit.

Between that, running errands for Sal in the spa wing, coordinating delivery drop-offs from our island-tailored vendors, and serving as a glorified runner for Chilton, I barely had time to breathe. Farfetch'd mocked me from the rafters. Marowak pretended to be asleep on the lobby chaise whenever I passed by. Even Alakazam had stopped offering commentary, probably because I no longer had the brainpower to be witty in return.

By the fourth day, I was back at the front desk again, wrist-deep in laminated welcome packets, double-checking room assignments, and printing fresh name tags for relatives I technically saw every year but still had to greet like they'd stepped off a private jet from another timeline.

Chilton swept past with the poise of someone who organized guest logistics like it was a competitive sport. He set a color-coded folder on the counter beside me with all the grim finality of a man delivering a sentence rather than paperwork.

"It appears that the Riches will not be able to make it this year."

For a moment, I just stared at him, then at the folder, then at the stack of name tags I had just finished for the aforementioned relatives.

"What is it this time?" I asked, dumping the name tags in a nearby trash can with perhaps a bit more force than necessary. I really shouldn't be surprised though; the Riches always had something come up.

They never missed intentionally, mind you. They just lost more battles to the universe than most members of the Family.

Chilton winced. "Unova had a bit of an incident. Their storm legendaries decided to get into a curfuffle right outside Undella Town. The Riches and most of their neighbors have been pulled into emergency response, evacuations and damage control, that sort of thing."

I sucked in a sympathetic breath. "Right. That would definitely do it."

Chilton gave a small nod, the kind that said he did not enjoy being the bearer of bad news, even when it technically made my workload lighter.

I glanced down at the stack of welcome packets still to sort. Thirty-seven badges to go. Possibly more if Rayna brought her art team again. Or if Uncle Walton sent the wrong guest list like last time.

Then the lobby doors opened up like the heralds of further bad news.

I didn't even need to look up. I felt it, that distinct aura of someone who didn't come for the amenities, the view, or even the signature Moomoo Milk lattes. No, this was a Challenge Energy™ entrance.

Sure enough, a couple walked up to the counter. The guy of the pair walked up with a swagger and was wearing a black tank top under a half-unzipped travel jacket, trying to look like he hadn't rehearsed this exact moment in a mirror. Behind him, his probable girlfriend strolled in with the detached energy of someone tagging along for the free ride.

"Welcome to the Kumquat Grand," I said with my best front-desk smile. "Are you here for a room or the Gym Challenge?"

The guy smirked in that way jerks always seem to manage naturally. "Challenge. Heard this place was tough, figured I'd see what all the fuss is about."

Of course.

"Standard format?" I asked, ignoring the small dig with practiced ease. "Or do you want to attempt the Gym Package, where, if you win, you get a comped suite. If you lose, you still get a room, just with a bill."

He chuckled snidely. "Nah, just the challenge. We're heading out after I win."

Well, someone was confident.

I tapped the system terminal and triggered the automated notification to the Gym Office. A moment later, the front desk comm lit up with a soft buzz.

"Gym Office to Front Desk. Go ahead."

I hit the mic. "Hey, we've got a walk-in challenger requesting Standard Format."

There was a beat of silence.

Then Mom's voice came through, slightly muffled and very much in the middle of something. "Seriously? Now? Of course it'd be now. Tell them they'll have to wait—no, no, wait—Bliss, where's my blazer—Travis, change of plans. You'll be taking this one."

I blinked. "Come again?"

"I've got a video conference in three minutes with the Mandarin South terminal about travel itineraries, and I can't reschedule again. Bliss says I'm out of grace periods. You're up, kiddo."

"You sure?" I glanced over at the challenger who was busy checking his reflection in the chrome elevator panel. "He looks like the type to try and take a swing at me when he loses."

"You'll be fine," Luana said breezily. "You have permission to go all out. Make him regret wasting our prep time."

I hesitated, then leaned into the comm mic. "Okay…can I use Marowak and Sandy?"

There was a pause.

"Oh-ho-ho, you want to run that combo?" Mom's voice was bright and just a little wicked. "Brutal. I love it. Go have fun babycakes."

The comm clicked off.

I exhaled through my nose, then turned to the boyfriend. "Looks like you're in luck."

He looked back, confused. "Yeah?"

"You'll be facing the Leader's son."

"…Wait, you?"

"That's right." I fished two familiar Pokéballs out of a nearby dumbwaiter that connected up to the Gym Office. "I'm certified as an Acting Gym Leader. Got my license last year. I'm allowed to accept and conduct matches in the name of the Kumquat Gym…as long as Mom says so first."

He stared. "But, wait, are you even old enough to be a Trainer yet? Do you even have any Pokémon?"

"Nope," I said, popping the 'p'. "But I do know how to use hers."

I walked past him with a nod toward the shortest arena route. "Follow me. Battle will begin shortly."

---

The arena was bathed in late-afternoon light, a soft golden light filtering down through the glass-paneled dome. The stands were mostly empty, just a few early arrivals watching from balconies and one curious little girl peeking through the stairwell railing with an Igglybuff plush in her arms.

I took my place on the home platform while the challenger swaggered up to his own.

"Seriously," he chuckled snidely. "She's got her kid filling in?"

"Only when she's double-booked," I answered dryly. "I wouldn't take it personally. Think of it as us going easy on you."

He snorted. "You gonna use that Alakazam and Marowak combo she's famous for?"

I paused, thumb resting over one of the Pokéballs.

"Nah," I replied with a growing grin. "I'm gonna make this interesting."

I looked up toward the Gym Office's observation window, half expecting to feel a disapproving psychic hum from Alakazam, yet got nothing.

"Marowak," I said aloud, "and Sandy."

The challenger blinked. "Sandy?"

I tossed both Pokéballs.

Marowak landed first, bone club already spinning in his hand like a baton of impending regret.

The second flash hit the battlefield with a low, sandy ripple. A tower of ghostly sand rose up from the platform's edge, eyes glowing like buried embers under a hood of sediment.

The challenger's smirk faltered at the latter's appearance. "What the heck is that?!"

I just smiled. "A Palossand. Mom doesn't use Sandy all that often. Says it's too one-sided for casual matches."

Mom's voice came through the overhead PA, filtered but unmistakably cheerful.

"Have fun, sweetie!"

A pause.

"…Also, try not to flatten the poor boy too hard. We still want good reviews!"

A soft click followed as the intercom shut off, and the arena lights shifted, pulsing outward from the center to draw attention toward the field.

The referee stepped up onto the central platform. A stocky guy in a resort uniform with aviators, broad shoulders, and a whistle around his neck. I recognized him immediately, Big Wayne, one of our resort's groundskeeping supervisors who'd gotten way too into the idea of "helping out" after earning his referee license during the off-season a few years back.

He raised one hand with performative enthusiasm, his voice booming across the arena like he was auditioning for a local league spotlight match.

"This match will pit visiting challenger Rocky Magnum," Oh no, that name's real, "against Acting Gym Representative Travis Cashion, standing in for Kumquat Island Gym Leader and Orange Crew member, Luana Cashion."

"Standard Double Battle Format. One round. Victory will result in a Jade Star Badge and challenge credit."

He looked between us with the kind of theatrical seriousness usually reserved for surf competitions and resort-wide water balloon fights.

"Trainers, send out your Pokémon!"

Rocky Magnum (yes, really) snapped two Pokéballs from his belt and flung them overhead with a spin that would've been more impressive if he hadn't nearly hit his girlfriend on the return catch.

In twin flashes of light, a Poliwrath landed with a grunt of challenge, its fists already pumping, while a towering Rhydon slammed down beside it, letting out a low bellow that shook the platform beneath us.

Both looked strong. Not Gym Leader-tier, but solid. Their stances were steady with little wasted motion.

Not that it would matter.

"Battle! Begin!"

"Poliwrath, Bubblebeam wide!" Rocky called immediately. "Rhydon, Rock Slide up!"

A blast of bubbles and a cascade of shimmering stones shot across the battlefield in unison, the first barreling low to the ground while the stones arched high and were meant to rain chaos across my side of the field before I had time to breathe.

I sighed internally.

Combo moves. Always combo moves. Mom had clocked it years ago, and I had been quick to notice. Nine out of ten trainers opened with something flashy and wide-area, hoping to hit something before the field settled. It looked good, it sounded good, and it worked against half-trained teams who panicked early.

But we didn't train for looks.

"Marowak, Sandy, Bulldoze!"

In perfect tandem, both Pokémon slammed their respective limbs into the arena floor, causing twin ripples of earth to surge forward like twin tidal waves of dirt and stone.

The Bubblebeam barely made it halfway across the arena before the wave slammed into it, the bubbles popping like watery grenades against the rising quake. The Rock Slide fared slightly better; some of the stones made it over and even connected as Marowak was forced to smack some away and Sandy outright tanked his, but the wave stopped any more from being formed.

Then the Bulldoze struck.

The enemy team stumbled, not fully toppled, but caught off guard. Instead of meeting a flat battlefield, they were suddenly "surfing" the last broken edge of the wave, footing thrown off and balance compromised. It wasn't enough to do serious damage, but it was enough to leave them stunned for a few precious seconds.

Pulling out a pair of goggles I kept on hand, I felt my lips quirk up.

"Sandstorm!" I ordered, snapping the goggles over my eyes.

Both of my Pokémon responded immediately. Marowak struck the floor again with a sharp twist, and Sandy's body pulsed with unnatural light as loose particles began to rise.

Dust and grit lifted into the air. The wind stirred. Then it howled.

A roaring cyclone of earth and grit surged into existence around the battlefield, blinding and furious, thick with storm-churned sand.

From the balconies above, I heard a few guests groan.

Yeah, this was why Mom didn't use this team combo unless she was feeling mean. Sure, it was brutally effective, but the guests couldn't see anything once the Sandstorm really got going, which was obviously bad for audience scores.

I didn't care, not today.

Let them write whatever they wanted on the comment cards; I had a badge to protect.

The Sandstorm raged, whipping across the arena in violent gusts. Visibility dropped to almost nothing, just silhouettes and motion through a grainy curtain. Somewhere across the field, Rocky cursed before shouting a command that the wind swallowed whole.

From the grit came a shrill burst of water pressure as a Hydro Pump streaked blindly through the storm in staggered volleys. One blast struck a far pillar of the arena and cracked it with a wet snap. The others fizzled against the floor, missing everything.

A moment later, jagged pillars of stone ripped through the ground, what I thought to be Rhydon's Stone Edge erupting like geysers in different directions. One slammed into the edge of Sandy's last known location. Another slammed into the stadium barrier high up enough to draw a startled yelp from a guest who ducked back on instinct.

Still, none of them hit.

Perfect.

I stepped up to the edge of the platform and spoke low enough that my opponent couldn't possibly hear:

"Sandy. Left front quadrant. Close to me."

There was no sound or visual cue, but I could just make out a faint ghostly moan in the sand filled air around me.

Good.

The Palossand had flattened itself against the edge of the field, just near my platform, its form half-sunken into the sand-blasted earth to look like part of the terrain. The way the grains shifted around it, you wouldn't know it was there unless you were looking, and even then, it was doubtful.

"Sandy, drain them wherever you feel them close enough."

There was another faint moan.

Then two flashes of dark green burst from opposite ends of the stadium nearest me. Sandy's no doubt flattened and stretched out limbs sending out tendrils of Grass Type energy that arced through the grit and slammed into unseen targets. One gurgle and grunt came through the sand filled air. Giga Drain had hit home.

"Pass the word along and tell Marowak to hit and run. Keep them guessing," I added, mouth threatening to quirk upward into a smirk.

Another silent ripple through the field.

After all, even if Marowak could hear any shouted orders over the howling storm, thus revealing said orders to the opponent, that didn't matter with Sandy on the field. His senses extended like a sand-enhanced sixth sense, allowing him to pass the message across the battlefield with ease.

Seconds later, a shadow darted in the haze of swirling sand and cracked forward with a thunk of bone-on-rocky flesh. Marowak emerged just long enough to land a Bone Club against Rhydon's thigh before vanishing back into the storm.

Another flash of dark green light impacted the opponent, and Marowak leapt in to deliver a sharp Brick Break across Poliwrath's chest before they could shake off the supereffective hits.

Rocky growled loud enough for me to hear through the storm. "What is this hide-and-hit garbage?! Poliwrath use Surf! Flood the whole damn field!"

My lips twitched. Wrong choice pal. "Sandy! Form up and block it!"

The wind shifted.

The sand moved.

Like a living thing, the entire storm surged inward, gathering and spiraling into a single point.

The outline of Palossand grew from a crouching dune to a rising fortress. His body grew with the weight of all the excess sand their combined storm had produced.

The crowd watching gasped as the sandstorm died out and revealed Sandy in his new titanic glory.

Then the Surf slammed into Sandy's massive, now towering form with a thunderous splash and didn't move him an inch.

Instead, the water vanished into his body, swallowed up by ghostly sediment. Sandy's form rippled and shifted, glowing faintly with the effect of his Water Compaction ability. His physical Defense spiked as his body solidified into something closer to stone than sand.

Rocky cursed.

I pointed forward.

"Sandy. Body Slam."

The massive Palossand fell. Not quickly, he wasn't built for speed, but like an avalanche made living. A wall of momentum, crashing forward with a roar of sliding grit and force.

"Poliwrath, Rhydon, stop it! Double Ice Punch!"

Twin figures charged in desperation, fists glowing bright blue as frost formed mid-strike.

"Marowak! Protect!"

And Sandy's body split open, revealing Marowak like a fired projectile from where he had been hidden inside.

The attacks struck the hastily made barrier with a resounding crack, yet the barrier held firm, repelling both with a flare of energy.

And that was all Sandy needed.

Marowak mock saluted them as he fell backwards into a shallow Dig, allowing him to dodge as Sandy slammed into duo like a living landslide.

Rocky attempted to throw out an order, but the words were easily swallowed under the mountainous crash that shook the field. Sand and debris hung in the air for a time as we all waited to see the result of the attack.

It was the shifting of sand that revealed the truth. The attack had broken Sandy's body into enough pieces that his more malleable form was what rose up to reveal the knocked-out forms of his opponents.

He threw the silent crowd a hesitant wave.

From the central platform, Big Wayne blew his whistle with a sharp trill.

"Both of the challenger's Pokémon are unable to battle!" he called. "The Round goes to Sandy and Marowak, and Victory goes to the Kumquat Gym!"

A polite round of applause swept out from a few balcony guests at the nearly anti-climactic ending. One kid in a novelty Slowpoke onesie did give a full standing ovation. It was adorable.

"Good job guys!" I called to my teammates for the match. Marowak huffed from where he had popped out of the ground in front of my stand, while Sandy gave me a hum and full-body nod.

Across the field, Rocky just stood there, hands at his sides, staring at the wreckage of his team.

"You…that was cheap," he muttered as I walked across the field with my Pokémon.

I tilted my head. "It was a Sandstorm. You watched me set it up."

He scowled. "Yeah, well, I couldn't see a thing!"

"That was kind of the point." I shrugged. "You came in swinging. I built the field to last. If you weren't ready for that…maybe come back when you are?"

He looked like he wanted to slug me, but stopped himself upon a small smack sounded from Marowak resting his club in his offhand. Rocky just ended up sighing and recalled his fainted Pokémon without another word.

Good call.

From the overhead speaker, Mom's voice chimed in again, cheerful and sing-song:

"Good job baby! Be sure to offer him a coupon on his way out! We like to lose them gently!"

I rolled my eyes and stepped away.

The walk to the Gym locker room was mainly spent trying to shake sand from my clothes, Sandy being a helpful guy and pulling what little he could feel with his senses.

The locker room was quiet and mercifully cool after the heat of battle. I took a moment to lean against the wall and let out a slow breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.

One match. That's all it had been.

And yet, looking down at my hands, I couldn't hold back the wild grin that had threatened to cover my face the whole match.

I could still feel the adrenaline humming in my fingers. The faint echo of howling sand and blood roaring in my ears.

It wasn't my first time standing in for Mom, yet it always felt like a reminder that someday soon, I wouldn't be borrowing anyone's team. Thar soon it would be me and my team out there, battling it out and letting our emotions run wild-

A scaly hand touching my arm pulled me back to the present. Marowak, looking at me with fondness in his eyes, but also an exasperated shake of his head.

Flushing a bit at getting caught out, I breathed deep a moment before straightening up and returning the duo. Chilton would probably have another stack of name tags waiting for me after all, and Blissey would no doubt insist I drink some water. Someone, probably Farfetch'd, would inevitably try to trip me on the stairs.

And tomorrow?

Tomorrow, the Family will start arriving.

A whole clan of resort tycoons, smiling assassins in sunglasses and silk, here to judge everything from thread counts to battle finesse.

I sighed and shoved my hands in my pockets.

One battle down.

One Gathering to survive.

 

[IcurasFallen]

Pokémon Version Orange

Arc 1 - The Gathering


Chapter 3
​

---

The breeze down at the dock was cool, salty, and just strong enough to tousle hair in a way that looked deliberate. It was the kind of morning that belonged in brochures.

Unfortunately, I didn't get to enjoy it.

The ocean was calm, the weather was perfect…and that meant family was arriving early.

"Uncle Manu could've flown," I muttered as I stared out at my newest source of annoyance. "He owns a fleet of Flying-types and literal planes. Kahili's flying in later on a Pokémon like a reasonable person. But nooo, he wants to dock a floating island right in the middle of our docks."

Chilton didn't look up from his clipboard. "You're talking to yourself again, Mr. Cashion."

"I've earned the right to complain," I replied flatly. "That yacht's bigger than our stadium twice over."

To be fair, Uncle Manu at least had the decency to double up. He'd picked up Aunt Jacki and Rayna on his way through the Seveii Islands, which spared us from multiple supersized vessels fighting for dock space, so small mercies.

The said yacht began its final approach, slicing through the water with a slow, graceful authority. Sleek, multi-decked, and shining under the tropical sun. The nautical vessel looked like it had been carved from obsidian and chrome. The name Ka Pali Aloha shimmered along the side in smooth, polished script: "The Beloved Cliffs," in Alolan. Very on-brand.

Uncle Manu (he was actually my great-uncle, but semantics) was first off, because of course he was. Tall, wind-swept, and perpetually tan, he wore his age like a badge and his wealth like a tailored breeze. His thankfully tasteful Alolan print shirt was open to exactly the point it could be without being impolite, and his sandals probably cost more than our VIP suites.

Following close behind was Aunt Jacki, all pearls and precision, her summer gown fluttering slightly in the sea breeze as if nature itself respected her status. She moved like someone who had never had to push her own luggage.

Following her mother in sharp contrast, Rayna was dressed like a well-off college art student. A black beret covered her bubble gum pink hair, an oversized sketchpad was held under one arm, and her Smeargle clung to her shoulder like a proud co-pilot, tail-tip already twitching like it wanted to use the dock as a canvas.

And then came the entourage.

Dozens of staff poured out: the yacht crew, stylists, culinary aides, luggage managers, Rayna's personal art team, and at least one guy whose entire job, near as I could tell, was making sure Rayna didn't lose her favorite brush.

Thankfully, we'd been prepping for this all week, so while it was doubtless going to be chaos, it was at least organized chaos.

"Travis!" Rayna bounded down the dock, Smeargle flapping in the wind in her rush to nearly tackle me in a hug. "You grew again! You're almost…uh…medium height!"

"Thanks, Rayna," I deadpanned from between her noodle arms that were trying and failing to spin me like in a cartoon. "I'll aspire to reach short king status by the end of the year."

She laughed easily, releasing me and spinning in a half-circle even with her failure to bring me along for the ride. "Did you hear that? He's aiming for royalty!"

Smeargle barked once in agreement before smearing a tiny crown across the dock's welcome plaque with its tail.

Chilton sighed beside me. "We'll sandblast that later."

"I'm not even going to pretend we won't."

Uncle Manu approached next, arms open and smile wide. "Travis my boy! Good to see you! Your mother keeping the ship afloat?"

"Only because I've been patching the hull."

He laughed like a man who owned every boat in the marina. (Because he did.) "That's the spirit!"

Aunt Jacki followed behind, offering a crisp nod. "Our accommodations?"

"Fully prepared and waiting," I replied smoothly.

She gave the slightest of approving nods, which was the Aunt Jacki version of a beaming smile.

As more of the entourage filed in, Chilton began issuing orders for unpacking with quiet efficiency, and I took the chance to step aside.

Uncle Manu turned to glance back over his shoulder. "Your least favorite uncle and aunt are coming on the afternoon ferry. Leo didn't want to dock his ship in the same bay as mine again. Said it made him feel poor."

"Thank Arceus," I muttered under my breath, ignoring his attempt at humor, before asking louder, "Kylie and Roman are with them?"

"Of course," Uncle Manu huffed. "Rebecca wouldn't miss a chance to complain about the humidity, and you know Kylie loves to gossip with your mother."

"And Roman?"

He snickered like a man in his twenties instead of the sixties he was. "Roman will do what Kylie tells him."

"Smart man."

"Hey! Hey, someone stop it!"

We all turned as a cluster of yacht crew began scrambling around the gangplank, yelling over one another and pointing at something darting between their legs.

Then I saw it. A blur of yellow and sparks.

Small, fast, and wild-eyed, a Pichu tore across the pier like its tail was on fire. It didn't just run. It launched, springing off crates, ricocheting off railings, and, at one point, vaulting off the back of a man's head like it was competing in a parkour league.

"Oh, for-" Uncle Manu clicked his tongue. "That damn thing's a stowaway. Been onboard since we left home. Nobody could catch it. Slipped through every net, trap, and food lure we tried."

"You couldn't catch a landlocked Electric-type on a boat? In the middle of the ocean?" I asked in genuine bewilderment.

He gave a helpless shrug. "It disappeared into the ventilation system. Do you want to be the guy who tears apart a luxury yacht to catch a half-pound electric rat?"

Aunt Jacki made a sharp, unimpressed noise. "So you knew your vessel had vermin."

"Not vermin, just a highly mobile and emotionally unavailable guest," Rayna corrected with a snicker.

The crew had formed a loose perimeter now, assisted by some of our dockhands, but it wasn't working. The Pichu juked through them like it knew what they were doing before they did. One unfortunate staffer lunged too slowly and wound up face-first in a pile of luggage.

Which is also just about the time the little blur changed direction outright.

Namely, our direction.

"Oh absolutely not," Aunt Jacki snapped, already reaching for a Pokéball. "I am not getting zapped before breakfast."

Everyone reached for something. Uncle Manu's hand was already up, summoning a flash of steel and wings as his Skarmory burst from its Pokéball. Chilton, ever the professional, released a Sandslash, already curling to brace for impact.

Then Rayna stepped forward with her hand outstretched. "Wait, wait, wait! Let me try first! Smeargle use Spore!"

Smeargle leapt from her shoulder and twirled its tail like a wand, releasing a cloud of shimmering powder across the dock.

And what occurred next could only be described as cartoonish in nature as the Pichu hit the edge of the cloud at a sprint, then flipped.

It twisted midair in a corkscrew spin, just barely changing trajectory…and it was enough that the Spore cloud swept directly into the lunging Skarmory and Sandslash before either could react.

Both Pokémon immediately slumped where they stood.

"What!" Aunt Jacki's voice pitched upward to somewhere between outrage and offense. "Rayna!"

"I-he-he dodged it!" Rayna flailed. "He's got movement tech!"

And then the Pichu was on me.

I barely had time to blink before something scrambled up my pant leg, kicked off my chest, and launched directly off my face. Feet in my eye, tail in my mouth, the whole package.

As it sprang, there was a sharp and hopefully unintentional Zap that lit up my nerves like a broken power socket. I stumbled backward with an undignified sound that I refused to call a yelp.

By the time I recovered, the Pichu had already bounced off a mooring post and vanished into the marina's foliage, a flicker of yellow and sparks streaking into the distance.

Silence fell.

Uncle Manu sighed. "Well. That happened."

Chilton knelt beside his unconscious Sandslash with a look of mild exasperation. "I just polished him."

Aunt Jacki had one hand on her chest and the other curled into a fist. "That's it. I'm declaring a personal war on electric rodents."

Rayna was still watching the horizon like the Pichu might come back to pose for a sketch. "He was so cute, though."

I slowly rubbed at my face and looked at my palm. Dirt, possibly soot, and the faint smell of singed linen lingered.

"Dear Arceus, I hate mornings."

---

Later that afternoon, the Kumquat Grand's largest ballroom (aptly named "The Grand Ballroom") had become a battlefield of its own.

Not in the literal sense, but in the way only extended family reunions could be. Half the room was polished marble floors and chandeliers. The other half was polished egos and passive-aggressive commentary.

There were nearly three hundred people scattered around now, clustered at linen-covered tables or mingling near the indoor fountain that someone had definitely spiked with berry wine. These weren't the names I grew up with. These were the orbiters, the "once removed," the "third cousins by marriage," and the "long-lost uncle who owns a boutique property in Scissor Street near Celadon City, and thinks that qualifies them for some kind of inheritance."

I stood near one of the food tables, trying to look busy even as a woman in a sapphire sarong attempted to corner me.

"I'm sure you don't remember me, but I held you when you were this big!" She pinched the air like she was crushing a bug.

"Ah," I hummed politely. "So…yesterday?"

She laughed like I'd just made her month. "Still a firecracker, I see! You know, I helped your mother plan the very first Kumquat Christmas gala."

I nodded like I hadn't heard similar stories a dozen times over the years. "She always said it wouldn't have come together without your Swanna-shaped ice sculpture."

"Oh!" She gasped, delighted. "You do remember!"

I didn't. I just knew that this relative was obsessed with them.

Thankfully, or maybe unfortunately, I was saved by the arrival of someone worse.

"Travis! Good to see ya lad!" Boomed a tall man in a wide-collared floral shirt that clashed with itself. "Still keeping that hair a little too short, I see."

"Uncle Walton," I said evenly, offering the blandest smile I could manage. "Your shirt is…confident."

He beamed. "Custom print. I had it made after we closed the deal on that Sinnoh cliffside retreat. Only six rooms, but the exclusivity is the real seller. I've got a waitlist five months long!"

"Impressive," I said, and meant it in the most neutral way possible.

Behind him, I spotted his eldest daughter, my cousin Trina, and her partner, whatshisname, engaged in a very intense conversation with one of our resort chefs about gluten-free Poffin plating. To their left, his youngest son was showing someone his photos of a beach he was thinking of buying. Thinking of. It wasn't his yet, mind you. He was just emotionally invested in it.

Still, I had to admit, the ballroom had turned out nicely.

Chilton and Blissey had outdone themselves on décor. The white tablecloths had purple and gold runners styled after the Kumquat Grand logo, and soft tropical jazz played gently from the speakers set into the arches overhead. Waitstaff moved like synchronized swimmers between social clusters, distributing drinks and snacks with unsettling grace.

I clocked Mom across the ballroom holding court, or more accurately, being cornered by a knot of relatives who didn't know how to attend a family event without bringing a clipboard.

They weren't here to catch up. They were here to evaluate.

I could see one man gesturing toward the ceiling moldings, lips moving with the precise movements of someone suggesting "an elegant ceiling mural that reflects regional heritage." Another woman was holding a tablet sideways and doing some kind of rough linework over an image of one of the soda fountains, probably trying to show how "with just a few tweaks, it could tie in the whole atrium experience."

I held in a sigh. These were the ones who never quite relaxed. The people who turned every vacation into a pitch meeting. Their conversations always started with "Now, have you considered…" and ended with the cornered relative coming up with some excuse that saw them not talking to that particular relative for the rest of the night.

I glanced toward the main entrance.

Still no sign of Uncle Leo, Aunt Rebecca, Kylie, or Roman. They were due in minutes, assuming the ferry hadn't hit another delay. Once they arrived, the real event would start.

Until then, I prepared to survive the prelude.

I began edging my way toward the far end of the ballroom, where the lighting was a little warmer and the voices a little weirder. Where Rayna had planted her flag. Or easel rather.

The "Fun Table", as Reyna dubbed it every year.

You could always tell where the artists congregated. The people who were more in touch with art, music, and even architecture for the sake of looking good than being totally functional. There were fewer pressed suits and more flowing sleeves, and the scent of ink and lavender oil lingered in the air. I could already spot one guy sketching a waiter in motion mid-pour like it was part of a speed challenge.

Rayna had claimed the corner with the confidence of someone who knew no one would try to reassign her seat. She was half-reclined on a lounge chair which she had definitely forced one of our staff to move from another part of the building. A palette of macarons were arranged in a gradient on the table beside her like an edible color wheel, and Smeargle lounged at her feet with a wet cloth draped over its head like a headband.

It was, by comparison, a peaceful haven.

Rayna spotted me and beamed. "Did you finally abandon punch bowl duty?"

"Temporarily," I mulishly corrected, pulling out a chair. "It got too crowded, and someone was taking selfies with the centerpiece tower like it was a wedding cake."

"We do not talk about the Unova brunch incident," said one of our various cousins (who I was pretty sure was named Marcus on the Hoenn side and an architect), without looking up.

"Wasn't going to," I returned dryly. "But now I'm thinking about it again."

Rayna slid a pile of pale blue macaroons toward me. "Here. Artisanal amnesia."

"Bless you."

The conversation at the artist's table soon drifted toward impromptu collaborations, something about a commemorative mosaic installation in the pool courtyard at Resort Gorgeous made entirely from recycled Poké Balls and sea glass.

Rayna was sketching ideas between bites, Smeargle offering the occasional tail-flick of approval like a mildly invested art critic.

I was just starting to feel like I might survive the evening when the lights around the upper arches dimmed slightly. Not enough to disrupt the vibe, but enough to signal attention.

The staff member stationed at the ballroom's upper landing entrance let out a polite yet loud harrumph. His name was Derek, and his sole job this evening was announcing people. He wore a gold-trimmed vest and the expression of a man who took great pride in pronunciation.

He tapped his mic once and spoke with all the reverence of an opera usher:

"Now arriving: Leonardo and Rebecca Cashion, Heads of the Grand Lake Estate."

A few heads turned immediately. Conversations quieted. The entrance doors opened wide.

The older couple walked side by side, composed and regal, like they'd just stepped out of a promotional shoot for Sinnoh's Most Prestigious. Great Uncle Leo's cane was more decorative than functional, etched with a stylized Salamence mid roar, and Great Aunt Rebecca's gown shimmered like it had been woven from Lake Valor's moonlight. Neither looked rushed, despite their nearly late arrival.

They didn't need the fanfare to turn heads. Presence and reputation did the work for them.

"And accompanying them, Miss Kylie Cashion, Heiress to the Grand Lake Estate and owner of the Seven Stars Street, and her fiancé, Master Chef Roman Célestin, head chef of the Seven Stars Restaurant."

Then came Kylie, quiet confidence in motion. She wore a tailored blue-and-white dress that subtly echoed her estate's signature colors. Her hair was pulled back into a polished twist, and her posture struck the perfect balance between formality and intent.

Beside her walked Roman, all calm precision. His chef's whites were clean-cut and custom-embroidered to look more like a dress uniform than something the help would wear. He had the bearing of someone used to scrutiny and was unbothered by it.

The whispers started before they even exited the doorway proper.

"She's running the whole of Seven Star Street herself right now. Impressive-"

"-handpicked staff from what I hear. Cleaned house in under six months."

"-Roman used to be a Connoisseur. You can taste it in his pairings!"

It wasn't just admiration. It was awareness. They were a power couple in progress, and everyone was watching.

I leaned slightly toward Rayna. "Cue the social hierarchy reshuffle in three…two…"

"I bet twenty that three tables realign themselves," she cut in. "Maybe four."

"I'll take that bet and raise you another ten."

Before I could see the result of our bet; however, it appears I had work to do.

I locked eyes with Mom across the crowd, and she gave a two-finger point, a slight tilt of her head toward the main entrance, and a look that very clearly said 'You know what to do.'

I sighed, pushed back from the artist table, and made my way through the throng.

These weren't just guests.

They were our people. The inner circle of success stories. Of the entire extended family, only a few names carried real weight:

Leonardo and Rebecca Cashion, owners of the Grand Lake Estate, easily the most prestigious resort in all of Sinnoh. Their Lakeside Hotel was practically a national landmark, and the Seven Stars Street? A street containing over a hundred high-end establishments on top of the multiregional famous Seven Stars Restaurant? You don't even try booking without knowing someone.

Uncle Manu, of course, with his Hana Grand Hotel in Alola, which was equal parts luxury resort and cultural ambassador hub. Helped along the way with his ownership of basically the entirety of Alola's public airways.

Finally, of those actually present for the Gathering this year, there was Aunt Jacki, founder and owner of Resort Gorgeous in the Sevii Islands. Her own success was of particular note considering the woman had built it from scratch. She had bought the land, raised the funding, and designed the concept. She didn't inherit greatness. She created it. That alone earned her a seat at the metaphorical (and literal) high table.

These weren't the relatives who floated along on connections or nostalgia. They ran things.

So yeah, Mom wanted the welcome to be official. Coordinated.

Which is why I nearly face-planted when Uncle Manu ignored all of it.

"LEO!" he bellowed, striding past the forming reception line like a Tauros in a china shop. "You wrinkled bastard, you actually showed up on time for once!"

Uncle Leo barely had time to brace himself before Uncle Manu clapped him on the back with a grin wide enough to be a security concern.

"Still dressing like a retired professor on holiday I see." Uncle Manu stepped back to give him a once-over. "Please tell me that cane's just for show, or I'm going to start having existential concerns about our generation's shelf life."

"Hello to you too, brother," Uncle Leo replied dryly, adjusting the shoulder Manu had nearly realigned. "Still wearing shirts that look like they lost a bet with a fruit stand?"

Ignoring the near traditional snark contest between brothers, Aunt Rebecca leaned toward Mom as she arrived to officially greet the group.

"Remind me why we allow them in the same hemisphere?"

Mom grinned cheekily. "Mostly comic relief. And some plausible deniability."

She reached out and pulled Aunt Rebecca into a hug with genuine warmth. "Welcome back to the Grand, Rebecca. Leo. Kylie, Roman, it's wonderful to have you here."

"Everything looks spectacular," Kylie said sincerely, her eyes already scanning the architectural updates near the ceiling. "You remodeled the archwork?"

"Last spring," Mom nodded. "We used coastal stone. It keeps the temperature down during peak sun hours."

Kylie gave an impressed nod. Roman was already eyeing the drink trays with the quiet focus of a man evaluating garnish technique.

I stepped up beside Mom and offered a similarly warm smile, the attempts at 'high end courtesy' obviously ruined from the start. "It's good to see you all again. Your luggage will be delivered to your suites, and I promise no one's added a rooftop maze or gravity-defying water feature since your last visit."

Uncle Leo gave me a look of exaggerated disappointment. "Where's your sense of ambition Travis?"

"Buried somewhere under the poolside cabana bar."

He gave a small chuckle, and Aunt Rebecca cracked a smile, just in time for the next wave of arrivals to step through the ballroom doors.

Their entourage wasn't as large as Uncle Manu's or Aunt Jacki's, thank Arceus, but they carried themselves with the kind of quiet efficiency that said professional, high-functioning, and don't touch the luggage. Coordinators, stylists, maybe an assistant chef or two trailing behind Roman. Most had the well-practiced calm of people used to high-profile travel.

Except one.

Near the back of the group, a young woman hovered just behind the main cluster, looking a little overwhelmed by the opulence. She wore a pale lilac dress with understated accessories, her brown hair was pinned back in soft waves, and her eyes flicked across the ballroom like she wasn't quite sure if she should be here.

Kylie was the one to turn, gave a warm wave, and beckoned forward with a smile that said 'You're going to be fine, now get over here.'

The young woman took a breath and stepped into the open.

There was a ripple through the crowd, as a slow, collective recognition of her features came into clearer view.

Kylie answered the collective question before it could become an awkward silence.

"This is Daisy, Daisy Oak," she said brightly, clearly not caring about the wider family's reaction to that bomb shell as she introduced the young women to the inner circle. "We met during the Grand Festival Welcome Party last season!"

'Ah, that makes sense,' I thought faintly, even as I tried to hide my own reaction to just who this was.

The Grand Festival was hosted at the Grand Lake Estate's famous Lakeside Hotel, overlooking Lake Valor, yearly, and was a hotspot not just for tourism, but for Sinnoh's entire Contest circuit. The Wallace Cup. The Grand Festival. Every major Coordinator who mattered passed through its halls at least once in their lives.

And apparently, so had Daisy Oak.

"Oak's granddaughter?" Aunt Jackie was the one to ask, having finally arrived to join the high table in our reunion within a reunion.

Daisy gave a small, sheepish nod. "Yes, mam. That Oak."

"Cool!" Rayne chirped in, skipping from behind her more intimidating mother to finally give Kylie a patented 'Rayne glomp'. "I hope you don't mind if I ask questions, because I've got a ton!"

Before anyone else could get a word in however, Mom stepped forward while throwing the wider family a Smile. "Whatever the case, we're happy to have you. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to come to those of us right here."

The way she said it, light, steady, and with just enough steel beneath the smile, cut straight through the low buzz of curiosity and quiet ambition starting to stir in the air. The kind of tone that made certain relatives, the ones already eyeing potential connections or soft targets, instinctively back off.

Message delivered and received: This one's under protection.

Daisy's shoulders eased a fraction. "Thank you, Mrs. Cashion. It's an honor to be invited."

Mom winked, her smile brightening into something actually pleasant. "Please. Call me Luana, sweetheart. Anyone who makes it through a boat ride with Leo and Rebecca without diving overboard has more than earned their seat."

Uncle Manu burst into laughter. Uncle Leo gave Mom a small scowl while Aunt Rebecca and Jacki smirked at his Look, and Kylie gave Daisy a small, supportive nod, like they'd all rehearsed this exact moment more than once.

---

By the time the usual speeches and toast wound down, and the wine started flowing in earnest, I had retreated back to the only corner of the ballroom that didn't make me want to strategically disappear behind a potted plant.

The 'Fun Table' was the safe haven that kept on giving.

Still safely tucked along the far wall, near the softer lighting and beneath a massive oil painting of the original Kumquat Grand, the corner had become a semi-official buffer zone for the creatively inclined. A rotating mix of painters, interior designers, boutique florists, and, more recently, a few of the more Coordinator-aligned cousins had joined the cluster. Easily identifiable by their grandstanding motions and habit of introducing themselves with their full contest titles.

Rayna held court as always. Smeargle curled at her feet with a ribbon tied around its tail now. No one knew when that had happened, and no one was brave enough to ask.

Kylie had claimed the seat beside her, chatting casually with a sharply dressed woman I vaguely recognized from last year's Kalos performance circuit.

They looked more like sisters than cousins. The same easy posture, same ability to gently shut someone down with a raised eyebrow. Rayna spoke with her hands. Kylie counterbalanced it with the occasional dry aside, keeping everything flowing without it ever spiraling off into total chaos.

And seated on Kylie's other side, sipping quietly at a Sitrus spritzer and watching everything with wide but alert eyes, was Daisy Oak.

She hadn't said much since she arrived, but she was clearly listening and taking it all in. One of the younger Coordinators had asked her a polite question about Kanto's contest scene, and Daisy had responded with a measured answer that was just informed enough to make everyone at the table pause to take it in.

Kylie nudged her once or twice to keep her engaged, not pressure, mind you, just an anchor in the sea that was the Family Gathering.

I was sitting a seat or two away, comfortably in observer mode with another plate of color-coded macarons and a fizzy drink I hadn't actually ordered, but which Blissey had definitely sent over as part of her unspoken "hydrate or I'll find you" policy.

It wasn't a bad place to be.

Better than the other half of the ballroom, where two cousins were currently loudly debating whether the Kumquat Grand needed a weather-controlled greenhouse to "compete with Galar's spa-terrain resorts", as if they had any actual say in how we ran the place.

Not that this table was any better.

Rayna gestured broadly with one hand, nearly swatting her drink off the table. "How many times do I have to say it!? If we turn the sun deck into a rotating sculpture garden, we'll need a structural redesign of the railing—"

"You'll also blind half the guests if you use actual mirror tiles," Kylie cut in dryly.

"That's why I said angled mosaic."

I just rolled my eyes at the argument I knew wouldn't actually go anywhere. They both knew better after all.

Something Rayna proved by ending the discussion by setting her drink aside and turning her gaze toward me.

"So," she started, tone light but loaded with expectation, "as a soon-to-be trainer and heir to the Kumquat Grand…what's your plan?"

I blinked slowly, already knowing where she was going with this but asking all the same, "Plan for what?"

"Your journey, duh." She outright rolled her eyes. "You've got to be thinking about it by now, right?"

That earned a few nods from the table, half curious, half teasing.

I took a sip of my drink to buy half a second of time.

I'd been planning my journey since I was five. Since before this life even.

I knew what region I wanted to start in. What starters I liked. I had spreadsheets. I had backup spreadsheets for my spreadsheets. I had an old notebook in my room with ideas for themed nicknames from a dozen different sources.

But I couldn't exactly say that out loud.

"Nothing solid yet," I finally said, shrugging at the half-truth. "It's still a bit early."

"You say that like you aren't more put-together than half the Trainers I've met at official showcases," Kylie said dryly.

"He does carry himself differently," said one of the more Coordinator-aligned cousins thoughtfully. "Very…present."

"Not like my brother," Daisy added suddenly, drawing attention as she sat forward. "Gary's got a mouth and an ego, but you put him at a table like this, and he forgets what a napkin is for."

A round of quiet laughter followed, and Daisy smiled in relief at not overstepping.

"I honestly thought you'd already started your journey," she continued, emboldened by the positive reactions. "You act old enough."

I shrugged again. "I've just been around a lot of Trainers, I guess."

Which was true. Technically.

"Well, if you're still figuring it out," Daisy went on, "my grandfather runs a summer camp for younger kids who haven't started their journeys yet. It's in Pallet Town, more of a foundation week, really. A standard introduction to battling, some wilderness safety, bonding exercises, all the usual stuff."

"Cool," I dryly replied, already making plans on how to avoid that idea being brought up again.

"Actually," Daisy added thoughtfully, ignorant of how much I wanted her to stop talking. "I think there might still be a few open slots left—"

"Summer camp?"

I froze.

I didn't have to look to know Mom now stood behind my chair, her expression aglow with dangerous enthusiasm. She'd somehow materialized mid-conversation like a hospitality specter summoned by the mere idea of structured youth programming.

"Oh, I love that idea," she said brightly. "A whole week of skill-building, nature bonding, and time away from the resort? I'll write to Professor Oak personally!"

I turned to her slowly, as if hoping that if I didn't move too fast, she'd forget the last minute.

"You're not serious?" I half asked, half pleaded.

She leaned in, smile weaponized. "Oh, I'm already picturing the scrapbook."

I stared at her, mute with horror.

Summer camp.

With actual children.

Daisy, bless her, at least looked apologetic. Kylie was trying to stifle laughter behind her glasses while Rayne didn't even bother; she was already falling out of her chair, cackling all the while.

"I'm going to die," I muttered, horrified.

"No, you're not, babycakes." Mom ruffled my hair.

"You're going to make memories!"

 

[IcurasFallen]

Pokémon Version Orange

Arc 1 - The Gathering


Chapter 4
​

---

The penthouse was dim and calm, lit mostly by the flickering fireplace and a few soft sconces set to "late-night cozy." The kind of atmosphere that allows you to finally kick up your feet and relax.

I was sprawled across the long couch like a half-melted Vanillish, head tilted back, hair tousled by the ocean breeze curling in through the balcony doors. I'd gone the distance and played my part. I had survived the front lines of the Reception Wars.

"…He's out," Aunt Jacki said dryly, sipping something pink and fizzy from where she was lounging in one of only two recliners in the room. She didn't like sharing.

"He's not out," Mom corrected, perched on the other recliner with one leg tucked beneath her. "He's recharging. Big difference."

"He can hear you," I sniped back, not bothering to lift my head.

That got a laugh from the room. Not forced or performative, the real kind. The kind that only happened when the ballroom doors were shut, and the decorative masks came off.

This was the Inner Gathering. The real one. Not the one with clipboards and business cards, but the one that happened every year after the first-night festivities, after the wider family had filtered out, and the inner circle had peeled away from the fanfare.

Only the trusted few were here.

Rayna was sprawled upside-down on the adjacent loveseat, her sketchpad balanced precariously on her knees, and her Smeargle dozing at her hip like a fuzzy, paint-stained puddle. Momo sat at head level with a look of quiet focus, gently weaving her long pink hair into a braid. Rayna sighed contentedly every few seconds, the picture of spoiled relaxation.

Taking up a large portion of the center floor space, a Salamence lay coiled like a dragon pretending to be a rug. She had one eye lidded open, half-watching the room with predator-level boredom. Uncle Leo and Aunt Rebecca sat on the couch behind her, legs resting comfortably across her sides like they'd done this a hundred times before, which they obviously had. Salamence didn't seem to mind. She even shifted once to allow Aunt Rebecca's ankle a better angle before resuming her faux-nap.

Bliss hummed something wordless as she continued her work in the kitchen while Alakazam hovered behind Mom, eyes half-lidded as he got into a staring contest with Uncle Manu's Xatu, who himself was perched on the back of said uncle's chair. Across the room, Kylie's Munchlax was staging a slow-motion raid on one of the various fruit platters, creeping forward with cartoonish stealth. Each time he reached out, one of the two Psychics present would casually levitate the platter inches farther without even looking.

"You guys are cruel," Kylie said without real heat, sipping something red, sweet, and probably alcoholic. "You know he'll try all night."

"That's the lesson," Alakazam replied dryly to the room at large. "Persistence is no substitute for actual effort."

Xatu's twitching head was his own sign of agreement.

"Still cruel," Roman concluded, flicking a grape at Munchlax in consolation.

Uncle Manu himself lounged near the balcony doors, the sheer curtains fluttering behind him. His Sensu form Oricorio was perched on the chair's armrest, her eyes half-lidded as her trainer slowly worked his fingers through her feathers.

And me?

I was the exhausted prince of the castle. Longstanding member of the high table who'd been doted on since toddlerhood by this exact group.

…Which didn't make my current half-conscious state any less pitiful.

"I remember when he used to bounce back faster," Uncle Manu chuckled. "You've gone soft in your old age Travis."

"I'm nine," I muttered mulishly. "And we were hosting this year, give me a break."

"He didn't flinch when Cousin Margot suggested a geothermal sauna suite as a penthouse addition," Roman pointed out helpfully.

"She's been making that pitch to anyone who would listen since I was five. Her slideshow hasn't changed." I pointed out dryly.

"I still think you broke her brain when you asked her about lava flow insurance," Kylie tittered with a smirk.

"Not my fault she never checks zoning laws."

Rayna kicked her feet against the back of the chaise. "He's still got the best 'you're an idiot, but I'm too polite to say it' face in the family."

"I learned from the best," I chuckled tiredly, cocking a thumb toward Mom.

Said mother took a bow while seated, and lifted her glass like a trophy. "And what a cute little protégé I have!"

Aunt Jacki gave a throaty chuckle. "I still remember that guest from the Johto branch last year who didn't realize my 'little helper' was actually correcting his booking errors."

"I gave him a coupon," I grumbled. "That's called diplomacy."

"You're still recovering slower this year," Uncle Leo noted, peering at me over the rim of his tumbler. "Is the body finally catching up to the stress Travis?"

"No," Mom said before I could. "It's the fact that his system's growing like a Bellsprout in a marsh. All those years of mental stamina don't mean much when his metabolism clocks out at eight-thirty."

Aunt Rebecca raised her glass. "To cursed biology."

"To cursed biology," everyone echoed, glasses raised.

I could feel the love.

"Don't let him fool you, though," Mom added after lowering her glass. "He fielded five different investment pitches and defused two passive-aggressive floral disputes before they got to me."

"True," Roman added helpfully. "And he stopped that intern from putting the sparkling cider in the same bucket as the Santalune vintage. Honestly, I almost cheered."

"He did?" Kylie blinked. "That was you?"

I raised a tired hand in a vague wave. "You're welcome."

Aunt Rebecca gave me a nod. "Good instincts, that's a bad pairing. Cider contaminates."

From the floor, Salamence snorted.

"She agrees," Uncle Leo explained calmly.

Rayna, still upside-down, waved her sketchpad toward me. "He also blocked Grandma Trina from pulling the old 'let's do an open Q&A about real estate taxes' trick. Didn't even blink."

"She's losing her edge," Aunt Jacki said with a frown. "He's nine and still saw it coming."

"She started with 'so I was just curious…'," I huffed. "Amateur hour."

That got a fresh wave of laughter.

It was good. Familiar.

This wasn't the show for the rest of the family. This was…us.

"Think we'll survive the rest of the week?"

"No," said the room at once.

That was when the elevator dinged! open, and a cool wind blew out.

From what I knew of the air flow of the room, such a phenomenon should have been impossible, yet it was tangible in a way that couldn't be ignored. It could only mean one thing.

Kahili had arrived.

Her bright blue mane of hair was windblown, and her flight goggles were pulled down to her neck. Her shirt was half-unbuttoned from the flight, her boots scuffed, and her smile crooked in that way that said, 'Yeah, I'm late, fight me.'

Beside her strode Touckey, her Toucannon, tall, sharp-eyed, and utterly unbothered by their combined lateness as well.

"Did I miss anything?" Kahili asked, dropping her travel bag beside the coat rack.

"Only everything!" Rayna instantly quipped.

"There was the usual toast," Uncle Manu said, actually being helpful.

"Three, actually," Uncle Leo added dryly. "One by Walton, so Kalosian poetry was involved."

Kahili grimaced. "Ugh. Glad I missed it."

"You're just in time for the good part," Rayna said, finally twirling around to sit upright. "The part where we make fun of each other, a majority of the family, and eat whatever's left."

Bliss waved a spoon at her from the kitchenette.

"Also, Bliss is making homemade pudding."

Kahili chuckled at Rayna's antics before her eyes finally found me on the couch. Her smile grew.

"Long day Tray?"

I groaned faintly. "My feet are dead, and my brain is unconsciously trying to file overtime paperwork."

She walked over and ruffled my hair. "Then you're doing it right." She then grinned wider, "Shift over couch gremlin."

"I was here first," I grumbled, but dragged myself upright all the same.

Touckey gave a low, rumbling tooouuuu and flapped up beside me in the kind of movement that somehow took up more space than his actual body required. Kahili followed right after, claiming the other side. I pulled my knees in, wedged between talons and denim, a child-sized concession in a family of champions.

"You smell like clouds and winning," I muttered in childish annoyance.

"You smell like half a nap and salt," she countered, tousling my hair again. "We all have our battles."

"Children," Mom said sweetly.

"Dibs on not being the child," I tried instantly.

"Denied," the room replied in perfect chorus.

Kahili snickered at our antics, then let her gaze sweep across the penthouse. The amusement faded into a familiar line of tired annoyance. "The Riches not make it again?"

Her father supplied the answer with a wince.

"Apparently, the Storm Brothers got into a fight right outside Undella Town," Uncle Manu said, looking genuinely worried. "It was all hands on deck."

The entire room winced with him. You did not shrug off two storm Legendaries trading blows anywhere near civilization.

Kahili's frown deepened into a grimace of her own. "Yeah, that would do it."

Her eyes swept the room once more. "The Grump make another excuse?"

Aunt Jacki rolled her eyes and stabbed an olive from her 'fancy' food tray with far more force than necessary. "Yes. That idiot brother of mine decided he, once again, had more important things to do than, and I quote, 'Spend the week with a bunch of suck-ups and whiners.' End quote."

The room responded with a unanimous wave of grumbles and shared eye-rolls. A classic Grump response.

Sensing the dip in mood, Uncle Manu raised his brows and redirected the conversation. "So. The tournament?"

"Won it," Kahili replied instantly, already helping herself to the nearby fruit platter.

"Shocking," Rayna drawled.

"Truly unprecedented," Aunt Jacki added, deadpan.

"You're all very proud of me, I can tell," Kahili snarked.

Roman cocked his head, looking genuinely curious. "Do you even still face anyone below Master Tier nowadays?"

"Only when they send me gift baskets first."

Uncle Manu chuckled before taking an obvious glance at her discarded bag. "Did you at least bring back the trophy?"

"Wrapped in a towel next to my clothes," Kahili huffed, gesturing to her travel bag. "Might be sticky. Don't ask."

Then, from where he sat with his legs spread across Salmence's back, glass half-full and tone deceptively mild, Uncle Leo spoke:

"So, what's this I hear about a Summer camp?"

The pause was nearly unanimous as even the air seemed to blink at the abrupt shift.

As one of the few aware of the source of the question, I couldn't help but groan as my head fell into my knees. "You weren't even in the room. You were talking to Aunt Wen about fountain chlorination on the terrace!"

"I was multitasking," Uncle Leo returned blandly. "When your mother's voice jumps an entire octave, I pay attention."

"It was a trap," I muttered mulishly. "Daisy just mentioned it offhand, and Mom pounced like a Luxray on a battery."

"She really did," Rayna confirmed, flipping a page in her sketchpad. "I saw the whole thing. Daisy looked so alarmed."

"I didn't pounce," Mom argued, ignoring how she absolutely alarmed the young Oak. "I was enthusiastic."

"She had the application filled out on her phone before the conversation even finished," I deadpanned. "It auto-filled the emergency contact field with 'Good Luck, Kiddo.'"

"I still think it's a great opportunity," Roman offered diplomatically.

"Oh, it is," Mom beamed. "Exposure to the Kanto field curriculum, a chance to make age-appropriate friends-"

"-and a charming bunkmate who chews with his mouth open and snores through his Voltorb alarm clock," I cut in with a grumble.

"I'll begin researching suitable travel containers for your sanity. And bug repellent."

"Thanks, Al," I snarked back.

"Don't let him change the subject," Aunt Jacki cut in before I could begin a verbal tennis match with Alakazam. "He's just trying to avoid round two of the Tuition Tantrum."

"Hey now-"

"He won the last one, remember," Kylie cut in, clearly amused at my misery. "Who else gets to test out of the entire League academic circuit at six?"

"I had legitimate arguments!" I argued hotly. "After all, why should I waste time being taught basic mathematics when I was already writing hotel logistics plans on napkins?!"

"He was six," Mom repeated fondly. "And tested out of the trainer prep standards after only a year of self-study."

"And thus," Uncle Leo continued, raising his glass slightly, "you were homeschooled for a year, finished all your prerequisites, and, if I'm remembering this correctly, are now technically a high school graduate working on a partial business degree and a hotel management certification."

"I'm only on the intro courses," I corrected with an eye roll. "The electives are trash. I dropped Photography the minute I could."

"You failed your Photography Class," Alakazam corrected.

"I hated Photography."

"There is a difference," Kahili agreed.

"Regardless, he's going to the summer camp," Mom cut in, clearly ending the debate.

There was a beat of silence.

Uncle Manu raised his glass with a snicker. "To educational whiplash!"

Everyone clinked drinks. Bliss offered me a personalized pudding cup like it was a participation trophy.

I accepted it with a sigh.

"Why do I feel like this is payback for last year's egg brunch?"

"Because it is," Aunt Jacki replied, perhaps a bit too vindictive. "You're still on record as the only under ten-year-old in the family history to refuse to attend an outdoor buffet due to 'environmental integrity and airborne egg temperature fluctuations'."

"You were serving frittatas in the open air during a windstorm, Aunt Jacki! I don't care that psychic barriers were in place, that's not a brunch, that's a natural hazard!"

"You make it so easy to forget you're not seventy." Kahili nudged my side with her elbow to stop my rant in its tracks. "You're like a tiny old man trapped in a childish frame."

"I contain multitudes," I quoted grumpily around a spoonful of pudding.

"That's true," Kylie said thoughtfully, ignorant of the quote. "And speaking of multitudes-"

Here it comes.

"-what are you thinking of for your starter?" she asked, casually enough that it would have only fooled people who didn't know her.

I groaned loud enough for the whole room to hear. "When is that question ever not going to be a trap?"

"It depends." Aunt Jacki sat forward with interest. "Are you going to say something sensible, or something like 'I want to raise a Smeagle in the penthouse and teach it to operate our rice cooker'?"

"That was Rayna," I shot back.

"I regret nothing," Rayna snickered, giving said Smeargle a fist bump, then yelping when said fist came back covered in paint.

Mom gave a knowing hum. "You have been dodging the question for a while, babycakes."

"Because you all ask like I'm bidding at an auction!" I snapped, throwing up my hands in exasperation. "Most kids don't exactly get a starter list."

Uncle Manu snorted. "Well, sorry for being curious. Most ten-year-olds are praying they don't get handed a Trubbish from a donation box, while you could walk into a high-end breeding facility and point at whatever's behind the glass. Half the trainers in the world would trade places with you just to see the catalogue."

"He could have an Eevee with an understood evolution path," Uncle Leo noted.

"Or a Bagon from a documented pedigree," Aunt Rebecca continued after her husband, nodding toward her own draconic starter, who gave an exaggerated snort at the obvious insinuation.

Kylie waved toward me. "So? What are you thinking? Because I've heard at least three different theories passed around tonight. One was that you wanted a Porygon with Pokenet integration, another was about going the old standard of the regional starter, and someone mentioned that you were talking about a Zorua because 'mystique sells.'"

"That last one was mine," Rayna cut in proudly. "Mystique does sell."

I shook my head with a tired sigh. Lugia below was I starting to hate this line of conversation.

"Okay, look," I sat up and gave them all a look of annoyance. "Yes, I have some ideas, and yes, I've even made some plans."

Here I shot Mom a look that she pointedly ignored. She knew why some of those plans weren't feasible, or even delayed, and how it was her fault, but I continued with a tired sigh.

"Just, hear me out, okay." I wiped a hand across my face, both in an effort to rub away my exhaustion and also to give myself more time to formulate how I was going to say this. "You all keep pitching starter ideas like I'm building a marketing brand, or planning to steamroll a League with some overarching plot of maniacal proportions."

I exhaled tiredly. "The simple truth is. I haven't decided yet."

That got a few raised eyebrows. Mom sipped her wine like she'd been waiting for this all along.

"I mean, yeah, I could pick anything." I started to pick up steam, even gesturing vaguely around the room. "I've got the resources. I've got the support network. I could literally commission a starter team if I wanted to-"

"You aren't?" Kahili cut in, half-joking, half-serious.

"I could," I repeated seriously, "but…that doesn't mean I should."

There was a pause.

Not awkward. Just…considering.

"Well said," Uncle Leo murmured, breaking the silence. "A lot of young idiots in your shoes would've rushed off to buy the biggest, rarest thing they could find, then spent the next year wondering why it didn't listen to them."

"Or blaming the Pokémon for their own lack of preparations," Aunt Rebecca added, sharing a dry glance with her own Psudeo-Legendary Starter on the floor.

I didn't respond. Just stirred my pudding a little slower.

Then, obviously, someone had to call me out.

"You have a list, don't you?" Uncle Manu piped up, because of course he would be the one to see through my Tauros shit.

"I have several," I admitted instantly.

"Ranked by type? Region? Ability synergy?" Aunt Jacki asked, her grin growing sly.

"…yes."

"And color palette," Alakazam added smugly.

Mom beamed. "That's my boy."

The room collectively laughed once more. The elders in the room were clearly both fond yet exasperated at the no doubt familiar refrain, while the younger found themselves looking fondly at their own Starters.

"Alright then," Kylie cut in, leaning forward with interest. "If you had to name a few top picks."

"What's actually on the short list?" Roman finished, following his fiancée's lead.

I didn't hesitate.

"Something with Psychic potential."

The room fell into amusement at the immediate reply.

"Of course, you want a Psychic," Kahili said, rolling her eyes fondly. "You've been living with a spoon-wielding telepath since before you could walk."

Alakazam didn't even try to hide his smugness. "He has good taste. I approve."

"It doesn't have to be full Psychic typing either," I clarified. "It could just be some latent ability, future evolution, or even something with strong mental acuity. I'm flexible."

Uncle Leo raised a brow at the list. "Examples?"

"Noctowl," I said instantly. "Golduck. Maybe something like a Ninetails with a proper grounding in its psychic potential. A Stantler would have a lot of potential with the right handling."

Rayna tilted her head. "Are you talking about just a Starter, or do you want to be a Psychic specialist, because you've clearly done some research?"

"I want options," I answered firmly. "Even psychic-adjacent Pokémon offer versatility, battlefield adaptability, and, most importantly, communication potential."

Mom's smile went soft as she clearly figured out my main objective. "You want a partner you can talk to."

I didn't answer immediately, but my eyes slid toward Alakazam.

His gaze met mine, and for once, he didn't make a snarky remark.

There was a beat of silence, one of those rare, good silences that meant they all got it.

Not because they thought I had said something profound, mind you, or because I'd said something particularly noble, but because they knew what I was talking about.

Mom, who had raised me alongside a judgmental ice cream-eating master.

Uncle Manu, who'd taught aerial strategy classes to professionals across half a dozen regions with his Xatu right beside him.

Uncle Leo, who could watch the world in slow motion right alongside his trusted Bronzong, and who only spoke when it mattered.

It wasn't a matter of battle potential in the end, even if it would be a nice bonus.

Because in a world such as this, where the Power of Friendship was a real, tangible force, the ability to connect was worth its weight in gold.

"I've got a few ideas in mind," I repeated with the new understanding present to the room at large. "Plus, I'm not even totally set on a Psychic starter! I could just as easily get a teammate later who fits the same criteria."

"Then what are the top picks?" Roman asked, sounding genuinely curious. "Outside the brainpower starter, obviously."

I shrugged, eyes flicking to where Blissey was humming contentedly near the kitchenette. "Honestly? A healer would be nice."

Blissey turned, catching my smile, and beamed like she'd just won at life.

"Oh?" Aunt Rebecca hummed, seriously considering my response. "Following in your mother's footsteps with a Blissey of your own?"

"I wouldn't say no," I admitted. "But Audino's a good option too. Or an Indeedee. Even something like an Oddish, if I trained it up right," I gave a small shrug. "A Bellossom with the right support build could be a serious backbone for a team."

Uncle Leo raised a brow. "Not gunning for a pseudo-legendary then?"

I huffed, because obviously, "I'm not against it."

That earned a few laughs, until Salamence, still lounging on the floor like a giant reptilian throw rug, gave a low, pointed snort.

"She's amused on principle," Uncle Leo explained before a grin slowly grew across his weathered face. "Especially since she's been eyeing a frenzy of Garchomp that made their creche near Lake Valor for the last year."

Salamence reared up and snapped her jaws right in Uncle Leo's face. It was clearly a warning chomp, like a grumpy teenager being called out in public.

"She says 'mind your own business,'" Aunt Rebecca translated dryly, sipping her drink without a glance at her suddenly nervous husband.

That got a fresh wave of laughter.

The warmth lingered…but something else was rising with it.

Not a disruption, or even a warning, just the subtle shift you feel when the sky starts to change. When the clouds darken at the edge of your vision, and the breeze carries a new kind of weight.

A storm not here yet, but close.

Kahili leaned forward.

"So," she began, eyes locked down on mine. "How far do you want to take this?"

The question landed with weight.

It wasn't a, "How strong do you want your team to be?" or "What region are you conquering first?"

Just: "How far?"

The room went quiet at the question, and I held my tongue from saying my first response.

Not because I didn't know, but because saying it out loud was different than in my head.

Wetting my lips, I made sure to meet her gaze.

"Most people don't make it past their fourth badge," I started, voice low. "They travel for half a year, maybe a full one. Then they go back to school, take the tests, get a diploma, even settle down."

I glanced around the room.

"I get why. It's expensive. It's hard. It's unpredictable. Most people just want the experience and rite of passage. Something to say they did it."

"But I've been living at that particular finish line since I was six."

"I've already done the studying and passed the tests. I've got the certifications, the prep, and the tools. And yeah, I could just coast through a journey and call it good enough. Come back here and take over someday…"

I closed my eyes-

"...with that said."

-and half the room flinched away from the fire I could feel blazing in my eyes.

"I remember standing in the Kumquat arena running the mic," my voice rose, my blood began to burn." I remember calling the match, remember the roar of blood in my ears as the ground trembled when a Giga Impact landed."

"And then I got a taste," I said with relish, my grin growing into something wild and free. "I got to fill in for the first time when Mom had a scheduling clash, and I stood out there. I sent out her Pokémon, and the crowd was watching me."

I closed my eyes, the memories calling to me in a way that nothing in my last life could compare to.

"The roar of the stadium. The pressure as a hundred eyes watched me. The utter focus and confidence required to make sure every call was the right one. That moment when the Pokéball hit the field, and I realized just how much of a rush it was."

"I want that. I want that moment. For myself. With my Pokémon. My team."

I once more opened my eyes, and Kahili looked down at me with utter delight shining in her eyes.

"I don't want to just experience the journey. I want to test myself. I want to see how far I can go, not just across islands or through Leagues, but to the limit and then past it."

"And if that path leads to becoming a Master…then so be it."

The room was silent as I ended my impromptu speech. Many of them looked at me as if truly seeing me for the first time.

I understood why. It was one thing for a child to claim "I want to be the very best, like no one ever was", and another thing entirely to outright state that becoming a "Master" was just an inevitable outcome.

Because this wasn't the storybook version of a "Pokémon Master" tossed around by kids who would probably never even see the inside of a League stadium.

No, a Master, a real one, was something else entirely.

They were someone who had achieved total synchronicity with their team. Someone who had risen beyond League matches, beyond competitions, and even beyond fame.

A Master was someone whose control over a specific Type or discipline had passed from skilled to instinctive, and from instinctive to absolute.

A Master was a weapon. A warning. A walking deterrent that could rewrite the terrain of a battlefield with a single command.

They were this world's nuclear deterrent.

Kahili didn't need to introduce herself when she traveled to new regions. She arrived. Her presence meant something, not just in arenas, but in entire ecosystems of competition, politics, and reputation.

She wasn't just a Pokémon Trainer. She was a Pokémon Master.

She was someone who had mastered her chosen style of combat. Someone who had looked the forces of nature in the face and decided I would be stronger.

She was the strongest Trainer in the Family.

And I'd just said that I wanted to walk towards that.

Kahili leaned back slowly. The teasing glint in her eye was overshadowed by the piercing nature of her gaze.

"So you plan to chase after all the big boys and girls, huh? Chase me," she drawled even as her entire presence seemed to weigh me down. The very air felt stifling to the point of being hard to breathe.

I'd seen lesser relatives crumble from such a gaze. How her very presence could make someone into a gibbering wreck that ran screaming in the other direction.

Yet I simply nodded. The roar in my ears and the burning of my blood were too great to be brought low by the rumbling storm before me.

"I don't expect to get there tomorrow, or even in the next few years." My voice was steady, even as my grin grew wider. "I'm just going to start walking, and I won't stop, will not stop, until I find out how far I can go. Even if it means I have to go past you."

Kahili blinked. Surprise flashed across her face.

Then she threw back her head and laughed. "Good! Good for you, Trey! Man, I can't wait to not be the only monster in the family anymore!"

Mom's grin practically glowed. "You tell'm baby!"

Blissey handed me another pudding. This one had a cherry on top.

Kahili chuckled at the nursemaid's antics, calming down.

"Well, when you've got a team of your own, one you've trained, not just filled in with borrowed power, come find me." Kahili leaned back, stretching one leg over the other with the same lazy confidence she probably used before wiping the floor with half a bracket. "We'll spar. No holding back."

If anything, that just made my smile grow even wider. "Deal."

Sporadic chuckles met that declaration. The rest of the room had to take a moment to process the whole scene that had just occurred. Which, ya know, fair.

Rayna was the one to finally break the newest silence. "Okay, new serious question beyond the last serious question," she lifted her sketchpad like one would raise a hand in class to be called on. "You've got the dream, the mindset, and the pudding; what's the actual first move?"

Uncle Leo followed, chuckling as he stared at me with a new gleam in his eyes. "That's a good question. Do you have any ideas for which region to start in? Which League? Or are you going to perhaps build up a specific team through some globe-trotting?"

I didn't say anything at first.

Instead, I turned. Slowly. Purposefully.

Our eyes locked.

Gym Leader Luana's face shifted from proud mom to knowing smirk in half a second.

"My first goal," I said, tone calm and sharp as a Scyther's arm, "is to crush the Orange League."

A beat passed.

Then Uncle Manu threw his head back and laughed.

Mom laughed with him, long and delighted. "Oh, honey. You can try."

"I won't just try," I said, voice firm. "I'll win."

Aunt Rebecca grinned around the rim of her drink. "Ambitious."

"No," I corrected her with a glare. "I'm starting at home, and if I can't conquer where I was raised…I don't deserve the road beyond it."

Uncle Leo gave a low chuckle. "I give it six months after he starts before he's holding court in the stadium downstairs."

Alakazam floated a spoon up and rotated it like a ticking clock. "Five. If the weather holds."

Blissey deposited another pudding in front of me. This one had two cherries.

I stared at it for a second, then looked up at her with the flattest expression I could manage.

"…I think I'm getting a little sick of pudding."

She, full tray-clutching, horror-stricken, betrayed-by-the-universe, gasped.

Then she spun on her heel and waddled off in huffy silence, the tray held to her chest like a wounded heart.

"I didn't mean your pudding," I called after her, now starting to panic. "Just-volume! Bliss. Bliss!"

That, apparently, was the cue for the room to once more burst into laughter.

Once everyone got that moment of humor out of their systems (I didn't find it funny! Come on Bliss!), the mood once more, finally, turned back to something more relaxed.

Aunt Jacki took a long, slow sip of her drink, then exhaled. "Well. Now that we've handled the dramatic life declarations and caused a dessert-based emotional injury-"

"I didn't mean it," I whined like the nine-year-old I physically was.

She rolled her eyes before looking around the room with all the dry grace of a woman who owned her own resort and answered to no one.

"Can we finally talk about how insufferable the wider family's gotten?"

The collective groan was immediate.

Rayna flopped back on the chaise with a full-body sigh. "Yes, please, someone else complain so I don't sound petty."

"I had three different nieces corner me about adding scent-themed guest suites to the Lakeside Hotel," Aunt Rebecca began, voice sharp yet pained from dealing with idiocy. "One of them actually said, 'Smell is the new touch.'"

Uncle Leo nodded grimly. "That brat Dominic tried to pitch 'Lake Valor 2.0' with 'vibrant Fairy Type energy.' I asked what that meant. He said it involved glitter cannons."

Kylie buried her face in her hands. "Dear Lord Arceus, is that what he meant!? He tried to pitch me the idea of a Fairy day for the Seven Stars, and when he couldn't answer properly, I just thought he was being difficult!"

"That's nothing! I had Aunt Wen visit a few months ago and try to book a psychic detox brunch at the restaurant." Roman shook his head with a shudder. "I asked what it entailed. She said, and I quote, 'kale water, foot grounding, and silent screaming into ethically-sourced cloth napkins.'"

Aunt Jacki rolled her eyes. "That's nothing. I had two different idiots tell me Resort Gorgeous should 'expand its target demographic to the rural elite.' What does that mean? Are they proposing platinum tractors?!"

"I had someone ask if the Hana Grand could build an indoor waterfall shaped like a Pelipper," Manu deadpanned, his Oricorio shaking her head beside him. "I'm already trying to replace the main roof dome, and now I've got brats with too much time on their hands showing me Pelipper statues like they're load-bearing."

"Someone asked if they could land a hot air balloon shaped like a Pyukumuku in our main pool two weeks ago," Kahili cut in flatly. "Not because they were crashing, mind you, but because they argued that a Pyukumuku deserves to be in the water."

A pause.

"You win," Reyna said flatly. "I thought 'edible beach gravel' was the dumbest suggestion of the week, but no. It's the balloon."

"No," I said, slumped between Kahili and Touckey, "it was when Uncle Walton tried to sell me on the idea of making Kumquat's gym battles 'more cinematic' by bringing in a fog machine and a guy in a cape who shouts commentary via rap."

There was a beat of silence.

"…Okay," Rayna said, slowly, "I kind of want to see that."

"Of course you do," Mom said with a sigh. "You're the reason we once had a themed buffet called Battle Brunch."

"I stand by it," Rayna shot back unapologetically.

We talked. We ranted. We laughed.

And when the last plates had been cleared, and the pudding cups abandoned (save one Blissey had left in silent protest on the arm of the couch), I leaned back, content, surrounded by the only people who truly got it.

We had several more days of madness ahead. But this?

This was the good part.

 

[IcurasFallen]

Pokémon Version Orange

Arc 1 - The Gathering


Chapter 5
​

---

Breakfast at the Kumquat Grand was never quiet. But today?

Today it was the noise equivalent of a flock of Spearow trying to sing opera.

The Grand Ballroom had been converted overnight into a buffet-style feast with a population density that would've made a Snorlax nervous. Plates clinked, chairs scraped, someone's Delcatty was yowling for seconds, and a distant argument was taking place over the structural integrity of a fruit sculpture shaped like a Dragonite.

Welcome to the Family Gathering, Morning Edition, where a dozen morning people chatted and dined, a hundred other not-morning people wanted the first to die, and the Inner Circle was scattered like generals across a battlefield.

Mom had claimed the head table as was her right as event organizer, casually sipping her morning coffee while Chilton whispered logistics in her ear like a butler in a Galarian drama. Aunt Jacki and Uncle Manu sat on either side of her, the former pointedly ignoring anyone who approached with a "business proposal", while the latter was dead to all until he had his third cup of Tapu Cocoa, made specifically by the chef who I'm pretty sure was hired solely for his skill in that drink alone. The elders of the Lake Resort Estate were fielding questions about the Lakeside expansion project from five separate cousins, and Kylie and Roman had been trapped into discussing the Seven Stars wine list with people who didn't know the difference between "dry" and "please stop talking."

Kahili, in contrast to the rest of us, was seated alone in a far off corner like a queen who didn't need to announce her court. Touckey stood beside her with the silent vigilance of a sentry bird judging everyone's life choices.

And somehow, Rayna had ended up perched on one of the chandeliers in order to have a wide enough angle to paint the event in all its chaotic glory. I highly suspect Farfy was involved, considering his snickers from where he was perched on another light fixture beside her.

And me?

I was surviving.

There wasn't a better word. I was somewhere between a walking tour guide, glorified waiter, and disaster prevention technician. Every few seconds, someone would call my name, wave me over, or try to casually slip a business card in my pocket. I had deflected three internship pitches, one art commission, and someone trying to explain to me why the Grand should offer "sunset yoga with pseudo-legendaries."

I was halfway through politely declining a third consecutive offer to "help with the finances" (which, really people, grow some tact) when I caught movement near Kylie and Roman's section of the table.

Daisy Oak was waving to draw my attention. She looked hesitant, like she was debating whether now was the right time to stand up or vanish into the wallpaper.

I drifted her way, barely managing to politely ignore a half dozen people trying to drag me into other, no doubt more annoying, conversations.

Daisy offered me a hesitant smile as I arrived. "Hey, Travis. Do you have a second?"

I raised a brow at the question. She had obviously witnessed my linguistic dance just to get to her, so I felt that the answer should have been obvious.

Thankfully, before the air could grow awkward, Kylie noticed my presence in her domain. "Travis! Come sit," she said, already shifting her chair to make space. "Take a bit to relax. We've got protection."

Roman handed me a piece of melon like a peace offering. I took it.

Daisy fidgeted for a beat after making myself comfortable. "I just wanted to say sorry about yesterday, with the summer camp thing. I really didn't mean to make your life harder. I didn't realize how much you already had on your plate until after." Her hands nervously rubbed together in her lap. "It was supposed to be a casual suggestion. Not a trap."

I blinked. That was surprisingly self-aware.

"It's fine," I said, leaning back with a sigh. "You didn't sign the form. That was entirely Mom."

Daisy's face twisted into something guilty-looking. "Doesn't mean I didn't cause it to happen."

I shook my head, now more amused than annoyed at the whole thing. "It's fine, Daisy, really. I would have no doubt been attending some other summer camp or event anyway. At least this one should be interesting, what with being in another region and all."

Both Kylie and Roman snorted at my response, clearly remembering the multitude of events Mom liked to brag about. The woman loved to use what should have been work emails as her own family group chat. It annoyed Uncle Leo to no end.

Daisy thankfully took my words to heart, and a relieved smile spread across her rather pretty face. "Still. Thanks for not hating me."

"I save hate for people who suggest live bagpipe accompaniments during check-in," I deadpanned.

Roman nearly choked on his water. "Please. Never again."

Before the conversation could go any further, a voice from the far side of the room cut through the noise. "Shame some people couldn't be bothered to attend the welcome party last night!"

Eyes turned.

Not because the individual was particularly notable…but rather because of who he was addressing.

The speaker was one of those lesser relatives who was always trying to make himself relevant, dressed up with slick back hair and a smile crooked enough to hang off of. Something that instantly set off alarm bells, considering the target.

Kahili didn't even flinch. She just finished her current draw of coffee like it was Life Dew for humans, and stared back.

"You know, some of us were here for the welcome party last night, but I guess when you're too big for Family, you don't have to show up on time," the man continued with the kind of volume that deliberately drew attention.

Even across the room, I could see Touckey's feathers poof up slightly. Kahili didn't seem to care, and I vaguely heard something like "bad weather, what can you do?"

That would've ended it. Should have ended it.

Instead, I found myself getting up and starting to subtly rush over as the idiot didn't stop.

He gestured broadly, drawing attention to a young man who moved up beside him. Maybe early twenties, tacky in that 'trying to be stylish with wealth' kind of way, six black Luxury Balls hung from his waist, and a wide smile spread across his face that instantly told me that he didn't have nearly as many brain cells as he thought he had.

"Maybe it's for the best," the relative drawled, utterly ignorant of the numerous unimpressed looks now being sent his way by the actually important members of the family. "Your prestige is legendary, of course…but it's a new era now."

He clapped the young man on the back.

"Allow me to introduce Callum, Winner of this year's Silver Conference. Hoenn's latest breakout star."

Callum gave a shallow tilt of the head, a clear snub of a nod. "It's an honor, ma'am."

I could already feel my eyes wanting to roll. If he were really a Conference Winner, he should know better. Should know that standing across from a Master wasn't something you approached with smugness and a sponsor.

"You know!" The relative nearly shouted, clearly wanting everyone to see and witness his utter idiocy. "Some of us just prefer to support the next generation. Strong, grounded battlers with modern tactics. Not just flappy little birds in pretty packaging."

Oh.

No.

He did not.

The room didn't so much go silent as it tightened, like the air itself was readying itself for a storm to drop on top of us.

Kahili's easy smile vanished. Touckey's feathers ruffled, sharp and slow.

"Is that so?" She said, her face blank yet voice like the eye of a storm. "Flappy little birds?"

The dead man walking audibly swallowed as he finally got what he wanted:

Kahili's undivided attention.

"Just a figure of speech, I assure you!" The moron laughed nervously, adjusting his tie. "You know how it is, Flying-types have their...aesthetic appeal. But real battling takes grit. Muscle. Earth." He said like it was a punchline.

I'd seen Kahili smile in a lot of ways over the years. Smug. Smirking. Cheeky because she'd just sunk a thirty-foot putt from behind a sand trap after being told it was impossible.

But this smile? It was something one would normally expect to see on a Salamence staring down at its next victim of mass injury.

Kahili stood up.

"I suppose a battle would be the best way to prove that, wouldn't it." She said to the relative. She didn't question; there was no question in what she just said.

The idiot's expression faltered. "I-I wouldn't wish to embarrass either of us, of course. I'm just a sponsor. A patron of the sport."

His hand went to Callum's shoulder once more.

"But my Champion would be delighted to demonstrate what the next generation can do."

Kahili didn't even look at said minion. Her eyes were still locked on the ignoramus in a suit.

"Fine then, I'll only be using Touchey. Bring all of yours if you want."

---

Somehow, I ended up as the referee.

No, wait, I knew exactly how. Mom had just smiled at me and explained, "Darling, it would look better if the referee wasn't someone Kahili grew up training with."

Which sounded logical. Reasonable even.

Except for the part where that left me, a nine-year-old in formal wear and three hours of sleep, as the poor soul standing on the Kumquat Grand's central stadium podium, holding a mic and silently praying the Hoenn League didn't sue us for the emotional damage my favorite cousin was about to inflict on the poor soul across from her.

The stadium was packed.

Relatives, staff, guests, and more than a few eager social climbers had flooded into the viewing balconies once word got out that Kahili was battling someone who'd just won Johto's Silver Conference.

It wouldn't surprise me in the slightest to learn that at least a dozen people were already calling up any news outlet they had contact with.

Touckey was already waiting on Kahili's side of the field, unbothered by the crowd or the tension. Kahili stood tall behind him, arms folded, her expression the exact blend of calm and bored that I had once seen her have when Rayna had somehow convinced her to play with us at a mini golf course when we were all younger.

(She had crushed us, obviously, but it had been fun all the same.)

Kahili hadn't made any attempt to play mind games. No secret sendout. No hesitation in her pick. She wanted them to know she wasn't taking it seriously.

Callum, in contrast, looked like he was going to vibrate out of his skin. His jaw was tight. His shoulders were stiff. His expression was doing its best to scream "unbothered," but he was gripping his first Luxury Ball tight enough that his fingers were turning white.

It didn't help that the match had been publicly declared as Kahili's one Pokémon against his full team.

A fact I'd confirmed, on mic, under very clear orders.

He'd tried to talk his way out of it.

"I won't need more than one," he'd argued, eyes cutting toward the crowd. "Let's make it even."

Kahili's response had been a slow blink. Then:

"No."

And that was that.

Deciding I'd given the crowd more than enough time to settle in, I cued the lights to Battle Mode and turned on the buzzer to signify the match was about to begin.

"The match between Callum of Oldale Town and Master Kahili Cashion of Alola is about to begin! Trainers, are you ready?"

The crowd instantly quieted. The tension grew.

Callum gave a nod; his rage tempered now as he turned his full focus on the foe in front of him.

Kahili merely glanced at me from the corner of her eye, yet the message was received all the same.

I raised my hand.

"Release on my mark! Battle…Start!"

Callum chucked his Poké Ball like he was throwing a fastball, clearly trying to get it as far across the field and as close to Touchey as possible.

"Let's go, Golem!"

The hulking Rock and Ground-type slammed into the middle of the field with a thud that echoed. The crowd stirred. It was a decent choice. Most Flying-types hated that matchup.

Callum didn't waste time. His voice cut sharply across the field.

"SE!"

It was crisp. Trained. Short for Stone Edge, no doubt, a fast call for faster execution.

Golem stomped the ground. The arena cracked open, and light flared as jagged rock spires began erupting towards Touckey's position.

And then-

"Go."

-Touckey moved.

One moment, he was standing still; the next, he was blasting forward as a blur of feathers and fury. The Stone Edge spikes barely finished rising before he smashed through them like they were paper decorations.

Golem didn't even have time to blink.

Touchey's beak landed dead-center in his chest with a boom that cracked across the reinforced field and made the entire stadium flinch. Golem was launched backwards like a cannonball, crashing into the barrier so hard it cracked.

He dropped. He didn't get up.

Silence.

I stared. The mic in my hand buzzed faintly from where I'd clenched it.

I swallowed, then, attempting to hold in my own reaction to what I had just witnessed:

"G-Golem is unable to battle. The Round goes to Touckey the Toucannon."

Callum stood frozen, one hand still raised with Golem's Poké Ball. He hadn't even had enough time to return it to his belt.

After a few seconds of silence, I raised the mic again, voice now steady and official.

"Trainer Callum, you have sixty seconds to select your next Pokémon."

Callum flinched, eyes turning to the now murmuring crowd with slight panic in his eyes, then pulled a second ball from his belt with a sharp motion.

"Magneton, Shock and Awe!" He snapped.

The Electric and Steel-type materialized with a sharp hum, hovering above the field with a charged whine already building around it at the snap order.

Kahili raised a brow.

"Ground and Heat."

Touckey angled down and flew low, slicing through the air as close to the stadium floor as one could manage. His now silver, gleaming wingtips skimmed the ground with not an inch of resistance from the touch.

The Shock Wave surged outward in a stadium-spanning wave, lightning crackling as it impacted the Master Level Flying type and grounded instantly.

Before their opponent could even grasp this turn of events, Touckey shot upward like a flare, wings glowing white-hot.

Then the heat hit.

It rolled over the stadium like a physical wave, baking the air with an intensity that bordered on actual fire. The moment Touckey let the Heat Wave loose, the temperature spiked, sweat beading instantly on exposed skin.

The actual shockwave knocked Magneton backward like it had been caught in a volcanic updraft, scorching its metal plating and spinning its eyes in opposite directions before a second wing beat sent a stronger wave. Magneton slammed into the turf with a pitiful whine.

It twitched once, then stopped.

"Magneton is unable to battle. The Round once again goes to Touckey the Toucannon."

Callum's hand was shaking now.

He still had four Pokémon left, but everyone watching already knew the outcome.

Callum didn't say anything as he sent out his third Pokémon: a Glalie.

It didn't matter.

The Glalie's single attempt at a move was nixed from the onset, as the Blizzard it tried to summon was instantly reduced to a breeze by another stadium-spanning Heat Wave. The resulting alarm at its attack being so easily countered left it open to a Steel Wing that once more caused a member of Callem's team to be smashed into the stadium's walls.

"Glalie is unable to battle. The Round once again goes to Touckey the Toucannon."

Next came a Sceptile.

Surprisingly, this one didn't go down instantly.

Touckey opened with a Drill Peck, closing the distance in a blink, and a corkscrew of wind blazing his way forward, but somehow, somehow, the Sceptile tanked it.

Well, more like the Rock Tomb shield he raised, and then the interlocked Dragon Claw finger shield allowed him not to get sent flying like his teammates before him.

And when Touckey had to decelerate, momentum bleeding off just enough to leave him open for a heartbeat, Sceptile moved and landed a clean Night Slash across the wing.

Touckey recoiled, more surprised than hurt, but it was still a hit, the first one they had landed all match.

'Guess we know what his starter is.' There was a sureness in how it moved and how it responded. The kind that didn't even require its trainer to call out a command before it was fighting for its life.

It still didn't matter.

Touckey flared his wings wide and then, from near point-blank range, opened his beak.

What came out wasn't a chirp. It wasn't a cry.

It was a sonic detonation.

The Hyper Voice hit like an explosion without the fire. I could feel it in my ribs even at the ref stand. The very air in front of the Sceptile seemed to ripple, the force slamming into it like a wall.

It was flattened into the arena floor and didn't get back up.

"Sceptile is unable to battle. The Round once again goes to Touckey the Toucannon."

I watched each exchange, the rhythm of my calls becoming mechanical, but in the back of my head, one thought kept repeating:

These Pokémon aren't weak.

They were powerful, coordinated, and highly responsive. Callum had trained them well, had to have, if he won the Silver Conference. That wasn't a title they handed out with your League ID.

No, his team was strong.

Kahili was just stronger, so much stronger, it barely felt fair.

The fifth Pokémon Callum sent out was a Ninetales. A veteran by the looks of it, as it utterly ignored the usual pageantry associated with the breed in order to fix the Master Level Flying type with a glare.

"Scatter Pattern!"

The fox Pokémon instantly used Double Team, spreading its image into a circle of flickering illusions. Then came what I thought might have been a Substitute by the way some of them seemed to physically interact with the ground. An extra layer of deception flickered into place as its ethereal twins rotated steadily, moving with almost dancer-like precision to create a very debilitating visual effect.

It was a smart play. Stall and disrupt to give the trainer a few precious seconds to breathe, maybe even enough time to reset his strategy before the next blow landed.

Kahili didn't even shift her stance.

Her arms were simply folded, expression unreadable.

Then she gave the only command she needed:

"Touckey. Beak Blast."

Touckey responded with immediate altitude.

He shot upward like a rocket, climbing high above the illusions, wings spread wide as he hit the apex of the battlefield, far above anything Ninetales could touch. His beak began to glow, not just with heat, but with raw, building pressure. It shimmered with the kind of kinetic energy that made your bones feel too tight in your skin even from almost a hundred feet away.

Callum instantly panicked.

"Ninetales! Solar Beam!"

Green light surged from the doubles, drawing in sunlight and causing the battlefield to look like a sea of stars. The Ninetales all turned their heads skyward and fired just as the glow at Touckey's beak reached critical mass.

The mass of Solar Beams arced upward, hot and straight.

Then Touckey screamed a sound like a thunderclap and sonic boom fused together, and the sky dropped.

For a single moment, the two attacks collided midair…then, the Beak Blast swallowed the Solar Beams whole.

Then the rest of the blast hit.

The attack didn't just hit one target. It slammed into the entire field like a vertical shockwave. The ground shook like an Earthquake under the impact. Illusions scattered like ash. The Substitutes vanished in an instant.

And the real Ninetales?

It never had a chance.

The force hit mid-pivot and blasted it off its feet. It tumbled backward, skidding to a stop halfway across the arena floor in a singed heap.

Barely on its feet, it raised its head only to be met by the inevitable as Touckey rocketed downward into a Drill Peck powerful enough to look more like a descending tornado.

Before the attack could even land; however, the Ninetails disappeared in a flash of red.

"Trainer Callem has returned his Ninetales, thus forfeiting its use for the remainder of the match. The Round goes to Touchey the Toucannon."

Callum stood there, the fox Pokémon's Poké Ball still in hand.

He didn't return it to his belt. He didn't move. Didn't even seem to breathe.

Then, in a voice tight with everything he wasn't saying:

"…I forfeit."

There was silence. Then a click as I turned on the mic.

"Trainer Callum has forfeited both the Round and the Match. Victory by TKO: Master Kahili Cashion of Alola."

Kahili simply smiled, gave a nod of thanks, then turned her back on Callum and walked off the field. Silence left in her wake.

---

By the time I left the stadium, I was already halfway done with the day.

The match had ended hours ago, but the annoyance hadn't. If anything, it had gotten worse. Half the lesser relatives were tripping over themselves to dissect every second of the battle like they'd trained Kahili themselves, and the other half were pretending they hadn't silently backed the idiot who picked a fight with a Master.

(Because yeah, obviously people were backing the idiot. He wouldn't have had the confidence to pull his bullshit without at least a small chunk of the more cocksure members of the family backing him…or the more chaotic members wanting to see some fireworks.)

Whatever the case, the smug had been loud, and the schadenfreude even louder.

I needed air.

Which was how I ended up on a supply run to the docks with Momo trailing behind me like a four-armed shadow in sunglasses and a branded resort polo. She gave exactly zero fucks about family drama. I envied her.

The pier was hot from the late morning sun. Wingulls cried overhead in loose spirals while the tide washed gently against the piers.

I'd barely taken ten steps down the main boardwalk before I started hearing it.

"Hey Travis! How's the Family get-together going?!"

"Didn't expect to see you down here today, little man!"

"Tell your mom the new batch of Shuckle Wine came in, the first case is on the house!"

I gave a half-wave to the produce vendor, a nod to the liquor supplier, and a polite "Morning" to the guy unloading crates of bottled water. Most of them didn't stop working; they just grinned, happy to spread the good cheer and community.

I'd grown up here after all. I learned to run on these docks before I could talk in full sentences. I had personally fallen off Pier Seven at age three and been fished out by an angrily concerned Wingull and a very patient Poliwhirl.

All of that on top of being the veritable 'prince' of the island as both its future Gym Leader and eventual owner of the Kumquat Grand, the single biggest and most resourceful business on the island, meant that I couldn't walk down a single street without the community saying or doing something to get my attention.

Not that it was a bad thing, of course. In fact, it was almost a relief to receive so much unconditional support and affection from a group of people I knew had my back. People that I knew more of and about than over half of my 'supposed' family.

By the time we reached the pickup point, the tension that had been steadily building in my gut finally unclenched.

After signing for the lot, I double-checked the barcode with the foreman and stepped back while Momo lifted the boxes like they were empty.

Checking my watch, I pursed my lip as I realized this little errand hadn't even taken a half hour to complete, and if I started returning now, I would be arriving right in the middle of Family Bingo. (Which was much more cutthroat than it sounded. Some of the elders in our family were terrifying when they wanted to be.)

I then cocked my head a bit as I realized just what part of the pier we were currently on.

"Hey Momo, what do you think about stopping by the Dock for a little bit? Maybe see how the Terrible Twosome are doing?"

The Machamp looked down at me with a raised brow. I had no doubt that she knew my true objective here, but I also knew her own annoyance with the Gathering would make her more likely to agree. The nod moments later proved me correct and let me take the lead once more as we made our way closer to the edges of the docks.

Making our way down the boardwalk, and after a few more waves and calls of support from various familiar dockhands and sailors, we eventually found ourselves at one of the enclosed docks found on the pier.

More specifically, we found ourselves at our own private dock, the Gym's signature symbol imprinted on its side, and a quick keypad unlock allowing us access.

Inside was just as luxurious as one would expect, with various dry stations available for basic ship repair and maintenance, all of which were dedicated to the upkeep of the half dozen speed boats and small yachts floating in the middle of the aquatic-aligned building.

"Anyone home?" I called out. Momo joined me with a loud grunt as she set down her load.

After a few moments of silence, I started to shrug as clearly the residents of the dock weren't home, yet that didn't mean we couldn't use the spot as a short hideaway, only for a voice to call out:

"M-Magikarp? Magikarp! Magikarp!"

A smile spread across my face as I looked around, only to then spot the source of the call.

Bobbing away in the water, and now happily and gleefully wiggling at the dock's edge was a rather small example of a Magikarp.

That size did nothing to take away from his clear excitement at seeing me, and he even went as far as to start butting up against the dock boards in an effort to get closer.

Laughing aloud, I quickly rushed over before he could hurt either himself or the dock. "Nemo! Good to see you, buddy!"

"Magi-Magikarp!" Nemo cried out happily as I bent down and began to rub his head, scritching and scratching where his top fin met his body, like he loved for me to do.

The loud sigh behind me let me know Momo's general attitude toward my actions, but I ignored her in favor of heaping all the love and attention I could on my fish friend.

Nemo the Magikarp had been a rather big inevitability in my life as far as I saw it. I had loved using the danger noodle that were Gyarados during my early childhood playthroughs of the various games. That love had only grown as the years passed and the rage fish gained more potential and power over the generations.

Add on top of that my living on a tropical island in the middle of a sea-locked region, a Ranger corps that was the shining example of what a group of well-trained Gyarados could do, and one of the only known locations on the planet that housed a natural evolution location for the Magikarp line, thus leading to far less rage-induced evolutions, and I found myself in one of the rare examples of isekai/reincarations into the world of Pokemon where not only was my desire for a Gyarados understandable, but almost encouraged!

…well, if you didn't count my overprotective mother, who had made her own stance on my desire for a Gyarados known via various rants, threats of grounding, and one memorable occasion where she personally dismantled the resort's Gyarados-themed water slide to try and remove a physical representation of my wishes.

Her overdramatics aside, I had understood the source of her concern. Improperly trained Gyarados were known far and wide for their berserker tendencies, and I had heard enough horror stories over the years to know the dangers of trying to train a danger noodle of my own.

In the end, I'd settled for agreeing to not make a Magikarp my Starter (which had featured in quite a few of my earlier plans, admittedly), and in turn waiting to get a Gyarados outright until after I had at least two badges minimum in order to show my competence.

(The fact that she hadn't needed said competence displayed before she agreed to let me sit my Gym Leader credential test early was quite the spot of hypocrisy, but I wasn't gonna call her out on it…yet.)

Now, with all that said, my having made a friend of Nemo would obviously raise a few red flags…if my intentions for Nemo were to evolve him, of course.

After all, while I had agreed not to raise a Gyarados until I proved competent, nothing said I couldn't get a head start with their much more manageable pre-evolution.

"How's the vest feeling buddy?" I asked, patting down his rather dense sides, covered as they were by a bulky red vest-like accessory that I knew to house at least four Everstones. (Because redundancy was important, especially when it involved a potential berserker fish-dragon.)

"Magi-Magikarp Karp. Magiiiiiikarp karp," Nemo went on for a bit. A few 'uh-huhs' and 'hmms' came along as I listened, but since I didn't have a clue what he was actually saying, I instead performed a physical inspection to make sure the vest wasn't rubbing wrong against his scales or fins.

Thankfully, the designer's guarantee once more came through, and I didn't find anything wrong or in need of serious repair beyond a few manageable loose threads and tears.

The likely source of said tears made me frown, and I gave the still gabbering Magikarp a dry look.

"You've been overdoing the Tackle training again, haven't you?"

Nemo instantly went silent at my words.

It never ceased to amaze me how Nemo could make the normally bland and dead-eyed looks of a Magikarp so expressive as he turned away, whiskers twitching in obvious panic, and eyes pointedly looking at anything but me.

I gave a rather theoretical sigh at his antics before getting up and grabbing a sewing kit I kept in a toolbox nearby for just this particular issue.

"You know I told you not to overdo your exercises for a reason," I reminded him gently as I unbuckled the vest from around his body, revealing some rather large and cringeworthy scars that went from nearly his tail fin all the way into what appeared to be a chunk taken out of his left fin.

"Mag-Magikarp," Nemo muttered in what I knew to be an apology.

I shook my head. "I know you're sorry, bud. It just hurts to think that you could hurt yourself, and I wouldn't be around to help you get better."

Nemo deflated at the gentle chiding, and I had to hide my own feelings over the slight guilt trip I knew I was performing.

Then the memory of just how he got his rather prolific scars caused that guilt to vanish, so I instead took the time to sew up the few loose threads in his training vest while also talking aloud about all the things that had been going on lately.

"But seriously, Kahili was amazing today. Touckey was moving so fast it was hard to even see the afterimage!" I snapped my arms from side to side to my captive fishy audience. "And the look on the idiot's face when Kahili won, I honestly thought he was about to puke or start speaking gibberish." I snickered, rubbing Nemo's starry-eyed head as he nearly pushed himself out of the water and into my lap.

He was a heavy little guy. Much heavier than his size alone would hint at. His vest wasn't just to help keep the Everstones on him after all. It was a properly weighted vest used for training, and Nemo most certainly made use of it in the daily exercises I had given him, given the tears I was fixing.

Thoughts of what that future training would provide caused my thoughts to turn towards my favorite cousin, who had been the one to help inspire the idea. The memories of what I had witnessed of her rose to the surface.

It was only the third time I'd seen Kahili battle up close. The first had been when I was five, and Mom had offered up an "exhibition match" to help Kahili blow off steam before a major tournament. Mom had taken it seriously, going all out from the start in her preferred Doubles format with Al and Momo.

She lost six to two.

Even then, Kahili had moved like a storm on the field, her team utterly destroying any defense or obstacle in their way. She'd pushed Mom harder than I'd ever seen anyone before, and when it was over, she'd just straightened her gloves and said she was finally feeling warmed up.

The second time had been at the Hana Grand during the Family Gathering two years ago in Alola. I'd asked, half as a joke, if I could tag along while she trained. She'd surprisingly said yes.

What I saw that day still kept me up sometimes.

The way she moved in sync with her team. The commands she didn't speak out loud. The things her Pokémon did that shouldn't have been possible. I spent weeks afterward trying to sketch out modified move trees to explain what I had seen. I used up three different notebooks before we even left Alola.

She was a Master…but even she wasn't the Peak.

The strongest trainers in the world, the Champions of each region, were more than just League title-holders. They were Masters of Masters. Trainers who stood at the summit and stayed there, above the myths and legends. The kind of people who didn't just battle history. They became it.

"Are you still in Nemo?" I asked once again, looking down at the tiny fish that I knew held more energy and life in him than dozens of his own kind combined. "The roads are gonna be tough, and we'll face people that will make Mom and the others look like the amateurs that roll through here at the beginning of every season, so if you want to just-"

"MAGI-MAG! IE! KARP!"

I looked down in bemusement as Nemo went on a no doubt passion-filled rant. The contents of which I could only assume involved undying oaths of loyalty and speeches that would make any shonan protagonist weep with pride.

"Okay! Okay! I get it!" I chuckled anew as I scratched Nemo's happy spots, calming down the otherwise passionate goober.

Still, it was a relief to know Nemo was still with me. Considering the events that led to his scars, I couldn't help but fall into bad habits and ask the, proving to be, asinine question each time thoughts of the future came up around the fish Pokémon.

"It would honestly be so much simpler if I could have you as my Starter," I mused aloud, Nemo gurgling out a sad agreement at the thought.

I understood why, of course. Before Mom had even gone on her entire Gyarados episode, I had known that it would be more likely that she would argue for me to have a more…rounded Starter.

Nothing absurd, mind you. She wasn't about to force some highly bred, super rare pseudo legendary on me or the like. It would be rather hypocritical considering her own Starter, the once-street rat that was Alakazam.

No, her arguments would more so come from the rational observation that my Starter should at the very least start as a small, land-based Pokémon that could be with me no matter the environment. Such requirements are a rather common reason why the "traditional starters" of the various Regions were so sought out, being Pokémon that didn't require specific environments just to achieve their full potential.

A requirement that Nemo, as a water-locked Pokémon, obviously didn't meet.

Still, whatever the case of what my Starter could and could not be, it was Nemo time.

"Alright," I smacked my cheeks to get my head back in the present. "Dramatic declarations of fellowship aside, let me see some Tackles! I want to see you flying!"

Nemo beamed at the command, barely remaining still long enough to hear each command of where and how I wanted him to rocket around the dock. He dove, swam, and jumped around like a pinball. His jumps took him clean over the various boats at times, while others were dedicated to more specific methods of flight, like jumping through certain gaps in the ship's open railings or from certain parts of one ship to another.

Eventually, however, Momo had the unfortunate job of reminding me that our time was limited, and I soon found myself once more slipping the vest back onto Nemo's small yet densely muscled frame.

"Surprised the Terrible Twosome never turned up," I mused, glancing round the dock's interior as if just mentioning them would summon the pair.

"Maaagikarp," Nemo shook his head (well, more his whole body, but I understood the gesture for what it was) before happily gobbling up the few berry snacks I had on hand.

I shook my own head fondly at the goober's antics. "Their lose, I guess. It was good to see you Nemo. I'll try and stop by again before the Gathering is over, yeah?"

Nemo happily gibbered back, always sad to see me leave, but also happy at the thought of me coming back.

Turning to leave, I gave Momo a nod that I was ready-

WAM!

-before flinching as a loud bang came from the dock's far wall.

Exchanging looks of confusion with my heavily armed bodyguard, we quickly made our way outside, Nemo calling out his goodbyes all the while.

Turning the corner of the dock, we eventually found our way to the alley that made up the dock's other side, and a flicker of light caught the corner of my vision.

I stepped closer, leaning just far enough into the alley to get a better look.

There, cornered behind a stack of busted crates, was a Pichu. It was sparking so badly it looked like it might pass out from sheer effort as its cheeks flared in erratic pulses, bolts snapping off its fur as it stood low, teeth bared.

And, yeah, unless Kumquat Island had gained a wild Pichu population overnight, I had a strong guess this was the same one that used my face as a springboard yesterday.

Funny how life works sometimes.

It was swaying on its feet, but still trying to stand tall, even surrounded by five snarling Rattata and a Sandshrew that was clearly in charge…and the Sandshrew's claws faintly glimmered purple.

Poison. Great.

I turned to share an unimpressed look with Momo before sighing and moving forward.

Now standing at the alley's mouth, I crossed my arms and let my voice carry:

"You get one chance."

Every Pokémon in the alley paused, and all eyes turned to me.

"You get one chance to walk away," I repeated, giving them the ultimatum.

All they saw was a kid standing alone with not a Pokémon in sight.

The Sandshrew let out a rasping growl and dug its claws into the concrete. One of the Rattata chittered a challenge.

I sighed as Momo rounded the corner behind me.

She didn't say anything. Machamps typically don't need to.

The wild Pokémon froze.

Feeling a little mirth at their boggle-eyed looks, I leaned forward slightly and whispered loud enough for them to hear:

"This is the part…where you run away."

As if my words were a starting pistol, the six Pokegang members bolted, nearly climbing over each other to get away. The Sandshrew even went as far as to roll up and wrecking ball its way through moldy crates to get away faster.

I waited until the last one disappeared before stepping forward.

The Pichu was still sparking defensively, but the crackling was weaker now. Its legs gave a tiny tremble even as it tried to stay standing before the titan (and smaller titan) that Momo and I represented.

I knelt down slowly, voice low.

"Hey, easy now," I said gently. "We're not here to hurt you."

It blinked up at me warily, so tired it looked like it could barely keep its eyes open. It attempted one more flicker of electricity, but it fizzled out almost as soon as it sparked.

I reached forward quickly and caught it as it fell forward.

"You're safe now. I promise."

 

[IcurasFallen]

Pokémon Version Orange

Arc 1 - The Gathering


Chapter 6
​

---

It was official; I couldn't have five minutes of peace, not even after rescuing an electro-rat from a Poke rendition of a street gang.

"I was supposed to be on my fudging break," I childishly cursed under my breath as I jogged across the upper terrace path toward the Battle Courts. "But nooo, the idiots had to decide now was the perfect time to prove their 'vaunted battling experience.' It's not like I had another dozen things to do!"

Momo kept pace beside me, and every thundering step of hers was a subtle reminder that I could at least count on one person not to ambush me with sudden tournament logistics.

My shoes slapped tile with increasing frustration. All I'd wanted was to check on the Pichu. Just that! Nothing overly complicated, heck, I'd even planned out the words. Maybe I would offer a Sitrus slice to help calm it down. But nope.

Instead, I'd had barely a minute to drop off the nearly catatonic mouse with Blissey and her crew of misfits before being informed that in the one hour I was gone, the assorted trainees, relatives, and a not-so-small handful of entourage kids had collectively decided the Battle Courts were the perfect place for a Bet Battle Tournament.

Complete with brackets.

And banners.

And a full betting pool.

"Of course, there has to be betting," I grumbled, dodging a cart loaded with folding chairs. "Why settle for mild chaos when you can legally attach financial stakes to your ego?"

I barely made it around the corner before one of the staff members caught sight of me and immediately motioned me toward the official's entrance.

"Young Master Travis! Good, you're here; we've already got sixty-three matches on the docket, and half the challengers insisted we start early because someone-"

"-was no doubt bragging about having their dad's team on standby," I finished. "I know the patterns, Julian. Just give me the docket."

Julian, one of our permanent battle court refs, nodded contritely before doing as told.

Walking inside, the air was already heavy with the scent of various flowery air diffusers, overly-sweet Poké Puff snacks, and pride. All the pride.

Battle Courts A through D were already alive with movement. Cheers echoed from multiple directions as battle calls rang out over the floor. Most of the competitors were teens or younger kids. Fifteen and under was what I had been told officially, but the smugness per square foot? That was definitely adult levels.

And there, already officiating like he was born to wear a ref vest with questionable sleeve cuts, was Big Wayne.

"Well well well, look who finally decided to join the war effort," Wayne boomed with a massive grin. "They've got more caffeine than sense out there today, kid. I already disqualified two of em for trying to bribe the bracket organizer."

"Sounds about right." I slid into place beside him, pulling the spare ref vest off the stack. "Who thought giving Challenge Credit to elementary-schoolers was a good idea again?"

Big Wayne laughed. "Same people who thought giving ten-year-olds living flamethrowers was educational!"

He wasn't wrong.

Challenge Credit.

Ten years ago, it was some sleek new system being beta-tested in every major city from Celadon to Castelia. It was meant to be something that could "modernize" Trainer commerce. Now? It was everywhere. Integrated directly into every Trainer's license, transferable instantly between accounts, and rising in popularity faster than Pokéstar Studio flops got greenlit for sequels.

And Bet Battles were its engine.

Put simply, a Bet Battle was a battle with stakes. Not for cash, not directly, but for a wagered amount of Challenge Credit logged to both participants' League profiles. The winner took the pot while the loser lost actual buying power. And because those credits were tied to official accounts, they could be used for almost anything: lodging, Poké Balls, healing supplies, TMs, even some lower-tier airfare if your win streak was good enough.

But the flipside?

If you lost too many times, too fast, you stopped being able to pay for your journey.

Which is why the League required licensed referees to oversee every Challenge Credit wager match. We weren't just scorekeepers. We were the system's gatekeepers, making sure nobody got scammed, cheated, or "persuaded" into tossing a battle that could cost them months of travel expenses.

And today that job fell to me. Because of course it did.

Court A had just finished resetting when the next round was called. I glanced at the updated sheet and raised my voice as I moved to take over.

"Rielle from Kalos versus Tatsumi from Kanto! Court A!"

I moved forward to the referee's stand and nodded as both combatants stepped up.

"Confirmed wager: 100 Challenge Credit. Trainers, confirm?"

They nodded.

Rielle had the air of someone who battled between Contests. Gold-trimmed gloves, tight posture, and a female Meowstic whose fur almost shimmered. It at least seemed experienced and wasn't just a postermon to look good.

Tatsumi was the opposite, with hair buzzed close, no finery, and focused eyes. His Hitmontop wasted zero time on a flourish. It launched a barked Triple Kick the moment I lowered my hand.

Rielle waved her hand elegantly. "Charm into Psybeam."

Credit where it was due, her Meowstic was fast. The Hitmontop staggered mid-spin, destabilized by the disorienting pulse of Fairy-type energy that left it barely giving Meowstic a glancing blow at best. The Psybeam slammed into it moments later.

With the more physical pair now on the back foot, Rielle and Meowstic didn't let up until the end of the match was called in short order.

"Victory to Rielle," I called when the Fighting Type didn't get back up.

Tatsumi bowed, recalled his Pokémon, and walked away without a word. I could already tell that was going to be rare today.

I scribbled the result and stepped off the court, only to catch Wayne waving at me from across C.

He pointed sharply toward Court D, where a familiar support staffer was waving toward me with stress practically radiating off her frame.

"We've got a situation," she said under her breath as I strode up.

Looking at the situation, I could see that while the match was already over, the aftermath was proving to be loud.

Some overdressed cousin, Jackson or Jaydn or some other J-starting name, was losing his mind. His Marshtomp was out cold on the court while his opponent, a boy from Kalos (judging by the skin tone, Winstrom-themed pin on his beanie, and Clauncher), stood sheepishly off to the side.

"You cheated!" The brat was shrieking. "You all saw it! He called one move, and his shitty crustacean did something else!"

"Which isn't against the rules," I said flatly. Because really, that was the best he could come up with?

That didn't seem to matter to Jackson as he grabbed another Poké Ball.

"Oh yeah," he growled, glaring toward the Kalosian boy. "We'll see how you handle THIS-"

"Jason!" I barked sharply.

He ignored me.

The ball hit the court, and a Gigalith materialized in a flash of light and fury.

The crowd backed up fast. Momo didn't. She stepped forward.

James snarled. "Let's see how you like my father's-"

"Don't," I repeated, keeping behind Momo for what was no doubt about to occur. "Daddy's not here to save you from embarrassment."

Jeremy turned to me with a scowl. "You wouldn't dare-"

Momo's fist blurred.

She didn't punch, not really. More like…tapped it. Gently. Right in the center of its face.

Gigalith rocketed backwards into the battlefield's barriers hard enough to make them turn yellow. It didn't get back up.

The brat froze.

Momo tilted her head, the unspoken anything else? loud and clear.

Jack quietly returned his fainted 'mon.

"Glad we had this talk," I muttered, turning away to a suddenly much quieter audience.

The rest of the matches weren't much better.

A lot of kids with expensive Pokémon and no tactical instinct. Rare typings, flashy moves, and practically no discipline to speak of.

But occasionally?

Someone reminded me why I loved battling.

Diana, for instance. Unovan girl, pretty sure she was Cousin Mile's step-sister on his wife's side or the like. Confident in the "not wasting energy" way. She sent out a Lampent that fought so cleanly that I saw Wayne straighten up two courts away.

Her opponent? A Johto boy with a Croconaw. It should have been a bad match-up.

Except her opponent didn't see the trap.

"Wisp Circle!"

"Waterfall!"

"Hex!"

It was like watching a river get outmaneuvered by a forest fire. Lampent dipped, feinted, and ignited the whole court in a haze of cursed fire that hid the precision strikes right until the moment they landed.

The match ended fast. Her Lampent hadn't even been hit.

I marked her down for the semis.

I rotated my shoulders, scribbled another note, and exhaled hard.

Still no word from Blissey; I hadn't been able to grab lunch yet, and I still had to pretend I wasn't about to crash the second this was over.

Hopefully, the finals wouldn't be too far off…

Which obviously meant it took another twenty minutes just to reach the finals. The source of that particular hurdle was caused by one of the various younger cousins pulling out a Shuckle that clearly wasn't their own, and then proceeded to not get disqualified only because the rocky bug had kept to the bare minimum of what he ordered while otherwise ignoring the glancing blows their opponent threw at them via Rest shenanigans.

When the match was finally called, I felt both annoyed and embarrassed for him. Not the idiot who threw out the Shuckle, mind you, but rather his opponent, who had to deal with the stupidly defensive Pokémon. Especially since it left his Pokémon utterly drained and easy pickings for the more brash of the two finalists.

I hummed tiredly as I accepted the last clipboard of the event and moved toward the center court before clearing my throat as I stepped onto the platform.

"This is the final match of the-" I paused just long enough to read a banner one of the more artistically inclined relatives had no doubt made and sighed internally, "-the Crowning Cashion Competition. Winner takes the pot."

A few kids on the sidelines whooped and hollared. I pretended not to hear.

I held up the clipboard, then gestured to my left.

"Representing the Unova branch of the family, we have Diana Voss and Lampent, undefeated in her bracket and looking ready for more."

I got a nod from Diana. Lampent hovered at her side, flames flickering in that playfully wicked way that Ghost types seemingly tried to embody.

I turned right.

"And representing Sinnoh, by way of the Grand Lake Estate, we have Laurent Cashion and his partner Floatzel, specializing in speed-based aquatic offense."

Laurent gave a too-casual wave to the crowd, all confidence and practiced arrogance. His Floatzel flexed like it had something to prove. (Which it probably did, considering the cakewalk they had in their last battle.)

I raised my hand and let it fall.

"Battle! Begin!"

"Aqua Jet!" Laurent called instantly, sharp and confident.

No surprise there. He'd opened with the same move every match today, and Floatzel followed through by darting forward in a pillar of rushing water.

Yet Diana's Lampent was already moving as a Fire Spin blazed into existence around it and caused steam to burst outward as the Aqua Jet collided with the flames head-on.

I raised a brow. Looks like someone else had noticed what move Laurent kept starting the match with and made a decent counter.

And now she was already on the follow-up.

"Wisp Circle into Hex!"

A ring of ghostly blue flames shot outward from Lampent's spinning limbs, sweeping out like a pulse. Floatzel, still dazed from the surprise collision and unexpected steam bath, barely had time to move before the flames passed through it.

It hissed as the cursed flames burned against its front. Its usual resistance to fire did nothing to stop the Ghost-type move. That was going to hurt.

Laurent winced but ordered all the same, "Dodge right, then Crunch!"

Floatzel recovered quickly enough to lunge in the direction instructed, fangs igniting with a large quantity of Dark-type energy. It crushed through the residual flames and intercepted the arc of Hex Lampent sent out, biting into the spectral power and shattering the attack with raw force alone.

Diana clicked her tongue at the missed opportunity. "Smog into Confuse Ray!"

I clicked my own tongue at the play.

It was a rather pointed reminder that, unlike the games, status conditions could stack in real battles. Burn, poison, paralysis, and even confusion weren't mutually exclusive. It made for brutal tactics and required far more awareness from both trainer and ref.

On the field, the Smog cloud hit first, rolling over Floatzel and causing it to retch. Then came the Confuse Ray, flickering like a strobe in the poisonous fog.

"Get out of there!" Laurent shouted. "Jet backwards then wide!"

Floatzel gritted its teeth as it tried to focus through the pain, then darted backwards in a streak of water, cutting through the smog and actually managing to dodge the Confuse Ray. It circled wide, trying to set up a counterangle.

"Now, stagger it with Water Gun!"

The sea weasel did as instructed, spitting out blasts of water in staggered volleys that would have a much greater chance of hitting their target, even with its rapid movements.

Something that proved wise when Lampent proved its training by not even needing its trainer to order a dodge. It spun and dipped through the air like it was dancing, allowing it to dodge the super-effective attacks with ease.

"Lampent! Don't get too low!" Diana suddenly shouted, causing Laurent to stifle a curse.

I had to give her props. I had only noticed the buildup of water on the ground because I was standing in the middle of the field and could see that Floatzel was aiming around Lampent as much as at it. Lampent could obviously float above such a thing, so you would typically think it wouldn't be a worry. Certain moves worked best with access to an excess of water, however, which could in turn lead to-

"Floatzel, no holding back! WHIRLPOOL!"

-that.

Floatzel grit its teeth through its no doubt excruciating pain, and it utilized the excess water it had been flinging across the field as much as its own reserves to create a vortex of water directly beneath the ghostly lamp. The watery mass rose up much quicker than usual for the base move, and it was only thanks to Diana's warning that Lampent was able to react to her next command as quickly as it did.

"Fire Spin down then up! Full Power!"

The crowd around us let out cries and shouts as the attacks collided, and a massive blast of steam erupted from the arena. The sheer amount of steam blinded most present and caused a majority to turn away.

It was only thanks to years of being around such battle effects that I didn't turn away, even as the steam felt like it was burning my eyes, and it, in turn, left me one of the few present that saw what happened next.

Something that caused me to smile.

"While it's blinded, use Surf Floatzel!" Laurent roared, soon accompanied by the roar of hundreds of gallons of water as Floatzel began summoning a wave at the edge of the field.

It was only as the steam began to fade and the wave began to rush forward that the reason for my smile was shown.

Because where everyone expected to find a damaged and blinded Lampent was instead empty.

"What?!" Laurent shouted in shock, frantically looking around the arena even as his Pokémon surfed across the field on its wave.

His inexperience was definitely showing there. After all, Lampent could float, so the most likely place it would be if not on the field-

"Now Lampent, Energy Ball!"

-was up.

Heads snapped upward as Lampent answered its trainer's call. The Pokémon's lower body was clearly damaged, which made sense considering it had used the steam blast from earlier to get much greater height than usual, and in turn leave it in the perfect place to alpha strike an unaware foe.

"Oh fu-Floatzal! PROTECT!"

I had to give Laurent props; while his battlefield awareness might not have been the best, his training was definitely up there, as Floatzal immediately dropped its concentration on its wave to try and form the pinnacle of defensive moves to block the supereffective attack.

Which meant it was almost painful to witness as Floatzel threw up its paws to create the protective dome, only for its burn marks to pulse a brilliant red and cause it to buckle at the pivotal moment.

What little of the barrier it managed to create crumbled before the sphere of brilliant green light, blasting it into the ground below in a cloud of dust.

For a moment, the crowd went silent as we all watched for any sign of movement…

And again, props to Laurent, because even after all the damage the water weasel had taken, it still tried to rise up from where it had been smashed into the arena floor.

Unfortunately for him, I wasn't the only one who saw it.

"Hex," Diana ordered with a grimace.

The wave of ghostly energy blasted downward from Lampent's great height and sent Floatzel slamming back into the field. The Ghost-type move did its insidious work as it drew forth not only damage from the base attack, but even enhanced the pain of its burns and the poison no doubt running through its veins.

I stepped forward, staring to see if the Water Type would get back up, before my voice rose.

"Floatzel is unable to battle. Victory goes to Diana and Lampent!"

The crowd broke into cheers.

Laurent cursed under his breath, but raised his Poké Ball all the same.

Diana didn't bow or gloat. She just reached up, brushed her blonde hair behind one ear, and gave her Lampent a soft pat as it drifted to her side.

Chuckling and in a far better mood after the surprisingly interesting battle, I began flicking through the match ledger. The annoying part of being a Bet Battle ref made known as I had to finalize receipts and modify credit scores.

Of course, that was when a few of the competitors decided to slither over, all hopeful smiles and bad excuses as they tried to "clarify" the terms of their bets or subtly ask if maybe we could forget to log this one match that had gone badly.

I didn't even look up. Momo's looming presence made sure no one tried anything stupid.

The numbers went in. Challenge Credit was deducted. Digital receipts were sent to their trainer profiles. Parental notifications would follow shortly for those dumb enough to be using such accounts. (Aka, a majority of them.)

Actions had consequences. Especially stupid ones.

By the time the last entry was filed and Big Wayne shouted something about closing the courts for cleaning, I was ready to finally get a nap and lunch, didn't matter the order.

Especially when I caught sight of one of the logistics managers heading my way with That Look (you know, the "we need a favor and it's already ten minutes overdue" one) and immediately angled hard left through the outer ring of the crowd.

Nope. Not today.

Momo began laughing as I quickly returned her and ducked behind a cousin's Hippowdon, cut through the back service hall, and booked it down the stairs two at a time until I hit the staff elevators.

Punching in the penthouse floor never felt so righteous.

Lunch was hours late. My head was spinning with a growing migraine, and if one more person asked me to moderate a last-minute showdown between their baby Absol and someone else's Scyther, I was going to personally invent a new move called Shut Up.

I just wanted food, silence, and maybe, just maybe, a chance to check in on a certain electric mouse who had better not have gotten into our ventilation. I did not want to know what Uncle Manu went through at sea for weeks on end.

Which was why, when the elevator doors finally hissed open and I stepped into the blessed silence of the penthouse, I wasn't expecting to walk into what looked like a hostage situation.

Bliss stood at one end of the room, trying to coax a spoonful of pudding toward her target with all the gentle menace of a pink-tinted nurse in crisis mode.

Alakazam hovered just over her shoulder, arms crossed and expression unreadable except for the usual sarcastic judgment held within.

And stuck in the corner, trembling in place and sparking like a shorted outlet, was the Pichu.

It looked cornered by kindness and judgment both, unsure which one was worse. Its cheeks crackled as it glanced between the spoon and the stare, visibly regretting every decision that had led to this moment.

I took in the scene for all of three seconds before turning and walking a wide berth around it like a tourist avoiding a street performance.

Again, not today.

Bliss made a welcoming coo as I passed. The Pichu squeaked something that might've been a cry for help.

I didn't stop.

Straight into the kitchen. Straight to the fridge. I needed food before I started holding an intervention for a living sparkplug with trust issues.

---

The couch creaked slightly as I dropped onto it, sandwich in hand: four meats, three vegetables, and exactly zero regrets.

Across the room, Pichu was putting up a spirited, if ineffective, fight against what had to be the world's gentlest captor.

Bliss had finally captured her wayward patient and had him swaddled in a Volt-resistant blanket, the kind used in pediatric Pokémon wards to prevent accidental zapping, and was currently trying to feed him a spoonful of vitamin-enriched pudding with all the determination of a nurse who'd seen far worse patients than one twitchy electric rodent.

He squeaked, wiggled, and sparked. She hummed, patted, and smiled.

The pudding won. Eventually.

I took a bite of my sandwich and watched the standoff with mild detachment. There were worse things than being fussed over by a Blissey.

I'd give him five more minutes before he either gave in completely or evolved out of spite.

I took another bite and slowly turned to Alakazam, who sat across from me like a judgmental statue, one brow rose in silent question.

Hearing an Alakazam telepathically sigh in exasperation was always an experience.

"Bliss called it in as a 'rowdy guest,'" came the tenor voice in my mind. "I was down at the beach helping your mother officiate the adults' polo match. Uncle Manu was threatening to call out Skarmery again when he got accused of cheating."

Ah, that explained why he sounded tired.

"Bliss sent the alert when she realized her patient had gone missing, and I found the little menace trying to crawl into the ventilation system from the medical alcove. Would've made a mess of the entire HVAC if I'd been thirty seconds slower."

I shuddered. Just imagining the fallout from that, of Mom finding out a wild electric-type had fried the cooling network during the Gathering? That kind of meltdown would've required actual diplomatic intervention.

"I thought Bliss was watching him," I asked because, yeah, that part wasn't making much sense.

"She was. He slipped away by sensing where people were." A pause. "He has psychic potential. Rudimentary, but present. He was using it to instinctively avoid others."

I blinked, sandwich halfway to my mouth.

"…He what?"

"He was using his burgeoning psychic senses to detect others. Rather poorly, it must be said," Alakazam clarified, and I could hear the disdain curling in his tone. "His mind flares out like a Loudred in a cave. I didn't even have to search. Just followed the noise."

My hand slowly lowered.

Psychic potential.

In a Pichu.

I stared at the little burrito-shaped bundle in the corner, still glaring at Bliss as if she'd personally offended his bloodline.

"That shouldn't be possible." Yet the words somehow sounded wrong to my own ears even as I said them. "Pichu aren't-"

I froze mid-thought.

Because I remembered something important.

Because my brain, now freshly recharged with food and rest, connected the dots.

Alola. It came here on Uncle Manu's yacht from Alola.

Pichu eventually evolved into pure Electric-type Raichu, sure. But in Alola? In Alola, it didn't become the Electric-type bruiser everyone knew.

It became Alolan Raichu. Electric and Psychic.

I leaned back on the couch, staring at the ceiling like it had betrayed me.

Alakazam glanced over at me, his expression unreadable. "What do you intend to do with him?"

I blinked back dumbly. "With who?"

He tilted his head toward the still-wriggling Pichu burrito in the corner, who was currently chewing on the blanket edge with the sullen intensity of a child in time-out.

"You brought him here instead of the Pokémon Center, so he's your responsibility, for now."

My mouth opened to argue, but nothing came out.

Because technically, he wasn't wrong.

I had brought the little menace here. Not to the Pokémon Center, but here, home.

What was I supposed to do with him?

I leaned back and rubbed a hand down my face, mental gears starting to turn.

The talks last night rose to the surface. How could they not? All that arguing and postering about Starters and strategies, hell, even my trip to see Nemo was the perfect lead up to having the idea at the forefront of my mind.

I'd never really considered Raichu. Definitely not Alolan Raichu, but…

A strong Electric-type in a waterlogged region was a massive boon. Add onto that his eventual Psychic typing that, even as a baby mon', he was already proving true via his use of extrasensory detection…

Yeah, it could work.

It made sense.

So why was my stomach twisting?

I stared at the conundrum in the corner.

I stared at the Pichu…

…oh.

Oh, I knew the answer, even if I didn't want to admit it.

It was because he was a Pichu.

Because another version of me, another Travis, had started with a Pikachu.

Was this fate? Some canon event? Had the universe handed me this moment because it thought it was funny?

Was I just going to become him? Another Pikachu trainer, another recycled trope, another Ash Clone that made a one-episode appearance?

My breathing hitched.

Shit, I was spiraling. Fast.

The walls felt too close. The lights were starting to stab into my eyes. My own thoughts weRE TO LOUD-

"TRAVIS!"

The mental voice hit like a thunderclap, slicing clean through the static.

"You are hyperventilating. Cease."

I froze.

Then, slowly, like clockwork gears re-engaging, I remembered the exercises.

One finger tapped my wrist. Steady rhythm. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Again.

Count backward from ten. Focus on the five things I could see. Four I could touch. Three I could hear.

It took time. But eventually, the vice grip around my chest loosened.

I leaned forward, elbows on knees, forehead against clasped hands.

"...Thanks," I muttered.

Alakazam didn't say anything. Just remained sitting in that same stoic grace, like the moment hadn't happened at all.

But it had, and I was still here. Still me.

A moment passed.

Then Alakazam's voice returned, calm but firm. "If the rodent is causing this much distress, we will remove it-"

I jerked upright. "No!"

The spoon in his hand froze mid-spin. Bliss's humming cut off.

My voice had been too sharp, I realized, too raw even now. I swallowed hard, forcing my breath into something close to even. My pulse still hadn't settled, but the panic had passed, mostly.

Bliss was watching me. Concern etched in every soft line of her face. She hadn't come closer to try and smother me with healing touches and berry smoothies, thank Arceus, but only because her arms were still full of sparking rodent.

Slowly, I turned to the Pichu.

It had stopped fighting. Mainly because it was watching me now.

I didn't need Alakazam to confirm what I already suspected: it had felt my panic. Even wrapped in layers of insulating medical material, its psychic potential had no doubt allowed it to feel my panic. It knew I was stressed, so it was stressed.

But what caught my attention the most, what made my breath catch in a different way entirely, were its eyes.

They weren't black.

Every Pikachu I'd ever seen, every member of their line, they all had those solid black eyes. Big, expressive, slightly glassy.

But this one?

Light blue.

A soft, unmistakable cerulean glow, faintly reflective in the warm light of the room.

Its Alolan heritage was staring me in the face.

I exhaled again, steadier this time. That single detail settled my nerves more than any breathing exercise ever had.

Then I stood, ignoring the slight wobble in my legs, and slowly made my way over.

Bliss stared at me with a concerned frown, probably expecting me to do something stupid. The Pichu definitely did. Its ears twitched as static popped faintly along its cheeks.

I didn't reach out, nor did I loom over them. Instead, I sat down a few feet away, lower than both of them.

Now, the Pichu was the one looking down.

"Sorry about earlier." I broke the silence. "I was…dealing with some stuff."

The Pichu blinked, then gave me a Look. The kind of look that said 'Yeah, no kidding.'

I couldn't help it; a chuckle slipped out. "Fair enough."

Some of the tension left my shoulders. I stayed seated, letting the last of my thoughts slot into place, locking down what I wanted to say next.

Then I sat up straight, looked the Pichu dead in the eye, and said:

"I want you to be my Starter."

Behind me, I heard the unmistakable sound of a facepalm. Alakazam's patience apparently had limits.

Pichu narrowed its eyes.

Right, that was fair. That was a lot to drop with no preamble.

So I gave it one.

"I want to be strong," I said, not raising my voice, but making sure it could hear the steel of my words. "I want to fight. I want to grow. I want to push myself and any Pokémon on my team as far as we can go."

"And if any of that sounds like something you'd want to. Then I want you to hear the rest of this properly."

Its eyes narrowed as it stared me down, but its ears didn't lower. It was listening.

"I don't want a pet," I continued, laying down the law, so to speak. "I don't want someone who sticks around just because I've got food or air conditioning or a cozy blanket."

"I want a partner. A right hand. Someone who'll challenge me and be challenged in return."

I took a breath, then leaned forward slightly.

"I'm not saying I wouldn't feed you. I'm not saying I wouldn't take care of you. You'd have meals, shelter, training, and support. And if you say no? That's fine. You can live here. You'll never go hungry again. I promise you that."

The little lightning rod twitched. His expression didn't soften, but something in his posture did. The tension wasn't gone, but it wasn't on high alert anymore.

I slowly raised a hand, not toward him, just out, open.

"But if you do say yes…I'm offering you more than a training schedule and Poké Puffs."

"I'm offering to make you something great. Something that others will look at and realize is greater than the ordinary and no doubt extraordinary."

Our eyes locked.

I let him feel it. The thoughts. The emotions. The core of what I meant.

I want a partner.

I want to be strong.

I want a friend.

I want to be more.

I want a family.

Pichu stared back, not with wariness, but with consideration.

I let the silence breathe a moment longer, then dared a glance at Bliss.

She was already watching me. The look on her face…Arceus, the pride in it. Like I'd just handed in a perfect test or graduated early. I felt heat crawl up my neck and had to look away before I got emotional in front of a burrito with ears.

"Bliss," I said, clearing my throat. "You mind letting him go?"

She gave me a soft smile and then looked down at her patient. A different kind of Look now, warm, but serious. The kind of look that said 'be good' without saying a word.

Pichu grumbled, but after a beat, gave a reluctant nod.

Blissey loosened the blanket and gently set him down on the plush rug between us.

Pichu stayed seated. Static danced lightly across his fur, but his expression stayed considerate, so I took it as a win.

I raised my hand, palm up and open.

"What do you say? Wanna be something extraordinary?"

He didn't look at me, not at first.

Instead, he tilted his head and squeaked, a short, inquisitive sound, toward the other side of the room.

I blinked and turned just in time to see Alakazam nod slightly.

"He wishes to know if the offer of food and shelter remains valid, even if he accepts but decides that he does not want what you're pitching. A trial run is what I believe he's proposing," the Psychic said with a shrug.

I snorted softly.

"Of course it does," I said, answering the first bit. "You're welcome to stay as long as you follow the house rules and don't try to eat the wiring."

Pichu huffed.

Then, with no ceremony whatsoever, he reached forward and slapped his paw into my palm.

I blinked, instinctively grasping the small, warm limb now resting in my hand.

And then, as I looked down at the tiny creature before me, I felt the first real step of something start to settle in my chest. I couldn't hold in the thought:

"This is it. This is the beginning. I found my Starter."

BZZT.

"MOTHER FUDGER!"

I jerked backward, hand flapping in the open air as sparks fizzled in my palm. Behind me, Alakazam barked a laugh. Bliss gasped. And Pichu?

Pichu was rolling on his back, cackling like he'd just invented comedy.

I blew on my palm and gave him a flat look. "Really?"

Pichu continued to laugh.

Fine. You win this round, rat. You win this round.

 

[IcurasFallen]

Pokémon Version Orange

Arc 1 - The Gathering


Chapter 7
​

---

Nights in the penthouse always tended to be a mixed bag. It was either a bastion of peace and calm after the storm of daily resort management, or a frenzy of activity that put everything else the week had to offer to shame thanks to the numerous personalities contained within Mom's team.

That night was even more of a mixed bag than usual. It wasn't quiet, between the squabbling, sketching, nail-painting, and a full-on turf war in a salad bowl, there was plenty of noise, but it was the right kind of noise. The kind that didn't include marketing pitches, subtle status games, or the word "synergy" used like a threat.

I was sitting cross-legged on the floor next to Rayna, who had her sketchpad braced against her knees and a mischievous grin tugging at her mouth while Smergle napped under the coffee table with rice still sticking to his cheeks. She was mid-linework on a chaotic masterpiece titled "The Devourers", which currently featured my newly acquired Pichu halfway buried in an industrial-sized salad bowl, flinging fruit over his shoulder like a particularly aggressive chef, while Kylie's Munchlax loomed just behind, mouth snapping open and closed at the flying food, yet his eyes remained locked on his true goal.

"You sure we can't sell prints of this?" Rayna asked, chewing her stylus thoughtfully. "I feel like we're capturing something profound here. The eternal dance of hunger and hubris. The raw tension between gluttony and static cling."

"Didn't the last sketch have Pichu riding a melon slice like a surfboard?" I muttered.

She flipped to the page in question before raising her nose in a mock snooty way. "Art is about moments, Travis."

Across the room, Kylie sat at the coffee table, one hand fanned out while Roman applied polish to her nails with the solemn grace of a man performing surgery. Naturally, the color was a stormy silver-blue that perfectly matched the embroidery on her blouse.

"I swear you're better at this than our actual manicurist," Kylie commented, not looking up. "Are you sure you don't want Roman to help Daisy?"

"I'm still just...watching," Daisy said, clearly amused, but curled comfortably in the corner of a lounge chair. She had traded her formal shoes for fuzzy slippers like the rest of us. "I still don't think I've ever seen this many people voluntarily leave a high-profile party before dessert."

"That's because the desserts were boozy," I answered, chin on the table's edge.

"And because when Mom puts her Shuckle Wine tier list in the centerpiece cards, it means the booze will be flowing a lot that night," Rayna added.

"Ah," Daisy said, clearly still a little confused, but sipping her drink all the same.

Before anyone else could chime in, the penthouse door hissed softly open, and Kahili stepped in.

She didn't say anything at first, just strode through the entry like a rapidly approaching stormfront. Her evening jacket was still on but now unzipped, and she was soon barefoot as she kicked off her no doubt expensive heels in an act of annoyance. Touckey followed her with a visible tic over one eye while Aria, her currently Pa'u form Oricorio, danced across the floor, collecting the heels with the barest hint of psychic power to put them in the proper shoe cubby.

"Finally escaped the Mandibuzzes," she muttered, veering straight for the kitchenette as if that answered everything…which, yeah, it basically did.

She opened the fridge, ignored the glimmering rows of wine, fizzy juices, and sparkling nectar, grabbed the coldest bottle of local-brew beer she could find, popped the cap one-handed against the counter lip, and took a long drink like it was the only thing keeping her sane.

"Not one of them can hold a conversation without using the word brand!" She ranted afterward, wiping her mouth. "And I hate when someone asks if I'll let Aria be 'available for photoshoots' like she's some decorative art piece!"

Said Oricorio simply swayed further into the room, making her way to the balcony where she could doubtless sense her parents, Uncle Manu's own Oricorio and Xatu, had settled down for the evening.

"We told you not to show up in those heels," Roman said without looking up from Kylie's cuticle line.

"Let me dream," she groaned, plopping onto the edge of the couch. She didn't lounge, didn't sink. She just existed, like a storm cloud refusing to dissipate until someone brought snacks.

Which she was provided moments later as one of Momo's long arms placed a bowl already piled high with fresh soft pretzels and popcorn in her lap.

Something rather impressive, considering Momo was tucked against the other end of the couch like an immovable boulder in a polo shirt. She had a throw blanket, a protein bar, and the body language of someone who had decided the rest of the world didn't matter. Marowak sat across from her on the thick rug as he moved a pawn along the chessboard between them with the same placid focus he gave to live combat.

I wasn't surprised they decided to skip the party with us. While they were part of Mom's team, that didn't mean they wanted to deal with drunken cousins, furniture-based debates, or strategic "networking."

And honestly? Same.

"You know Mom's still downstairs trying to talk your dad out of staging a dramatic public apology to the mouse," I mentioned offhandedly, gesturing toward my Starter, who was still claiming the salad bowl like a territorial beast. "He apparently feels bad about how he hunted the little guy on his yacht for two weeks."

"Is it wrong that he wants to, though?" Daisy asked.

"No," I admitted before slumping further. "But trying to have a six-string set accompany the apology is overdoing it a bit."

Rayna snorted. "At least he's willing to apologize. Mom glared at the sparkplug so hard I swear the lights flickered."

"Oh, she glared, all right," I muttered muleshly. "The whole time we introduced him, she acted as if I brought home a feral Primeape and a Molotov cocktail."

"He was fresh from the spa," Roman pointed out, as if that explained anything.

I sighed. "Which he nearly destroyed. Thrice."

It was supposed to be simple. A nice, thorough cleaning, a few standard wellness checks, and the mandated booster shots. Nothing fancy, just the usual set of services every newly-acquired Pokémon received upon formal registration at a Pokémon Center (with admittedly a not-so-little amount of Kumquat flare thrown in).

But Pichu had other ideas.

I'd barely signed the intake form when the shrieking started. First from the front desk, then the grooming station, and then the back hallway where they kept the towels.

Apparently, Pichu had mistaken the aroma diffuser for a threat; the fact that it was clearly a stationary ceramic orb didn't matter. He zapped it on sight, shorting out the aromatherapy system and setting off a chain reaction that somehow made three separate Bellosom assistants slide into a pile of overturned bath oils like bowling pins.

He bit the first groomer hard enough to leave a gaping hole in the glove.

He outright Confused the second one. That poor woman hadn't been expecting the quickly proving feral Pichu to give her a Sweet Kiss of all things. They had eventually found her hugging a (thankfully fake) cactus and crying about not wanting it to leave her.

The third one, a guy named Benny who was one of Sal's primary assistants, bless him, tried to distract Pichu with a squeaky toy shaped like a Cherubi. That actually worked…for about six seconds. Then Pichu ate it.

And somehow, somehow, by the time I came back to check on him, he was perched atop a massage table like a jungle king, fur fluffed to perfection, and a damp little cucumber slice on his head like a crown. All the while, the staff were arranged before him like servants kneeling before their newly crowned king.

The staff wouldn't make eye contact with me. One of the assistants handed me the completed health check summary like she was handing over a subpoena.

The only reason he got his booster shots in the end without a fight was that Blissey had finally stepped in, gave him a Sweet Kiss of her own, and used an injection wand before he could even start seeing stars.

The poor Confused woman from before had looked a tad too vindictive at the result of Blissey's "counterattack" and had quickly been my cue to grab the now clean Pichu and book it.

He then had the audacity to look offended when I asked if he enjoyed himself.

I blinked back to the present, where that same sparkplug was now in a deadlock with Munchlax over the last three slices of Wata Berry and somehow winning.

"So, uh…" Daisy began, brow furrowing slightly as she looked from the salad battlefield to me. "If you're not officially a Trainer yet, how exactly is Pichu your Starter?"

I blinked in surprise at the question. I would have thought she would be aware of the method. "Technically, he's not my Pokémon, not on paper anyway."

Daisy tilted her head in obvious confusion.

"He's currently registered as a Kumquat Gym Pokémon," I explained further, flapping a hand at some of the others in the room. "Same as Momo, Marowak, or any of Mom's team. The only reason I can use him at all is that I'm already recognized by the League as an Acting Gym Leader."

"Which isn't exactly a common arrangement for someone who's still in single digits," Kahili added dryly.

I stuck out my tongue at her, but didn't argue.

Kylie rolled her eyes before continuing the explanation. "It's similar to how a parent or older sibling can catch or receive a Pokémon, but then 'hold it' for a younger child. Once that kid turns ten and gets their license, the Pokémon is just transferred officially."

Roman nodded without looking up from his work on Kylie's toenails. "We see that a lot around the Lake. Especially with families who want their kids' first Pokémon to already have a bond with them."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

Because yes, the system could work, in theory, but in practice, it was an absolute mess.

I'd seen it firsthand: kids who could barely tie their shoes parading around with Pokémon they hadn't trained, hadn't earned, and definitely didn't understand. Some of them were given powerful partners for status, others for show. In a few especially ridiculous cases, the adults never intended to transfer the Pokémon; they just liked the aesthetic of a child-and-Dragonite photo op.

It turned what should have been a rite of passage into a party trick.

And yeah, fine, I'll admit that I wasn't entirely innocent of exploiting the loophole myself, but there was a key difference.

Namely, the fact that I had to pass a League-administered test before they'd let me act in an official Gym Leader capacity. They didn't just hand me a certification after seeing who my Mom was and say, "go nuts."

So no, it wasn't exactly the same, and even if that made me a little bit of a hypocrite, well, at least I was a qualified hypocrite.

Meanwhile, back on the rug, Munchlax lunged for a Sitrus slice with all the grace of a cannonball. Pichu met him halfway with a war cry, clashing mid-air in a moment so dramatic, I could hear Rayna whispering "yes, YES!" under her breath as her pencil flew across the page.

I sighed again and leaned back on my hands.

My life was weird.

---

By the time the last day of the Gathering rolled around, I was starting to think I'd gotten off easy with the spa incident.

The remainder of the week had quickly proven to be the harshest test of patience and resilience I had ever undergone. Not only because I had to deal with the few hundred relatives and guests that the Gathering always brought about, but add to that a newly acquired electric street rat of a Starter, and it was a real wonder that I hadn't tried to tear my hair out.

Still, no matter the family dispute, late-night speedboat race, or numerous tournaments ranging from Pokémon battles to silverware comparison contests, I had survived it all with my sanity intact.

And now, with the week officially at its end, it was time for the single most migraine-inducing event of the entire Gathering: The Annual Cashion Family Photo.

A tradition older than half the Kumquat Resort's walls and far more dangerous than it sounded. Every year, like clockwork, someone got the idea that wrangling multiple generations of resort owners, Trainers, Coordinators, chefs, Gym Leaders, CEOs, and photogenic Pokémon into a single cohesive group shot was possible.

It never was.

"This year will be different," someone always said.

They were always wrong.

We were out on the eastern garden terrace, a wide, landscaped platform of palm-trimmed hedges and stone walkways with a dramatic overlook of the sea. It should have been perfect. Bright skies, open space, carefully arranged benches and risers. A whole crew from the resort's PR department had been recruited to handle logistics.

It didn't help.

People were already arguing over who should stand where. One of my second cousins wanted to be next to Kahili "for the clout." Someone else was offended that Momo refused to wear a flower lei. A small child was trying to climb Roman's shoulders. A couple had decided their own paired Tropius would make for an excellent backdrop. No one could agree on which Pokémon should be in the shot and which ones were too "visually disruptive."

Touckey was perched dead center on the top riser and refusing to move. The photographer had already given up trying to reason with him.

Rayna's Smeargle had started adding "flair" to the floral backdrop, which meant streaks of blue and pink across the decorative ferns. Rayna called it "creative ambiance". The event coordinator called it vandalism.

Pichu was vibrating with static energy in my arms, clearly seconds away from committing a photo-ruining crime.

"Hold still," I hissed at him.

He stuck out his tongue.

"Travis, can you please-" someone started to say, probably to move me.

"No," I answered automatically. "I'm the kid who just got a Starter and one of the hosts. I go in front. It's a rule."

Kahili snorted somewhere behind me. "He's not wrong!"

We were almost ready, or at least as close to ready as this group would ever get. Everyone had been wrangled, stacked, fluffed, and centered. I had exactly three seconds to brace for the click of the camera before it happened.

BOOM.

One of the Tropius sneezed directly into a confetti cannon someone had rigged as a "festive touch."

Colorful streamers exploded upward and backward, wrapping around the camera-mounted Butterfree. It spun wildly, the shutter firing in bursts as it lost altitude and plowed headlong into the garden fountain.

The last image it captured was pure chaos.

Touckey squawking with his beak open mid-kraaak.

Pichu mid-leap, sparks flying.

Mom and Momo holding each other up as they laughed so hard they nearly fell over.

Uncle Manu pointing and laughing at the utter despair on Uncle Leo's face as he held his head in his hands.

Rayna and Kylie using the farmer's sketchpad as a shield.

Roman ducking behind Aunt Jacki like a coward.

Me, front and center, with the most unimpressed expression ever worn by a child in formal wear.

For most families, it would be a picture worthy of a bonfire.

For our family, it was perfect.

---

Now, you would figure that the events following the Gathering would be the easy part. That the actual exit of nearly the entire family should have been, if not peaceful, then at least easy compared to the frenzy that was the rest of the week.

You would be wrong. So very, very wrong.

Departure day at the Kumquat Grand made the photo fiasco look like an elementary school dress rehearsal.

The resort's front drives, side docks, skypad, and even the loading access bay behind the gift shop had been overrun. Dozens of relatives, their Pokémon, their assistants, their assistants' assistants, their plus-ones, and whatever traveling circus one of my cousins had apparently married into were all trying to leave at once, and somehow, doing it in completely opposite directions.

Some were taking ferries. Others were waiting on chartered planes. A few were mounting up on personal Fly mounts that absolutely should not have been ridden indoors. One guy tried to rappel down the front side of the hotel for "dramatic exit purposes" and got stuck halfway, dangling over the entrance like a festive Wobbuffet balloon.

And then there were the "sightseers."

Because of course some of them (i.e, a lot of them) had decided that since they were already in a different region, it would be a crime not to explore the islands. Never mind that the Gathering was only supposed to be a week-long event. Never mind that resort staffing was already stretched thin. These people had whims and money and absolutely no sense of shared calendar space.

I stood just inside the lobby entrance, watching as a pair of over-packed suitcases rolled themselves into one of the center fountains. Somewhere behind me, a relative was loudly trying to convince the concierge that a Tauros-drawn parade float technically counted as a shuttle van.

And all I could think about was how they're going to come back.

They were going to use us, the Kumquat Grand, as a base camp. A hub for their Orange Island misadventures.

Which meant that in the coming months, we'd get drizzled on by waves of returning cousins and uncles and "former Coordinators" with dramatic backstories and absolutely no desire to pay full price for room service.

Arceus help us.

The only mercy, and it was a big one, was that Uncle Manu was already leaving, and he was taking his stadium-sized yacht with him.

The monstrosity was nearly finished loading at the far pier, preparing for what was sure to be the most expensive game of "back to the mainland" anyone had ever played. Several staff carts were carrying the luggage of not just his entourage, but Aunt Jacki's, Rayna's, and a rotating parade of other relatives who had suddenly discovered a passionate desire to experience yacht life, if only for a leg of the journey.

And because they were all family, Uncle Manu couldn't tell them no.

He tried. I saw it happen. Aunt Jacki gave him a look and a bill for a "consulting fee" she'd invented on the spot. Uncle Manu folded like a Psyduck with a headache.

As the ship's horn sounded, low, regal, and full of promise that it was someone else's problem now, I let out a slow breath.

One drain on our resources, bandwidth, and emergency towel stockpile is gone. Thank Arceus.

I was just about to slip away and find somewhere quiet to hide before Chilton could find me another task when I heard her voice cut through the crowd:

"Hey, Trey! Don't think I'm heading out without a sendoff!"

I turned to see Kahili dressed for a long flight. Touckey was perched just behind her, beak still slightly puffed in offense at having to endure a Gathering, while her specially bred Fly'mon Silvia (a rather ornery Skarmery, it must be said) stood impatiently near the skypad.

She waved me over. "Get over here before I get mobbed by another third cousin who wants a selfie."

I didn't run, but I walked fast enough that my Starter was able to climb higher up my shoulder for balance. Pichu made a little chittering sound, still keyed up from the earlier departure chaos, but stayed put.

Kahili gave me a once-over, then nodded. "Still alive. That's always a good sign."

I rolled my eyes. "Barely. I think two different great-aunts tried to adopt me out of spite."

"You're lucky. I got offered a naming rights deal for a move I didn't invent," she grumbled before smirking. "Apparently, 'Sky Drill Beak Strike' is 'too catchy not to trademark.'"

"That has to be fake."

"Oh, it was, but they had paperwork, so I had at least had to be nice and 'consider it'."

We stood in a brief pocket of calm, the sounds of organized evacuation starting to fade into the background as we stared each other down.

Kahili reached out and gave Pichu a scratch between the ears, and to my surprise, he didn't shock her. Just made a pleased hum and leaned in for more.

"Bit of a terror, this one," she giggled.

"Understatement."

She gave a soft laugh, then met my eyes again. "You're gonna be something, Travis."

I good-naturedly rolled my eyes. "I'm already something. It's just mostly 'tired' and 'buried in paperwork.'"

"You know what I mean."

I did.

She huffed impatiently before pulling me into a hug that saw my face smooshed against her leather jacket. Pichu matched my grumbles at the physical contact.

"Give 'em hell," she muttered into my hair before letting me go and turning toward Silvia. "And don't let the salad bandit here electrocute the customer service staff!"

"No promises," I called after her.

Silvia screeched, bladed wings rising, and within moments, they were airborne. Kahili leaned forward into the wind, her silhouette bright against the morning sky. Touckey followed with a piercing call and a beat of his wings, and then they were gone, a pair of specks vanishing into the blue.

"No promises," I repeated quietly, smiling as I gave said salad bandit a few scratches.

After that, unfortunately, I was once more pulled into all the "fun" duties that occupied departure procedures.

I quickly lost track of how many people I'd said goodbye to.

Half the morning had been a blur of handshakes, hugs, cheek kisses, polite nods, and the occasional dramatic farewell monologue from relatives who acted like they were setting off on a three-year voyage instead of catching a charter ferry.

I'd been jerked around from dock to lobby to skypad and back again, helping corral luggage, double-check guest lists, and at one point physically stop someone's Wigglytuff from bouncing onto the wrong aircraft.

Somehow, the Tauros parade float was made a reality, briefly blocking traffic while its rider attempted what he claimed was a "ceremonial lap." Resort security, aka Momo, was not impressed.

Now, finally, things were winding down.

I stood near the main dock, watching as Uncle Leo and Aunt Rebecca boarded their sleek transport cruiser. Kylie waved from the ramp with a bright smile, and Roman, ever the multitasker, managed to flash a grin and adjust a cooling case of desserts in the same motion.

"Hey," Mom said quietly from behind me.

Before I could turn, she tugged me gently back into a hug, one of those quiet, grounding ones, arms wrapped around my chest, my back pulled against her front.

Given our current height difference, that meant I ended up tucked against her like a human heat pack, the back of my head stuck between her cleavage, and my chin hooked on the edge of her forearms.

Pichu, caught between us, let out an indignant squeak and launched himself from my shoulder to a nearby dock post, fluffing up like we'd personally insulted his dignity.

Mom didn't say anything for a moment, just held me there, letting the breeze do the talking as we watched the last of our "close" family leave.

"I'm proud of you, you know." She gave me a gentle squeeze. "You were incredibly mature through all this. I know it wasn't easy."

I immediately ducked my head against her arms, ears flushing. Of course, she had to go for the genuine tone. No sarcasm, no teasing, just direct sincerity, my critical weakness.

I attempted to shrug it off, trying for casual. "It wasn't that bad. I mean, sure, the western fountain caught fire, and the Tauros incident will probably haunt my dreams, but-"

"Oh, so not that bad?" She said sweetly, suddenly letting go and stepping back. "Then you won't mind helping the kitchen staff with post-Gathering inventory. I'm sure they'd love the extra hands!"

I turned and stared at her in slowly rising horror. "Wait-what?!"

"Well, you're so mature, after all. You've even got a Starter now! You can surely handle a little more hard work."

"That's not how this works-!"

Back on the post, Pichu snorted. Audibly.

I turned just in time to see him grinning like he hadn't just betrayed me with sound effects.

"You think this is funny?" I snapped, pointing. "You do realize we're stuck together now, right?! If I go down, you're going with me!"

Pichu squeaked, and, with all the subtlety of a cartoon bandit, booked it.

"HEY! GET BACK HERE, YOU LITTLE TRAITOR!"

And just like that, the chase was on again.

 

[IcurasFallen]

Pokémon Version Orange

Arc 2 - The Summer


Chapter 8
​

---

There are a lot of ways to prepare for a summer camp.

Most people focus on packing the sensible things. A tent, spare socks, bug repellent, a field guide or two, maybe they'll even research the local Pokémon population and ask questions like "Is there a graveyard with confirmed Ghost-types that I should be emotionally ready for?"

You know, normal stuff.

But if you're me, Travis Cashion, age nine, a licensed Gym Leader, and under constant surveillance from a family full of mildly terrifying resort tycoons and a whirlwind of a mother, preparation means something else entirely.

Specifically, it means being bodily dragged out of bed at 4:30 a.m., a week before the summer camp even begins by a man wearing the single most offensive Alolan shirt I have ever seen, stuffed into hiking boots I don't remember even owning, and being informed that "the early bird gets the worm, Travis!"

Apparently, having decided that I needed a refresher in survival training, Mom had reached out to the most fitness-loving person we knew and told him to "make sure he was ready."

Which, somehow, translated to mean a five-mile hike through the unpaved, Pokémon-infested wilderness of Kumquat Island. Before breakfast, in July, with only one canteen and a granola bar that tasted like cardboard.

All of this courtesy of my "honorary Big Bro" Danny Navies, the Gym Leader of Navel Island, and the master of survival skills (and whatever the opposite of subtlety is).

"Come on, kiddo!" Said workaholic hollered from somewhere ahead, far too cheerfully for this hour of the morning. "We gotta make it past the nearby Beedrill nest before they get territorial, and if you fall behind, I'm legally allowed to let evolution take its course!"

That snapped me right out of my mental monologue.

"The Beedrill what!?"

With a muttered curse, I shifted into a faster jog, trying to stay within spitting distance of the lunatic who called himself my Big Bro. My hiking boots felt like they were filled with lead, my lungs were on strike, and then there was this guy.

Snrrrrrk.

Yeah, that would be Pichu.

The little sparkplug was fully stretched across the top of my head with his tiny limbs splayed out like a Staryu, and I swear I heard him mumble something that I could only assume meant "five more minutes in 'pika pikas'."

He was small enough to ride for free and smug enough to make it look like a power move.

Still, I didn't need to actually worry about the Beedrill, what with Danny's Scyther sprinting around the perimeter of our little troupe with every step we took. He was even clearing branches from the trail and occasionally flicking aside the taller grass with predator-level precision. If we did stumble across a Beedrill swarm, I had no doubt which of our groups would win the encounter.

"Alright, good news kiddo! We're coming up on the halfway point!" Danny called out over his shoulder, waving one hand while the other held his hiking staff, which I knew for a fact he didn't need but had for the aesthetic alone.

After another minute of winding trails and Scyther zipping ahead like a bladed sentry, we broke through the treeline, and the forest spat us out onto a small inlet tucked against the edge of Kumquat Island's southern coast. The sand here wasn't the pristine kind we had raked daily for tourists. It was coarse, damp, and scattered with leaves and clusters of coral.

"Break time!" Danny declared, planting his staff in the sand like he was claiming the shoreline for Navel Island. "Hydration, light stretches, admire the view, and no collapsing dramatically unless you're injured."

He dropped his pack with a thump and began using a nearby boulder to help him stretch into a set of cool-down exercises. Scyther followed his trainer's lead like the happy pair of gym bros they were.

With a tired tilt of my head, I dumped Pichu off the top of my head.

"Chu?!" He squeaked midair, limbs flailing before he landed in a sprawl that kicked up a puff of sand.

I snorted. He glared. Balance was restored.

"Hydrate and stretch!" Danny repeated loudly, now in a series of "doubles" stretches with Scyther that would have looked comedic if not for the danger associated with a misplaced arm or leg near the Bug-types' bladed arms.

With a groan, I began half-heartedly pulling my arms across my chest, counting the seconds until I could flop down and just relax.

This wasn't exactly the first time he'd put me through this. I knew what to do.

Danny's wilderness training madness had started right after I turned six. Mom had pulled him aside after one of the Orange Crew's bi-monthly meetups, then returned to hand me a fancy new water bottle, a pre-prepared camping pack, and said something along the lines of: "Make sure you don't die in the woods. We can handle the spa paperwork when you get back."

Every year after, Danny had taken me out on week-long survival trips through the wilds of Navel Island, and I wasn't the only conscript. Senta, the younger brother of Cissy (aka the Gym Leader of Mikan Island), joined the next summer, followed by Mahri, the little sister of Rudy (the newest Gym Leader over on Trovita Island). We were the Orange League's Junior Division, apparently. Minus the uniforms. Or any kind of choice.

Most years, all three of us would get dragged along with a couple dozen civilian kids from across the islands for what Danny lovingly called "Survival Training" and what I privately called "Baby's First Trauma Bonding." It was basically a week-long camping trip with extra-large bug bites, a weirdly enthusiastic grown-ass man, and activities ranging from rock climbing to bobsledding.

But not this year.

This year, I was going to Professor Oak's Summer Camp, which I'd foolishly assumed meant I'd get to skip Danny's annual wilderness boot camp entirely since the dates overlapped.

For a hot minute, I actually celebrated that. A whole summer without having to camp in Beedrill-ridden forest or wade through snow on top of a mountain? Sign me up.

That had obviously all been dashed away when I was being dragged into the wilderness this morning before the sun had even reached the horizon.

Apparently, Danny thought I deserved "personalized training."

He probably thought he was doing me a favor.

I would've preferred literally anything else.

The truth is, I've always been more of an indoor kid, whether you consider my last life or this one. Which, when you're raised in a literal beachfront resort with working Internet, an indoor pool, and 24/7 Blissey-run room service, turns out to be something of a destiny.

I glanced over at Danny, who was now balancing on top of the boulder in a meditative-like pose. Scyther mimicked his trainer with limited success.

"Hey!" I called out. "Exactly how much of this do you have planned, anyway? You do know you're a week early, right?"

Danny replied without opening his eyes. "Don't worry, bud, I'm not running you ragged all day. I've still got the big camp next week with the other kiddos."

"So this isn't some ultra-marathon week of personalized torment?" I made sure to clarify.

He shook his head with a chuckle. "Nah. I've only got time in the mornings. You get me for an hour or two tops, part of my own early morning routine. Consider it a warm-up for the Professor's camp."

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. Only mornings. Thank Arceus.

For a second, I actually felt grateful.

Then I caught myself wondering what a full day of "personalized training" with Danny would've looked like and immediately regretted going down that mental road.

I was pretty sure it involved scaling sheer cliffs without a harness, wrestling Rock-types, and cooking breakfast with only a flint and pure optimism.

No thanks.

"Kukuku."

I blinked.

More "kukuku"s echoed across the inlet, overlapping like popcorn in a kettle.

Turning my head, I spotted the source as a small group of Krabby that emerged from a rocky cluster down the shore, click-clacking their way along the waterline like a migrating army of little tanks.

They weren't in a rush. Just strolling, waving their pincers, living their best beachcombing lives.

Then Danny popped off the boulder like it was spring-loaded and struck a dramatic pose that had no business being as coordinated as it was. "Perfect timing!" he said with far too much enthusiasm. "Battling's part of my early morning routine, too!"

Danny pointed at the crab cluster. "Scyther, redirect one of 'em over to Travis."

The green blur of his Scyther shot forward, one quick motion and whack went one of the Krabby near the edge as it was promptly launched into the air before landing with a thud a few paces in front of me in a spray of sand.

The rest of the Krabby? They wisely went "nope" and started to skedaddle.

Scyther just turned its head, gave the group a steely glare, and one short hiss that probably translated to something like "this is training, not murder."

They tentatively stayed put.

"Alright Travis, get your partner ready," Danny said with an irritating little wink. "Let's see how you two handle real terrain."

I sighed, dragging a hand down my face. I guess this was happening.

I looked down at Pichu.

He was staring up at me with the dead-eyed look of someone who'd just been signed up for a group project they hadn't agreed to.

We stared at each other for a long moment.

I managed a shrug. "I mean...it is good practice."

Pichu's expression twisted into something that might've been a frown or a facial cramp, but after a long, reluctant blink, he shook himself off and waddled forward a few paces away from the Krabby. He squared his tiny shoulders, and his cheeks began sparking faintly as he waited for the call.

I kept it simple. "Alright, let's open with a Thunder Shock!"

Pichu squeaked in acknowledgment and braced himself. Sparks flickered across his fur like static through dryer lint, but unlike Mom's Alakazam or Marowak, who could unleash attacks on a thought and a flick of the wrist, Pichu actually had to charge.

It was one of those very real, very humbling reminders that I wasn't working with high-tier professionals anymore. Pichu was a baby. A clever baby with attitude and potential, but still a baby.

As was proven, unfortunately, when the Krabby had time to scuttle sideways with that weird tip-tapping crab-pace, completely clearing the spot where it had been standing.

Pichu fired.

The Thunder Shock cracked through the air in a quick, stuttering arc and hit nothing but damp sand.

"Dodge left!" I called quickly as I already spotted the problem.

Krabby's cheeks puffed, bubbling up instantly, and spat out a stream of glowing, watery orbs.

Thankfully, my order (and what I was coming to understand was Pichu's own psychic potential that allowed him to sense the Krabby's intent to attack) allowed him plenty of time to dodge the attack in return.

"Back off and keep your distance!" I called as another stream of Bubbles shot toward Pichu.

The little guy squeaked and scrambled to the side, barely dodging this one, but it was clear Krabby was trying to close the gap and lock him down with constant pressure.

That was a problem.

Krabby might've been small, but it was built like a sideways tank. Those claws weren't just for show after all. Up close, it had the clear advantage, and while Pichu had learned to hit harder lately, he wasn't ready for a close-up brawl.

"Get some cover! Behind that boulder, go!"

Pichu darted behind one of the moss-covered rocks that dotted the inlet, vanishing from Krabby's line of sight just in time to avoid another watery salvo.

"Use Charge!" I called. "Power up while you've got the time."

From behind the boulder, a low hum crackled through the air as Pichu braced himself.

The Krabby's eyes narrowed, and one claw began to gleam with a harsh white light, a Vice Grip, as it began to approach the boulder.

"Here it comes..." I muttered, watching it scuttle to the boulder and start to angle around.

"Now Pichu! Jump off the boulder!"

With a squeak of effort, Pichu sprang into the air, bounding up and over the rock just as Krabby lunged in with its glowing claw, snapping it shut on the empty space where my Starter had just been.

"Thunder Shock!"

Mid-air, with gravity tipping him downward and sparks surging across his fur, Pichu unleashed a burst of lightning that exploded downward in a crackling arc.

The crab Pokémon screeched, limbs locked in awkward angles as the electricity coursed through its body. It staggered sideways, dazed, legs twitching from the shock, before it gave a final twitch and flopped backward onto the sand.

"And that's that," Danny called, stepping forward with a clap. "You guys did great!"

Danny approached with his usual purposeful stride, already digging through the side pouch of his pack. "Nice teamwork," he said with a grin as he knelt beside the stunned Krabby. "Solid use of terrain, and that Charge timing was pretty clean!"

He gave the crab Pokémon a once-over before pulling out a small spray bottle and a shallow container of Berries. "Here we go, champ, nothing personal."

After a quick spray of Potion and a couple of Cheri and Oran Berries set gently nearby, the Krabby's eyes slowly unfogged. It blinked at Danny, then at Pichu, gave a soft kukukuuu, and scuttled back toward the shoreline where its posse still waited under Scyther's watchful eye.

I knelt down next to Pichu, pulling out an Oran Berry from my own belt pouch. "Good job, bud. Here's something to take the edge off."

His nose twitched the second the fruit appeared.

I barely had time to blink before Pichu snatched the Berry and devoured it whole, cheeks bulging obscenely as he struggled to chew from the sheer quantity of berry now in his mouth.

"...You could have savored it," I deadpanned.

He looked at me, mid-bulging chew, then kept chewing anyway. Loudly.

I huffed before reaching down and scratching the top of his head, right between the ears, which he leaned into immediately with smug satisfaction as he ate.

Still, my brain raced with thoughts, and a small frown pulled at my lips.

The truth was that little match had told me more than I wanted to admit.

I'd had a few weeks with Pichu already. It had been enough to establish some trust, build up our rhythm, and focus on boosting the base power of his Electric-type moves. That had been my priority. Especially once I found out he knew Charge as an Egg Move. That had been a lucky break since it gave us a reliable buff option and a basic defense against Special attacks.

Today had shown me a serious blind spot, though.

If Krabby had gotten in close, Pichu would've had nothing. He could maybe coat his fur in loose electrical discharge and hope Krabby felt enough from the jolt to release him from the crushing-based Move, but that wasn't the same as having a real option.

Because while any Pokémon could throw around raw elemental energy, there was a world of difference between instinctual discharge and a proper, battle-honed Move.

Sure, Pokémon could still "do" things. A Fire-type could coat itself in flame. A Water-type could splash someone with a wave. An Electric-type could emit raw current. But those weren't Moves, not in the capital-M sense.

A Move was like...like a sword that had been sharpened compared to something like a baseball bat. Both would hurt, sure, but a sword could deal a hell of a lot more damage beyond just the surface-level.

Just zapping someone with loose discharge was nothing compared to unleashing Thunder Shock with purpose.

So yeah, we had work to do.

Before I could fall too far back into my own head, Danny's voice cut through the quiet.

"Alright team, breaks over!" he called out, striding over with that maddening spring in his step. "We're burning dawn light! Let's move!"

Pichu, of course, took that as his cue to attempt a climb back up my leg like I was a conveniently mobile nap platform.

"Oh no you don't," I said, stopping him mid-shin with a finger and a raised brow. "You need some physical exercise too."

He froze, paws still clinging to my shorts.

Then, slowly, he turned his head to look up at me, offended. Shocked. Betrayed.

I sighed, gave his head another quick scratch, and pointed down the trail. "Feet on the ground, fuzzball. We're in this together."

Pichu let out a long, theatrical piiiiiii, and hopped down with all the enthusiasm of a child sent to clean their room.

He gave one last glance up at me, just in case I changed my mind.

I didn't.

With a huff, he turned and started waddling down the trail, tail flicking like a metronome of discontent.

I fell into step behind him, hiding a smirk as we made our way back into the trees.

---

Not all outdoor activities were awful.

Sure, most of Danny's training felt like a personal vendetta against comfort, but living on a tropical island resort did come with a few natural advantages.

The swell surged up behind us, a rolling wave cresting at just the right height.

"Hold on fuzzball!" I called out, grinning madly as the water lifted beneath us, and we dropped into the wave and hit it clean.

Momentum surged us forward as the board skimmed across the surface, pushed by the swell with perfect timing. Spray hit my face. The wind tried to yank me off, but I barely noticed.

Pichu let out a squeal that was somewhere between terrified and thrilled, his little limbs clamped onto my leg like a Komala gripping its log.

For those few seconds, the world narrowed to saltwater and motion, with nothing but the pull of the wave and the rush of the ride ahead of us.

The wave began to curl toward the shallows, losing speed but still coasting us in with a long, easy glide.

"Wasn't that great!?" I asked with a no doubt mad glint in my eyes.

Pichu's grip didn't loosen, but his expression hovered somewhere between shaken leaf and mildly exhilarated. I was about to say something smug when the nose of the board dipped, and then it jerked sideways. Hard.

Before either of us could react, the board was gone from beneath us, yanked out from underfoot like someone had decided it was their turn to ride.

"Wah!"

Splash!

Saltwater hit my face like a brick, and I surfaced a moment later, sputtering and blinking past the sting in my eyes…just in time to come nose-to-nose with a mouth full of serrated teeth.

A Huntail was staring at me from inches away. Its jaws opened in what many others would have assumed was moments before being eaten.

I didn't flinch.

I instead shoved the slippery eel-shaped menace backward. "Would you not mess with my ride?! That was a good wave!"

The Huntail let out a low, echoing gurgle of laughter while looking far too pleased with itself for something that had no eyebrows. A soft, chiming chitter joined it.

I turned my head to see a Gorebyss peeking above the surface with the amusement of someone who had seen this exact scene play out a dozen times before.

Right. These two.

The oh-so-annoying Terrible Twosome. Both were long-standing members of Mom's Team, but since neither of them could really hang out inside the resort without making everything smell like seawater and fish, they spent most of their time on loan to the beach staff as emergency-response Pokémon. Pokémon Lifeguards basically. If you wiped out, they were your rescue squad.

Or, as I had learned over the years, aquatic pranksters.

"You two suck," I told them flatly, wiping water from my eyes.

Pichu let out an agreeing squeak from where he was clutching Nemo like a life preserver. The Magikarp himself butted up against me in worry at my crashout.

Huntail let out an amused hum, clearly not caring beyond his little prank, and dove with a splash. Gorebyss followed with a single graceful twirl and pointedly hard tail slap, causing a wave to once more hit me in the face.

Wiping my face with a grumble, I grabbed my board and began paddling back to shore.

"Pi-Pichu," the drowned rat muttered darkly as Nemo happily acted as his own living life raft.

I was rather thankful that the two seemed to get along. While Pichu had quickly proven to be a Sassy little shit, Nemo's endearing and Jolly nature caused all the snark Pichu threw at him to wash off his scales like a toy water gun.

Making my way up to the shoreline, Pichu quickly scrambled his way up to my head, lying flat in my nest of hair even as I bent down to give Nemo his just dues in the form of scritches and scratches.

"Yo Travis! Caught that ride, little dude! Clean drop-in!" One of the lifeguards called out from a nearby watch tower, tossing a shaka sign with sun-bleached fingers.

"Not bad for a baby boarder!" chimed a surfer girl with way too many bracelets. "Little buddy looked like he saw Arceus!"

A wave of shouts and teases met me as I reached the hot summer sand. A few waves and snarks were quickly fired back as I made my way down the beach to the Gym's private pavilion. It was basically just a small stretch of land marked only by a few fancy umbrellas, a dozen beach chairs, and a private changing room marked with the Gym's signature badge. Brand recognition was important after all.

Waiting under the shade of the biggest of the umbrellas, and flipping through a glossy magazine with delicate care, was Momo, our resident Machamp-slash-bodyguard-slash-unshakable force of nature. She adjusted her sunglasses with one hand, drank with another, and used the other two to flip through her reading material.

"Nice form, Momo," I greeted as I flopped into the chair beside her. "Ten out of ten on wrist control."

Momo grunted in acknowledgment without looking up, but I did catch the small nod she gave Pichu, who was still trying to shake water out of his ears like a half-drowned Growlithe.

Then came the low rumble.

Just beneath my chair, the sand trembled ever so slightly before a large, smooth mound of golden grains shifted upward, revealing two holes in the sand that held a yellow glow within.

"Hey Sandy," I said with a small grin as I gave the mound a small pat.

No response. Just a light vibration before the sand settled back down around us again with a giant contented sigh.

Sandy didn't like to talk. He was just...happy being there. Buried in sand, surrounded by the people he cared about, and close enough to nap in peace? This was his equivalent of life goals.

I sank back in the chair, finally letting myself relax before I reached over to grab the chilled water waiting for me on the table. It was crystal-clear and served in a glass that probably cost more than a year of Trainer school. Fancy water at its finest.

Which, of course, was just regular water. Filtered, sure, and branded with some artisanal-sounding nonsense like "Rain's Whisper" or "Glacial Serenity." The trick was in the marketing. I knew it. Mom knew it.

But the rich tourists staying in the Royal Suites? They couldn't tell the difference. So they bought it by the crate and praised it as if it came from a sacred spring touched by Suicune itself.

I took a long sip, savoring the chill, because cold is cold, and leaned back with a sigh.

Yeah, after nearly a week of Danny-inspired morning workouts, this part of the outdoors? This I could deal with.

And this wasn't just about cooling off or dodging random requests at work.

Surfing was training. At least the way I used it.

For starters, it was great for balance, and as a baby Pokémon, Pichu needed all the help he could get in that department. While he was an acrobatic little sparkplug, his limbs were still catching up with his head, and half the time he ran on instinct and psychic hints, which meant stumbling, sliding, and face-planting were common hazards outside of high-stress situations.

Surfing forced him to engage all those little stabilizer muscles. If he didn't center himself, the ocean would dump him fast, and to his credit, he was getting better.

Mainly in the sense that he wasn't always grabbing my leg to stay upright on the board.

And then there was the real reason I pushed it.

Surf. As in the actual Move.

I didn't have hard evidence, but I did have memories from my first life. Blurry, half-faded mental screenshots of a Raichu riding waves and dishing out water-based beatdowns like it was nothing.

There were events too. Pikachu with Surf, used as a gimmick in giveaways or to replace the standard HM Pokémon in overworld travel. Even Pikachu riding surfboards, using the Move to drive the board in different directions.

So yeah, I didn't know for sure if it was possible, but I at least had a theory.

If Pikachu could learn Surf under the right conditions, and Raichu could clearly manage it, then maybe I could start Pichu down that path now.

Of course, the local tech didn't help in actually confirming that.

Computers weren't primitive exactly, but they also weren't what I'd call convenient. We were somewhere between the tech boom and the information age, which meant it was still a pain to get good info unless you had clearance, a research grant, or a friendly neighborhood Professor with a lab full of interns.

Honestly? It reminded me a lot of the early 2000s from my first life.

We had the Internet (or as it was known here, the Pokenet, because of course it was) but it wasn't the sleek, all-knowing, ad-targeting beast it would become. This was the slow-loading, click-and-wait Internet. Message boards, static pages, and long debates about whether some rumor you read from a Johto strategy guide was actually true. Half the time I couldn't even do the Pokémon equivalent of a Google search without needing a wired connection and a certified data terminal.

And that's assuming people actually shared what they knew.

Because here's the thing: Pokémon battling is a competitive sport, and like any real competition, the participants held onto secrets. Move pools, niche combos, Egg Moves—these were valuable assets. They could mean the difference between a good battle and a great one, and no one wanted to hand that advantage to the masses.

So, of course, a lot of it was kept quiet.

Privately recorded, passed down in families, shared in elite circles, whispered at League events, or teased in magazine interviews without ever giving away the whole recipe.

It wasn't until Professor Oak introduced the Pokédex that things really started to shift.

Twenty years ago, the man had to lug around something the size of a store's cash register just to catalog a few dozen Kanto natives. Now? The tech had advanced so fast that even kids like me could carry a personal scanner in our pocket, and with each hardware upgrade, more and more information became publicly accessible.

Honestly, the whole situation felt weirdly familiar. Like I was watching the flip phone era blink into the age of smartphones all over again.

Give it another ten years, and kids would probably be able to ask their Pokédex if their Meowth had unresolved emotional trauma and get an answer with citations.

But for now, we were in that in-between space.

Not quite high-tech, not quite transparent, and definitely not easy for someone like me to just look up whether my Pichu could eventually learn Surf without jumping through a lot of hoops.

So I did what I could.

Surfing for balance. Hypothetical moveset planning. The slow, deliberate path.

Old-school training to reach modern goals.

Shaking my head, I leaned back and tried to make myself relax. The sun was warm yet not too hot. The breeze was nice and cool. I was in the perfect place to just sit back and relax…

So, of course, that was the signal for my Pokégear to chime from the table.

I groaned and fished it out from under my towel, flipping open the screen to a new message:

"Hey! We need you back at the resort. Something came up!"

I slumped in my chair. "I was told I had the afternoon off, dammit…"

The device chimed again.

Another message appeared.

I glanced at it, then froze.

My brain caught up a beat later, and I lurched forward in my seat, nearly flipping the entire chair in the process.

Pichu, startled by the sudden movement, let out a panicked squeak as he was launched off my shoulder like a wet, furry missile, flailing before landing with a soft thump in a nearby patch of sand.

Momo jumped in surprise, her magazine tearing clean in half as all four of her arms tensed at once. She fixed me with a deep, scowling glare over her sunglasses.

Even Sandy stirred beneath the sand, the surface rumbling faintly from his shifting weight.

I didn't respond to any of them.

I just stared at the screen and bellowed a disbelieving:

"WHAT?!"

---

Author's Note:

Thank you all for the support! I'm honestly shocked that so many people are liking my stories so far, lol.

Hope it's not too presumptuous, but I've got a Patreon up and running! If you want to read 5 chapters ahead or just support me in general, feel free to visit my p.a.t.r.e.o.n.c.o.m / IcurasFallen

 

[IcurasFallen]

Pokémon Version Orange

Arc 2 - The Summer


Chapter 9
​

---

Before the elevator doors could even open all the way, I was already halfway through and sprinting into the penthouse like something was on fire.

Because, judging by the whirlwind of chaos inside, something very well could be.

"There you are!" Mom barked over her shoulder as she zipped from closet to couch, flinging open a travel case with one hand and snapping orders with the other. "Grab your Kanto-passport binder and go repack your travel bag! You need to have enough clothes for—"

"What do you mean we have to leave for Kanto tonight?!"

My shout echoed across the suite, cutting through the clatter of suitcase zippers, Mom's frantic orders, and the low humming sound of Bliss's panic packing.

"Sweetie, it's not that big a deal, really. Just a tiny scheduling miscommunication. You know how League paperwork gets!"

Alakazam, surrounded in a whirlwind of papers and random toiletries, didn't even look up from what I could only assume was a checklist. Instead, one of his floating pens rotated toward a smaller document sitting on the coffee table and underlined the line that read: "Arrival Deadline: June 13, no later than 0800."

I blinked. Then I looked at the calendar on the wall.

Today was the 12th.

Mom let out a strangled sound. "Alakazam! Traitor!"

The psychic didn't respond, though his tornado of papers and shampoo bottles did get a little more aggressive.

As Mom frantically turned back to the bags, she tripped over the corner of a half-zipped suitcase, flailed forward with all the dignity of a falling Slowpoke, and just barely caught herself on the edge of the couch.

"I'm fine!" She snapped, shooting Alakazam a look like she was about to banish him to the spa basement.

Finding my voice again in the midst of my own slowly growing panic, I couldn't help but sputter in panicked confusion.

"I-I'm still wet from surfing! We were supposed to have three more days! I haven't even packed! And how could you mess up this badly?!"

"I-I'm sorry!" Mom wailed, falling down before me and going as far as hugging my legs as frustrated and utterly dramatic tears fell down her face.

"I-It's just! With all the Gathering preparations, a-and family coming back and forth, and having to restock everything, and so many dates, why are there so many different dates and times, and why do they have to keep coming back?! I'm a HORRIBLE MOTHER—!"

My hands slapped down against her cheeks, cutting her off as I smooshed her face into a state of silence.

"Stop. Breathe." I ordered, staring down at my near-hyperventilating mother as she spiraled hard.

"You are not a horrible mother. You got dates mixed up. It. Is. Fine. You're fine. I'm fine. If we are a little late, it. Is. Fine. So breathe."

I said each word slowly and carefully. Allowing my calm, slow words to act as an anchor to help her pull herself back together.

To think, the same woman who had organized one of the most complex and frustratingly overdone family gatherings on the planet not even weeks before could be brought so low by mixing up a single date when all it would affect was her own son…

Although I guess that just spoke of what kind of person she was at the end of the day, and the sheer love she had for me to be brought so low at the mere thought of disappointing me like this.

Finally, she managed to pull herself together enough to return to her own feet; a floating tissue provided by our favorite snarky Psychic was soon drenched in a wave of snot and promptly teleported into the nearest incinerator.

"Right. Right! We can do this. We can make it on time, and even if we aren't, it's okay." Mom said, obviously trying to pump herself up.

Then, with the speed of a General snapping back into battle, she pointed across the room.

"Alakazam, you're on documents. Passports, League credentials, anything stamped in triplicate, and keep a checklist running at all times."

The Psychic rolled his eyes before three more pens joined his toiletries cyclone as an assortment of documents started spinning through the open space of the room.

"Bliss, travel kits! Medical pouch, vitamin gummies, flight snacks, not the Max Potions; I am not dealing with customs over that again, and grab my conditioner; we are not repeating the Slateport disaster!"

Blissey made a panicked salute with a neck pillow before bolting toward the bathroom.

"Momo!" She barked. "Heavy lifting. Red-tagged luggage first. And for Lugia's sake, don't wrinkle the silk set this time!"

The Machamp groaned but still stooped to collect three already bulging bags at once like they weighed nothing.

"And you two!" Her finger snapped toward me, and by extension, the yellow barnacle stuck to my hair. "Shower. Five minutes. Both of you. You are not stepping foot on League property smelling like low tide. Clothes, bag, hair dry, and I want you standing back here before the hour's up. Move!"

I didn't wait to reply or ask any more questions. The checklist behind her underlined the deadline again in bold red, and that was enough.

I bolted down the hall, Pichu squeaking wildly as I sprinted for the bathroom.

---

We made it.

Don't ask me how, but we made it.

I sank into the buttery leather of the first-class seat like it was the only solid ground I'd seen in years, blinking at the tray table as if it owed me an explanation.

The only reason we even made it on time was that Alakazam finally lost his patience and teleported us straight into the executive terminal, bypassing a traffic jam, two overloaded luggage carts, and whatever meltdown Bliss was having over a missing hair straightener. The sudden arrival had startled three different attendants, and one poor businessman had spilled his coffee across a kid's Clefairy plush.

Of course, League security still had to follow procedure, but this was Kumquat Island, and Kumquat was our island. Half the airport staff knew exactly who we were, and the other half had just been briefed with all the gravity of a military operation. Their expressions screamed, "Please don't hurt me," the entire time.

Despite the reverence, rules were rules. Even Gym Leaders had to unload every item for inspection when flying multiregionally. Mom's handbag got flagged for "excessive compressed luxury," and I had to explain, twice, why I was bringing an army surplus store's worth of camping gear. Poké Balls were swabbed, scanned, and polished, just in case they were secretly full of contraband instead of Pokémon with enough power to level the terminal if they felt like it.

Once we cleared that circus, we were finally escorted to our seats with the kind of forced cheer that only barely hid their internal panic.

Now, here we were. First-class seats with all the cool air and complimentary Oran-infused water we could ever want.

Pichu had curled up in my lap, still mildly damp and very much done with everything. His ears twitched occasionally, like he was dreaming of shocking someone out of spite.

Mom was in the window seat beside me, sunglasses on and one leg crossed over the other, already flipping through an in-flight menu like she hadn't just sprint-packed half her wardrobe ten minutes before boarding.

I let my head fall back and finally exhaled.

In just a few hours, we'd be landing in Kanto, and after that, I was heading to Professor Oak's Summer Camp.

Whether I was ready or not.

---

By the time we stepped off the plane and into Viridian City's private terminal the following morning, the sky was still streaked in pale blue and lavender, the last rays of dawn just beginning to push past the horizon into the morning proper. The whole city seemed caught between sleep and wakefulness, washed in soft light that made even the glassy terminal windows look like they were glowing.

Mom had, of course, declined the option to use Alakazam's Teleport again. Never mind that it was faster. Or easier. Or the fact that coordinates-based Teleportation was perfectly safe for short-range jumps.

"It's about making an impression," she had said, as if we were arriving for a press tour and not dropping me off at a glorified academic sleepaway camp.

We instead loaded into an expensive rental car, an electric blue convertible with leather seats, and a faint new-car smell that definitely did not belong in a place as dusty as rural Kanto.

The first mile out of Viridian was smooth enough. The road was still paved, the scenery still looked like the brochure: quiet streets, open skies, and estate homes tucked behind gates that gleamed in the morning light.

Then the pavement ended.

From one second to the next, the tires were rumbling against a dirt track peppered with stones and scrub grass. It wasn't an oversight either; it was Route 1. Viridian's main roads didn't reach Pallet, so if you wanted to drive between the two, you followed the dirt road that cut along the route's edge and hoped the local Pokémon didn't take offense.

Not that we had to worry. Alakazam sat in the front passenger seat, radiating so much psychic pressure that every Rattata and Pidgey within a half-mile had already decided their best life choice was to pretend we didn't exist. Even the trees seemed to lean away from the car as we passed.

The last leg of the drive felt like traveling into another era entirely. No neon signs. No tourist at every turn. Just long stretches of plains and farmland, fences stretching toward the horizon, and trees that looked like they'd been there since before the Indigo League was even an idea.

It wasn't ugly, not by a long shot. The air was thinner here than I was used to. The smell of salt was totally absent, replaced with dew and morning grass, and the cries and buzzing of the local Pokémon replaced the near-constant sound of the ocean.

I leaned against the passenger door, chin in hand, watching it all roll by. I wasn't dazzled. I'd sunbathed on beaches in the Seveii Islands, climbed mountains in Sinnoh, and attended festivals in Kalos. Years of Family Gatherings and Birthdays spent throughout the world had burned variety into my brain.

But there was something about this place. Something…quiet.

Pichu was sat on my shoulder, yet this time he was wide awake. His ears twitched constantly as his gaze darted across the endless plains and rising hills, the soft dawn spilling across everything. For a Pokémon who grew up on islands his whole life, the sheer expanse of land had him stunned into silence.

The rental car crested a gentle rise, and Pallet Town came into view. Rooftops peeked through waves of green, dirt lanes branched toward tidy gardens and fenced properties, and the air smelled like wildflowers. It felt like we had driven into a postcard.

We rolled down the town's main street and towards the hill where the white walls of Professor Oak's Laboratory sat. A wind turbine turned lazily in the morning breeze while a small crowd of parents and kids clustered near a folding table set at the bottom of the steps, with bags and hugs and last-minute childish embarrassment abound.

Our ride drew eyes the second it stopped. When Alakazam stepped out of the passenger seat, tall and very clearly the strongest Mon present, the crowd's volume dropped. No one here knew who we were, but wealth and power have a universal accent. Parents tightened their grip on their kids without thinking. Conversations thinned. Space opened in front of us like a tide pulling back.

Mom didn't notice. She just adjusted her sunglasses, smoothed an imaginary wrinkle, and set off with the relaxed confidence of someone who knew they were important and didn't care if the world knew it or not. People moved out of her way the same way they would for a Dragonite.

I slung my bag over one shoulder as I followed, Pichu happy enough to balance on the other. It looked like a plain black courier pack, stamped with the Silph Co. logo, but it was one of those discreet "spatial compression" models that was bigger on the inside than the outside. The kind of thing fans always joked about when wondering how a Trainer could carry half a Poké Mart in their pocket.

At the check-in desk, a harried-looking aide in a rumpled lab coat fumbled his clipboard. An Abra was perched beside him on a stool, tail swishing as it tracked Alakazam with simultaneously wide yet squinting eyes. Not starstruck exactly, more like awed and intimidated, its little hands twitching nervously as if it couldn't decide between waving or bolting.

"Names?" The aide settled on even as he squirmed at our approach.

"Luana Cashion," Mom supplied smoothly, adjusting her sunglasses to give a playful wink down at the clearly harried lab assistant. "Here to deliver my son, Travis Cashion."

The aide's pen froze halfway down the page. His eyes darted from her sunglasses to me to the clipboard again. A beat later, he flipped a page, then another, until he landed on whatever list he'd clearly been dreading. His posture stiffened. "Ah, yes. Right here. VIP."

Abra suddenly straightened, eyes glowing faintly in what I figured was its Telepathy tell. The little Pokémon wiggled on its stool, almost vibrating in place, and a moment later the aide blinked and cocked his head at what was no doubt a telepathic message. He adjusted his glasses, cleared his throat, and forced a professional smile.

"Professor Oak is in the backyard. He's asked that you go on in. Just follow the arrows around the building, and you'll find him."

Thanking the young man, we climbed up the steps as instructed. Finding the arrows clearly directing people away from the front door of the laboratory, we quickly made our way alongside the building itself.

Rounding the corner, we found ourselves on a long back porch, where the scene before us unfolded into a vast expanse that could hardly be called a "backyard." Professor Oak's property stretched far beyond the immediate area, encompassing rolling fields, dense groves, and even (I knew from research) the distant foothills of the mountains that framed the horizon.

The immediate area was a well-maintained lawn dotted with picnic tables and a small pond that glistened in the sunlight with a few Water-types lazily swimming near the surface. Various Pokémon roamed freely, some interacting with the campers, others simply enjoying the open space.

It would have been serene, almost idyllic, if not for the couple dozen kids turning it into a whirlwind of activity. Groups of campers chased each other, some engaged in make-believe battles, and others attempted to organize games with the Pokémon. A few adult aides and what looked like older trainers moved among them, trying to maintain some semblance of order. Even some of the more docile Pokémon had slipped into supervisory roles, gently nudging or redirecting the more rambunctious kids.

And standing at the edge of the porch, facing away from us, was Professor Oak. He appeared to be observing the chaos, occasionally nodding or jotting a note on the clipboard he held. He seemed content to let the children burn off energy, perhaps seeing value in their unstructured interactions before the formalities of camp began.

I glanced up at Mom, who waggled her eyebrows at me, clearly amused by the scene. Pichu frowned in my arms, ears twitching at the cacophony.

"Well," I muttered, "this is going to suck."

"I should hope not," came a calm, lightly amused voice from just ahead. Apparently, I wasn't as quiet as I thought.

Professor Oak hadn't turned. He still faced the lawn, jotting notes on the clipboard, yet just the sound of his voice made me focus entirely on him.

"Camp is meant to challenge you, allow you to grow," he continued, eyes still on the tumbling groups of kids. "This is a chance for you to learn the skills needed to survive both in the wild and among your fellow future rivals and companions, as I hope you'll soon learn." He made another quick mark on the page, then finally pivoted toward us.

The shift was seamless at first. A simple turn, his face open, his hand lifting in greeting after what was clearly meant to be an insightful moment…

And then he saw me.

He froze. His hand stalled mid-wave as his eyes locked on me and then Pichu with a focus so sharp it was almost unsettling. The genial warmth drained from his expression, replaced by something searching, something that didn't belong in a casual introduction.

The silence stretched long enough for me to fidget. What was this about?

"Professor?" Mom asked, brows knitting together as she leaned a fraction closer to me. "Is something the matter?"

Professor Oak blinked as if waking from a dream. His hand rose higher as he used it to rub the back of his head with a sheepish laugh. "Ah, forgive me! You just—" His gaze flicked to me again before returning to Mom. "Your son reminded me of another young man I know. The resemblance is uncanny, that's all."

Mom's posture eased, though she still studied him curiously. "I see. Well, Luana Cashion," she said, extending her hand. "And this is my son, Travis."

Professor Oak accepted the handshake, though I didn't miss the way his eyes lingered on me for a beat longer than necessary. "Professor Samuel Oak. A pleasure to meet you both."

Then he perked up, as if remembering something. "Oh! You must be the young man Daisy mentioned to me!"

The Professor's genial smile returned as he gave Mom a grateful look. "I must thank you for providing Daisy the chance to attend your family's gathering. She's spoken highly of both you and young Miss Kylie, and the insight and opportunities it's offered her!"

Mom waved him off with a pleased flush. "Oh, think nothing of it! Daisy is a wonderful young lady. I was happy to have her."

Professor Oak was clearly pleased at the kind words directed at his granddaughter before he nodded and swept an arm toward the rolling lawn. "Well then, allow me to return the favor and welcome you to my Summer Camp! I do hope you'll enjoy your time here, Travis. There's much to learn, of course, but I find the friendships formed during the next week often matter just as much as the lessons."

Before I could even attempt to reply to his hopeful message, Mom leaned in with the kind of expression I'd come to dread. The one that meant she was about to say something "harmless."

"Oh, that's wonderful to hear." Her smile turned mischievous as she looked down at me fondly. "Travis is usually so busy helping around the Grand, he often struggles to make friends his own age. This will be perfect for him!"

"Mooom," I hissed, ear burning. I had friends! I had tons of friends!

(The fact that most of them happened to be at least three times my physical age at minimum didn't matter one iota!)

Oak chuckled politely, though his eyes flicked toward me with a glimmer of sympathy. "I'm sure Travis will be able to make many friends," he agreed warmly. "Some of the bonds made here will no doubt last well beyond the week. In fact, I almost guarantee it!"

Mom's smile was delighted at that reassurance, even going as far as to waggle her eyebrows down at me. I couldn't hold in a grumble. (I had friends dammnt!)

Moving past that moment of embarrassment, Mom let her tone settle into something more serious. "In all honesty, Professor, I do have some concerns. I want to be certain Travis will still be permitted to carry both his Pichu and a member of my team at all times. For safety reasons, of course."

The Professor gave an easy nod. "That will be no problem at all. His Pichu is perfectly acceptable as an alternative for some of the activities we will be hosting, and Travis isn't the only politically sensitive camper enrolled this year. We make allowances in such cases, and so long as the trust given is not abused, then I don't see any problem with—"

"Well, well, well, look who finally showed up. Ashy-boy!"

The childish voice cut in from behind the Professor, who instinctively moved to see who spoke. A young boy with spiky auburn hair and a cocksure smile leaned against one of the porch rails.

He pushed off the railing with deliberate swagger, taking his time as he sized me up. "Took you long enough. What'd you do, get lost on your way from your house?"

I stared at the child with a bland look. "I think you've got the wrong person."

That actually made him falter, his smirk flickering for just a beat. Clearly, he'd expected me to fire back like it was a game. Instead, he tilted his head, mocking concern dripping into his tone. "What's this? Ashy-boy forget his own name?"

"Gary."

Professor Oak's voice cut sharply through the air. He was pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand, clearly exasperated.

The kid (oh dear lord this is) snapped his mouth shut, not expecting the rebuke.

"Mrs. Cashion, Travis," Professor Oak said with a weary glance between us, "this is my grandson, Gary. Please excuse his…enthusiasm." He rubbed at his temple like this wasn't the first time. "He mistook you for another local lad who will be attending camp this year. As I mentioned before, the resemblance is uncanny."

Gary-motherfudging-Oak looked between his grandfather and me, still frowning. "Wait, so he's not Ash? Are you guys related or something?"

"Not as far as I'm aware," I replied dryly. (Because seriously, I knew I'd be encountering important people by coming here, but already?!)

"Huh." Gary tilted his head, then jabbed a finger at the Pichu in my arms. "What's with that then? I didn't think you let campers mess with the Electric-types, Gramps."

"That Pichu isn't mine," Professor Oak corrected calmly. "He's Travis's partner."

"What?!" The younger Oak's smirk fell into a pout, his voice pitching higher. "But camp's not for trainers! That's not fair! He shouldn't even have a Pokémon!"

"Technically," I cut in, shifting as Pichu moved to my other shoulder to avoid the still-pointed finger, "Pichu's a Gym Pokémon. And since I'm a registered Kumquat Gym Leader, I'm allowed to hold his Poké Ball."

Gary gawked like I'd just sprouted a second head. "You're a Gym Leader?!"

Before I could answer, Mom swooped in, all sunshine and mischief. "He sure is!" she chirped, ruffling my hair like I was still six. "The best little helper a mother could ask for!"

"Mom!" I tried to duck away, ears burning.

Completely unbothered, she plucked a ball from her belt and pressed it into my free hand. "And don't forget Sandy, my Pallosand," she said brightly before she cut her eyes toward Oak, her smile never wavering.

The Professor gave a small nod. "That will be fine."

"That said," he added, turning to face me directly. "This is a privilege. If I find out you're using your access irresponsibly, we will be having a very different sort of conversation."

I raised an eyebrow, not insulted, just...unimpressed.

"With all due respect, Professor," I said, matching his tone, "I'm a licensed Gym Leader. I know which lines not to cross."

The Professor held my gaze for a second longer, then nodded once.

Gary audibly huffed, drawing attention back his way. "Yeah, well, I don't have a Pokémon!"

Professor Oak's sigh carried the weight of a hundred previous arguments. "Gary, you've grown up surrounded by hundreds of Pokémon at the Lab. That's more than most children could dream of."

"But they aren't mine," Gary whined, folding his arms childishly.

Deciding to interrupt what I was quickly realizing may become a temper tantrum, I coughed to draw the younger Oak's attention. "That's probably a good thing. After all, if they're not yours, then you don't have to worry about bathing them. Trust me, dealing with an annoyed Electric-type during bath time is miserable."

Pichu, clearly unimpressed by my comment, released enough charge to zap my ear. I bit my tongue hard enough to keep from yelping and shot the little gremlin a glare. He squeaked smugly.

Gary thankfully snorted at the byplay, completely losing his previous momentum. "Heh. At least you seem smarter than Ashy-boy." His grin widened. "C'mon, I'll show you around before camp really starts!"

My brain immediately began running through polite ways to say 'absolutely not'. The last thing I wanted was to be dragged center stage by Oak's brat of a grandson. I was already toeing the line of "main character" more than I ever wanted.

Unfortunately, Mom heard "friendship opportunity" and immediately responded before I could say a word. "Oh, Travis would love to! Thank you, Gary!" She squealed before descending on me like a hurricane of perfume and maternal doom.

In an instant, I was smothered against her, my face mashed into her chest as she clutched me for all I was worth. "My baby boy is already making new friends!" She crowed loud enough to no doubt draw stares from at least half the campers. "You're growing up so fast! How will I survive without you?!"

"Moooom" I wheezed, mortified as I felt eyes drilling into me from every direction.

But then her voice wavered, and I realized with horror that her eyes were starting to shine. "And now I'm leaving you all alone…I'M LEAVING MY BABY ALL ALONE!"

Before the wailing could escalate further, Alakazam silently raised a hand. Mom gave a startled yelp as she was lifted a good two feet off the ground, legs kicking while the psychic forcibly pried her grip loose.

"Goodbye Travis," the voice of my savior echoed in my head. "Be safe. Don't kill anyone."

"No promises," I muttered back, trying desperately to disappear into Pichu's fur as Mom continued to wiggle and reach in my general direction.

The psychic gave a solemn nod, then turned and floated Mom back toward the Lab, her cries of "My baby! My sweet boy!" trailing behind like the world's worst farewell parade.

Behind me, Gary was doubled over laughing.

"Shut up," I snapped, ears hot enough to fry a Magikarp as Pichu chittered right along with him.

Even Professor Oak was chuckling under his breath at the spectacle, though he quickly composed himself when I shot him a look that screamed 'do not encourage this'. He cleared his throat, tapping his clipboard against his palm.

"Well then," he said warmly, eyes twinkling with amusement. "Why don't the three of you run along? Camp will be starting shortly, and I'm sure there's plenty for you to see before orientation begins."

Gary immediately puffed up at being included, shooting me a smug grin as if the older Oak had just knighted him. Pichu squeaked like he was in on the joke.

Me? I just sighed, resigned to the fact that preserving my dignity was a lost cause before the week had even started.

---

Author's Note:

Thank you all for the support! I'm honestly shocked that so many people are liking my stories so far, lol.

Hope it's not too presumptuous, but I've got a Patreon up and running! If you want to read 5 chapters ahead or just support me in general, feel free to visit my p.a.t.r.e.o.n.c.o.m / IcurasFallen

 

[IcurasFallen]

Pokémon Version Orange

Arc 2 - The Summer


Chapter 10
​

---

Ever since I'd woken up with an adult lifetime crammed into a pint-sized body, I'd had plenty of practice interacting with children my physical age.

Spoiler: it was exactly as painful as you'd imagine.

The tantrums. The petty arguments. The constant need to prove who was taller, faster, smarter, or better at whatever game had been invented five minutes earlier. Adding Pokémon only made it worse.

But through every forced playdate, Family Gathering, and League official's kid I'd been paraded in front of like some kind of social experiment, I didn't think I'd ever wanted to smack a child upside the head more than I did after five minutes of talking to Gary Oak.

He was just so smug. So utterly, relentlessly egotistical that it almost defied reason. And he was nine. Nine. I've met people thrice his age with less ego. (Most of whom I reluctantly called Family, but you get my point!)

The worst part was that he probably was smart. You didn't grow up in Professor Oak's laboratory, surrounded by researchers and hundreds of Pokémon, without picking up more than the average kid.

The problem was that nobody had apparently explained to him that there was a difference between knowing a lot and knowing everything.

So every bit of Pokémon trivia came with a smirk. Every correction came with that little lift of his chin. Every fact was delivered as if he'd personally discovered it and the rest of us should be grateful he'd chosen to share.

And, depressingly, it probably worked. To another child, the combination of expensive technology, encyclopedic Pokémon knowledge, and absolute confidence probably made Gary look like some kind of prodigy.

To me, it just made him incredibly punchable.

I wasn't blind to the irony, of course. I was a rich kid too. Obscenely so, by most people's standards.

And no, hauling luggage and covering front-desk shifts didn't magically make me self-made. I was nine too. I hadn't earned the Kumquat Grand.

Something that Mom had made damned sure I understood by making me have to work from the bottom up. Supplies didn't magically stock themselves. Guests didn't check themselves in. The staff weren't decorative NPCs whose sole purpose was making my life easier.

Privilege didn't excuse me from pulling my weight.

Whether Gary had learned that lesson yet, I had no idea, but even five minutes in his presence was leading me to think the answer was no.

It was enough, however, to know he desperately wanted me to think he was better than me.

Which was why, when he led me past the treeline at the edge of the main pasture, I immediately suspected he was up to something.

Sure enough, just beyond the shade of the trees sat a smaller enclosure separated from the rest of the pasture by a tall reinforced fence. Bright yellow signs had been mounted along the posts at regular intervals, each one warning in bold lettering: Caution: High Voltage. Authorized Access Only.

The enclosure practically hummed with static. The air smelled faintly of ozone, and every few seconds a blue-white spark snapped harmlessly into the insulated grounding strips woven through the fence. A pair of Flaaffy grazed near the far end, their wool sparking with lazy discharges whenever they brushed against one another, while an Electabuzz leaned against a nearby tree with its arms crossed like a bouncer on break. Several Magnemite floated around what looked like some kind of battery-based feeding station.

Pichu perked up almost immediately. His ears shot upright as he took in the collection of Electric-types, and I felt the faint prickling of static against my neck as his own excitement started bleeding into his cheeks.

Gary noticed, of course, and swaggered forward to give a dramatic sweep of his arms. "Pretty impressive, huh? Gramps keeps some of the stronger Electric-types over here." His eyes slid toward Pichu before his grin sharpened. "They're way tougher than that baby rat you're carrying around."

And there was the expected dig.

Pichu went rigid against my shoulder, one ear twitching as his cheeks began to spark. I reached up and scratched beneath his chin before he decided Professor Oak's grandson needed a practical lesson in electrical conductivity. "Easy," I murmured, earning an offended chuuuu in return, though the sparks thankfully faded to something less immediately threatening.

Gary's grin widened at the reaction, clearly pleased with himself. After all, I actually had a Pokémon. Gary didn't, and since he couldn't exactly prove himself "superior" in that particular category without running face-first into that inconvenient fact, he had apparently settled for the next best thing: showing off his grandfather's Pokémon and pretending proximity counted.

(Quite frankly, it wasn't even that good of an insult. I'd heard worse when I was five, and Rayna had been considerably more creative about it.)

"At least I have a Pokémon," I replied flatly.

Petty, sure, but he had insulted my partner. I had standards, not sainthood.

Pichu gave a loud hmph of agreement and crossed his tiny arms, his cheeks producing one last crackle as if punctuation were apparently part of his skill set now.

Gary's grin faltered for only a second before he recovered, puffing himself up again as his eyes narrowed. "Yeah, well, what about..." His gaze darted briefly toward the enclosure, clearly searching for another angle.

I could already tell this was going to be a very long week if I let him keep dictating the conversation, so instead of giving him the satisfaction, I tapped the display on my wilderness survival watch and glanced toward the main pasture. "So when does camp actually start? Feels like orientation should've kicked off by now."

The shift hit him harder than any insult could have.

Gary bristled immediately, shoulders squaring as his expression tightened. "It hasn't started yet. You'd know that if you were actually paying attention!"

I almost smiled at the reaction. Apparently, he didn't just want to win the conversation. He wanted me to care that he was winning it, which meant getting brushed aside irritated him far more than getting insulted.

Useful information, though I had absolutely no intention of spending the next week psychologically dissecting an elementary schooler if I could help it.

The truth was, I was mostly fishing for an exit. If orientation was about to start, I could cut this little detour short, disappear back into the crowd, and hopefully avoid spending the rest of the morning listening to Gary explain basic Pokémon facts like he'd personally written the Pokédex.

Because irritating personality aside, there was another problem. Gary Oak wasn't just some random nine-year-old with too much confidence and a childhood spent practically living inside one of the world's most famous research labs. He was The Rival, and if my previous life had taught me anything about stories like this, it was that Rivals attracted trouble almost as much as protagonists did.

Which brought me back to the much larger hurricane currently hanging over the entire camp: Ash Ketchum.

The kid whose face apparently looked disturbingly similar to mine. The kid Gary had mistaken me for within seconds of seeing me. The kid Professor Oak had already confirmed would be attending this exact camp.

I was already closer to canon's gravitational pull than I was comfortable with, and the last thing I needed was Gary Oak grabbing me by the ankle and dragging me the rest of the way in.

Unfortunately, Gary clearly wasn't finished. He jabbed a thumb toward the Electric enclosure and gave me another smug look. "Bet you won't even go inside. Gramps lets me in there all the time. Those Pokémon are way too much for regular kids, especially ones carrying around baby Mons."

I slowly turned my head toward him as the shape of the challenge became painfully obvious.

"You scared or something?" Gary leaned forward slightly, grin sharpening now that he thought he'd finally found the right button to press. "What's the matter, chicken?"

Pichu tensed against my shoulder, tiny paws gripping my shirt as sparks began popping faintly from his cheeks. The little guy was clearly taking the insult far more personally than I was, and judging by the way his ears had flattened back, I had maybe three seconds before he decided to answer Gary's challenge for me.

I gave Pichu another scratch beneath the chin, then looked back at Gary and nodded without hesitation. "Yep. Terrified."

Gary froze, his grin staying exactly where it was for a second even as everything behind it seemed to stop working. "…Wait, what?"

"Of course I'm chicken," I continued breezily, shifting Pichu into a more comfortable position in my arms. "I'm also lazy, selfish, terrible at photography, and I hate spicy food because it makes my nose run and my eyes water. If you've got any other flaws you want me to admit to, we could probably make a list."

Gary looked like I'd reached into his head, grabbed whatever script he'd been following, and ripped it clean in half.

"That's not..." He stopped, visibly regrouping. "You're supposed to…"

His face tightened when he realized he had no idea how to finish that sentence without outright admitting what he'd expected me to do.

I raised an eyebrow. "Supposed to what?"

Gary's cheeks reddened.

There it was.

He had expected me to argue. Maybe puff myself up and insist that I wasn't scared before marching straight through the gate to prove it. Basic playground logic. Call someone a chicken, and suddenly they'd rather wrestle a Tauros than admit they had functioning survival instincts.

It probably worked pretty well on Ash.

Unfortunately for Gary, I had already gone through elementary school once, and I wasn't about to risk getting electrocuted because a nine-year-old questioned my courage.

Gary folded his arms and tried to rebuild his smirk from the wreckage. "Well, if you're too scared, I guess that means I'm braver than you."

I shrugged. "Sure."

His eye twitched.

Pichu made a strangled sound into my collarbone

Gary stared at me for several seconds, clearly waiting for the objection that never came. "You don't care?"

"Not particularly."

"But I just said I'm braver than you!"

"I heard you."

Gary threw his arms outward in frustration. "Then why aren't you saying anything?!"

I tilted my head, genuinely considering the question. "Because you can be braver than me if you want? Congratulations, I guess."

Pichu finally lost the battle.

A sharp, squeaky burst of laughter escaped him before he buried his face completely into my neck, shoulders shaking as he tried and failed to recover. I reached up to steady him before his amusement sent him tumbling out of my arms, though I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep my own expression under control.

Gary's entire face went red. "You two are weird!"

"That one I'll also admit to."

"Stop doing that!"

"Doing what?"

"Agreeing with me!"

I couldn't help it anymore. A small smile finally broke through. This was way more entertaining than insulting him back.

Before Gary could figure out another approach, a sharp whistle cut through the air from somewhere beyond the treeline, followed by another a few seconds later. The sound carried easily across the pasture, and I caught the distant rise of adult voices calling campers toward the main lawn.

I glanced back toward the Lab. "Sounds like orientation's starting."

Gary's expression shifted almost immediately, annoyance giving way to recognition as he looked toward the same sound. "That's the assembly call."

"Perfect." I adjusted the strap of my bag and started walking back toward the trees. "Would hate to miss it because I was busy proving my bravery to a fence."

For half a second, there was nothing behind me, then came the frantic scrape of shoes against dirt.

"H-Hey! Wait!" Gary called, apparently realizing I had absolutely no intention of waiting for him. "I wasn't finished!"

I kept walking.

Pichu lifted his head just enough to look over my shoulder before hiding another snicker. The little gremlin gave a smug pichu under his breath before settling back against my front, clearly satisfied with how thoroughly the encounter had gone off the rails.

I scratched between his ears.

"Don't get cocky," I muttered. "You were two seconds away from shocking him."

Pichu immediately looked away.

Yeah, that's what I thought.

---

By the time we broke through the treeline again, the loose chaos I'd seen earlier had mostly been beaten into something resembling organization. The campers had gathered across the broad lawn behind Professor Oak's Laboratory, forming several uneven rows in front of the porch while a handful of assistants moved between them with clipboards, gently redirecting anyone who had apparently decided that "stand with the other campers" was merely a suggestion. A few parents were still lingering near the edge of the property, though most seemed to have taken the increasingly pointed looks from the staff as their cue to finish saying goodbye.

There were more kids than I'd initially realized. Not hundreds or anything ridiculous, but enough to make the lawn feel crowded once everyone had been gathered into one place. Most looked around my age, nine or ten, with a few older faces mixed into the group. Eleven, maybe twelve in a couple of cases.

Which made sense. Despite what the phrase summer camp brought to mind, Professor Oak wasn't running some daycare where preschoolers learned how not to pull a Pikachu's tail. This was pre-journey preparation, meant for kids getting close to the point where the League would actually let them leave home and start traveling on their own.

(Besides, from what research I'd done, the camp for said preschoolers wasn't until the end of summer. Small mercy, that.)

Nine seemed to be about the youngest age where something like this became useful. Most of the campers would probably be setting out next League Season, assuming they finished their education requirements and had the money, paperwork, and parental approval necessary to actually do it. There were always exceptions on the older end too, kids who got held back academically, families who needed another year to save enough for travel, or people whose birthdays simply fell awkwardly against League registration deadlines.

Turns out, "start your journey at ten" was less an immutable law of reality and more the earliest point where the League was willing to hand you a license and say, Good luck, try not to die.

Comforting thought, that.

I found a space near the back of one of the rows, Pichu still perched comfortably against my shoulder. Gary arrived a few seconds later, slightly out of breath from having to catch up, but recovered his dignity quickly enough to act as though he'd planned the whole thing.

Naturally, he took up a spot beside me.

I glanced sideways at him. Gary glanced back, neither of us saying anything while Pichu made a suspiciously amused noise against my neck. Before Gary could restart whatever argument he'd been building in his head, movement from the porch drew everyone's attention.

Professor Oak stepped forward with a welcoming smile, hands clasped behind his back as the remaining chatter gradually died away. One of the aides nearby had set up a portable speaker system, though Oak barely seemed to need it once he started speaking.

"Good morning, everyone! And welcome to this year's Pallet Town Summer Camp!"

A scattered chorus of greetings answered him, ranging from enthusiastic shouts to the sort of half-awake mumbling usually reserved for school assemblies. Oak chuckled at the response. "I see some of you have had longer mornings than others."

I felt personally attacked.

Oak paced slowly across the porch as he continued. "Over the next week, you'll be learning many of the skills young Trainers need before setting out on journeys of their own. Some of those lessons will be familiar. Others, I suspect, will be very new."

His gaze traveled over the gathered campers as his expression became a little more serious.

"You'll be learning wilderness safety, Pokémon care, field identification, navigation, campcraft, basic battle etiquette, and perhaps most importantly, how to recognize when a situation is beyond your ability to handle alone."

That last one earned a few disappointed looks from some of the more excitable kids. Oak noticed immediately, his smile turning knowing. "Yes, knowing when not to battle is also a Trainer skill."

Well, if I hadn't approved of the man already…

Professor Oak continued before anyone could complain. "You'll also be working in groups throughout the week. A Trainer's journey may sometimes feel solitary, but very few Trainers truly travel alone. You'll depend on Pokémon, other Trainers, Pokémon Centers, Rangers, Gym staff, local residents, and sometimes complete strangers."

He paused long enough to let that settle before adding, "Part of this camp is learning how to work with others, even when they aren't people you would normally choose as companions."

Oak's smile developed the faintest hint of amusement before he moved on. "But before we begin any of that, we're going to start with something much more fun!"

The assembled campers all perked up at that. While assemblies were universally bemoaned, fun remained one of those magical little words capable of getting any group of kids invested.

The Professor turned and gestured toward one of the assistants waiting beside the Laboratory. The young man disappeared through a nearby side door and returned a few moments later, pushing a long rolling table covered by a white cloth.

The mood across the lawn changed almost instantly as kids leaned forward and conversations started up again. Someone near the front audibly gasped when the assistant stopped beside Professor Oak and pulled the cloth away.

Poké Balls. Dozens of them.

Standard red-and-white models sat in neat padded racks across the table, each one marked with a small numbered tag near the release button.

Gary straightened beside me so fast I swear I heard his spine click.

Oak waited until the growing chatter settled before raising a hand. "Every Poké Ball on this table contains a Pokémon currently cared for here at the Laboratory. None of them are wild, and all of them have spent enough time around people that my staff and I are confident they can safely participate in this week's activities."

That calmed a couple of visibly nervous campers. Others seemed almost disappointed that the phrase dangerous Pokémon had apparently been removed from the equation.

Because children were insane like that.

Professor Oak waited another few seconds for the murmuring to die down before continuing. "Now, before anyone gets too excited, I want to make something very clear. These Pokémon are not being provided simply so you can spend the week battling with them."

That earned a few disappointed noises almost immediately.

Oak's eyebrows rose.

The noises stopped.

"The primary purpose of this exercise is responsibility," he continued, his tone remaining friendly despite the suddenly attentive audience. "For the rest of camp, the Pokémon assigned to you will be your partner. You'll be responsible for making sure they're fed, rested, groomed when necessary, and generally comfortable throughout the day. You'll learn their habits, their personalities, what they enjoy, what they dislike, and hopefully begin understanding how to communicate with them even when they cannot simply tell you what they need."

That seemed to sober up at least some of the crowd.

Probably because there was a rather dramatic difference between you get a Pokémon for the week and you are now responsible for another living creature for the week.

I approved.

A Pokémon wasn't a bicycle you parked against the wall when you got bored. Even Pichu, whose current contribution to our partnership seemed to involve using me as public transportation and consuming anything vaguely Berry-shaped within a five-foot radius, required actual care.

Pichu shifted slightly against my neck as if sensing that I was thinking about him, so I gave his side a small pat.

No complaints from you, ya freeloading fuzzball.

Professor Oak had started pacing again, hands clasped behind his back. "That means these Pokémon will remain with you throughout the camp, not simply for today's activities. Some of you may find that responsibility easier than expected. Others may discover that caring for a Pokémon requires considerably more patience than you imagined."

A few campers exchanged uncertain looks at that, though the excitement hadn't disappeared. If anything, most seemed even more invested now that they understood they were effectively being trusted with a Pokémon for the entire week.

Then Oak smiled.

"Of course," he added, and I immediately noticed several heads snap upward at the change in tone, "I would be lying if I said battling had no place in the curriculum."

There it was.

The field practically vibrated.

Professor Oak laughed softly at the reaction. "Yes, you will be allowed to battle with your partners during camp. However, there is one very important rule. Any battle between campers must have one of our counselors present and willing to judge the match."

Quite a few little boys and girls let out "awwwwws" at that.

"Now, now, safety has to be a priority," the Professor chuckled. "Many of you have little or no formal battle experience, and the Pokémon you'll be working with will still be learning themselves. A counselor can stop a match before someone is injured, make sure both sides understand the rules, and help explain what went wrong afterward."

He let that sink in before giving the crowd another smile. "If no counselor is available, then you wait. No secret matches behind the cabins, no sneaking off into the woods to settle arguments, and absolutely no deciding that 'we were just practicing' somehow means it was not a battle."

Several kids suddenly became very interested in the grass.

I snorted quietly. The sheer number of resort guests who used nearly those exact words for trying to battle inside one of our private baths was sadder than funny.

"Follow those rules," he continued, "and you'll have plenty of opportunities to see what you and your partner can accomplish together. In fact, at the end of the week, we'll be holding a camp tournament!"

The lawn erupted into cheers, overlapping questions, and at least one kid loudly declaring that he was going to win before he had even met the Pokémon he'd be using.

Professor Oak let the excitement run for a few moments before lifting both hands again. "The tournament is not simply about determining who the strongest camper is," he clarified once the volume dropped. "What my counselors and I will be watching for is progress. How well you've learned to work with your partner, how well you understand them, and how much the two of you have improved over the week."

That actually interested me more.

A tournament where everyone started with an unfamiliar Pokémon and had a week to establish some kind of functional partnership? There were a lot of variables packed into that. Temperament, compatibility, existing experience, how quickly the camper recognized what their Pokémon was actually good at instead of trying to force them into whatever strategy sounded coolest.

Not exactly a controlled experiment, but definitely an interesting one. I could see why Professor Oak, whose research focused so heavily on Pokémon-human relationships, would make that a priority.

Professor Oak waved the campers down, allowing them a moment to settle down before continuing. "Now, I know some of you have arrived with Pokémon partners of your own. You are not required to take one of the Laboratory Pokémon simply for the sake of the exercise. Your existing partner will serve perfectly well, and you'll be held to the same expectations regarding their care throughout camp."

That drew a few glances toward those of us already accompanied by Pokémon. Pichu responded to the attention by sitting a little straighter on my shoulder like he was being formally presented to the public.

Show-off.

"For everyone else, we'll begin assignments in just a moment," Oak said. "Once you've met your partner, the first official hour of camp is yours to spend becoming familiar with one another. Talk to them, play with them, walk around the grounds, or simply sit together if that's what seems most comfortable. Those of you who already have partners are welcome to do the same, or you may use the time to meet some of your fellow campers."

Wonderful, that meant I had a perfectly legitimate excuse not to socialize.

Somewhere, Mom was probably developing a sudden migraine without knowing why.

"One final matter before we begin," Oak added, gesturing toward several adults stationed around the lawn. Each wore a brightly colored vest and carried a stack of small packets. "Our camp counselors have your welcome materials. Please make sure you collect yours before wandering too far. Each packet contains the week's schedule, camp rules, a map of the grounds, emergency information, and your group assignment."

One of the counselors lifted several brightly colored lanyards for everyone to see.

"Your lanyard will identify which group you're part of, so keep it with you whenever we're doing organized activities. If you lose it, report to a counselor, and we'll get you a replacement."

Oak glanced toward the table of Poké Balls and clapped his hands together. "With that said, those of you who do not already have a Pokémon partner, please come forward when your name is called."

Gary moved before anyone's name had actually been called.

One second he was beside me, and the next he was halfway toward the front of the crowd, weaving between campers with all the subtlety of a Tauros stampede.

"Gary!" Professor Oak called tiredly after his grandson.

"I'm coming, Gramps!"

"I wasn't calling you up!"

Gary slowed just enough to avoid technically continuing forward, though judging by the way he hovered at the edge of the forming line, technicalities were doing a lot of work.

I chuckled. "Think he's excited?"

Pichu gave me the flattest look his tiny face could manage.

"Yeah, stupid question."

With Gary successfully distracted by the possibility of getting his hands on a Pokémon, I decided to take advantage of the temporary peace and headed toward the nearest counselor. The woman wore a yellow vest over a camp shirt and was currently handing a folder to a girl with a Nidoran at her heels.

"Name?" she asked when I approached, already flipping through the stack in her hands.

"Travis Cashion."

Her fingers flipped through the stack before stopping. "Here we go. Welcome packet, schedule, map, emergency contact card, and..." She reached into a separate box beside her chair and pulled out my lanyard. "Pikachu Group."

I stared at it.

The strap was bright yellow with tiny Pikachu faces marching around the entire thing. At the bottom hung a laminated badge displaying an even larger Pikachu giving a cheerful thumbs-up.

I looked from the lanyard to Pichu.

Pichu looked from the lanyard to me.

The counselor smiled. "Something wrong?"

"Nope." I took it with all the dignity I could salvage. "Just appreciating the universe's commitment to a theme."

She clearly understood what I meant, because I walked away to the sound of her snickering behind me.

I slipped the lanyard over my head, immediately feeling Pichu lean forward to inspect his evolutionary relative hanging against my chest.

"Don't."

He tapped the laminated Pikachu with one paw.

"I mean it."

Another tap.

"You're enjoying this way too much."

Pichu chirped innocently.

I was about to threaten him with bath time when a sharp bark came from somewhere near my feet.

"Yam!"

I stopped and looked down to find a small Pokémon standing barely a few feet away, staring up at me.

It was a dog Pokémon that looked remarkably like a corgi from my past life, only with yellow-and-brown fur, bright green eyes, and a stubby little tail that looked like someone had started designing a lightning bolt and gotten distracted halfway through.

For several seconds, I just stared.

The Pokémon stared back, mouth open in a cheerful canine pant.

"...Yamper?"

The little Electric-type barked happily at hearing its name.

Okay, that was unexpected.

Galarian Pokémon weren't mythical or anything, but Kanto was half a world away from Galar. Seeing one wandering around Professor Oak's Laboratory wasn't impossible, especially considering the man's international reputation, but it was still rare enough that my curiosity immediately overpowered whatever plans I'd had for the next hour.

I crouched down, keeping enough distance that I wasn't suddenly invading the little guy's space, and studied him more closely.

"Well, hello there. What are you doing all the way out here?"

"Yamper!"

A girl's voice called from somewhere behind me, and the little Electric-type spun toward the voice with an excited bark.

I followed his gaze and spotted a girl weaving her way through the nearby campers toward us. She looked about my age, maybe a little younger, with large green eyes and reddish-brown hair pulled back into a long, thick braid that bounced against her back as she hurried closer. A little curved tuft of hair stuck up over her forehead despite everything else being relatively neat, and her clothes were simple compared to what I was used to seeing around the Grand: a light top with darker trim, a skirt, comfortable shoes, and yet another Pikachu lanyard hanging around her neck.

…why did she look familiar?

"Yamper, there you are!" she said with obvious relief.

The Pokémon barked again and immediately bounded toward her on those absurdly short legs. The girl bent down at exactly the right moment, hooking both arms beneath his front legs and lifting him against her chest in one smooth motion.

Okay, that was adorable.

The girl finally seemed to realize that I was still crouched nearby and looked over at me. "Sorry. He likes wandering off whenever something catches his attention."

"No harm done." I straightened and dusted a little grass from my knees. "I was mostly surprised to see a Galar Pokémon." I cocked my head, giving her a closer look. "You're not from Galar, are you?" She certainly didn't have the look of a native Galarian.

"Huh? Oh, no." She shook her head, causing the end of her braid to sway behind her. "I'm from Vermilion City."

That threw me for half a second.

She seemed used to the reaction and gave a small smile. "My dad went to Galar years ago for a research trip and brought Yamper back with him."

Ah, that explained considerably more.

International Pokémon transportation wasn't exactly unheard of, especially among researchers, breeders, and professional Trainers. It just wasn't common enough that you could wander through Kanto expecting to trip over a native Galarian species every other Route.

"Your dad's a researcher?" I asked, unable to keep a little curiosity from creeping into my voice.

"Yeah. Pokémon behavior mostly." She shifted Yamper higher when he started slipping, and the Dog Pokémon looked up to lick her chin. "He does a lot of field research."

Something about that answer tugged at the back of my brain. Not enough to grab yet, but enough that I found myself paying slightly more attention.

I offered her a hand. "Travis Cashion."

She had to adjust Yamper into one arm before taking it. "Chloe. Chloe Cerise."

…oh. That's why she's familiar.

Before my brain could finish connecting all of those suddenly very familiar dots, another voice came rushing toward us from across the lawn.

"Chloe! I got my camp stuff, so now we can go looking for that Pokémon I was telling you abou..."

We both turned.

A boy had stopped several yards away with a welcome packet tucked beneath one arm and yet another Pikachu lanyard bouncing against his chest from the abrupt halt. He was around our age, thin and energetic-looking, with bright blue eyes and messy black hair that stuck outward in several directions. Two distinctive red marks cut through the hair near one side of his forehead, matching the red accents running across his gray shirt and shorts.

He stared at me.

I stared back.

Chloe shifted Yamper against her hip and raised an eyebrow. "What's the matter, Goh?"

The last piece clicked into place, and I slowly closed my eyes.

You've gotta be kidding me.

---

Author's Note:

Hope it's not too presumptuous, but I've got a Patreon up and running! If you want to read 5 chapters ahead or just support me in general, feel free to visit my p.a.t.r.e.o.n.c.o.m / IcurasFallen

 

[IcurasFallen]

Pokémon Version Orange

Arc 2 - The Summer

Chapter 11


​

---

Honestly, I don't know why I ever thought I'd be able to avoid "main characters." I was in Pallet Town. The idea that I could somehow avoid anyone tangled up in "The Plot" had been doomed from the start.

I will admit, however, that I hadn't expected to see these particular individuals for another few years.

Goh was still staring at me.

Not the ordinary kind of staring either. There was a definite squint involved now, his bright blue eyes narrowing as he looked me up and down.

Finally, he pointed. "Who's he?"

I stared back unimpressed.

Chloe, apparently far more accustomed to this than I was, barely reacted. "His name is Travis. We just met, so stop pointing."

Goh's eyes narrowed another fraction but relented all the same. "Why were you talking to him?"

I actually looked around myself, just in case there was some hidden criminal activity going on nearby that might explain the interrogation. Upon seeing nothing, I stared back, somehow feeling even further unimpressed.

Chloe sighed with all the weary familiarity of someone who had clearly been dealing with this particular personality defect for years. "Yamper wandered off, and Travis found him. We just started talking."

That seemed to take some of the wind out of Goh's sails, though not enough to stop him from giving me one last suspicious once-over…then his eyes locked on my partner.

"Oh! That's a Pichu!" Goh leaned forward, attention now completely on Pichu. "Is he yours? Did you catch him here? How long have you had him? Is he from Kanto?"

The questions came quickly enough that I barely had time to process one before the next arrived. Pichu leaned backward from the increasingly enthusiastic face approaching him, one ear flattening as he looked at me like I was somehow responsible for this.

I reached up and gently pressed two fingers against Goh's forehead before he got close enough for Pichu to take real offense.

"Ever heard of personal space?"

Goh blinked at my fingers before leaning back with a flush. A flush that only grew stronger as he glared at Chloe's failed attempt to muffle a laugh.

"Yes, Pichu is my partner," I answered, now smiling in amusement at the byplay. "And no, he isn't from Kanto. He's Alolan."

That immediately recaptured his attention. "Alola? Really?! So his parents must have been from one of the island populations! There are some differences between regional breeding groups even when they don't produce full regional forms, especially diet and environmental conditioning, and Electric-types raised around warmer ocean climates sometimes..."

I slowly raised a brow at the word vomit. Some of his observations were actually rather advanced.

Chloe let him go for several seconds before finally stepping in. "Goh."

"...and if you compared the electrical output between populations, you'd probably need to account for..."

"Goh!"

He stopped. How he wasn't panting for breath, I chalked up to anime logic.

Chloe shifted Yamper against her hip and gave him a pointed look. "Where's your partner?"

He blinked. "My what?"

"The Pokémon you're supposed to be taking care of this week."

Goh's expression immediately soured. "Oh. That."

I raised an eyebrow. That seemed like a rather underwhelming response from a kid who had just spent thirty seconds trying to perform a field study on Pichu's ancestry with his eyes alone.

Chloe apparently thought the same thing. "Yes, that. Professor Oak already started assigning them. You need to go get yours."

Goh glanced toward the gathering near the tables of Poké Balls, then back toward Chloe. His mouth tightened before he leaned closer to her, one hand cupped beside his lips as he whispered something.

Chloe's expression went completely flat. "Goh, that's not—"

He whispered something else, slightly more urgently.

She closed her eyes and rubbed two fingers against her forehead. "For the last time, they aren't going to be your Starter. Professor Oak is only letting us take care of them for the week!"

"But..."

"Gooooh."

He wilted slightly.

I watched the exchange with growing suspicion.

There was exactly one particularly stupid idea I remembered the future Goh having about what Pokémon was apparently worthy of becoming his first partner. Surely he wasn't already on that kick?

Then again, considering who I was dealing with...

Before Chloe could continue trying to inject common sense into her childhood friend, another familiar voice cut across the lawn.

"Hey, Travis!"

I turned just in time to see Gary making his way toward us with a Poké Ball held proudly in one hand and a new lanyard hanging around his neck.

I immediately focused on the latter.

Brown strap. Little Eevee faces.

I looked to the sky in relief. Was this kindness? Was Arceus actually showing mercy?

If he'd come back wearing another Pikachu lanyard, I might have actually screamed.

Gary's eyes flicked briefly toward Goh and Chloe before locking onto me, and that familiar smug grin returned.

"I challenge you!"

My expression went flat. I don't even know why I'm surprised.

I looked from Gary to the Poké Ball in his hand as a suspicion began to form.

"Do you even know what Pokémon you got yet?"

The question stopped him cold as he looked down at the Poké Ball in his hand as if only now remembering that there was, in fact, an actual Pokémon inside it.

Chloe made a tiny noise beside me that sounded suspiciously like a laugh while Goh didn't bother hiding his.

Gary's face reddened. "Quiet from the peanut gallery!"

I rolled my eyes. "How about you actually take the hour you were given to bond with your temporary Pokémon?"

He grimaced at the pointed reminder of his temporary trainer status before puffing himself up again. He recovered his momentum through sheer stubbornness. "I don't need it! Whatever Gramps gave me is gonna be way better than your stupid rat anyway!"

I stopped smiling.

Now, there were certain aspects of Pokémon culture that still occasionally reminded me that I had not, in fact, been born in anything resembling a normal society.

Mainly in the fact that people battled over everything.

Not necessarily serious battles, of course. Most weren't throwing Hyper Beams because someone cut them off in a grocery line, but Pokémon battles had somehow worked themselves into the social fabric so thoroughly that challenging someone was a perfectly acceptable way of settling an argument.

I had personally watched two mothers send out a Jigglypuff and a Furret behind the Kumquat Grand because one had implied the other's daughter wasn't as pretty as her own.

Coming from a world where telling someone to "take it outside" usually ended with bruised knuckles and a police report, it had taken some adjustment, and there were parts of it I still thought were ridiculous. But there was one particular rule of Trainer culture I had found myself agreeing with wholeheartedly.

You did not insult someone's Pokémon and then expect them to smile about it.

Before, when he was trying to one-up me, I had ignored it. The taunt then had been a clear way to try and get a rise out of me.

I could take Gary calling me a coward. I'd already proven that since backhanded insults were basically a way of life for the upper crust of society.

But Pichu?

I glanced toward my shoulder.

Pichu was staring at Gary now, cheeks giving off the faintest intermittent crackle. He didn't look furious exactly, but the slight narrowing of his eyes told me he had understood every word.

I looked back at Gary. "Alright."

His grin faltered.

Apparently, despite issuing the challenge, he hadn't expected me to accept with fire now blazing in my eyes.

"What's the matter?" I took a step forward, my voice dropping as I stared him down hard enough that he took an unconscious step back. "You want a battle, right? Then let's battle."

"Yeah, but..." Whatever concern he had lasted approximately half a second before he shook it off. "Fine! You're gonna regret it!"

"Unlikely." I scoffed before walking toward the nearest counselor. "Let's find someone willing to officiate before Professor Oak catches us breaking his rules less than ten minutes after he explained them."

Gary hurried after me.

Behind us, I heard a few more following before I heard Chloe sigh.

"Goh, you still need to get your partner."

"But they're gonna battle! I wanna watch it!"

"But you don't even have your Pokémon yet!"

"I can get it after!"

Whatever response Chloe gave was lost beneath the growing noise of the other campers.

Because the word challenge had magical properties.

By the time Gary and I reached one of the counselors, several nearby kids had already noticed what was happening. Within less than a minute, we had acquired the beginnings of a small audience.

The counselor we approached was the same yellow-clad woman I'd gone to before. The knowing look she gave us would have been almost insulting if I didn't know the staff probably had a betting pool going on how soon it would be before this exact situation occurred.

"We need a referee!"

The woman raised a brow at Gary's abrupt declaration before looking at me.

I gave her an apologetic little wave. "Sorry about this, but he challenged me."

The counselor looked between us with an amused smile before shooting another counselor nearby a smirk.

The guy in question had a Taillow perched comfortably on one shoulder and was halfway through handing a welcome packet to another camper. He caught her expression, glanced toward Gary and me, then rolled his eyes with the long-suffering resignation of someone who had clearly seen this exact event before. "Seriously?"

The woman grinned wider.

He sighed and stepped over, accepting her clipboard along with the remaining stack of packets. "Fine. Go, play referee. I'll finish this."

Her smile became almost offensively smug. "You're the best."

"Yeah, yeah. Have fun getting out of the boring work."

"I fully intend to~"

I watched the exchange with growing amusement.

The woman tucked her hands into the pockets of her yellow camp vest and turned back toward us, visibly more enthusiastic now that she had escaped paperwork. "Alright then, kiddie Trainers, you've got yourselves a ref!"

"Couple rules first," she continued, holding up a finger. "One Pokémon each, and the match is over when I say it's over. I don't care if you think your Pokémon can keep going."

Gary folded his arms. "We know how battles work."

The counselor gave him a very patient smile. "Sure, kiddo. We just gotta make sure everyone's safe, okay?"

Gary gave a mulish nod while I just shared an amused look with the counselor.

"Great." She clapped her hands. "Follow me."

Our little procession moved to the edge of the main lawn and toward a wide patch of short grass that had apparently been set aside for exactly this kind of thing. Several campers followed at a respectable distance, joined by Goh and Chloe near the front. Chloe still had Yamper tucked against her front, while Goh had apparently decided that acquiring his own temporary partner could wait another few minutes if there was a battle happening.

Once we reached the clearing, the counselor raised two fingers to her mouth and gave a sharp whistle.

There was a brief flash of distorted light that caused a few campers to gasp as an Abra appeared.

The counselor pointed around the perimeter of the clearing. "Basic barrier, please. A thirty by thirty should work fine."

A translucent shimmer spread outward from the Psychic-type in a box shape before locking into place. The air around the boundary rippled faintly, almost like heat haze, while thin lines of pale light traced themselves across the grass to mark the actual battle area.

Huh. Guess it made sense they'd prefer easily deployed, Pokémon-made arenas over anything more permanent.

The counselor walked toward the side of the field and gestured us into place. "Alright. Opposite ends, kiddos."

Gary practically marched to his side while I took mine at a considerably more reasonable pace, Pichu still perched on my shoulder until we reached the line. I then flexed my arm, and Pichu raced down it before springing from my hand, flipping once through the air and landing neatly on our side of the makeshift arena.

Across from us, Gary gnashed his teeth at the no-doubt "cool" display while he tossed his assigned Poké Ball from one hand to the other.

"You'd better not cry when you lose."

I raised an eyebrow. "You still haven't opened the ball."

His eye twitched as he raised the Poké Ball. "I was getting to it!"

White light burst across the field as he finally released the ball. The light condensed into something small that landed in the grass on four little paws.

There was silence for perhaps half a second before I had to clamp my lips together so hard they hurt.

Gary stared at the Rattata. The Rattata stared back at Gary. Then it looked around the field again, seemingly far more confused about the situation than either of us.

I slowly covered my mouth.

No. I was going to be mature about this. I was a licensed Gym Leader. I had officiated professional matches. I had handled wealthy guests screaming at front-desk staff because their complimentary fruit basket contained the wrong variety of Berry.

I could survive this.

Pichu, on the other hand, had no such issue and immediately burst into laughter.

Gary's face started to flush. "Shut up, you little—!"

I finally managed to get myself under control enough to breathe properly. "Now Gary, there's no reason to be angry." My grin grew. "After all, I'm almost flattered. With how much you were obviously jealous over Pichu, I suppose it only makes sense you would get a 'baby rat' of your own."

Gary glared, but the flush didn't go away in the slightest.

A few of the campers broke into laughter of their own. Even the counselor had to turn her face away for a second, shoulders twitching suspiciously.

Rattata, meanwhile, looked between everyone with growing offense at apparently being the center of some joke it hadn't been allowed to understand. Gary noticed too, and to his credit, that seemed to snap him out of his embarrassment.

He crouched beside the little Normal-type and held out a hand. "Hey. Ignore them."

Rattata eyed him warily as Gary swallowed, some of the bluster draining from his voice. "I know we just met, but...work with me, okay? We can beat them."

The Rattata sniffed his fingers for a moment before giving a small chirp. Gary's confidence returned almost instantly as he shot upright and pointed dramatically across the field. "There! See? We're ready!"

I glanced toward Pichu, who looked back at me with all the concern of someone watching a particularly harmless Caterpie crawl by. A nod was more than enough to convey the message.

The counselor stepped between the two sides, one arm raised. "This will be a one-on-one battle. Travis and Pichu against Gary and Rattata. Battle ends when one Pokémon is unable or unwilling to continue, or when I say it does."

She looked toward Gary first, receiving a sharp nod, before turning toward me to get another.

Her arm dropped. "Begin!"

"Rattata, Tackle!"

Gary wasted absolutely no time. Rattata launched itself forward, paws tearing through the short grass as it barreled straight toward Pichu.

I rolled my eyes. "Dodge, bud."

Pichu chirped at the easy command and sprang neatly over the charging Rattata, static beginning to crackle faintly along his fur as he landed.

Gary blinked before quickly recovering. "Turn around! Tackle again!"

Rattata dug its paws into the grass, skidding around before launching itself forward for a second pass. Pichu moved again, this time hopping to the side fast enough that the Normal-type almost rolled over as it skidded to a stop in an effort to still hit him.

Several campers murmured around the edge of the field, but I only smiled faintly.

This was exactly the kind of situation our training had been working towards.

Pichu was small, light, and naturally quick. More importantly, we'd spent weeks turning that speed into something he could actually use on command. Footwork, balance, changing direction without tripping over his own paws, and learning to trust that strange little warning sense his Psychic potential kept giving him whenever an attack was about to come.

Rattata wasn't slow. Pichu was simply moving before it even fully committed.

"Again!" Gary called, irritation creeping into his voice. "Keep after him!"

Rattata lunged, only for Pichu to twist away. Another attempt earned another dodge, followed by a third where a sharp sidestep sent Rattata charging past close enough that its whiskers brushed Pichu's fur without actually making contact.

Which meant it was finally time to strike.

There was an aspect of Pokémon battling that most people didn't really notice until they started watching the higher tiers.

Commands eventually stopped being necessary.

Not entirely, obviously. Even Masters shouted Move names, called out strategies, or changed plans when a battle demanded it. Kahili certainly did whenever I watched her fight, and Mom wasn't exactly known for staying quiet on the battlefield.

But sometimes they didn't.

The first person I'd ever noticed doing it was Mom. I had been young enough that I initially assumed I'd simply missed the command, because one moment she would be standing there watching the field and the next Alakazam or Marowak would move as if she'd shouted an entire paragraph.

Kahili had eventually explained the trick to me during the one time she allowed me to witness her training.

The secret being that there was no trick.

No, Trainer and Pokémon simply grew to know each other so well that such things weren't necessary.

After all, if you spend enough time fighting beside the same Pokémon, learning how they thought, how they moved, what drew their attention and what made them hesitate, eventually the distinction between Trainer gives command and Pokémon follows command started getting blurry.

Sometimes a glance was enough. A shift of one's posture. The way a Pokémon's wings twitched, or a Trainer's attention suddenly snapped toward one side of the field.

And sometimes, according to Kahili, it went even deeper than that.

Intent.

Not telepathy. No psychic energy was required. Just two partners so completely in tune that one could feel what the other wanted before either consciously communicated it. The Trainer saw an opening and the Pokémon was already moving to exploit it. The Pokémon sensed danger, and the Trainer was already adjusting the strategy around whatever their partner had noticed.

It was supposedly one of those things you couldn't really teach directly. You built it over years and thousands of hours spent together until eventually neither side could remember exactly when it had started happening.

Needless to say, Pichu and I weren't there yet. Arceus, we hadn't even known each other for a month.

But I did have one advantage most beginner Trainers didn't. Namely the fact that I'd grown up around a powerful Psychic-type.

Alakazam had been in my head since I was a baby. Telepathic conversations, emotional impressions, mental nudges when I was getting too worked up, and, embarrassingly enough, the occasional lullaby projected directly into my head when I was small enough to need one.

I'd spent most of my childhood learning what it felt like when a thought wasn't entirely mine.

And Pichu, for all that his Psychic abilities were still little more than unrealized potential, had already proven unusually sensitive to intent. He'd been using that strange awareness to get a warning whenever an opponent committed to an attack, buying himself just enough time to react before the Move actually came.

So we'd experimented.

Nothing dramatic. I couldn't shove words into his head or tell him use Nuzzle, then retreat three steps and prepare Thunder Shock without opening my mouth.

What I could do was focus on a feeling.

Anticipation.

I'd been feeding it into the back of my thoughts throughout the exchange, holding onto that growing sense of wait...wait...not yet while Gary ordered Rattata forward again and again.

I didn't even know how much Pichu consciously understood. I just knew his ears had started twitching differently after the second pass.

Then Rattata charged by one more time, close enough that its whiskers nearly brushed Pichu's fur before he slipped past.

I let the anticipation snap.

Now! "Nuzzle!"

There was no pause between hearing the command and acting on it. The instant the first syllable left my mouth, he was already lunging forward, body low to the grass as he shot toward the still-turning Rattata.

Gary's eyes widened. "Rattata, get back!"

Too slow.

Pichu slammed shoulder-first into Rattata's side, his cheek pressing into purple fur as a sharp burst of electricity snapped between them.

It wasn't anything close to the output of Thunder Shock. Nuzzle wasn't meant to overpower an opponent through raw voltage, and the little crack of electricity that jumped through Rattata was almost underwhelming compared to the attacks Pichu could output.

Rattata certainly didn't think so.

Its entire body jerked as the current raced through it, paws locking against the grass while Pichu immediately kicked away and retreated before the Normal-type could recover enough to retaliate.

Gary stared at his partner, clearly thrown by how abruptly the battle had reversed. "R-Rattata!?"

I smirked. "Now, Pichu, Thunder Shock!"

Pichu landed several feet away and immediately braced himself, cheeks sparking as he started building the charge for an actual attack. He still needed those few seconds of build-up. We hadn't magically trained away every weakness he had just because one trick worked.

Gary finally seemed to realize what was happening. "Rattata, dodge!"

The little Normal-type tried.

One paw pushed against the ground while the other seized beneath it, exhaustion from the repeated Tackles combining with the Paralysis of the Nuzzle turning what should have been an easy movement into an awkward stumble.

That moment was all Pichu needed.

Electricity surged across his cheeks before exploding outward in a crackling yellow-white arc.

Rattata barely managed to lift its head before the attack slammed directly into it.

Most had to look away as Rattata was lit up, the painful squeal that was ripped from it enough to make most flinch back. It was only a few seconds later, however, that the light show ended enough to see the result.

Rattata stood frozen for half a second, fur smoking faintly and limbs trembling before its eyes rolled upward and it toppled sideways into the grass.

Pichu remained standing on the opposite side, cheeks steaming faintly from the discharge while Gary stared open-mouthed at his suddenly fallen partner. The rest of the crowd fell silent as well from the sudden reversal.

The counselor blinked once before recovering, took a long look at Rattata, and raised one arm.

"Rattata is unable to battle. Pichu wins!"

The small crowd erupted.

I nearly rolled my eyes at the noise. This had been a simple battle from start to finish, and the only thing remotely impressive had been how quickly it ended.

Gary certainly didn't look impressed.

He stood on the other side of the field with his fists clenched at his sides, staring down at Rattata with an expression caught somewhere between frustration and disbelief. Whatever glorious first victory he'd apparently been imagining when he came charging over to challenge me, losing without a single hit probably wasn't it.

The counselor recalled Abra's barrier with a wave toward the Psychic-type before walking over to check Rattata. "He'll be fine," she assured Gary. "That was a pretty strong hit, but nothing a little rest won't fix."

Gary gave a stiff nod before crouching beside his temporary partner. The anger in his face eased somewhat as he carefully scooped the little Pokémon into his arms, Rattata twitching faintly before settling against his chest.

I watched him for a second before walking over, Pichu clambering up my body as I passed. "Don't take it too hard."

Gary immediately looked up. "I wasn't!"

I raised a brow. "Sure you weren't."

His glare grew.

I sighed. "Gary, I've had Pichu for weeks. You've had Rattata for what, five minutes?"

That took some of the heat out of him.

"You challenged someone who already knew their Pokémon using one you'd never even met before," I continued, keeping my tone matter-of-fact rather than rubbing salt into the wound. "Losing shouldn't exactly be shocking."

Gary frowned down at Rattata, clearly not thrilled by the logic even if he couldn't find an obvious hole in it. Whatever was going through his head, the irritation in his expression had shifted into something more thoughtful.

Good. Maybe he'd actually use the hour Professor Oak gave him instead of immediately trying to fight someone else.

The counselor clapped her hands loudly enough to recapture everyone's attention. "Alright, show's over! You all have Pokémon you're supposed to be getting acquainted with, and I'm pretty sure Professor Oak didn't give you bonding time so you could spend the whole hour spectating."

A chorus of disappointed noises answered her.

She pointed toward the main lawn. "Go on. Shoo."

The crowd began breaking apart reluctantly, campers peeling away in twos and threes while animatedly discussing the match. A few were already experimenting with commands as they walked, which I suspected was either flattering or a terrible sign for whatever Pokémon had been assigned to them.

I even caught Chloe and Goh heading off toward the back deck. The fairer of the duo practically dragged the reluctant boy along, no doubt to finally get his own partner Pokémon before he found another excuse to procrastinate.

Then a shout carried across the lawn.

"I'M NOT LATE!"

Every head within hearing range turned. Whoever they were, they had a damn big pair of lungs on them.

There was a crash somewhere beyond the side of the Laboratory, followed by what sounded suspiciously like someone running through a bush instead of around it.

"I'M HERE! I MADE IT!"

A boy burst around the side of the building at a dead sprint.

His black hair was an absolute disaster, several leaves and at least two small twigs tangled through the mess. One side of his jacket was hanging loose, the other looked like it had been buttoned incorrectly, and beneath it I could clearly see what was unmistakably a Poké Ball-themed pajama shirt. His shorts were crooked, one sock was pulled higher than the other, and there was enough dirt on his knees to suggest that whatever route he'd taken to get here had involved significantly more ground contact than intended.

"I'm not late!" he repeated breathlessly as he skidded to a stop near the edge of the clearing. "Camp just started, right? I can still sign in!"

Everyone else present stared. Some in amusement. Others in exasperation.

I froze.

My entire body simply stopped.

The noise around me seemed to fade first. The campers talking as they wandered away, the distant cries of Pokémon across Professor Oak's property, even Gary beginning to mutter something under his breath all blurred together until none of it mattered.

Because I was staring at the boy's face.

My face.

It was the same nose. The same jawline. The same shape around the cheeks and mouth. Even the expressions were close enough that seeing bewilderment spread across his features felt like watching some warped reflection react half a second after I did.

There were differences, small though they were. His hair was the slightest shade darker and considerably more committed to violating gravity. His eyes weren't quite the same shape or color, and there were enough little variations that only someone looking closely would realize we weren't twins.

For years, I'd wondered what I would do if I ever met him.

It had been one of those thoughts that cropped up every now and then whenever my past-life memories decided to remind me just how ridiculous this world could become. Would I introduce myself? Avoid him? Pretend I had no idea who he was? Would I try to change things, or stay as far away from the gravitational pull of canon as humanly possible?

I had imagined conversations. Arguments. Warnings. Entire theoretical encounters that would probably never happen the way I pictured them.

Not once had I imagined this.

Not standing there completely frozen while staring at a boy wearing my face.

Because this wasn't just some random kid from Pallet Town.

I knew him.

I knew where his road would lead, even if he had no idea yet. I knew the friends he would make, the impossible battles he would survive, the Legendaries he would somehow stumble across like they were random Rattata. I knew that one day this messy, half-dressed idiot now getting scolded by the Professor would climb higher than almost anyone else in the world.

One day, he would stand at the absolute peak as the strongest Trainer in the world.

Ash Ketchum.

---

Author's Note:

Thank you all for the support! I'm honestly shocked that so many people are liking my stories so far, lol.

Hope it's not too presumptuous, but I've got a Patreon up and running! If you want to read 5 chapters ahead or just support me in general, feel free to visit my p.a.t.r.e.o.n.c.o.m / IcurasFallen

 

[IcurasFallen]

Pokémon Version Orange

Arc 2 - The Summer


Chapter 12
​

---

I was not hiding.

That would have been childish. Immature, even, and I was far too mature to flee from a child simply because said child happened to possess my exact face and represented the living embodiment of nearly every canon-related headache I had spent years hoping to avoid.

No, I had simply decided that the far side of Professor Oak's property looked particularly comfortable. Entirely different thing.

I had eventually found a broad tree sitting near the edge of one of the quieter pastures, far enough from the Laboratory that most of the other campers had apparently decided the walk wasn't worth it. The shade was good, the grass was soft, and most importantly, I couldn't currently see Ash Ketchum anywhere.

Which was pure coincidence, of course.

Pichu had taken full advantage of the change in scenery by sprawling across my lap while I idly ran my fingers along the fur between his ears. The adrenaline from his battle had mostly worn off, leaving him warm, sleepy, and apparently perfectly content to use me as furniture while he recovered whatever energy he'd spent breaking Rattata's ankles.

Considering he'd earned the rest, I wasn't about to complain.

That left me with nothing better to do than pull a book from my bag and attempt to focus on something that didn't involve the fact that I had just stared directly into what amounted to a badly dressed mirror.

I was halfway through a section on forecasting cancellations when a familiar sound cut through the quiet.

"Yam!"

My eyes lifted from the page just in time to spot Yamper trotting through the grass toward me, tail wagging rapidly behind him. A few seconds later, Chloe and Goh came into view farther back, following the little Electric-type across the pasture.

I raised a brow as Chloe caught up a moment later, slightly out of breath, and immediately crouched to scratch beneath his chin. "Good boy, Yamper. I knew you'd find him."

The little Pokémon practically vibrated with pride.

I slowly lowered my book. "You were looking for me?"

Goh finally reached us and shrugged like the answer should have been obvious. "Yeah. You didn't seem boring."

Chloe immediately drove an elbow into his side.

"Ow!" Goh recoiled and rubbed his ribs. "What was that for?!"

"That was rude!"

"How was that rude?" He looked genuinely baffled. "I said he wasn't boring!"

"And made it sound like everyone else is."

Goh opened his mouth, clearly prepared to argue the distinction, while I glanced between them and considered whether getting up and walking another mile away would be too obvious.

I sighed and shifted the book against my knee. "For what it's worth, I think that might be the nicest thing he's said to me so far."

Chloe gave me an apologetic look. "He's not usually trying to be rude."

"I'm not rude," Goh protested.

Chloe slowly turned toward him, a look of disbelief across her face.

"...Most of the time."

That earned another tired sigh from her before she finally settled into the grass nearby. Yamper immediately flopped down beside her, apparently satisfied with his job well done.

I watched them get comfortable before raising an eyebrow. "So you tracked me across Professor Oak's property purely because I wasn't boring?"

Goh shrugged again and dropped down beside Chloe. "Pretty much."

A part of me hated how valid that answer was.

Silence returned for a full minute as I turned back to my reading, ironically proving their previous words wrong as I ignored them in favor of a textbook.

"…what are you reading?"

I sighed at the obvious question before tilting the cover enough for them to see. "Revenue Management and Forecasting."

Both stared blankly.

I chuckled at their reaction. "It's basically a book teaching you how to predict demand and make sure a business isn't accidentally losing money." I shifted the book slightly as Pichu rolled onto his back, forcing me to move one hand so he could continue stealing scratches.

Goh moved closer while I spoke and was now peering at the cover. His expression scrunched in concentration. "Why are you reading something like that?"

"I have a test coming up."

That earned bewildered looks.

"For school? But it's summer!" Chloe was the one to ask in bewilderment.

I sighed and closed the book. I don't think I would get to read any more. "It's for one of my business classes."

Goh's eyes widened. "You're in college?!"

I blinked at him for actually clocking that so fast. "Yes, although I'm only taking remote courses." I shook my head with a chuckle. "I'm not about to move into a dorm and develop a caffeine dependency at nine."

"But you are nine!"

I stared back dryly. "Yes, thank you, Chloe, I hadn't noticed."

She flushed slightly while Goh dropped into the grass almost directly across from me, suddenly far more interested than he'd been thirty seconds ago. "How are you already taking college classes?"

"How do you think?" I rolled my eyes. "I finished the standard League academics early, got homeschooled through the rest, and I've been taking some introductory business courses since I'm eventually expected to help run the Kumquat Grand."

Goh stared at me like I'd just announced I could breathe underwater. "You finished all the League academics already?"

"A while ago."

"That is so cool!"

I grimaced. "It really isn't. It mostly means people decided I needed harder homework."

Chloe smiled despite herself. "It's still impressive."

I waved off the praise before they could start treating me like some kind of academic exhibit. "Trust me, there are less exciting ways to spend an afternoon than calculating seasonal occupancy rates, but not many."

They still looked impressed, which was becoming uncomfortable enough that I started looking for another topic. Thankfully, I noticed something missing.

Or rather, someone.

My eyes dropped toward the Poké Ball clipped to the boy of the duo's side. "So, what Pokémon did you get?"

Goh deflated at the change of topic but answered all the same. "I got a Caterpie."

I raised a brow. "And it's not out because…?"

Goh looked away with a scowl.

Chloe immediately frowned. She clearly understood the issue as well. "You're supposed to be taking the time to get to know it, Goh."

Goh gave another shrug, this one more complex to decipher. "Does it really matter? I'm only gonna have it for a week."

"Goh," Chloe started, irritation creeping into her voice, only for him to turn toward her.

"What? I said I'd take care of it! I'm not gonna forget to feed it or anything."

"That's not the point! Professor Oak said you were supposed to be getting to know your partner."

"And I can get to know it later!"

Chloe opened her mouth to argue again, but I beat her to it, more because I could already see the two of them gearing up for another circular debate than because I particularly cared about winning Goh over.

"What's the harm?"

Goh looked toward me. "Huh?"

I nodded toward the Poké Ball at his waist. "She's right about this being free time. Professor Oak specifically gave everyone this time to meet their Pokémon and get comfortable around each other. You're sitting here doing nothing anyway, so what's the downside to letting Caterpie out?"

Goh's mouth twisted. "I'm still not keeping it."

"I didn't say you were." Pichu shifted beneath my hand, and I absently scratched under his chin until his eyes drifted half-shut again. "You don't have to promise eternal friendship and matching friendship bracelets. Just let it hang out."

Chloe snorted softly.

Goh looked between the two of us, clearly recognizing that the vote had somehow become two against one. "You guys are annoying."

"I'm devastated, truly."

He sighed dramatically before finally pulling the Poké Ball loose. "Fine."

The ball opened with a soft flash, white light spilling onto the grass before taking shape beside his knee. A small green Caterpie appeared, its red antenna twitching as it glanced around at the unfamiliar surroundings.

Goh didn't immediately reach for it or start peppering it with questions the way he'd done with Pichu. He mostly sat there, watching with a strange mixture of uncertainty and disinterest as Caterpie looked from him and its Poké Ball to Chloe, then toward me and Pichu.

For a moment, I wondered if Chloe was going to try encouraging him again, but it turns out she didn't need to.

Caterpie crawled closer on its own.

Goh stiffened slightly when the Bug-type bumped against his leg, but Caterpie seemed perfectly content to ignore the reaction. It climbed onto his shin, turned itself around with a few small movements, and settled across his leg like it had decided that was as good a resting place as any.

Goh stared down at it. Then, after a few seconds, the corner of his mouth lifted. It was tiny enough that I might have missed it if I hadn't been looking directly at him.

Chloe noticed too.

Her eyes flicked briefly toward me before returning to Goh, and I could see the beginnings of a smile threatening at her own lips.

Neither of us said anything. Some lessons didn't need commentary.

---

The rest of the hour passed surprisingly easily.

We didn't do anything particularly exciting. Goh eventually stopped staring at Caterpie like it had personally complicated his life and relaxed enough to let the little Bug-type remain draped across his leg. Chloe scratched Yamper behind the ears while we talked, and Pichu spent most of the time half-asleep in my lap, occasionally twitching whenever one of us raised our voice too much.

Mostly, we just talked.

Goh predictably carried a large portion of the conversation whenever Pokémon came up, which was often. The kid had apparently absorbed enough trivia to qualify as a walking field guide and had absolutely no hesitation about sharing it. Chloe would interrupt whenever he started getting too far into the weeds, usually with a sigh or a pointed look, before steering things somewhere that resembled an actual conversation again.

I wasn't exactly hanging on every word, but I had to admit that neither of them was terrible company.

They were still nine-year-olds. Goh could be blunt enough to make a Primeape look diplomatic, and Chloe had already developed the particular exhausted patience of someone who had spent years cleaning up after his social decisions. Still, both of them were noticeably more mature than most kids I'd known during my first life.

That was something I'd noticed repeatedly since waking up in this world.

Children here were just...different.

Not adults in miniature or anything ridiculous like that. They still threw tantrums, got into stupid arguments, dared each other into dangerous situations, and apparently considered insulting someone's Pokémon a perfectly reasonable opening move in a social interaction.

Gary had demonstrated that last one pretty thoroughly.

But physically and mentally, kids in this world seemed ahead of where I'd remembered children being back in my first go around.

I still wasn't sure why.

Maybe it was genetics. Humans living for thousands of years alongside creatures capable of throwing boulders, breathing fire, and accidentally shorting out the neighborhood might have applied a certain amount of evolutionary pressure.

Or maybe there was something stranger involved.

Psychic ability existed in humans. So did Aura, and if even half of the old stories I'd read were accurate, humanity had spent an uncomfortable amount of its history interacting with things that modern science politely classified as Legendary Pokémon and ancient cultures had called gods.

For all I knew, there was something fundamentally different about people here. Whatever the cause was, the evidence was hard to ignore.

Ten-year-olds were legally trusted to travel across entire regions with minimal supervision. Not blindly, obviously. There were Pokémon Centers, Ranger stations, League routes, emergency services, and an entire infrastructure designed around young Trainers moving from town to town.

But they were still ten.

The League didn't just hand a license to anyone who reached double digits either. There were exams involved, and the general academic testing required before becoming eligible for a Trainer license covered material that would've looked closer to middle-school coursework in my first life.

The League apparently took the position that if they were going to let a child walk into the wilderness carrying several creatures capable of demolishing a building, that child should at least know how fractions worked.

Annoying. But reasonable.

It also explained why talking to Chloe and Goh didn't make me want to repeatedly introduce my forehead to the nearest tree. Not that I was about to tell them that.

Eventually, a whistle carried across the fields and put an end to our little patch of peace.

Caterpie's antenna twitched at the sound while Yamper immediately perked up, ears rising as Chloe looked toward the Laboratory. Goh glanced down at Caterpie for a moment before reluctantly reaching for its Poké Ball.

"Looks like bonding hour's over," Chloe said as she pushed herself to her feet. Yamper bounced up beside her, apparently deciding that standing meant they were going somewhere exciting.

"Seems that way." I closed my book and slid it back into my bag before gently nudging Pichu awake. The little Electric-type made an unhappy noise, stretched until all four limbs were sticking in different directions, then immediately began climbing my shirt toward his usual perch.

Goh recalled Caterpie only after the little Bug-type crawled off his leg, though I noticed he actually waited for it to move first rather than simply returning it where it lay.

Small victories.

By the time we reached the main lawn again, the campers were being separated into their assigned groups. Counselors stood scattered around the property holding colored signs above their heads while kids gradually migrated toward the matching lanyards hanging around their necks.

Finding ours wasn't difficult. A large yellow sign displaying a cartoon Pikachu was being waved several feet above the crowd. Subtlety was obviously dead.

"There!" Goh pointed unnecessarily before taking off toward it, Chloe and Yamper following at a more sensible pace.

I trailed behind them and immediately started counting heads.

There were around twenty of us once everyone finally gathered. A decent enough number for group activities without becoming completely unmanageable, although judging by the amount of noise twenty excited children could generate, the counselors might disagree.

Then someone loudly squeezed through the far side of the group.

I closed my eyes and sighed.

Because who else would be in the Pikachu Group?

Ash Ketchum, future Trainer of quite possibly the most famous Pikachu on the planet, had naturally been assigned to the group represented by Pikachu.

I stared toward the sky for half a second.

The universe had to be laughing at me. There was no other explanation.

Thankfully, Ash didn't seem to have noticed me. He was too busy staring around the campgrounds with the kind of open excitement normally reserved for amusement parks, repeatedly craning his neck whenever one of the counselors mentioned something about hiking, cooking outside, or sleeping under the stars.

Good. He could remain fascinated by tents for as long as he wanted. I was perfectly happy postponing the inevitable conversation where I had to explain that no, I had not intentionally stolen his face.

Unfortunately, two people had already noticed.

"Don't."

Neither listened.

Goh's eyes narrowed as he studied Ash from across the group before turning back to examine me with annoying intensity. Chloe wasn't being quite as obvious about it, but the confused crease forming between her eyebrows said enough.

I sighed. "Yes. I know."

Chloe blinked. "You two look..."

"I know."

"Like really..."

"I know."

Goh leaned slightly to one side, apparently trying to compare our profiles. "Are you related?"

"Not as far as I'm aware." And wasn't that a kick in the teeth? Thank you, absentee dad for making that possibly unclear.

"Are you sure?"

I slowly turned toward him.

Chloe thankfully seemed to notice the annoyed glint now shining in my eyes and caught Goh's shoulder to pull him back before I said something offensive.

Thank you, Chloe.

Finally, one of the yellow-clad counselors clapped loudly for everyone's attention, and naturally, I recognized her.

The same woman who had gleefully abandoned paperwork to referee my battle with Gary stood near the front of the group with a clipboard tucked beneath one arm. Her yellow camp vest was still slightly wrinkled from earlier, and the grin on her face suggested she remained entirely too pleased with her career choices.

"Alright, Pikachu Group!" she called, waiting until the conversations died down enough to continue. "Looks like we've got everybody, so let's get moving. I'm Amber, and I'll be one of the counselors working with your group this week."

A few other adults wearing the same yellow vests stood nearby, making it clear Amber wasn't solely responsible for twenty children and whatever disasters we intended to create. Smart.

Amber pointed toward a trail leading away from the main Laboratory grounds. "Your campsite's already prepared, and most of your equipment was delivered ahead of you. So grab your bags, keep up with the group, and if anyone wanders off, I'm making you explain it to Professor Oak personally."

That threat proved remarkably effective.

The walk wasn't particularly long. Maybe ten minutes through a lightly wooded section of Oak's property before the trees opened into a broad clearing.

Several campers immediately started talking excitedly as the campsite came into view.

Someone had clearly put actual effort into preparing the place beforehand. A wide firepit occupied the center of the clearing with several rows of logs and benches arranged around it. Cooking stations sat under simple awnings near one edge, while another covered area held storage crates, water containers, first-aid supplies, and enough camping equipment to outfit a small expedition.

The only things conspicuously absent were tents.

I had a suspicion about where this was going.

"Welcome to camp!" Amber spread both arms as everyone filtered into the clearing. "This will be home base for the Pikachu Group for the week. Meals, activities, and most mornings will start right here."

A few kids cheered.

Amber waited until they calmed down before pointing toward a neat stack of rolled canvas bundles and poles.

"Your first assignment is pretty simple. You're going to set up your tents!"

Several campers immediately rushed toward the pile.

"Ah-ah!"

Amber's voice snapped them to a halt, and she smiled sweetly. "In pairs."

That changed the energy considerably. I felt horror start to spread up my spine.

Kids immediately started looking around for friends or whoever happened to be closest. I glanced toward Chloe and Goh just in time to see them look at one another with the comfortable familiarity of two people who had never even considered needing to discuss it.

I watched them go before looking around for whatever unfortunate soul remained.

Unfortunately, everyone else seemed to have reached conclusions remarkably quickly.

Two girls near the cooking station had already paired up. Their Pidgeys shifted slightly as they stared at each other. Three boys argued briefly before one abandoned them for another camper. A pair of older kids exchanged shrugs alongside their Oddish and Bellsprout before grabbing a tent.

Within maybe twenty seconds, the clearing had transformed into clusters of two.

Except for me.

Before I could begin contemplating whether setting up a tent alone technically violated the assignment or merely its spirit, Amber started counting pairs from the front of the group.

Her finger moved from one set to another before stopping somewhere behind me. Her expression flickered with surprise before slowly shifting into a smile.

The mere sight of it made my insides freeze.

"Travis!" Amber called, pointing toward me before gesturing across the clearing. "Looks like you'll be working with Ash."

I slowly followed her gesture.

Ash had been crouched beside one of the rolled tents, enthusiastically examining the stakes like he had never seen sharpened metal before in his life. At hearing his name, he finally looked up.

His eyes found Amber first, then followed her finger.

Everything stopped.

I stared at him.

He stared at me.

For several long seconds, neither of us moved while the expression on Ash's face slowly shifted from confusion to complete disbelief.

Amber looked between us, having obviously noticed our matching faces given the surprise from before. An amused smile spread across her face.

"Well, would you look at that." She chuckled. "You two brothers should probably make a pretty good te—"

"WHY DO YOU HAVE MY FACE?!"

The entire campsite went silent.

I stared at him for several seconds before letting out a long, exhausted sigh. I don't know why I expected anything different.

Still, if we were apparently doing this, I could at least enjoy myself a little.

I raised a hand and pointed straight back at him. "Funny, I was about to ask why you have my face!"

Ash recoiled like I'd accused him of stealing something. "What?! This is my face!"

"Pretty sure I had mine first."

"How would you even know that?!"

"I've been using it for nine years."

"So have I!"

I huffed dramatically, ignoring the snickering mouse on my shoulder. "Then it appears we've reached an impasse."

Ash's expression twisted as he visibly tried to work out how to argue with that, one finger still pointed accusingly in my direction. "B-But you look like me!"

I folded my arms. "From where I'm standing, you look like me."

"That doesn't even make sense!"

"It makes exactly as much sense as what you said!"

Around us, several campers had started openly watching. Chloe had one hand over her mouth in a poor attempt to hide her amusement, while Goh had given up all pretense and was staring between us like he'd just discovered a new regional variant.

Amber finally stepped in with both hands raised. "Okay, okay, before this turns into a comedy of errors, let's clear something up." She looked between us in confusion. "Are you two not related?"

Ash immediately looked toward her while pointing at me. "He's not my brother!"

"Yes," Amber said patiently, "I gathered that."

Ash opened his mouth before closing it and huffing loudly.

Amber sighed and rubbed at her forehead before looking between us again. "Fine. Not brothers. Weirdly similar faces. Mystery acknowledged." She then pointed toward the pile of tent equipment with all the finality of someone ending a courtroom proceeding. "You're still partners."

I looked at the sky once again. This had to be punishment for something…although nothing immediately came to mind.

Ash blinked. "Partners?"

"For the tent assignment," Amber clarified dryly. "Everyone else is paired up, which leaves you two. Have fun, and don't fight over who has which face."

I glanced toward the other campers.

Chloe and Goh were already dragging one of the tent bundles away. The remaining pairs had scattered across the clearing with equipment of their own, several of them apparently very interested in pretending they weren't listening.

There was no escape.

Wonderful.

I let my shoulders sag. "Fine."

Amber smiled brightly. "That's the spirit!"

"No, this is resignation."

"I'll take it!"

Ash shrugged, showing the classic skill of all children to utterly ignore the events of only a minute previous. He stepped closer with a grin. "I'm Ash Ketchum!"

I stared at the hand he stuck toward me. Apparently we were doing introductions now.

"Travis Cashion." I accepted it before he decided my hesitation meant he had to be more forceful. Pichu shifted on my shoulder at the movement, which immediately stole Ash's attention.

His eyes widened. "Whoa! Is that a Pichu?!"

Here we go.

Pichu straightened slightly as Ash leaned closer, ears twitching with interest rather than annoyance. Maybe he could sense the difference between Goh's investigative enthusiasm and Ash's more straightforward excitement.

"Yeah. He's my Starter."

"That's awesome!" Ash leaned forward to get a better look without getting directly in Pichu's face. Huh, that was more conservative than I figured he could manage. "I've seen Pikachu before, but I don't think I've ever seen a Pichu this close!"

Pichu chirped and puffed his chest out.

Of course he liked the attention.

Ash grinned before suddenly remembering something. "Oh! I got a Pokémon too!"

He reached for the Poké Ball at his side with perhaps a little too much enthusiasm, considering his fingers slipped, and the ball popped free.

"Whoa!" He fumbled with it for a moment like something out of a cartoon before finally getting both hands around the ball.

He straightened slowly, cheeks reddening. "I meant to do that."

"Sure."

"I did!"

"I'm sure you did."

Ash huffed before pressing the release button with considerably more care.

White light spilled out onto the grass and condensed into a small blue Pokémon with a round body, stubby legs, and a translucent belly marked by a dark spiral.

"Poliwag!"

Ash crouched beside his temporary partner with a grin. "This is Poliwag! Professor Oak gave him to me for camp."

"Wag!" Poliwag chirped before hopping sideways, nearly tripping over one of the tent poles in the process.

Ash laughed and grabbed it before it could roll directly into another camper's equipment. Poliwag immediately wriggled free, circled his legs once, and then bounced back toward him like that had all been part of some elaborate game.

I watched the pair for several seconds.

Right. Looked like I was dealing with two hyperactive knuckleheads. Wonderful.

"Come on!" Ash suddenly grabbed my wrist, and I barely had time to react before he started pulling me toward the pile of equipment.

I allowed myself to be dragged along and stared blankly ahead.

Apparently, this was my life now.

---

Author's Note:

It's finally happened! Ash 'mother fudging' Ketchum has arrived. Chaos can be the only result now!

Lol, more seriously, thank you all so much for the support so far. I'm honestly amazed that so many people are actually seeming to enjoy my stories, and I can only hope I continue to apparently do this right. Hope y'all enjoy!

Hope it's not too presumptuous, but I've got a Patreon up and running! If you want to read 5 chapters ahead or just support me in general, feel free to visit my p.a.t.r.e.o.n.c.o.m / IcurasFallen

 

[IcurasFallen]

Pokémon Version Orange

Arc 2 - The Summer


Chapter 13
​

---

There were plenty of things I could complain about when it came to Ash Ketchum. Thankfully, knowing how to put up a tent wasn't one of them.

"Hold that side!"

"I am holding it!"

"Then why's it falling?!"

"Because you're pulling the other pole toward you!"

"…oh."

I could only shake my head in amusement as similar arguments and shouting matches started ringing out across the clearing.

To Ash's credit, he at least knew what he was doing. He knew which poles connected, understood how the frame was supposed to lock together, and didn't need me explaining what a tent stake was or why hammering one straight down into loose soil was generally a poor life choice.

Most of the other campers seemed similarly competent, which wasn't particularly surprising.

Wilderness Survival was considered a core subject in most League-accredited schools, sitting alongside things like Math, History, Language, and Pokémon Studies. Which made considerably more sense when you remembered what kind of world we lived in.

Civilization here existed in pockets.

Big pockets, admittedly. Cities like Saffron or Goldenrod were enormous, and plenty of major Routes had been tamed enough that traveling them was little more dangerous than hiking through a particularly enthusiastic nature reserve.

But there were still miles upon miles of wilderness separating most towns, filled with creatures that could breathe fire, summon lightning, crush boulders, hypnotize travelers, or decide the funny little human wandering through their territory looked suspicious enough to attack.

Teaching children how to pitch a tent, safely start a fire, identify dangerous plants, read trail markers, and avoid provoking the local Ursaring population was simply part of every school's curriculum.

When ten-year-olds were expected to eventually travel those same Routes on their own, knowing how to keep yourself alive stopped being an elective.

Of course, like any school subject, knowing something on paper and actually being able to do it were two very different things. Judging by the number of collapsing tents and increasingly frustrated children scattered around the clearing, more than a few of my fellow campers were demonstrating that particular lesson firsthand.

So no, Ash wasn't useless.

Unfortunately, Poliwag seemed determined to compensate.

"Poli! Poli!"

The little Water-type bounced past us for what had to be the sixth time, circling the half-finished tent before skidding to a stop beside one of the loose ropes.

Ash immediately perked up. "What is it?"

"Poliwag!"

Poliwag hopped twice and slapped one tiny foot against the ground.

Ash stared.

Poliwag repeated the motion, faster this time.

"Poli! Poli!"

"Oh!" Ash dropped the section of canvas he'd been holding and hurried over. "You want this one tighter?"

I watched my side of the tent collapse. Again.

My eye twitched.

Pichu, sitting comfortably atop my bag several feet away, made a suspicious chittering sound.

"Don't."

His tiny shoulders shook harder. The traitor.

The strange part was that I wasn't actually angry.

Exasperated, absolutely. We had already redone one corner because Poliwag decided a loose guyline was apparently an invitation to play jump rope, and another because Ash abandoned his post halfway through securing a pole when his temporary partner started calling for him.

But every time I started getting properly annoyed, something happened that made it difficult to hold onto.

Ash would crouch beside Poliwag and listen with complete seriousness as the little Pokémon rattled off a stream of enthusiastic poliwags that should have meant absolutely nothing to him. Yet he'd nod, ask questions, point at something nearby, then somehow arrive at an answer that made Poliwag bounce excitedly in agreement.

Half the time, I wasn't convinced Ash had actually understood anything.

The other half...

"Yeah, I see it now!" Ash tugged the rope a little tighter before looking back toward me. "The side was leaning!"

I glanced at the tent.

It was, if only slightly, but tightening the line had straightened the frame enough that the whole thing wouldn't start sagging the first time a strong wind rolled through camp.

Poliwag puffed itself up proudly.

Ash grinned and held up a hand. Poliwag immediately jumped and slapped its tail against his palm in what I could only assume was their improvised version of a high-five.

And there it was again.

That weird…thing Ash did.

One minute he was a loud, snot-nosed nine-year-old who seemed physically incapable of remaining still for more than thirty seconds.

The next, he was completely focused on Poliwag, reacting to every chirp and bounce like the little Pokémon was giving him detailed construction advice instead of yelling its own name repeatedly.

It wasn't intelligence exactly. If anything, Ash seemed powered primarily by enthusiasm and questionable impulse control.

No, what Ash did was commit to everything.

If he was excited, he was completely excited. If a Pokémon wanted his attention, it had all of it. There wasn't any embarrassment, calculation, or concern about whether he looked stupid crouching in the dirt and having an animated conversation with a blue tadpole he'd met barely an hour ago.

And somehow, that made it annoyingly difficult to stay irritated with him.

After another twenty minutes, two incorrectly placed stakes because Ash got distracted again, yet another collapsed corner, Poliwag stealing the mallet, Pichu joining the subsequent chase because apparently loyalty meant nothing anymore, and Ash nearly tripping over a support rope, we finally managed to finish.

Ash planted both hands on his hips and grinned like we'd personally constructed a Pokémon Center. "We did it!"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, after many, many delays, we're done." And thank Arceus for that.

With the immediate threat of having to rebuild the damn thing finally gone, I took a proper look at what we'd actually put together.

The tent was enormous.

Maybe not by camping standards around here, but it was easily large enough for Ash and me to sleep without being anywhere near each other, with plenty of room left over for Pichu, Poliwag, our bags, and probably another pair of campers if someone decided four children needed to share.

The canvas was thick, weather-treated, and reinforced along the seams. The flooring wasn't some flimsy plastic sheet either. It had actual insulation underneath, sealed edges, and enough padding that sleeping on uneven ground probably wouldn't be miserable.

I'd grown up in a luxury resort. I knew quality when I saw it, even when it happened to be designed for children to sleep in the dirt.

Apparently Professor Oak didn't see much reason to cheap out when it came to keeping his campers comfortable.

Then again, this was Professor Samuel Oak.

World-famous researcher. Retired Master-level Trainer. The man whose name was attached to more academic papers and patents than I could probably count.

I looked around the campsite again, this time paying a little more attention to the equipment crates, cooking stations, emergency supplies, and a dozen oversized tents made from materials that probably cost more than some families spent on vacations.

It was always nice to see people actually use their money instead of hoarding it away. Even if it was on stuff that many in my Family would consider frivolous.

(Which I didn't. After all, I didn't want a soggy sleeping bag as much as the next person, thank you very much.)

"Alright! Anyone who's finished, over here!"

Amber's voice carried easily across the clearing, pulling my attention away from the tent.

She stood beside the central firepit with two of the other yellow-clad counselors, waving one arm overhead while the rest of the staff continued circulating among the campers who were still fighting for their lives against canvas and aluminum poles.

One tent near the edge of the clearing had somehow ended up upside down. I decided not to ask.

Ash perked up immediately. "What're we doing?"

Amber apparently heard him from halfway across the campsite. "First lesson of the day!"

That got several heads turning.

One of the campers nearby immediately asked the obvious question. "Battling?"

Amber laughed. "Nope!"

The disappointment was palpable.

She pointed toward the covered cooking area. "Lunch!"

That recovered everyone's attention quickly.

Amber waited until the finished pairs had started gathering before continuing. "Alright kiddos, we're going to go over how to safely build, maintain, and cook over a proper campfire. Once your food's done, you get to eat it, so I strongly recommend paying attention unless you enjoy eating charcoal~"

Ash grinned. "Awesome!"

Poliwag bounced beside him in immediate agreement, despite having no idea what we were actually cooking.

I was considerably less enthusiastic.

Cooking over an open flame wasn't exactly unfamiliar territory for me.

Between Danny's annual attempts to turn wilderness survival into a personality trait and Mom's insistence that being heir to a resort meant understanding at least the basics of every department, I'd cooked outdoors plenty of times.

Not gourmet meals or anything ridiculous. Nobody was expecting nine-year-olds to make a five-course Kalosian dinner using a cast-iron skillet and positive thinking.

But basic fire cooking? That was standard survival skills.

I looked toward the cooking area, where Amber was now happily organizing pots, pans, food crates, and what looked suspiciously like several buckets of raw ingredients. Then I looked toward Ash.

He was practically vibrating. Poliwag was vibrating with him. Pichu had already started sniffing toward the food, and I could only sigh.

Looking between the three of them, I already had the sinking suspicion that I was going to be doing most of the cooking.

Yaaaaay.

---

As it turned out, my sinking suspicion had been entirely correct.

I did most of the cooking, and not just for Ash and me either.

Somehow, despite Wilderness Survival being a core subject and Amber spending nearly fifteen minutes demonstrating the exact process step by step, an alarming percentage of the Pikachu Group proved incapable of producing curry without either burning it to the bottom of the pot or creating something with the approximate consistency of wet cement.

By the time Amber wandered over to inspect our food, I'd already taken control of two neighboring pots because watching their owners repeatedly turn up their heat after being specifically told not to was causing me actual physical pain.

Then another pair asked for help.

Then one of the older campers ambled over at the smell.

Then, somehow, one of the counselors sheepishly joined us.

I still wasn't entirely sure how that last one happened.

"Okay, stir slowly," I remembered telling a girl whose name I hadn't caught while adjusting the grate beneath her pot. "You don't need to attack it. It's curry, not a Diglett."

"But it's sticking!"

"Because your fire is too hot."

"So I stir faster?"

"No, you move the pot away from the fire."

Behind her, Amber had very deliberately turned around to hide what I was fairly certain was laughter.

By the time lunch actually happened, I'd cooked enough curry to feed approximately half the group and acquired the deeply unwanted reputation of knowing what I was doing.

Unfortunately, that reputation followed me for the rest of the day.

The afternoon hike wasn't terrible, at least initially. Professor Oak's property stretched far enough into the surrounding wilderness that the counselors could take us onto actual trails without technically leaving his land, and most of the lesson involved basic navigation, identifying safe water sources, and recognizing signs of nearby Pokémon.

Then someone mentioned moss.

"Moss grows north!"

"No, it doesn't."

Three heads turned toward me.

A boy near the front frowned. "Yeah, it does. My uncle told me."

"Your uncle lied to you."

"He didn't lie!"

"Fine. Your uncle is wrong then."

Another camper immediately joined in. "No, he's right! Moss grows on the north side of trees!"

"Yeah, my teacher said..."

I looked toward Amber.

She smiled back at me.

I waited.

She continued smiling.

Oh, for the love of...

"No, moss does not reliably grow on the north side of trees!" I finally snapped, pointing toward the nearest trunk. "Look at this one. It's growing almost completely around it!"

A few of the campers stared at the tree. I swear I could see them try and fail to process the evidence right in front of them.

"But everyone knows it grows on the north side?"

I was mature. I was mentally over twenty years old. I would not scream at the ignorant child.

Thankfully for my sanity, Amber finally stepped forward, looking far too amused. "And that is why we don't rely on moss as a compass. Travis is right. Moisture, shade, tree cover, local terrain, all of those matter considerably more than which direction you're facing."

I narrowed my eyes at her. She clearly could have just started with that.

She winked.

Fishing went worse.

Not because nobody understood how to fish. Several campers actually seemed pretty comfortable with a rod, which made sense considering it was an extremely common pastime and let you interact with Pokémon in a relatively safe manner.

The problem was that none of them could shut up.

Twenty children standing along a riverbank apparently produced enough noise to convince every edible Water-type in the immediate area that swimming as far away from us as possible was preferable to remaining nearby.

Ash and Goh were especially bad.

"YOU'RE PULLING TOO HARD!"

"I'M NOT PULLING TOO HARD!"

"THEN WHY'D THE BAIT COME OFF?!"

"BECAUSE YOU YELLED!"

"I YELLED AFTER IT CAME OFF!"

"YOU WERE YELLING BEFORE THAT!"

I stared blankly at the perfectly still surface of the river, turned to the empty basket beside us, then looked at Pichu.

He looked back at me.

We reached an understanding.

The counselors had already gone over which of the local Pokémon were approved for harvesting and which ones absolutely were not. Pokémon as food was one of those things people from my first life tended not to think about very hard when discussing this world, probably because the alternative raised questions nobody particularly wanted answered.

Yes, people ate Pokémon. Just not all Pokémon, obviously.

There was a considerable moral and legal difference between something operating mostly on animal instinct and a Pokémon intelligent enough to hold conversations, understand complex instructions, or potentially challenge you to a battle over an insult.

The League had entire classifications dealing with that distinction.

The little schooling Water-types currently hiding beneath the riverbank happened to fall firmly into the edible category.

Which meant I felt considerably less guilty about what came next.

"Pichu."

His ears perked.

"Thunder Shock."

A grin spread across his face.

Moments later, the surface erupted in a blast of electricity and steam before a handful of stunned fish Pokémon bobbed upward.

For several seconds, nobody said anything.

Goh slowly turned toward me. "Isn't that cheating?"

I was already crouched down and grabbing fish to put in my basket. "We are trying to acquire food, and I don't plan to starve."

Yamper barked excitedly from beside Chloe. His cheeks began crackling.

Chloe immediately grabbed him around the middle. "No!"

"Yam!"

"No, Yamper! No helping!"

Dinner, somehow, was even worse, and I still didn't understand how.

We were cooking fish on sticks.

Fish. On. Sticks.

There were no pots to manage. No complicated heat distribution. No ingredients that had to be added in a specific order. Amber demonstrated how far to keep the food from the flames and explained that you rotated it periodically until it cooked through.

That was it.

Yet somehow!

"Why is mine black?!"

"Hot hot hot hot!"

"Mine taste funny!"

"It's on fire! Someone get a Water Type!"

I could only stare at the sky, silently mourning my neck.

If this was how the first day of camp went, I was going to develop a crick in my neck by day three.

By sunset, I'd ended up helping cook enough food that I was beginning to suspect Amber had unofficially promoted me to junior counselor without bothering to mention it. The rest of the staff certainly seemed comfortable sending people my way.

"Travis knows how to do it."

"Ask Travis."

"Travis, could you show them?"

At some point, I started wondering whether I could invoice Professor Oak. The counselors had apparently discovered that having one of the campers who already knew what he was doing was significantly easier than repeating themselves for the fifteenth time.

By the time darkness properly settled over the campsite, I was exhausted.

Not physically exhausted, mind you. Danny had put me through considerably worse, and nothing we'd done today had been particularly strenuous.

Mentally, though?

I wanted quiet.

The firepit crackled at the center of camp while the last orange light faded between the trees. Most of the Pikachu Group had gathered around it with blankets, cups of warm drinks, and the apparently mandatory camping dessert of roasted marshmallows crushed between crackers and chocolate.

I had declined.

Growing up around the kind of people who imported handmade Kalosian chocolate by the case had ruined me for the store-bought stuff. Privilege was terrible like that.

So while everyone else slowly developed sugar highs, I moved to the edge of the clearing where our tent was set up, parked myself on one of the helpfully provided log benches, and pulled my textbook back out. Pichu sat nearby and settled into our evening practice with reluctant acceptance. I had trained him well.

Finally, peace and quiet.

"Hey, Travis!"

My eyes closed. I don't know why I bother anymore.

Ash dropped onto the log beside me with a paper plate balanced precariously in one hand. The remains of at least two s'mores were smeared across his fingers, and Poliwag bounced along behind him with a sticky patch of marshmallow somehow attached to the top of his head.

Goh arrived seconds later, followed at a much more reasonable pace by Chloe and Yamper. They didn't even bother asking permission before planting themselves on another log nearby.

I still wasn't entirely sure how Ash and Goh had become friends so quickly. Their introduction that afternoon hadn't exactly inspired confidence. Goh had said something unintentionally insulting, Ash had taken it very intentionally, and within thirty seconds the two were arguing loudly enough that I had started developing a headache.

Then Ash shoved Goh.

Goh shoved Ash back.

Neither remembered they were standing beside the river.

By the time we'd hauled them back onto shore, they were laughing and arguing about who had dragged who into the water like they'd known each other for years.

Children were weird.

Chloe, thank Lugia, remained the sole sane anchor in my rapidly expanding circle of childish chaos. She was quickly becoming my favorite.

"WMhat're mou meading?" Ash asked around a mouthful of marshmallow.

I didn't look up. "A book."

I could practically hear his frown. "I meant what kind of book!"

"Business."

Before Ash could ask another question, Poliwag bounced forward and reached curiously toward Pichu. There was a tiny snap.

"Poli!"

Poliwag recoiled, shaking his tail rapidly while a faint spark danced across his skin.

Ash immediately leaned forward. "Poliwag! Are you okay?"

"Wag..." Poliwag stared accusingly toward Pichu.

Pichu hadn't moved.

The little Electric-type sat beside me with his legs crossed, eyes closed, and paws resting against his knees. Faint arcs of electricity rolled across his cheeks and occasionally danced through his fur before fading again.

Goh cocked his head as he examined my sparking Starter. "What's he doing?"

"Training."

That earned three different looks.

Chloe tilted her head. "Right now?"

I shook my head without looking up. "We missed our daily exercises this morning, so he's gotta make it up now."

Pichu's ear twitched in annoyance.

Then I remembered something. "Ah, nearly forgot." I reached over and tapped Pichu gently between the ears. The static shock barely bothered me after a few weeks of experience. "Time to switch it up."

He immediately perked up.

I dug through my bag until I found the small mechanical metronome I'd brought from home and set it on the log beside him.

Ash leaned closer. "What's that?"

"A metronome."

Goh frowned. "For music?"

"Usually."

I adjusted the dial and let go. A steady 'tick tock tick tock' could clearly be heard.

Pichu closed his eyes again.

On the next tick, sparks surged across his cheeks.

Tock.

They stopped.

Tick.

Electricity returned.

Tock.

Gone.

Goh practically crawled forward, trying to get a better look. "He's turning Charge on and off every time it clicks?"

I hummed. He identified the move fast. "That's the idea."

"The basic idea is control," I continued. "Charge is useful, but Pichu used to take too long getting it started. So we practice activating it, shutting it down, then activating it again. We keep the amount of energy low during this version so he can repeat the process without exhausting himself."

Goh's eyes had gone wide again. "So you're training how fast he can use the Move!"

I nodded while flipping a page. "What you saw when you came over was the other version. That one's about retention. A Pokémon can't hold Charge forever, after all. Eventually the energy either has to be bled off safely or given an outlet through another Electric-type move. The goal there is making that window longer."

"Between both versions, we're training activation speed, duration, and control." I scratched my cheek. "And since Charge is basically forcing him to gather and hold more Electric energy than he'd normally keep ready at once, it helps work his reserves too. Not dramatically, but doing it regularly adds up."

That was actually a bit of an understatement. I'd had Pichu doing variations of this almost from the moment I got him, and in barely a month his usable reserves had nearly doubled.

Which sounded considerably more impressive until you remembered how shallow those reserves had been when we started, but progress was progress.

That didn't stop Ash from staring at Pichu like he'd suddenly transformed into something incredible. "That's awesome!"

Pichu's chest puffed slightly.

Aaaand his Charge immediately flickered out of rhythm.

I raised an eyebrow.

He deflated and went back to concentrating.

Goh didn't even notice. He had started muttering under his breath, apparently trying to reorganize the information into whatever internal Pokédex lived inside his skull.

Chloe, on the other hand, looked down toward Yamper.

"Could Yamper do that?"

I shrugged. "Does he know Charge?"

"Yeah."

"Then probably."

Her eyebrows rose.

I chuckled at her expression. "Look, all you need is a Pokémon that knows Charge, something that keeps a steady rhythm, and enough patience to repeat the same exercise once a day. Start slow, though. Yamper's limits aren't going to be the same as Pichu's."

Chloe nodded thoughtfully as she looked down at Yamper, no doubt already considering how she could adapt the exercise for him. Goh immediately started asking something about whether the rhythm mattered, Ash jumped in with another question of his own, and within seconds the three of them had managed to spin off into an entirely different conversation.

I huffed in amusement as they carried on without me, then reached over and stopped the metronome.

The steady ticking died, and Pichu's ears twitched at the sudden silence before his eyes slowly opened.

"It was a long day. We'll pack it in early tonight."

He gave a tired little chirp and visibly relaxed, static fading from his cheeks as I reached into one of the smaller pouches on my bag. A handful of Chesto Berries came out.

Pichu stared at them. Then at me.

I raised a brow.

He stared for another second before releasing a deeply put-upon sigh and taking one.

That alone would have looked strange to anyone who knew him particularly well. Pichu was many things, but reluctant to eat was not one of them. Usually, producing a handful of Berries was enough to get his undivided attention. The fact that he was staring at these like I'd handed him medicine said plenty.

Still, he bit into it. Slowly.

That part was even stranger.

Normally, putting anything vaguely Berry-shaped within reach of Pichu was an excellent way to lose a finger if you weren't paying attention. Tonight, though, he sat quietly beside me and chewed at an almost lazy pace while I handed him another.

The others barely noticed. Ash and Goh were already halfway into whatever argument they'd found this time, while Chloe occasionally interrupted whenever one of them said something particularly stupid.

I couldn't help the small smirk that pulled at my lips. My fingers settled between Pichu's ears, gently rubbing through his fur as he continued chewing.

His eyelids had begun to droop just enough that his gaze lost some of its focus, his chewing slowing another fraction as he stared somewhere beyond the campsite without actually looking at anything.

Barely noticeable beneath the firelight, a faint blue glow slowly settled into his half-lidded eyes.

Pichu didn't react. He simply took another sleepy bite of Chesto Berry and leaned slightly into my hand, looking for all the world like he was half-asleep while everyone else talked around him.

My smile widened.

---

Author's Note:

Hope it's not too presumptuous, but I've got a Patreon up and running! If you want to read 5 chapters ahead or just support me in general, feel free to visit my p.a.t.r.e.o.n.c.o.m / IcurasFallen

 

[IcurasFallen]

Pokémon Version Orange

Arc 2 - The Summer


Chapter 14
​

---

The next few days settled into something resembling a routine. Not a quiet routine, mind you, but if nothing else, I could admit it was interesting.

This was a summer camp populated by several dozen children, all of whom had been handed temporary access to superpowered wildlife and were being actively encouraged to explore the outdoors. I would have been greatly disappointed if things weren't at least a little interesting from time to time.

Wake up. Breakfast. Morning activity. Lunch. Afternoon activity. Free time. Dinner. Then whatever evening lesson or game the counselors had dreamed up that day. The day would usually end with everyone getting shuffled toward their tents with increasingly stern reminders that 'No, just because you can see by starlight does not mean you can stay up past your bedtime.'

Professor Oak had been rather straightforward about what we would be learning when camp started. Wilderness safety, Pokémon care, field identification, navigation, campcraft, and basic battle etiquette were all things I absolutely agreed every prospective Trainer should know before the League handed them a Trainer license, pointed toward the nearest Route, and wished them luck.

The problem was how those lessons were taught.

Professor Oak's camp was designed for children, which, yes, technically included me, but that didn't mean I had to like it.

To their credit, the counselors were actually very good at keeping everyone engaged. Very little of the week involved sitting in rows while someone lectured us about which end of a Weedle not to grab. Almost everything had been converted into some kind of game, competition, scavenger hunt, or team exercise meant to hammer the lesson home without making the campers realize they were essentially still in school.

Field identification became Berry Bingo, where each team received a laminated card covered in pictures and descriptions along with an instant camera before being sent into a supervised section of woodland to fill as much of their card as possible. Some squares wanted specific Berries. Others asked for things like a leaf with serrated edges, evidence of a Bug-type nest, three signs that a Pokémon had recently passed through the area, or a plant that looked edible but absolutely wasn't. The counselors even hid a few convincing fake examples around the trail.

I had to admit that part was clever. Watching three children proudly carry what they thought was a bundle of medicinal herbs back to Amber, only for her to reveal that they'd collected a plant capable of causing two days of uncontrollable itching, probably taught them more than a worksheet ever would.

That didn't make spending nearly two hours wandering around identifying plants I'd learned about years ago any more stimulating.

Ash, naturally, treated Berry Bingo like we were searching for lost treasure. He and Poliwag tore through the undergrowth with enough enthusiasm that Amber had to remind them twice that "find evidence of a wild Pokémon" did not mean "follow that evidence until you find the wild Pokémon."

Goh took the opposite approach. The moment he realized some of the squares required identifying tracks, nests, feathers, shed scales, and other Pokémon signs, the game stopped being a game and became an unsanctioned research expedition. Caterpie spent most of that morning perched on his shoulder while Goh filled the margins of his card with notes nobody had asked for and argued that partial footprints should count for additional points if he could correctly identify the species.

They did not, and he remained offended about that until lunch.

Chloe was the only other person who seemed capable of remembering that the objective was simply to finish the card.

Naturally, she and I won.

Pokémon care received the same treatment. There were grooming exercises, feeding games, basic first aid disguised as "playing doctor," and a particularly chaotic activity where the counselors gave everyone cards describing hypothetical symptoms and had us figure out whether the Pokémon in question was hungry, tired, overheated, stressed, sick, injured, or simply being difficult.

That last category appeared far more often than most expected, and Pichu took personal offense when I pointed that out.

Still, that part of camp had actually been interesting to watch. Not because I learned much, but because the temporary partners were starting to settle into a proper rhythm with their Trainers.

Goh's Caterpie was spending considerably less time inside its Poké Ball. He still insisted that it wasn't a big deal, usually whenever Chloe looked too pleased with the fact that Caterpie had started climbing onto him without hesitation, but his actions were becoming increasingly disconnected from his protests. By the end of the second day alone, he was automatically checking whether Caterpie had eaten before grabbing his own dinner.

I did not comment on this. Chloe did enough smug smiling for both of us.

Ash and Poliwag, meanwhile, had apparently decided boundaries were totally optional and should be ignored in the name of fun. The two were nearly inseparable whenever camp activities allowed it. Poliwag followed Ash everywhere, Ash talked to Poliwag constantly, and somehow each seemed to encourage the other's already questionable amount of energy.

I had seen Poliwag stay still exactly twice, and both times had been when Ash himself was asleep.

Battle etiquette ended up being particularly amusing. Rather than immediately letting everyone throw their Pokémon at one another, the counselors staged mock situations. Someone played the challenger. Someone else played the Trainer being challenged. Other campers acted as referees, bystanders, or occasionally the unfortunate person whose picnic had been interrupted by two idiots deciding that the middle of a public path was a perfectly reasonable battlefield.

(At least, the counselors tried to make it seem like that one was part of the lesson. Given the unimpressed look Professor Oak gave them when he thought none of us campers were watching, I suspected his lunch break hadn't been part of the original lesson plan.)

We practiced establishing boundaries, checking whether nearby people or Pokémon could be endangered, agreeing on match conditions, recognizing when a partner was too tired to continue, and understanding that "but he challenged me!" did not magically absolve you of responsibility for property damage.

Considering I already had a referee license, you can imagine my excitement. Amber certainly did, considering she made me demonstrate half of it.

By the fourth time someone asked me whether a Pokémon leaving the designated field counted as a loss, I started considering whether faking heatstroke would get me excused.

It probably wouldn't. Most of the counselors actually knew what heatstroke looked like.

Still, by the fourth morning of camp, we were finally introduced to something I had both been expecting and dreading since I learned we were going to be separated into groups.

Namely, the team competitions.

---

Breakfast had barely finished before every camp group was called back toward the broad lawn behind Professor Oak's Laboratory, marking the first time all of us had been gathered together since orientation.


After three days spent mostly around the same twenty people, I'd almost forgotten just how many children Professor Oak had invited onto his property.

The lawn quickly became a sea of colored lanyards as the Pikachu Group mixed with the Eevee, Bulbasaur, Squirtle, and Charmander Groups, while all the temporary partners made organizing everyone that much more difficult. Pidgey hopped from shoulder to shoulder, a Nidoran had apparently developed a fascination with a camper's shoelaces, and somewhere near the back, an Oddish responded to its camper watering it by immediately burying itself halfway into Professor Oak's lawn.

The counselors moved through the mess with practiced efficiency, slowly herding everyone toward their proper groups while Professor Oak watched from the porch with the disturbingly peaceful expression of a man who had witnessed this exact chaos enough times to know it would eventually sort itself out.

A sharp whistle finally brought the remaining conversations down to a murmur.

Professor Oak stepped forward with a broad smile. "Good morning, everyone! I hope you've all enjoyed your time in camp so far, because today will be our first team competition: Pokémon Orienteering!"

The lawn erupted.

Not everyone cheered, but enough did that I had to resist rubbing my ears. Ash was practically vibrating a few feet away, while Goh immediately started staring toward the assistants behind the Professor as if he could divine the rules from whatever they were carrying.

Professor Oak allowed the noise to run its course before gesturing toward the aforementioned assistants. Each carried a stack of folded maps and small cards marked with several empty spaces.

"The rules are fairly straightforward. You'll be divided into teams of four or five campers, with one counselor accompanying each group. Every team will receive a map of the supervised activity area, a checkpoint card, and a clue directing you toward your first destination."

He held up one of the cards so everyone could see it.

"Hidden throughout the course are several checkpoints. Your goal is to find the correct location, stamp your card, and collect another clue directing you toward the next location. Once you've located every checkpoint, return here with a completed card to earn points for your team."

Somebody near the front immediately shouted, "So the first team back wins?!"

Professor Oak chuckled. "No, as I said before, this is a team competition. Everyone must play their part and complete the activity to the best of their ability if they wish to acquire points for their team."

A few campers visibly deflated.

I pretended not to notice how Ash was one of them.

Professor Oak's smile became just a little more knowing. "Your maps will only show the general layout of the area. They will not identify the checkpoints themselves, and the clues may require you to pay attention to landmarks, terrain, Pokémon signs, or other things we've covered over the last few days."

I actually perked up. I was admittedly a fan of puzzle games, so this might actually be interesting.

"Your counselors will travel with you," Professor Oak continued before anyone could rush forward to try and claim their items, "but they are there primarily for safety. They will not solve clues for you, tell you which direction to travel, or correct every poor decision before you make it."

Several counselors exchanged amused looks.

He clapped his hands together. "You are free to team up however you like, but your teammates must come from within your own camp group, so please stay with your groups while we split everyone up. Once you have your team locked in, your counselor will collect your activity materials and starting location."

That was apparently permission for the entire lawn to descend into chaos again.

"Mine!"

I nearly jumped as Amber materialized beside us with one hand planted firmly atop my shoulder.

Another yellow-vested counselor stopped several feet away and groaned. "Oh, come on, Amber! You can't just call dibs on all four of them."

Amber just smiled brightly. "Too bad~ I already did!"

The other counselor folded his arms. "You're taking both of the responsible ones and the entertainment?!"

My brows slowly rose as I gave them both an unimpressed look.

Ash frowned. "Who's the entertainment?"

Goh spoke up at exactly the wrong moment. "Probably you."

"What?! Why me?!"

Amber's smile widened as the two immediately started arguing, proving that they were probably referring to both of them.

I wasn't entirely sure whether I should feel complimented or insulted by the fact that Chloe and I had apparently become desirable counselor assets while Ash and Goh were being treated like free live entertainment.

Probably both.

Pichu certainly found it funny, considering the way his paws covered his mouth while muffled chitters shook his body.

The counselors finally finished their argument, with Amber the obvious "winner," judging by her smug grin, and the other counselor walked away with a scowl.

"Alright, kiddos, stay right here. I'll grab our packet and find out where we're starting."

I could only sigh as she happily skipped away.

Then a voice I'd become depressingly familiar with carried over from somewhere behind us and caused my sigh to turn into an outright groan.

"Well, well, well. Look who got stuck together."

Ash stiffened.

I closed my eyes in defeat.

Gary approached from the Eevee Group with Rattata trotting beside him, the little Normal-type already looking considerably more comfortable around him than it had during their first battle. Three other campers followed alongside, accompanied by a brown-vested counselor who had the resigned expression of someone who had spent enough time around Gary to know stopping him before he started was a lost cause.

Gary's grin sharpened the second Ash turned around. "Hope your team isn't planning on winning. You're gonna be eating our dust the whole way!"

Ash's face twisted as he went nearly nose to nose with his 'rival'. "No way! We're gonna beat you!"

Gary scoffed before raising his nose in the air. "You couldn't even find your way to camp on time!"

Ash's face reddened. "That was different!"

"How?"

"I...because it was!"

"Wow, amazing argument, Ashy-boy."

"Shut up!"

Both of their hands dropped almost simultaneously toward the Poké Balls at their belts.

Before I could decide whether physically separating them fell under my responsibilities as the closest functional adult-brained person, a hand shot out from behind Gary.

"Ow!" Gary jerked sideways as the hand snagged his ear like a vice. "V-Violet! Let go!"

"Oh, let me think…no."

The girl who stepped into view was considerably more cheerful than her struggling groupmate.

She looked around our age, with appropriately dark violet hair divided into two short braids beneath a pale green sunhat. A Zigzagoon sat at her feet, its striped tail swishing lazily while it watched Gary struggle with what I could only interpret as familiarity.

"You promised you weren't going to start another battle before the competition started."

"He started it!"

"You're the one who came over here!" Ash argued back.

Gary pointed at him with his free hand, wincing when the movement tugged at his trapped ear. "Because I was telling you we're gonna win!"

"That still means you started it!"

"No, it doesn't—Ow! That hurts, Violet!"

I liked her already.

Violet finally glanced toward the rest of us and seemed to realize she'd acquired an audience. Rather than getting embarrassed, she gave us a bright smile while continuing to hold Gary captive.

"Sorry. Gary here tends to bathe in smug every morning." She shifted her grip slightly before offering her free hand. "I'm Violet Otter."

Something about the name immediately scratched at the business-oriented corner of my memory.

My eyes dropped toward the Zigzagoon beside her, then returned to the girl. "Are you from Hoenn?"

Her face lit up. "Yeah! Lilycove!"

That made the connection click. "Any relation to Marlon Otter, president of the Pokéblock company?"

Violet's smile somehow grew wider. "That's my uncle!"

Huh.

I'd never met the man personally, but I knew the name. Anyone who spent enough time around hospitality suppliers eventually learned which companies controlled what markets, and the Otter family had made an unreasonable amount of money turning mashed Berries into brightly colored cubes that Coordinators treated like culinary science.

Mom had complained about their wholesale pricing more than once.

Small world.

"Seriously?" Goh immediately stepped closer, Gary and Ash apparently forgotten. "Your family makes Pokéblocks?"

"Yep!" Violet smiled happily before turning as they're counceler called out. She gave us another cheerful wave before walking back toward her team. "It was nice to meet you and hopefully beat you all!"

Gary had little choice but to follow. "Ow! Violet! Come on!"

Ash didn't even try to hide his laughter.

Then Chloe caught him by the ear.

"Ack!"

I had to bite down hard on the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. Pichu didn't even make an attempt not to.

Ash twisted around in disbelief. "Chloe!"

"If he has to go back to his team, so do you."

"But I wasn't doing anything!"

"You were about five seconds away from starting another fight!"

"He was doing it too!"

Chloe began walking, and Ash followed because ears were apparently excellent motivational tools.

From halfway across the lawn, Gary spotted what was happening and started laughing so hard that Violet immediately caught him by the ear again.

Balance had been restored to the universe.

Amber returned a few minutes later with a folded map tucked beneath one arm, while the other held our checkpoint card, a small emergency whistle, and a sealed envelope with a bright yellow Pikachu sticker slapped across the front.

"Alright, Team Amber, I've got our stuff!"

I stared at her flatly.

She smiled back brightly. "Problem, Travis~?"

I squinted at her, gave a moment's thought to actually arguing about the name, then sighed. "No."

"That's what I thought!"

Before we could go down that particular Buneary hole, however, Professor Oak's voice carried across the lawn once again.

"Attention, everyone! Once your counselor has collected your materials, you'll have thirty minutes to reach your assigned starting position and familiarize yourselves with your map and first clue. You may discuss the clue beforehand, but no team is permitted to leave its starting area until the signal is given!"

That immediately sent another wave of activity through the crowd. Counselors began calling names, campers started comparing maps, and more than one team hurried away like the thirty-minute preparation period was somehow already part of the race.

Amber unfolded a small slip attached to our packet and checked it against the map. "Looks like we're starting east of here. Come on, kiddos."

Our walk took us away from the main Laboratory grounds and onto one of the narrower trails winding through Professor Oak's property. The sounds of the other teams gradually faded behind us as different groups peeled away toward their own starting points, leaving little more than rustling leaves and the occasional distant call of a Pokémon somewhere deeper in the woods.

We ended up crossing a fenced meadow that led into a small orchard, followed a stream for several hundred yards, and entered yet another patch of woodland that Professor Oak apparently also owned.

I could only shake my head at the third distinct stretches of woodland in barely ten minutes of walking. "Seriously, how much land does this man own?"

Amber glanced back. "A lot."

"That isn't a measurement."

"It is when you're talking about Professor Oak."

I couldn't even argue with that.

The man owned enough property to maintain multiple Pokémon habitats, several campsites, miles of hiking trails, research enclosures, farmland, woodland, streams, and apparently enough empty space to scatter dozens of children across without any of us accidentally colliding.

Somewhere along the line, Professor Oak had stopped owning a large research property and started owning what I was pretty certain was an entire valley, with the distant foothills apparently thrown in for good measure.

Eventually, the trees opened around a shallow stream crossed by a narrow stone bridge, with a small yellow flag planted beside one end.

Amber checked the number printed on it against our packet. "And this is us."

Ash immediately leaned over the bridge to look into the water. Poliwag copied him from below, hopping onto one of the lower stones until Ash grabbed him before he could tumble straight into the stream.

Naturally, Goh took the map.

Chloe joined him while I lowered my bag beside the bridge and allowed Pichu to hop from my shoulder onto the broad stone railing. Yamper wandered nearby with his nose practically glued to the ground, apparently investigating every scent within range, whether it was relevant to the competition or not.

Amber checked the time. "We've got a little over ten minutes before the starting signal, so let's see what we've got."

She broke the seal on the envelope and cleared her throat with enough ceremony to suggest she had been waiting all morning for this.

"Your first clue," she announced. "Two wandering ribbons race beneath the sky, each taking its own path as it passes by. Search for the place where separate journeys end, and two flowing paths become a single friend."

I blinked. Then I looked at the map.

Two streams ran through the eastern half of Professor Oak's property and joined less than a mile north of us.

Well, that was easy.

"So looks like we're heading toward the..."

"WHAT DO YOU THREE THINK?"

Amber's sudden shout made everyone jump.

She planted both hands on her hips and smiled expectantly at Chloe, Ash, and Goh like I hadn't opened my mouth at all.

I narrowed my eyes.

Amber glanced at me sideways and winked.

I rolled my eyes and leaned back against the side of the bridge. Apparently, immediately solving the clue myself would somewhat defeat the entire point of the activity.

Fine, I'd behave.

Goh took the clue card from Amber and immediately started rereading it. "Two wandering ribbons... so probably something long and narrow."

"Roads!" Ash said.

Goh frowned. "Roads don't move."

"People move on roads."

"The clue says the ribbons are moving."

"Maybe it means the people!"

"Then why call the roads ribbons?"

Ash folded his arms and nodded seriously. "Because it's a riddle!"

"That doesn't mean words stop meaning things!"

Chloe sighed and moved between them before the first clue somehow became a philosophical debate about language. "Okay, stop. The important parts are probably wandering ribbons, separate journeys, and whatever it means by becoming one."

"Exactly," Goh said, immediately turning back toward the clue. "Something moving along two different paths that eventually connects..." His eyes dropped to the map. "And if they're supposed to be paths, then maybe we're looking for two routes that meet somewhere."

There were, admittedly, several lines winding across the map. A few smaller streams twisted farther west, another narrow creek crossed one of the southern trails, and the two larger streams Goh had almost noticed wound independently through the northern woods.

They began talking over possibilities again, though at a thankfully lower volume.

Pichu, however, had gone quiet.

At first, I didn't think anything of it. He was simply sitting beside me atop the bridge railing as he listened to Ash and Goh argue. His ears shifted occasionally toward whoever was speaking, tracking the argument even while his eyes wandered between the map and the stream below.

His nose scrunched slightly.

I could only watch in curiosity as he hopped down from the railing and landed beside the map.

Nobody paid much attention.

Goh was still tracing one of the waterways with his finger while explaining why it probably mattered; Ash kept insisting that they shouldn't assume flowing automatically meant water, and Chloe was attempting to get both of them to consider the entire clue instead of fighting over individual words.

Then Pichu's ears perked up.

"Pichu!" One tiny paw slapped against the paper.

Everyone went silent.

Goh blinked. "What?"

Pichu tapped the same point again.

"Chu!"

I leaned closer.

Right beneath his paw was the confluence I'd spotted almost immediately. The two larger streams curved through separate stretches of woodland before joining into a single waterway.

For a moment, nobody said anything.

Then Chloe's eyes widened. "That's where they meet."

Goh practically folded himself across the map. "Wait!"

His finger traced the first stream. Then the second.

"Two wandering ribbons. They're both moving water."

Ash leaned over from the opposite side. "And they become one there!"

Pichu chirped proudly.

I stared at him.

That was...huh.

Pichu turned toward me, and the smug little grin spreading across his face told me he knew exactly how impressed I was.

I slowly smiled back. "Well, look at you, fuzzball."

His chest immediately puffed out.

Ash crouched beside him with a grin. "Nice one, Pichu!"

"Pi!"

Goh was already studying the route between our starting bridge and the confluence with considerably more enthusiasm now that Pichu had solved the problem for him. Chloe reached down and scratched behind one of Pichu's ears, earning an even smugger little chirp.

Amber, meanwhile, glanced toward me.

I gave her a flat look.

She winked again.

Yes, yes, I got the point. If she'd let me answer immediately, none of that would have happened. I still wasn't going to tell her she was right.

A distant horn suddenly echoed across Professor Oak's property.

Amber checked her watch. "And that's the starting signal."

Ash was already moving before she'd finished the sentence. "Come on!"

"Ash, wait! We have a map!"

"But we know where we're going!"

"That doesn't mean you leave the person holding the map behind!"

Goh scrambled after him with Chloe close behind, Yamper barking excitedly as he raced at her heels. Poliwag bounced after Ash like this was the greatest thing that had happened all week.

I sighed and picked up my bag while Pichu leapt back onto my shoulder.

It seems we're speed-running this.

Fun.

---

As it turned out, Pichu's first contribution wasn't a fluke.

Over the next few hours, we worked our way steadily from one checkpoint to another, and after Amber's earlier intervention, I made a conscious effort not to immediately solve everything myself.

It was harder than it sounded.

Some of the clues were clearly designed with nine-year-olds in mind, which meant I usually had an answer within a few seconds. Still, whenever everyone else was making actual progress, I kept my mouth shut and let them work through it.

More surprisingly, I started doing the same with Pichu.

The little fuzzball had apparently decided that puzzle solving was fun.

Every time we reached another checkpoint, he immediately perked up and started paying attention. He obviously couldn't read the clue cards, but once someone read them aloud, his ears would twitch while everyone talked through the possibilities. Sometimes he just sat on my shoulder and listened. Other times he'd hop down to inspect whatever map, object, or landmark had caught everyone's attention.

He wasn't always right. Neither were the rest of them, but the fact that he was actually trying made it difficult not to smile whenever his little face scrunched up in concentration.

It helped that not every checkpoint involved riddles.

One had us arranging a collection of painted stones according to markings we'd seen along the trail. Another required finding several wooden tokens hidden around a clearing and figuring out which ones formed the symbol stamped onto our card. There was even a simple balancing puzzle involving a set of weighted Berry replicas that Ash somehow managed to turn into a competition with Goh despite there being absolutely no benefit to finishing before everyone else.

By the time we reached the cave portion of the course, I was almost enjoying myself.

Almost.

"We need to go left."

Goh stopped halfway toward the opposite tunnel. "Why?"

I pointed toward the ceiling above him.

A faint squeak drifted through the darkness.

Goh slowly lifted his flashlight and revealed several dozen small shapes hanging upside down from the stone ahead.

He immediately went still.

"And that is why we pay attention to markings, kiddos," Amber whispered, gesturing to a series of scratch marks along portions of the cave walls leading to the nest.

"Especially when they indicate something much stronger than the norm is present." My hand ran over one particular scratch mark larger than the rest. Its almost X-shaped design indicated that a Crobat was part of said horde.

The others audibly gulped at the size and number of markings. "R-Right."

By the time we emerged back into daylight, our checkpoint card was nearly full. Small stamps covered almost every marked space, ranging from tiny Pokémon silhouettes to miniature Berry designs, leaving only one stubbornly empty square near the bottom.

Our last checkpoint.

And, judging by the map, we weren't far from it.

"We're almost there!" Ash announced for perhaps the fourth time in ten minutes, charging several steps ahead with Poliwag before having to backtrack when the rest of us maintained a simple walking pace.

Goh had taken responsibility for the map again and was directing us down a narrow trail through the trees, with Chloe beside him checking the latest clue card. Amber walked a short distance behind, apparently content to let us handle things now that nobody was in immediate danger of wandering into a Zubat colony.

Then Poliwag stopped abruptly enough that Ash nearly stepped on him.

"Whoa!" He stumbled sideways before catching himself. "Poliwag?"

The Water-type didn't answer. He stood perfectly still in the middle of the trail with his body turned toward the forest to our right.

Pichu's ears twitched against my cheek, and I glanced toward him to find that he was looking in the same direction. A quick glance down showed that Yamper was much the same.

None of the Pokémon seemed frightened. Pichu's fur hadn't risen, there wasn't so much as a spark around his cheeks, and Poliwag wasn't backing away or showing any obvious signs of danger.

If anything, they all looked curious.

"What is it?" Chloe asked, noticing we'd stopped.

"I don't know."

For half a second, everything remained still.

Then Poliwag bolted straight into the underbrush.

"Poliwag!"

And, of course, Ash went after him without hesitation.

"Ash!" Chloe shouted.

Goh stared after him. "Where's he going?!"

"Take a guess!" I shouted, following the living disaster magnet before I even realized my feet were moving.

Rushing into the underbrush, I fell back on years of wilderness training as I followed after my not-a-clone. Going by how quickly the sound of him crashing through the foliage was getting farther away, however, Ash's impression of a charging Tauros was letting him cover ground considerably faster than my more methodical approach.

I heard Chloe and Goh somewhere behind me, with Amber calling for everyone to stay together, but none of them were gaining on him either.

Finally, the sounds of Ash's frantic rush stopped, and his voice soon drifted through the trees.

"There ya go!"

I pushed through one final patch of brush and stepped into a small clearing.

Ash stood near the center of the clearing while Poliwag bounced beside him anxiously from one foot to the other, but that wasn't what caught my attention.

Ash had an arm wrapped around a girl I'd never seen before.

"Thanks," she murmured, pulling away and carefully testing her weight before immediately favoring one leg.

"No problem!" Ash replied with the same cheerful grin he used for almost everything.

I slowed as I approached, my attention lingering on the girl longer than I intended. She looked vaguely familiar, though I couldn't immediately place why. Maybe it was the honey-blonde hair spilling from beneath the enormous straw sunhat, or the dirt staining one side of her clothes. Then my eyes dropped toward her knee and the white handkerchief wrapped around it.

Something about the entire scene scratched at the back of my mind.

The girl finally noticed me staring and blinked. Her eyes moved from my face to Ash's, then back to mine again. The comparison continued for several seconds before confusion won out.

"Twins?"

Ash immediately puffed up. "We're not brothers!"

I sighed. "Apparently, this is still a sensitive subject."

"We don't even look that much alike!"

The girl stared at him.

Hell, I stared at him.

Ash lasted perhaps two seconds beneath the combined scrutiny before his shoulders slumped. "Okay, fine. We look a lot alike, but we're still not brothers!"

That earned a small giggle from the girl, though it quickly turned into a wince when she shifted her injured leg. Whatever amusement I'd felt faded as movement sounded behind us, and Goh came pushing through the brush, Chloe and Yamper close behind. Amber arrived only a moment later, looking considerably less winded than the rest of us.

"What happened?" Chloe asked as her attention immediately shifted to the injured girl.

"Poliwag found her," Ash explained. "She hurt her knee, so I helped patch her up!"

Amber stepped closer and crouched beside the girl. "Mind if I take a look?"

The girl shook her head and carefully settled onto a nearby fallen log with Ash's help. Amber loosened the handkerchief enough to inspect the scrape beneath it before checking the rest of the leg. "Can you move your ankle for me?"

She did, cautiously at first.

"Any pain?"

Another shake of the head.

"Good. Looks like you scraped yourself up more than anything serious." Amber fully removed the handkerchief before reaching for the first-aid pouch at her belt. "We'll clean it properly before you do any more walking."

Ash crouched nearby while Amber worked, Poliwag bouncing restlessly beside him. "See? Told you you'd be okay."

The girl smiled at him.

And suddenly that nagging familiarity came back much harder.

Professor Oak's camp. A blonde girl lost in the woods. An injured knee. Ash finding her and wrapping a handkerchief around it…

…oh.

Oh.

Amber, unaware that my brain had finally started connecting several very old dots, glanced up from the scrape. "Did you get separated from your group?"

The girl nodded. "I got lost."

Amber gave her an easy smile. "That's alright. We'll help you get back once we've got your knee cleaned up. What's your name?"

"Serena."

The last piece clicked into place so cleanly that I almost wanted to laugh.

I looked from Serena to Ash, who was still crouched beside her without the slightest clue of her almost bashful looks. Poliwag bounced happily between them while Serena thanked Amber for helping with her knee, then Ash for taking care of her, and I could only drag one hand slowly down my face.

What was with this camp pulling Ash's future companions in early?!

---

Author's Note:

Oh, you all thought it was just the Journey's companions? Oh no, I'm making use of all the childhood tropes, and the childhood sweetheart is a must!

More seriously, hope y'all enjoyed the chapter, and I'll see ya next time~

Hope it's not too presumptuous, but I've got a Patreon up and running! If you want to read 5 chapters ahead or just support me in general, feel free to visit my p.a.t.r.e.o.n.c.o.m / IcurasFallen

 

[IcurasFallen]

Pokémon Version Orange

Arc 2 - The Summer


Chapter 15
​

---

Professor Oak was angry.

That was a considerably more terrifying sentence than most people would probably expect.

He didn't scream. He didn't rage. He didn't even raise his voice at the counselor who had somehow failed to notice that one of the children under his supervision had been missing for over an hour.

Instead, Professor Oak simply stared at the young man.

I'd only seen a look like that directed at me once before, when I'd made the terrible mistake of getting on the genuinely angry side of Aunt Rebecca's Salamence. The situations were obviously very different, but the sheer pressure behind the expression was disturbingly similar. It was the kind of look that made your stomach drop into your feet and cold sweat bead across your skin.

The fact that Professor Oak's Alakazam was standing beside him didn't help either.

I'd only needed one proper look at the Psychic-type to realize something I hadn't really expected, yet probably should have.

He was stronger than Mom's Alakazam. Much, much stronger.

And that was saying something, considering I had once seen Al lift an entire building with his mind.

(But we didn't talk about the Running of the Tauros reenactment. We had sworn a pact, so I tried to avoid thinking of that entire disaster even in the depths of my own mind.)

Still, Professor Oak was a retired Master, so I really shouldn't have been surprised that one of his personal Pokémon set off all the same warning bells in my mind that, until now, only Kahili's team had ever managed, especially when Alakazam somehow made those instincts scream louder.

Alakazam hadn't threatened the counselor either, obviously. He'd simply stood beside his Trainer with his spoons held loosely at his sides and stared at the man with an expression of such complete disappointment that I almost felt bad for him.

Almost.

The counselor's group had stumbled back into the main pasture in a legitimate panic after finally realizing Serena was missing, only to discover that we'd already brought her back. From there, Professor Oak had taken over, Amber had been called aside to explain exactly how we'd found her, and the rest of us had been politely encouraged to give the adults some space.

I never did find out exactly what happened to the counselor afterward, but going by how Amber returned twenty minutes later, looking several shades paler than when she'd left, and refused to answer any questions even when Ash and Goh teamed up to pester her, I decided this was one mystery I didn't want to know the answer to.

How the entire disaster resulted in Serena being transferred into the Pikachu Group, I still couldn't wrap my head around. I did, however, have my suspicions about how, within less than an hour, she'd already attached herself to our growing collection of misfits like she'd been there from the beginning.

Namely, I blamed Ash and his stupid levels of protagonist charisma.

Well, okay, that and the fact that the one time someone pointed out she was leaving behind whatever friends she'd made in the Bulbasaur Group, Serena's expression had crumpled enough for tears to start gathering at the corners of her eyes.

The look of sheer disappointment Chloe gave me was much more effective than it had any right to be coming from a nine-year-old.

Thankfully, Serena seemed to recover quickly enough once Chloe assured her that we could be her friends. Ash naturally helped by immediately declaring that she could hang out with us whenever she wanted, and from there the entire matter had apparently been settled without anyone bothering to ask whether the rest of us got a vote.

Not that I particularly minded, especially since, despite our little detour through the woods, Team Amber had actually done pretty damn well. We weren't the first team to finish the Orienteering course, unfortunately, but third place out of nearly twenty teams was nothing to complain about.

Professor Oak had apparently agreed.

"Team Amber will also be receiving additional points for assisting a fellow camper in distress," he announced from the porch, drawing another round of applause from the campers scattered across the lawn at the end of the event. "While completing the course quickly was certainly important, recognizing when someone needs help and prioritizing their safety is exactly the kind of judgment we hope to encourage here."

Serena immediately turned pink, then solid red when Ash excitedly spoke up.

"Serena, you got us bonus points!"

"W-Wait, Ash!"

He grabbed her around the middle before she could retreat and spun her in a laughing circle, earning a startled squeak that quickly dissolved into giggling as Poliwag bounced excitedly around their feet.

I watched them for a moment before shaking my head.

Protagonist charisma was absolutely ridiculous.

Still, between our third-place finish and the bonus points, I'd been feeling fairly confident about the Pikachu Group's chances.

That confidence lasted right up until Professor Oak reminded everyone of one tiny detail several people had apparently forgotten.

This was a team competition.

Not Team Amber versus everyone else. Not Ash, Chloe, Goh, and me carrying the yellow banner to glorious victory through sheer competence and protagonist-induced nonsense.

No, every team wearing yellow contributed toward our final placement, just as every Eevee, Bulbasaur, Squirtle, and Charmander team contributed toward theirs.

Which became increasingly relevant when the rest of the teams started coming back.

One Pikachu team finished somewhere around the middle of the pack. Another arrived several places later, looking tired but reasonably proud of themselves.

Then we waited. And waited. And waited some more.

And I could only stare as the final three teams to complete the entire course all wandered onto the lawn wearing Pikachu faces around their necks.

One group looked like they'd fought a war against shrubbery and lost. Another had apparently taken a wrong turn badly enough that one camper was still holding a map upside down while arguing with his counselor. The final team crossed the finish line to polite applause and immediately collapsed into the grass. Why they were wet was anyone's guess.

I swear I could feel my eyebrow twitch.

Chloe covered her face with both hands. Goh stared at the newly arrived teams in open disbelief, muttering a genuinely confused, "How?!" under his breath, while Ash looked between them and Professor Oak with growing horror.

Professor Oak waited until the final checkpoint card had been verified before one of his assistants handed him the completed results. He looked them over, smiled, and stepped back toward the front of the porch.

"Excellent work, everyone! Now that all twenty teams have returned, we can announce the final standings!"

The crowd immediately quieted.

I crossed my arms and tried not to look toward the Eevee Group.

And no, it had nothing to do with how Gary was staring directly at us, hands laced behind his head while Rattata sat proudly beside his shoes. Judging by his expression, he'd apparently already figured out where this was going.

I felt another tick start near my temple.

Professor Oak continued, blissfully unaware that I was genuinely considering punching the smug off his grandson's face.

"In fifth place overall, the Charmander Group!"

A collective groan rose from the red-lanyarded campers, though it wasn't entirely miserable. A few still clapped for themselves while others exchanged tired shrugs, clearly deciding that simply finishing the course without getting lost for several hours counted as a victory of its own.

"In fourth place, the Squirtle Group!"

The blue section reacted with considerably more energy, several campers cheering while one particularly enthusiastic boy immediately started arguing that fourth place was "basically almost third."

I respected the optimism.

Professor Oak glanced down at the results sheet again.

"In third place, the Pikachu Group!"

The reaction around me was considerably less enthusiastic.

A wave of groans and muttered complaints rolled through the yellow-lanyarded campers, several heads immediately turning toward the three teams that had limped in at the very end. More than a few sets of eyes settled pointedly on the group that was still inexplicably soaking wet.

I shook my head.

Beside me, Goh slowly turned toward them with an expression that suggested he was genuinely trying to solve the mystery of how they had managed it. Ash was doing much the same, except his look was considerably more childishly judgmental.

I reached out and physically turned both of their heads forward.

"Stop staring."

"But how did they even get wet?" Goh whispered.

"Don't care, stop staring."

The Bulbasaur Group took second place, earning a much louder round of cheers from the green-lanyarded campers. A few looked disappointed to have missed first, but most seemed perfectly happy with the result.

Which left only one group.

Professor Oak smiled and turned toward the excited brown-lanyarded campers.

"And today's winning group, with the highest combined score overall, is the Eevee Group!"

The Eevee campers exploded into cheers.

Gary's grin somehow got worse.

He didn't even need to say anything. He simply turned toward us, lifted his chin, and let the silence do all the gloating for him.

I took a slow breath through my nose.

Beside me, Chloe quietly caught Ash by the back of his shirt before he could start moving toward Gary. I considered congratulating her on the foresight.

Then Gary's eyes shifted toward me, and his grin widened.

My eyebrow twitched just as Amber's hand landed on my shoulder.

"I wasn't going to do anything," I muttered, giving the limb a side-eye.

"Uh-huh."

I stared at her. She stared back.

Across the lawn, Gary finally raised one hand and gave us a slow, smug little wave.

…okay, maybe I had been planning something.

---

"Do you want another s'more?" Chloe asked, holding out the plate toward Serena.

Serena looked down at the one she'd only just finished before hesitantly glancing toward the remaining stack. "Um...maybe one more?"

"Good choice!" Ash immediately reached across her, only for Chloe to slap his hand away.

"Ow!"

"You've already had four!"

"But there are more!"

"And those aren't yours!"

Serena had once more turned into a blushing mess as Ash seemed to contemplate Chloe's retort while sprawled across her lap. He apparently considered that more of an obstacle than an answer, because he immediately made another grab with both hands—

"Wah?!"

Only to then yelp as I caught the back of his shirt and pulled him away before he could complete the maneuver.

"Traitor!" he accused, twisting around to glare at me.

I shook my head. "You already ate mine, wasn't that enough?"

"You said you didn't want it!"

"I said I wasn't hungry."

"That's basically the same thing!"

I gave him a lidded stare.

Serena covered her mouth as a giggle slipped out, while Chloe successfully passed the rescued s'more into her hands. Ash continued staring at it with a pout until Poliwag bounced into his lap and finally distracted him.

By the time we got back to the Pikachu Group campsite, dinner had come and gone, and the last of the day's light had disappeared behind the trees. Most of the camp had settled into that comfortable stretch between evening activities and bedtime where nobody had quite enough energy left to cause another major disaster.

Most being the important word.

Our own little collection of troublemakers had gravitated back toward the same corner of the campsite we'd somehow claimed over the last few days. A pair of logs sat beside the smaller firepit we'd set up ourselves, close enough to be present without having to join the larger crowd, and between the blankets, discarded bags, and several Pokémon sprawled comfortably nearby, we'd apparently established the territory as our own.

Even Pichu was done for the evening; the little fuzzball was stretched bonelessly across my lap with absolutely no intention of moving again tonight. His exercises had gone well enough that I'd cut the session short, partly because he'd already spent several hours running around Professor Oak's property and partly because I wasn't interested in training him into the ground.

Naturally, that meant rewards.

His ears perked the second I opened a small Berry container beside me. "Pi?"

My lip quirked up. "Yes, you did amazing today, so you've earned a treat."

The smell alone seemed enough to revive him as I dropped several Petaya Berries into the little dish resting beside my leg. They were rare, expensive, and had somehow become Pichu's favorite thing on the planet after eating one by complete accident.

Thankfully, I had money to waste on stupidly expensive fruit, and my Pokémon deserved nice things.

Pichu apparently agreed, because within seconds his face had disappeared into the bowl.

A long sigh sounded behind us before Goh dropped onto the empty stretch of log beside Chloe with enough force to make Yamper lift his head. "Finally! That took forever to move."

Chloe looked over. "You got everything?"

"My sleeping bag, clothes, Caterpie's stuff, everything." Goh slumped forward with his elbows against his knees, and inadvertently revealed Caterpie comically sticking to his back. "Your tent is way farther away than mine was."

"Our tent," Ash corrected.

Goh gave him a tired look. "That's what I said."

"No, you said your tent."

"I meant our tent."

"But you didn't say our tent."

"Does it matter?!"

"Boys," Chloe warned, and both immediately stopped.

Serena shifted beside her, fingers tightening slightly around the edge of her blanket. "I'm sorry you had to move everything because of me."

That killed the argument considerably faster.

"You don't have to apologize," Chloe assured her before turning toward the three of us. There was something disturbingly effective about Chloe Cerise's stare when she decided she wanted a particular answer. "It's fine. Right?"

Ash paled and nodded immediately. "Y-Yep!"

Goh's head bobbed like a toy. "Right! Totally fine!"

Seeing her turn to me, I just chuckled at the attempt. "It really isn't a problem. Have you seen the things Professor Oak gave us? We could probably fit another two people in ours before we'd start noticing someone else was sleeping nearby."

Goh frowned. "Is that how you're measuring space?"

"Personal space is sacred."

"Ignore him," Chloe said.

"I feel like I should be offended."

She gave me a lidded look. "You'll survive."

Serena giggled again, shoulders finally losing some of their tension. Mission accomplished.

The rearrangement hadn't exactly been complicated anyway. Serena joining the Pikachu Group meant she needed somewhere to sleep, and apparently Professor Oak's staff had decided pairing her with Chloe was the easiest solution. That displaced Goh, who had previously been sharing Chloe's tent, which in turn meant our already oversized tent had gained a third occupant.

"Glad to hear it!"

A hand abruptly landed atop Serena's hat, causing her to squeak and duck forward.

Amber stood behind the log with an enormous grin, one hand ruffling Serena's hair straight through the straw hat while the other balanced several steaming mugs on a tray. Serena immediately escaped and fixed her hat with an offended little pout.

Amber laughed as she began distributing mugs between us, and the smell of chocolate immediately drew everyone's attention. "Sorry, kiddo. Couldn't resist."

Ash's eyes widened. "Hot chocolate?!"

"Hot chocolate," Amber confirmed. "A special reward for our brave heroes after their daring rescue operation!"

Her voice deepened dramatically toward the end, one hand pressing against her chest like she was narrating the climax of an action movie. Ash immediately puffed himself up while Serena and Chloe burst into giggles. Goh rolled his eyes, though the smile tugging at his mouth ruined the effect.

I accepted my mug. "Heroic might be stretching it."

Amber gasped. "Travis! Don't diminish your heroic accomplishments!"

"I chased Ash into a bush."

"And emerged with a missing child!"

"Technically, Ash did that."

She waved. "Details."

Amber lifted her mug with all the dignity of someone making an official proclamation. "To Team Amber!"

Ash immediately raised his own. "Team Amber!"

Chloe laughed but joined in, followed by Goh and Serena, and I shook my head before lifting mine as well.

We all took sips of the thankfully not burning-hot drink. I even lowered the mug to allow Pichu a sip…and then tilted my head at my partner as I remembered the day's events.

"Actually, I'd like to make another toast."

The others turned to me, confused as I once more raised the mug and smiled down at Pichu's curious look.

"To Pichu, our own little Sherlock, as we'd probably still be wandering around looking for the first checkpoint without him."

Pichu perked up and puffed his little chest. "Pi!"

Ash laughed and lifted his mug again. "To Pichu!"

"To Pichu," Chloe agreed, with Goh following. Serena hesitated for only a moment before smiling brightly and raising hers as well.

"To Pichu!"

Even Amber joined in, and Pichu puffed his chest out so far that I briefly wondered whether he was going to fall backward.

Then Goh frowned as he lowered his mug. "Wait, what's a Sherlock?"

I paused halfway through taking a drink.

Oh, right. Sherlock Holmes didn't exist here.

Tragic, really, but hardly worth dwelling on.

"A detective," I answered easily.

Goh immediately perked up. "What kind of detective?"

"A really famous one." I chuckled before taking a sip of my hot chocolate and continuing. "Sherlock Holmes was the quintessential detective. He solved murders, thefts, disappearances, all kinds of crimes. The whole point was that he could notice tiny details everyone else missed and figure out what actually happened."

Chloe tilted her head curiously. "I've never heard of him."

"Neither have I," Serena added.

Goh nodded. "Me either."

I chuckled. "Yeah, you probably wouldn't have. Sherlock Holmes was a fictional detective from a series of stories I read a long time ago."

"Ohhhh."

Ash, on the other hand, pouted. "You made it sound like he was a real guy!"

"I said he was famous. Fictional people can be famous."

Goh ignored that distinction completely. "How good was he?"

"Ridiculously good." I shifted slightly as Pichu abandoned his empty Berry bowl and crawled back onto my lap. "He was the kind of detective who could shake someone's hand, look at their clothes for a few seconds, and start telling them where they'd been, what kind of job they had, whether they were married, and probably what they'd eaten for breakfast."

Ash's eyes widened. "No way!"

"Yes way."

"How?!"

I gave him a cheeky grin. "Why, elementary, my dear Ketchum."

"That doesn't explain anything!"

I could only laugh. I'd never thought I'd get to use that line, especially in this context!

Then I noticed how Goh was squinting thoughtfully at my clothes, which immediately earned him a pointed look. "Don't."

He blinked innocently. "I wasn't doing anything."

"You were trying to 'deduce me.'" I made a point of adding air quotes.

"I was not!"

Chloe snorted into her mug while I leaned back slightly, letting the warmth from the fire settle against my face.

For the next few minutes, conversation drifted elsewhere. Ash immediately started arguing that he could probably be a detective, which Goh disputed on the perfectly reasonable grounds that Ash had spent ten minutes that morning looking for a sock he was already wearing.

I was perfectly content to let them fight that one out until something lightly tugged at my sleeve.

Serena had shifted slightly closer, still holding her hot chocolate between both hands. "Um...Travis?"

"Yeah?"

She hesitated, eyes briefly darting toward the others before returning to me. "Could you tell us one?"

I blinked. "One what?"

"One of the Sherlock stories."

The argument beside us quieted, and I looked over to find everyone was staring at me. Even Amber looked interested from where she had been treating the others' bickering as entertainment.

I had to stifle a sigh.

It had been a long day, and I was tired, dammit. The last thing I wanted was to deal with the inevitable endless questions that would come from trying to edit a Sherlock Holmes story on the fly.

Then something shifted against my stomach, and I looked down to find Pichu staring up at me. His ears were perked up, and even he looked invested in the request.

"You too?"

"Pi." A nod.

Of course.

I looked around again. Serena was still waiting hopefully, Ash had somehow managed to remain still for longer than ten consecutive seconds, Goh was practically leaning forward, and Chloe had settled more comfortably against the log like she already knew how this was going to end.

I couldn't quite keep the smile from pulling at my mouth. "Alright, gather round then." I leaned forward and gave them all a sharp grin. They all perked up and leaned forward in anticipation.

"Tell me, have any of you ever heard of the Hound of the Baskervilles?"

---

I woke up.

Under normal circumstances, that wouldn't have been particularly noteworthy. The problem was that, even before opening my eyes, I knew it wasn't anywhere close to morning.

I cracked one eye open and confirmed what I'd already suspected. The tent was almost completely dark, with only the faintest amount of moonlight slipping through the upper mesh, and judging by how black the sky looked outside, I doubted it was much later than midnight.

For several seconds, I remained exactly where I was and tried to figure out what had woken me without actually getting up. Pichu clearly wasn't responsible. The little gremlin was curled against the side of my neck with his face buried somewhere beneath my hair, occasionally twitching an ear in his sleep. I could already tell whatever remained of my dignity in the morning was going to lose a vicious battle against the static-induced bed head he'd given me.

Beyond that, though, something felt wrong, and it took my half-asleep brain several seconds to realize what.

The tent was too quiet.

I frowned and shifted my head enough to look across the oversized interior. Three sleeping bags had been spread across the floor when we'd gone to bed. Mine was obviously occupied, but the other two were not.

Ash's sleeping bag was twisted open, his blanket mostly kicked toward the foot of it, but there was no Ash. Goh's sleeping bag was considerably neater, but just as empty, and a quick glance toward the entrance confirmed that both pairs of shoes were gone as well.

Wonderful.

Rubbing my eyes, I slowly pushed myself upright before carefully peeling Pichu away from my neck and getting to my feet. The movement earned me an irritated little noise as his face scrunched up, but that was apparently the full extent of his protest. Rather than properly waking, he rolled onto his back in my arms, tucked his paws against his chest, and immediately settled again.

I stared down at him. "Glad one of us is taking this seriously."

"Piiiii..."

His eyes never opened.

"Yeah, that's about what I expected."

Holding him against my chest with one arm, I stepped carefully around the abandoned sleeping bags and made my way toward the entrance. The tent flap gave a soft rustle as I pulled it aside and poked my head outside, revealing a campsite that was almost completely still.

Most of the fires had burned down to glowing embers, while rows of tents stretched across the dark field beneath the moonlight. Somewhere farther away, I could barely make out the silhouette of one of the counselors making their rounds.

I was beginning to wonder whether Ash and Goh had simply gone to the bathroom when a beam of light moved near the edge of the trees beside the tent.

My eyes narrowed.

The flashlight swept across the ground before disappearing behind a trunk, only to reappear several seconds later. Two figures moved with it, both making an admirable but ultimately pointless effort to stay quiet as they tried to navigate the forest with a single flashlight and optimism.

I could only watch with lidded eyes as the two of them slipped beneath the trees and disappeared into the darkness.

There were rules about this kind of thing. Quite a few rules, actually, and most had been repeated enough times over the last several days that even Ash probably knew them by heart. Goh certainly did. Whatever the two of them were doing, they therefore knew perfectly well that sneaking into the woods in the middle of the night was against just about every camp rule concerning curfew, buddy systems, and not making your counselors develop premature gray hair.

On the other hand...

I was tired. Really tired.

After a day chock-full of exploration, mind-numbing puzzles, smug elementary schoolers, and an impromptu turn as storyteller, I was rather tempted to just go back to bed.

(And while, admittedly, replacing the titular hound with a Houndoom and having the story's villain pretend to be afraid of Pokémon to avoid suspicion had been a rather clever bit of editing on my part, improvising to avoid the inevitable questions had been exhausting.)

I could just close the tent, put Pichu back down, crawl into my sleeping bag, and let one of the actual adults deal with whatever breathtakingly stupid idea had convinced those two to sneak into the forest after midnight.

That sounded like an excellent plan, possibly the best one I'd had all week.

I had already started lowering the tent flap when another beam of light swept across the field.

I stopped and slowly looked back outside.

The second flashlight was coming from farther down the campsite, its beam jerking across the grass as another pair of figures hurried after the first two. They were moving more carefully than Ash and Goh had, but one of them possessed a particular feature that made stealth considerably more difficult.

Namely, an enormous sun hat.

I stared at it.

The hat bobbed as someone who could only be Serena hurried toward the trees, one hand holding it against her head. The second figure carried the flashlight beside her, while a small canine shape trotted several steps ahead as if leading them.

Yep, that was Yamper. Which meant Chloe.

Apparently every single member of our little collection of misfits had decided tonight was the perfect opportunity to violate curfew and wander into the woods.

Without me.

I slowly closed my eyes and mourned the peaceful night's sleep I had almost managed to have.

---

Goh POV

I knew I was breaking the rules.

That wasn't really up for debate. Professor Oak had been very clear about curfew, staying inside the campsite after lights-out, and definitely not wandering into the woods without a counselor. The rules had been repeated enough times over the last few days that I could probably recite most of them from memory if someone asked.

But I had to do this. Not every night, and not even for very long. I just needed one chance to look around before camp ended.

I needed to look for Mew.

That had been the plan from the beginning. When Chloe first told me we were coming back to Professor Oak's summer camp, I'd promised myself I was going to be good about it. I wasn't going to wander off again, and I definitely wasn't going to get us separated from everyone like last time. I'd just use some of our free time to look around the parts of Professor Oak's property I vaguely remembered from years ago.

Professor Oak's property was huge, but I remembered roughly where Chloe and I had been when we'd seen Mew before. Not exactly, because that had been years ago and I'd only been six, but enough that I could narrow things down. After that, all I needed to do was pay attention.

Mew could Transform, after all. Looking for Mew itself wasn't necessarily the best way to find it. What I really needed was something that didn't fit. A Pokémon behaving differently than its species normally would. Something appearing somewhere it shouldn't. Maybe an Oddish that didn't react properly to sunlight, a Pidgey that flew strangely, or even a Pokémon that knew a Move its species normally couldn't use.

There were hundreds of possibilities. I just needed time to actually look.

That was where everything had gone wrong.

Somehow, I'd gotten dragged into spending practically all of my free time with everyone else. It wasn't that I disliked them. They were...fine.

(Better than fine, but that wasn't the point!)

Every time I thought I finally had a few minutes to myself, somebody wanted something. Ash wanted to argue about some Pokémon fact he'd gotten wrong. Chloe wanted to prove I was the one who'd gotten it wrong. Travis somehow turned half of those arguments into debates that lasted twenty minutes, and Serena had started listening to all of us like anything we said was actually important.

Then there was Caterpie. Apparently having a temporary partner meant I needed to keep track of when he ate, make sure he wasn't getting tired, clean him up whenever he crawled through something disgusting, and check that he was comfortable before I went to sleep.

(Which wasn't actually that difficult. Caterpie barely caused any trouble. And he was pretty cute in a buggy way.)

That wasn't the point either! The point was that all of it took time, and that was time I had planned to spend looking for Mew!

And now even my plan to sneak out after everyone went to sleep was ruined because of—

"So what's the rare Pokémon we're looking for again?"

I nearly tripped. "Keep your voice down!"

Ash blinked at me in the flashlight's glow before his expression shifted into a pout. "I wasn't that loud."

"You're in the middle of a forest after midnight!"

"So?"

"So people are trying to sleep!"

"We're pretty far from the tents."

"I'm talking about Pokemon, you idiot!" I had to resist shouting. Especially as Ash's pout deepened, and I immediately felt a small twist in my stomach that I shoved away.

I wasn't going to feel guilty because I'd snapped at my frie—at Ash.

Besides, he wasn't even supposed to be here.

I tightened my grip on the flashlight and stepped around a root jutting from the ground. "You should go back."

Ash's pout vanished. "No."

"Yes."

"No."

"You don't even know what we're looking for!"

"That's why I asked!"

"That doesn't mean you should be here!"

Ash scowled. "You're here."

"Because I'm looking for something!"

"So am I!"

"You don't even know what it is!"

"Because you won't tell me!"

I clenched my teeth. He had a point, and I hated when he had a point.

"Mew," I finally hissed.

Ash blinked. "Mew?"

"Yes, Mew."

His face scrunched up. "What's a Mew?"

My mouth dropped open. The sheer idea that he didn't know about one of the rarest Pokémon in the world was absurd!

"Mew is—!"

"The thing that's going to get you both in trouble!"

I jumped badly enough that the flashlight jerked toward the trees, and Ash spun around beside me.

Chloe stood several yards behind us with her arms folded, the light from another flashlight illuminating the deeply unimpressed expression on her face. Yamper stood beside her looking very proud of himself, while Serena hovered just behind Chloe with one hand holding that enormous hat of hers in place.

I stared at them for several seconds before my eyes dropped toward Yamper. "How did you even know to find us?"

"Yamper heard you arguing from all the way on the other side of camp."

Dammit, I hated how that made sense.

Yamper gave a cheerful little bark while Chloe's eyes narrowed. "Were you seriously going to sneak through the forest all night looking for Mew?"

"No."

Her expression somehow became even flatter.

I shifted my grip on the flashlight. "Not all night."

"Goh!"

"I'm just looking!"

"You snuck out of camp at night; the sheer number of rules you're breaking is—!"

"I was going to come back!"

"You're going to get all of us in trouble because you're obsessed with Mew!"

"I am not obsessed!"

Chloe just stared at me. Even Serena looked uncertain, while Ash scratched his cheek and suddenly seemed very interested in not taking sides.

I felt personally betrayed by everyone present.

It wasn't an obsession. Having a goal wasn't the same thing as being obsessed with it. I wasn't spending every second thinking about Mew or planning my entire life around finding it.

I just wanted to find the rarest Pokémon I'd ever seen, make it my first real partner someday, and had spent the last three years researching everything I could about it while waiting for the first chance to return to the place I'd seen it.

That was completely different!

Besides, I wouldn't have even come out here tonight if Travis hadn't given me the idea.

That thought made something uncomfortable settle in my stomach, and I frowned as I turned and focused on the path ahead.

It wasn't that I disliked Travis. Actually, that might have been part of the problem.

It's just…he was our age, yet somehow he was already taking college classes. He had a Starter. He'd traveled all over the world going by his stories, knew more about battling than half the adults I'd met, and had apparently been allowed to run an actual Gym when his mom wasn't available!

He was a Gym Leader. He was my age and a Gym Leader! Who did that?!

Apparently, Travis did.

And, okay, maybe I'd been a little jealous when I'd learned all of that. Only a little; anyone would have been! It wasn't fair to call that jealousy when Travis had somehow managed to fit more accomplishments into nine years than most people managed before they were adults.

Then he'd told us the story about Sherlock Holmes.

A detective who could look at tiny pieces of evidence everyone else ignored and figure out answers nobody else could see. Someone who, in the story Travis had told us, had even let his friend Watson go ahead while he secretly investigated things on his own.

He hadn't needed everyone else following him around. He'd gone looking for the answer himself, and he'd found it.

Maybe following the lead of a fictional detective wasn't the best reason to break curfew, but it had made sense when I was lying awake thinking about Mew.

"You're doing it again."

I blinked and looked at Chloe. "Doing what?"

"That thing where you stop listening because you've decided you're right."

"I am listening!"

"Then turn around."

"But we're already so close!"

Chloe threw both hands into the air. "Close to what?"

"To where we saw Mew!"

Her face scrunched up. "That was years ago!"

"I remember it!"

"It was daytime!"

I twitched at the reminder. "So?!"

"So it's dark, Goh! How could you possibly know this is the same place?!"

"Because I recognize it!"

Chloe swept her flashlight across the trees surrounding us. "You recognize this exact part of the forest?!"

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. The trees looked…vaguely familiar. That counted!

My jaw clenched. "I know I'm right."

Chloe made a strangled noise. "That isn't evidence!"

"It doesn't have to be!"

"Yes, it does!"

"You weren't complaining when we followed Mew last time!"

"I was six!"

"So was I!"

"And that makes it worse!"

I looked away with a scowl. I was just so close—! "Just a little farther."

Chloe rubbed her face. "Gooooh, we're already going to be in so much trouble."

I turned to her with a glare and ignored how hot my ears felt. "I didn't make you follow me!"

"Because letting you get eaten was the better option?!"

"I'm not going to get eaten!" I wasn't an idiot!

"You don't know that!"

"Yes, I do!"

"No, you don't!"

"Yes, I do!"

Something suddenly grabbed my arm, and I whirled around before Ash could say anything.

"What?!"

Ash immediately let go, ignored how I basically yelled in his face, and pointed past me. "Don't those mean something?"

I blinked, completely thrown out of the argument.

Turning, I followed his finger and spotted the trunk of a tree just outside the strongest part of our flashlight beams. I stared at the three deep scratches carved through the bark for several seconds before a memory from earlier that day came to the fore.

My stomach dropped.

I stepped closer and raised the flashlight. The marks weren't random. They were deep enough that chunks of bark had been torn completely free, leaving gouges in the wood underneath, and they started almost as high as my head before dragging downward in three uneven lines.

Slowly, I moved the light toward the next tree and found more scratches.

I swung the beam farther, catching another trunk with a chunk of bark completely stripped away. The tree beside it had similar gouges, along with a depression in the earth near its roots that I hadn't noticed when we'd walked past.

My mouth went very dry.

"Goh?" Serena asked quietly.

I turned around and aimed the flashlight back toward the path we'd taken. The beam shook slightly in my hand as more marks emerged from the darkness.

Now that I knew what I was looking for, they were everywhere.

Scratches. Broken branches. Scuffed earth. One set of marks farther back ran across a tree trunk at almost double my size.

Some of them were nearly as big as we were.

Chloe sucked in a breath as she seemed to realize as well.

Ash tilted his head. "So they are territory markings?"

I swallowed dryly. "Y-Yeah."

Slowly, I reached over to grab Ash. Chloe was doing much the same to the clearly nervous Serena. "We need to leave. Right now."

A low sound rolled through the forest.

Every muscle in my body locked up.

The growl came again, deeper and louder this time, vibrating through the trees strongly enough that I felt it more than heard it. Nobody moved as my flashlight slowly shifted toward the source.

Two red eyes opened in the darkness.

Someone sucked in a breath as something enormous moved between the trees.

The beam caught a pair of thick purple legs first as they stomped heavily against the forest floor. I slowly tilted the flashlight upward, revealing a broadly armored and heavily spiked torso, massive clawed hands, and shoulders that seemed impossibly wide from where I stood. Then the light reached its face.

A heavy snout pulled back from a mouth full of fangs, while a long horn jutted from its forehead between a pair of furious red eyes.

My blood went cold.

The Nidoking raised its head and roared.

---

Author's Note:

Don't ya just love cliffhangers?!

More seriously, hope y'all enjoyed the chapter and are looking forward to next time where we see whether a bunch of kiddos are about to be eaten! My bet is on a certain someone deciding to make use of another certain someone~

Hope it's not too presumptuous, but I've got a Patreon up and running! If you want to read 5 chapters ahead or just support me in general, feel free to visit my p.a.t.r.e.o.n.c.o.m / IcurasFallen

 

[IcurasFallen]

Pokémon Version Orange

Arc 2 - The Summer


Chapter 16
​

---

For several seconds after the roar, nobody moved.

The Nidoking stood partially concealed beneath the trees, enormous shoulders rising and falling with every breath as its furious red eyes remained fixed on the four children who had wandered into its territory. Moonlight barely penetrated the canopy above, leaving most of its body swallowed by darkness outside the thin flashlight beams pointed shakily in its direction.

Then it took a step forward.

In reality, the movement was slow. One massive foot lifted before coming down against the forest floor with a heavy crunch, followed several seconds later by another.

To the four nine-year-olds standing in front of it, it might as well have been an avalanche.

Serena stumbled backward first, nearly colliding with Chloe as both girls instinctively crowded closer together. Chloe herself had gone pale, one hand locking around Serena's arm while the other clutched her flashlight tightly enough for her knuckles to turn white. Yamper was trembling just as badly, but the little Electric-type still planted himself firmly in front of both girls. Its legs were spread, and ears flattened against his head as a weak crackle of electricity sparked across his body in an astonishing display of courage from something that was smaller than the Nidoking's foot.

Goh wasn't doing much better. His flashlight shook badly enough that the beam bounced from the Nidoking to the ground and back again, while every breath came faster and shallower than the last. He looked seconds away from hyperventilating outright.

Ash, meanwhile, did what Ash apparently always did when presented with something vastly outside his weight class.

Whether from courage or sheer foolhardiness, his shaking hand dropped toward Poliwag's Poké Ball.

The Nidoking stepped closer…then paused as a sharp whistle cut through the air.

A small glass bottle spun end over end through the darkness before smashing against an exposed root several feet in front of Nidoking. Glass scattered across the earth, followed almost immediately by a sharp burst of acrid scent that spread through the clearing.

Nidoking blinked as its nostrils flared, and its entire face twisted into something resembling revulsion.

"GRAAAAGH!"

The roar turned ragged as the massive Pokémon recoiled and threw one clawed hand over its snout. It shook its head violently, taking an awkward step backward as it tried to escape whatever had just assaulted its sense of smell.

Even half a clearing away, Yamper began whining. The poor dog's bravery evaporated as he sneezed hard enough to stumble sideways, pawing frantically at his nose while Chloe stared between him and the shattered bottle in confusion.

"What the...?"

"MOVE!"

Four heads snapped toward the treeline.

I crashed through the brush before any of them could process my arrival, while Pichu clung to my shoulder with his fur puffed out in every direction and an expression that was some strange mixture of serious and panic.

I didn't give anyone time to ask questions as one arm hooked around Chloe while my other caught Serena, and I immediately started dragging both of them back the way I'd come. "Goh! Ash! Come on!"

"Travis?!" Goh sputtered.

"What are you doing here?!" Ash asked in shock.

"Saving your asses! Move!"

Chloe recovered first and grabbed Serena properly as I released them, allowing me to turn back toward the other two idiots. Goh was already stumbling after us, but Ash remained frozen for another second as he stared toward the still-stumbling Nidoking.

I grabbed his shirt. "Now, Ketchum!"

That finally got him moving.

For several precious seconds, it actually looked like my improvised plan might work. The Max Repel had bought exactly what I'd hoped for: enough time for us to put some distance between ourselves and the very pissed-off Poison-type.

Then a furious roar tore through the forest behind us.

Every one of us jerked around.

Nidoking stood at the edge of the trees we'd just escaped from, one hand still rubbing furiously across its snout. Whatever discomfort remained from the Repel clearly hadn't overridden its anger, because those red eyes locked directly onto us before one massive foot slammed into the ground.

A thick wave of poisonous liquid rolled across the clearing, swallowing grass and underbrush beneath a bubbling mass that surged directly toward us.

I could only click my tongue. I'd really hoped we could do this without a fight.

I stepped forward.

"Travis?!" Chloe's voice jumped an octave as the sludge rapidly closed the distance.

"What are you doing?!" Goh yelled.

Ignoring them, my hand dropped to my belt and closed around the second Poké Ball clipped beside Pichu's. My partner tightened his grip on my shoulder as I pulled it free, and I couldn't help the small smile that spread across my face.

"Round Table Protection, Sandy!"

White light exploded across the clearing before crashing into the ground in front of us, and the moment Sandy took shape, his entire body collapsed outward.

Sand surged in every direction.

Serena yelped as a thick tendril wrapped around her waist, only for another to catch Chloe beside her. Goh and Ash received the same treatment before any of them could react, and even I felt sand curl around my ankles as Sandy dragged all five of us into one tight cluster behind him.

The rest of his body rose into broad walls of sand that folded around us from every angle as pale green energy flashed across their surface. The glow curved overhead at the exact moment the Sludge Wave struck.

Serena screamed while Ash threw both arms over his head. Goh and Chloe clutched at each other as the barrier flashed violently beneath the impact, but it held. Not a single drop made it through.

The wave split around us instead, rushing past either side of Sandy's barrier before gradually losing momentum among the surrounding trees. For several seconds, nobody said anything as poisonous sludge dripped down the outside of the glowing shield, until Ash finally lowered his arms.

"Who's that Pokémon?!"

I laughed.

Four startled faces turned toward me. Even Pichu leaned away from my neck to stare.

I couldn't help it.

Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Maybe it was the adrenaline still buzzing through my veins, or the fact that after several days of camp activities designed for inexperienced children, I was finally standing across from something that could actually be called a challenge.

Whatever the reason, the fear I'd felt while watching those four idiots stand frozen in front of Nidoking had burned away the moment Sandy appeared.

And something considerably more familiar was taking its place.

My grin widened as the Protect barrier faded.

"Well then, guess we've got ourselves a Challenge!"

Sandy's face shifted around to give me a flat look.

I pouted. "What?"

His expression didn't change.

"Oh, come on. This isn't just me wanting a fight." I pointed toward Nidoking. "I hit him in the face with a Max Repel, and he still came after us. You really think he's going to let us turn around and walk away now?"

That finally earned a reaction.

Sandy's eyes shifted back toward the Poison-type.

The Nidoking looked nearly rabid as it scraped one heavy foot through the dirt, shoulders lowering as another growl rolled from its chest.

The humor left me.

"We need everyone out of here safely, bud." I gave Sandy's body a quick pat. "Looks like that means putting him down first."

The Palossand considered Nidoking for another moment before releasing a low, ghostly hum.

Agreement.

The protective walls surrounding us collapsed into flowing streams that rushed back toward Sandy, piling higher and higher as his broad, castle-like body rebuilt itself. Towers rose from the shifting mass, stubby arms formed at either side, and the red shovel atop his head tilted slightly as his proper shape settled into place.

Nidoking watched the transformation for only a moment before attacking.

One massive foot slammed down, and the forest floor erupted with golden light.

"Earth Power!" Goh shouted in recognition.

Cracking golden energy raced through the dirt toward us, glowing brighter by the second as buried energy tore beneath the ground.

I didn't even flinch.

"Cancel it out with a Bulldoze!"

Sandy slapped the ground.

A broad ripple of earth exploded outward from beneath him, not with the wild violence of Nidoking's attack, but with enough controlled force to make the entire clearing in front of us buck.

The two Ground-type attacks collided halfway between them.

For half a heartbeat, glowing fractures spread chaotically through the earth.

Then Nidoking's Earth Power broke apart beneath Sandy's advancing wave, golden light flickering out as the Bulldoze rolled straight through it and continued forward without slowing.

Nidoking's eyes had only a moment to widen before the massive Poison-type was ripped from the ground and thrown backward. It flew through the air before crashing shoulder-first through a cluster of bushes, then slammed into a tree hard enough to shower the clearing with splintered wood.

Behind me, nobody said anything.

My smile grew as Nidoking pulled itself back to its feet.

Its eyes locked onto Sandy before roaring loud enough to shake the very air. It charged.

Each step shook dirt loose beneath its feet as it barreled across the clearing, one fist drawing backward while harsh brown light gathered around the clenched claws.

"Sandy."

The Palossand hummed.

"Take it."

"What?!" Someone shouted behind me.

Nidoking's fist slammed into Sandy, and the impact blasted sand outward in every direction.

Serena cried out, Chloe threw an arm over her face, and even Ash recoiled as a good portion of Sandy's torso seemed to explode beneath the force of the punch.

Then Nidoking tried to pull its arm back and remained locked in place.

Its eyes widened as it looked down to find sand wrapped from its fist all the way to its elbow, flowing around every scale and locking into place as the rest of Palossand's body slowly reformed around it.

Nidoking pulled harder, and Sandy barely moved an inch.

I chuckled. "Giga Drain, Sandy."

Dark green light flashed inside the sand.

Nidoking screamed.

Thin tendrils of Grass-type energy crawled up its trapped arm before spreading across its torso, glowing brighter as energy poured backward into Sandy. The damage from Nidoking's punch disappeared almost as quickly as it had been inflicted, loose sand lifting from the ground and flowing back into the holes torn through his body.

Nidoking snarled and swung its free fist in a haymaker against Sandy's side. More sand scattered, only for another pulse of green light to race through Nidoking as the damage immediately began repairing itself. It struck again, then again, and Sandy tanked every blow without flinching.

I shook my head. "Don't bother."

Nidoking's furious eyes snapped toward me.

"You wanted this fight." I folded my arms. "Sandy, drain him dry."

The Palossand's eyes brightened.

Nidoking's roar turned into a strangled bellow as multiple streams of energy poured from its body at once. It slammed its free arm downward, clawed at Sandy's sand, kicked hard enough to tear chunks from his lower body, and even tried wrenching itself free with enough force to crater the ground beneath them. Yet nothing it did worked.

Every bit of damage Sandy took gave him more room to shift. Every piece torn away simply rejoined somewhere else. And every pulse of Giga Drain restored whatever little damage Nidoking actually managed to inflict.

The struggle lasted less than thirty seconds.

By the time Sandy finally released its arm, Nidoking barely had the strength to remain standing.

My own pulse was finally beginning to settle. I let out a slow breath and forced my shoulders to relax.

"Alright, Sandy. That's enough."

The Palossand gave a quiet hum.

"Let's make sure he stays down until everyone gets clear." I lifted one hand and pointed. "Hypnosis."

Sandy's eyes glowed.

The change was subtle at first, a faint pulse of psychic light spreading from beneath the shadowed rim of his sandy towers. Nidoking stiffened and tried to look away, but after everything Giga Drain had taken out of it, there wasn't much resistance left.

Its eyelids drooped, and the mighty Nidoking released one last exhausted rumble before toppling sideways into the grass with an impact that shook the clearing.

Silence finally settled.

I let out the breath I'd been holding and scratched Pichu beneath the chin as he finally loosened his death grip on my shoulder. "Well." I turned toward the four children staring at me. "Anybody else want to break curfew tonight?"

Silence followed for a moment, the others seemingly incapable of speaking.

I opened my mouth to continue—

"I would rather like to know the answer to that myself."

Every single one of us froze as a familiar voice drifted out of the darkness behind us.

Very slowly, we turned around.

Professor Oak stood near the edge of the clearing in a pair of slippers and old-fashioned button-up pajamas, his normally neat hair sticking out at several decidedly unprofessional angles. Beside him stood Amber, arms folded tightly across her chest as she stared at the collection of children she was presumably supposed to have safely asleep back at camp.

Nobody spoke.

Professor Oak's eyes traveled from Ash to Goh, then Chloe and Serena, before finally settling on me.

I swallowed.

Suddenly, the Nidoking seemed considerably less terrifying.

---

Professor Oak's laboratory was incredible.

For the first time since arriving at camp, we were actually inside the famous laboratory rather than wandering around the enormous property surrounding it. Computers and diagnostic equipment occupied entire sections of the room, shelves were packed with books and research journals, and several glass doors offered tempting glimpses into adjoining areas filled with even more equipment I desperately wanted to investigate.

Under practically any other circumstances, getting dragged in here after midnight would have been a dream come true.

Unfortunately, properly appreciating any of it was somewhat difficult with an angrily concerned Regional Pokémon Professor lecturing us.

"What were you thinking?!"

Professor Oak was still dressed exactly as he'd been when he found us. Button-up pajamas, slippers, disheveled hair, and an expression that made the five of us feel considerably smaller than we already were.

"You were told repeatedly that the forest was off-limits after lights-out," he continued, pacing in front of us. "Those rules are not there because we enjoy keeping you confined to camp. Visibility is poor at night, many wild Pokémon become more territorial, and most of you do not know the property well enough to recognize when you've wandered somewhere dangerous!"

Goh shrank slightly beside me.

Professor Oak's eyes immediately found him. "You and Ash were the first to leave camp. Would either of you care to explain what possessed you to wander into the forest after midnight?"

Goh hesitated before muttering, "I just wanted to look around."

The Professor raised an unimpressed brow. "At midnight?"

"I wasn't planning to go that far!"

"You went far enough to enter a Nidoking's territory."

That shut him up.

Ash rubbed awkwardly at the back of his head. "I only went because I saw Goh leaving?"

Professor Oak slowly turned toward him. "Which means you should have alerted a counselor, not gone with him into the forest!"

Ash puffed himself up. "I wanted to know what he was doing!"

"That is not a valid reason, Ashton Red Ketchum, and I know you are smart enough to know that."

Ash winced at the use of his full name and went silent.

"And then," Oak continued, looking toward an apologetic-looking Chloe and Serena, "rather than alerting an adult yourselves, you two followed them."

Chloe immediately frowned toward Goh. "Because I knew they were doing something stupid."

"Hey!"

"You walked into a Nidoking's territory!"

"I didn't know it was there!"

"And that," Professor Oak cut in before the argument could gather momentum, "is precisely the reason why we don't want you kids wandering around at night."

Both of them went quiet.

Serena shifted nervously beside Chloe, her answer coming out more like a question. "I only went because Chloe was going alone, so I thought it would be safer if we went together?"

Professor Oak's expression softened slightly. "Wanting to make sure your friend was safe was kind of you, Serena; however, just like Ash, following her into the woods without getting help was not."

Serena looked down with a whispered, "Sorry."

Chloe sighed. "We thought we could catch them and bring them back before anything happened."

Professor Oak raised a hand to rub his temples. "And instead, all four of you ended up within striking distance of a territorial Nidoking."

Nobody had an answer for that.

Then Professor Oak looked at me. "And you, Travis."

I straightened. "Professor."

"You saw them leave."

"Yes."

"You knew they were breaking curfew."

"Yes, sir."

"You even had enough presence of mind to retrieve your mother's Palossand and bring a Max Repel before following them."

I could already tell where this was going. "That's correct."

Professor Oak folded his arms. "Yet somehow, during all of that preparation, it never occurred to you to alert one of the counselors."

I had to fight down a frown. "I didn't want to lose track of them."

"That is not a good reason, and we both know it."

Professor Oak gestured toward the direction of the campsite. "You should have awoken everyone if you had to. I would much rather deal with an entire camp full of tired children than discover five of them missing come morning."

That was… unfortunately fair.

I rubbed the back of my neck. "Okay, that's a good point."

"It is a very good point." The Professor shook his head with a sigh. "You are considerably more experienced than most children your age, Travis, which means I expect you to recognize when experience is not a substitute for proper authority."

I didn't bother hiding my wince. Back home, I was used to being one of the people everyone expected to handle problems. Unfortunately, I'd let that habit override the rather important fact that, at camp, I was supposed to go get an adult.

"And while I understand why you battled Nidoking once it pursued you and attacked, you should never have been forced to make that decision alone in the first place."

"I did try getting everyone away before fighting," I at least attempted to argue.

He pursed his lips. "I am aware."

Amber, leaning against one of the nearby counters, took that moment to speak up. "It was pretty impressive."

Professor Oak slowly looked at her.

She raised her hands in mock surrender. "I'm not saying it wasn't stupid, but you have to admit that he did pretty well with what he had."

He simply grunted at the point before turning back to us. Some of the anger had finally faded from his face, leaving the worry beneath it much easier to see.

"Do all of you at least understand why I am upset?"

"Yes, Professor," we chorused instantly like the not-munchkins we were.

Professor Oak studied us for several seconds. Then he shrugged.

"Well, okay then. "

We stared at him. He stared back with a smile.

Ash was the first to break. "That's it?!"

Oak chuckled. "Yes, Ash. That's it."

"But you were really mad!"

"Believe me, I still am."

Ash blinked.

Professor Oak's smile widened slightly. "This camp exists to prepare you for the situations you'll eventually encounter as Trainers. Sometimes lessons come from instruction. Sometimes they come from practice. And sometimes they come from making a mistake frightening enough that nobody involved is likely to repeat it."

That was fair. Harsh, but fair.

"Encountering dangerous wild Pokemon is simply part of the Journey," he continued. "Despite every precaution we take, we usually have at least one or two serious encounters somewhere on the property each year. That is precisely why we spend so much time teaching you how to recognize danger and when to seek help."

I glanced along our little lineup.

Goh's shoulders finally loosened. Serena released the breath she had no doubt been holding in, while Chloe looked openly relieved.

Even I could admit that I felt a sliver of tension fade. I had honestly expected some kind of—

"Of course," Professor Oak added pleasantly, "learning your lesson doesn't mean you're avoiding punishment."

The relief vanished.

Our faces fell. "Punishment?"

Professor Oak chuckled. "Oh yes, you did break several camp rules after all." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I suppose I could remove all five of you from the tournament at the end of camp."

"NO!"

Ash's horrified shout echoed through the Lab.

I can admit I also went a little rigid at his words. That tournament had been just about the only thing I had been looking forward to since arriving at camp!

His lips twitched before he continued. "Perhaps something less severe, then. One of the Tauros stables is overdue for a proper cleaning."

Both girls immediately looked appalled.

Goh frowned. "How many Tauros?"

"Oh, just a few dozen."

His expression joined theirs.

Professor Oak chuckled before turning toward Amber. "You'll be supervising them for the rest of camp. Any ideas?"

Amber blinked, looked over the five of us thoughtfully.

Her smile slowly widened.

"Actually," she said, sweetness almost dripping from her voice, "I think I've got an idea."

---

"Pancakes or waffles?"

The boy didn't immediately answer. Presumably because he was too busy snickering as he stared at the white hairnet stretched across my head.

I narrowed my eyes. "Choose."

"P-Pancakes."

I slapped two onto his plate, and he barely managed a "Thank you" before hurrying away with a laugh.

"I hope you drop your syrup," I muttered after him.

"Travis," Amber warned from farther down the serving line.

"I didn't say I hoped he got hurt."

"That doesn't make it better."

I grumbled something considerably less charitable under my breath and reached for the next plate.

This was our punishment.

Not getting kicked out of camp. Not losing our chance to compete in the tournament. Not even spending several deeply unpleasant hours discovering exactly how much waste fifty Tauros could produce.

No, Amber had apparently decided on something far more insidious.

For the remainder of camp, the five of us would help prepare, serve, and clean up after every single meal. Normally, the counselors and camp staff handled most of that work unless it had been turned into a lesson about cooking, campsite etiquette, or properly feeding Pokémon. They also spent roughly an hour after each meal cleaning everything while the campers were released to enjoy those precious stretches of free time between scheduled activities.

We no longer possessed such luxuries.

If everyone finished breakfast and had forty minutes before the morning lesson, we spent those forty minutes scrubbing pans. If lunch ended early enough for everyone else to wander around camp, we were wiping tables, putting away supplies, and dealing with whatever culinary crime twenty children had somehow committed with access to condiments.

The work itself wasn't even particularly difficult. I'd done more complicated kitchen prep back at the Grand, and anyone who spent enough time around a hotel understood that cleaning up after other people came with the territory.

The uniform, however, had been completely unnecessary.

Amber disagreed. The fact that said disagreement came with a series of snickers had me seriously reconsidering whether I should finally let Pichu indulge his gremlin instincts and shock someone.

And now, all five of us stood in the breakfast line with hairnets and aprons. Chloe's was covered in cheerful little Sunflora, while Serena had received one patterned with Dunsparce and bows, which she had actually seemed to think was cute until realizing that enjoying the punishment probably violated some unspoken social rule. Goh's had, rather ironically, cartoon Caterpies crawling across it, while Ash's proudly declared KISS THE COOK! beneath an enormous smiling Magikarp.

Mine was covered in Luvdisc. And hearts. So many hearts.

"Next!"

Another camper approached, visibly fighting a smile.

I glared hard enough that I could swear I felt a vein throbbing on my forehead.

He immediately looked down at his plate.

Smart kid.

By the time the last camper wandered away with breakfast, I had served enough food to feed a Snorlax. Unfortunately, breakfast ending only meant we'd reached the second half of our punishment.

Amber appeared from behind the preparation tables carrying a plastic tub filled with cleaning supplies, looking entirely too cheerful for someone awake this early. "Alright, troublemakers! Breakfast service complete!"

Ash immediately sagged against the table. "Finally!"

Amber dropped the tub directly in front of him. "Now we clean!"

The whine Ash released wouldn't have sounded out of place coming from a Growlithe puppy.

Goh stared at the cleaning supplies. "We already helped make everything. And serve everything. Now we have to clean everything too?!"

"Yep!" She even popped the 'p'.

Goh's face twisted into something unpleasant.

Within several minutes, breakfast had been transformed into an organized cleanup operation. Chloe and Serena wiped down the tables and benches while Yamper followed behind them, occasionally sniffing anything that smelled vaguely edible. Ash and Goh had been assigned the stack of trays and serving utensils, while I found myself at the washing station dealing with the larger cookware.

Pichu sat comfortably on an overturned crate beside me. He wasn't being punished, and the smug little bastard was milking it.

I scrubbed at a pan while he happily worked through the last piece of breakfast I'd saved for him, tiny feet kicking against the side of the crate. "Enjoying yourself?"

"Pi Chua Chu." I hear that smug undertone, you little shit.

"I'm going to double this evening's training."

Pichu immediately started choking on his breakfast.

Behind me, something clattered.

"Goh!"

"I didn't do anything!"

"You dropped it!"

"Ash bumped me!"

"You were standing in the way!"

"I was putting it away!"

"You were putting it in the wrong place!"

Chloe pointedly glanced toward me from the tables and gave a helpless little shrug, so apparently this had become my problem.

I planted both hands against the edge of the washing station. "ASH! GOH!"

Both boys jumped, along with several nearby campers who had apparently decided free breakfast entertainment was included with the meal.

I pointed toward the remaining mountain of dishes. "The faster we finish, the faster we get whatever's left of our free time."

Goh frowned. "But he keeps getting in the way!"

Ash immediately pointed at him. "You're the one who keeps stopping to complain!"

"And you're both currently doing nothing," I pointed out. "Work first. Argue later!"

Ash and Goh exchanged annoyed looks before returning to the dishes with considerably more effort than before.

Amber shot me a thumbs-up that I pointedly ignored.

Breakfast cleanup still took the better part of an hour. By the time everything was packed away and cleaned until it practically sparkled, the rest of the Pikachu Group had already moved on to make the most of their break.

Amber inspected our work with her hands planted on her hips while the five of us watched her expectantly. She checked one table, then another, ran a finger along the edge of the serving station in a completely unnecessary manner, and examined the completely clean fingertip while Ash visibly struggled not to complain about how long she was taking.

Finally, she turned to us with a smile. "Looks good! You've got about fifteen minutes before the morning activity."

Ash groaned while Goh immediately dropped onto the nearest bench. Serena sat beside him, and Chloe removed her hairnet with enough force to suggest she'd developed deeply personal feelings about the thing.

I pulled mine off considerably more carefully before ripping the apron away with significantly less restraint. Hearts were not my look.

Amber passed behind me. "Make sure you keep track of that, Travis. You'll need it again for lunch~."

She would be lucky if I didn't set it on fire.

"Hold still, Poliwag!"

I glanced over just in time to see Ash tugging a considerably larger hairnet from around Poliwag's upper body.

The Water-type had decided sometime during breakfast that being the only member of our little group without one was unacceptable. Amber, because she was Amber, had immediately found an extra and helped him into it.

Poliwag had spent the rest of the morning proudly assisting us.

And by assisting, I meant knocking over a stack of cups, splashing dishwater across half the washing station, somehow getting syrup on Goh's back, and nearly sending an entire tray of clean plates crashing to the ground.

Thankfully, we'd established early on that anything Poliwag messed up became Ash's responsibility to fix.

The strained smile Ash had given his partner while cleaning syrup from the walls of one of the nearby tents had been the sole highlight of my morning.

"There!" Ash finally freed him, causing Poliwag to bounce happily in place. "You did great!"

We stared at him.

Ash's smile didn't budge.

"Poli!"

"Don't encourage him," Goh muttered from where he'd collapsed across the bench.

Poliwag puffed himself up indignantly before hopping toward him, which caused Goh to sit upright remarkably quickly.

"Keep him away from me! I already had to change my shirt once!"

Ash laughed and scooped Poliwag up before he could exact whatever happy vengeance he'd been planning. Chloe shook her head from beside Serena, though the smile tugging at her mouth ruined whatever disapproval she was trying to project.

For all the complaining, nobody seemed particularly miserable anymore.

Tired, definitely. Irritated about losing most of our break, absolutely. But somewhere between the ridiculous aprons, Goh and Ash trying to blame each other for dropped dishes, and Poliwag's determined efforts to unintentionally make our punishment worse, the whole thing had stopped feeling quite so awful.

Maybe shared suffering really did build character.

Ash dropped onto the bench beside me with Poliwag settling comfortably in his lap. For several seconds, he said nothing, which, coming from Ash, was enough of a rarity that I immediately glanced toward him.

"Hey, Travis?" There it was.

I sighed. "Yes Ash?"

He hesitated, fingers idly rubbing across Poliwag's head. "How were you able to move?"

That caught me off guard. "Pardon?"

"Last night." His expression tightened slightly. "When Nidoking showed up. We were all just standing there, but you came running out like it was nothing. How'd you do that?"

I blinked at the question. It was far more…serious than I had expected from Ash.

"Practice mostly." I leaned back against the bench, shifting slightly when Pichu climbed into my lap. "I've been working around a Gym for years. You spend enough time watching people battle in person that eventually seeing a giant Pokémon angry enough to flatten a building stops being a big deal."

Ash frowned. "But Nidoking was really angry!"

"So is Momo, Mom's Machamp, whenever somebody touches her food."

Chloe snorted from across from us, while Goh looked vaguely interested despite the fact that he was still slumped against the table.

Ash wasn't laughing.

"I mean it," I continued, realizing he was actually bothered by this. "I've been around dangerous Pokémon for years. I've helped referee Gym battles, trained with Mom's team, and watched Trainers throw attacks around that could probably level the campsite if they missed badly enough. You get used to keeping your head."

"But that's not what I'm asking!"

The sudden frustration in his voice made everyone look toward him.

Ash gripped Poliwag a little tighter, though the Water-type didn't seem bothered. "I want to know how you weren't scared!"

I stared at him for a second before letting out a quiet breath.

"Ash, I was terrified."

He blinked. "What?"

A chuckle escaped me. "Ash, I was scared out of my mind."

That earned his full attention.

I rubbed one hand through Pichu's fur as I thought back to the night before. "I was scared when I saw the four of you standing there with Nidoking stalking toward you. I was scared when the Max Repel didn't send it running like I'd hoped. I was definitely scared when it chased us down and threw a Sludge Wave at five kids."

I paused before adding, "And if we're being completely honest, Professor Oak finding us afterward might've been even scarier."

That finally got a few laughs.

Even Ash smiled, but the confusion didn't leave his face. "Then how'd you still do all that?"

I leaned over enough to meet his eyes. "Because I had something more important to worry about: all of you."

That quieted the others.

I glanced between them before shrugging. "Being afraid of Nidoking wasn't going to make it disappear. Standing there thinking about everything that could go wrong wasn't going to get any of you away from it either. So I focused on what mattered."

"Getting us away," Serena said softly.

"Exactly." I nodded toward her. "Get everyone moving. Put some distance between us and the threat. If that didn't work, I knew I had Sandy to protect everyone. After that, I'd just deal with whatever came next."

Ash looked almost lost at the explanation. "So you just…ignored being scared?"

"Not really." I scratched my cheek. "You can't exactly turn fear off because it's inconvenient. Believe me, I've tried."

Goh raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't sound healthy."

"Believe me, my psychologist tells me that all the time."

Quite a few eyebrows shot up in surprise.

Ignoring their reactions, I looked back toward Ash. "Don't get me wrong, fear's useful. It tells you when something is dangerous. It keeps you from doing something stupid just because you think it'll make you look brave."

Chloe slowly turned toward Goh.

He noticed immediately. "Why are you looking at me?"

"No reason."

"Then why did you look at me!?"

I ignored them. "The problem is when you let being afraid decide everything for you. Sometimes you've got to move anyway."

Ash was quiet for a moment. "Even if you're really scared?"

"Especially then."

His eyes dropped toward Poliwag, and I had a pretty good idea what he was remembering.

"You reached for Poliwag last night," I pointed out. "You were scared enough that I could see your hand shaking from the trees, but you still tried to do something."

"It wasn't a particularly good something," Ash grumbled.

"No, it wasn't," I agreed, causing Ash to look at me in frustration. Frustration that fell as I continued, "But you still moved. You moved in the face of your fear. At the end of the day, that's the part that matters."

Ash's face scrunched up as he absorbed my words. I swear I could almost see the gears trying to work behind his eyes.

"So…being scared is okay?"

"Of course it is." I leaned over to shake him a little. "Everyone gets scared. You just can't let it control you. Figure out what's more important than the fear, and focus on that instead."

Ash seemed to think about it before glancing toward the others. "For you, that was us?"

"At the moment, yes," I answered easily.

The others smiled, although I found Chloe's softening expression suspicious, while Goh became extremely interested in anything that wasn't the rest of us.

I frowned. "Don't make this weird."

"We're not," Chloe said while smiling and clearly making it weird.

"You're all making faces."

"I'm not making a face," Goh protested.

"You're deliberately not making a face. That's worse."

Ash laughed and bumped his shoulder against mine. "Thanks, Travis."

I huffed before bumping him back. "Just don't make me demonstrate the lesson again tonight."

"No promises!"

"That is literally the opposite of what I just asked!"

Ash just laughed harder.

---

Author's Note:

Sooo, we had the fight. We had an angry Professor Oak (arguably worse), and we had frilly aprons…oh, and some wholesomeness, but the aprons were the big thing there.

More seriously, hope y'all enjoyed the chapter, and I'll see ya next time…

Or, as you probably know at this point, I've got a Patreon up and running! If you want to read 5 chapters ahead or just support me in general, feel free to visit my p.a.t.r.e.o.n.c.o.m / IcurasFallen

 

[IcurasFallen]

Pokémon Version Orange

Arc 2 - The Summer


Chapter 17
​

---

"Keep moving, Pichu! Hold the Charge!"

Pichu darted sideways as another spray of String Shot splattered across the grass where he'd been standing, sparks continuing to dance through his fur as he circled his opponent.

Across the field, Weedle twisted around remarkably quickly for something without legs.

"Weedle, Poison Sting!"

"Wee!"

The little Bug-type surged forward with its horn glowing purple. Its inability to land anything from a distance had finally frustrated both Pokémon and Trainer enough to push for a close-range attack.

And that's what I had been hoping for.

"Left!"

Pichu skipped aside at the last second, letting Weedle shoot past him before immediately spinning around.

My lips twitched. "Thunder Shock!"

"Pichu!"

Electricity erupted from his cheeks.

The stored Charge did its job, amplifying the attack into a bright burst that slammed into Weedle before it could properly turn around. The Bug-type squealed as electricity crawled over its body before it finally toppled onto its side.

The counselor acting as referee leaned forward to stare at the fallen Bug-type for a moment before raising one arm.

"Weedle is unable to battle! The winners of the round are Travis Cashion and Pichu!"

Applause broke out around the small battlefield, joined almost immediately by a considerably louder cheer from somewhere off to my right.

I grinned as Pichu scampered back over, crouching long enough for him to leap up onto my shoulder. "Nice work, buddy."

"Pi!"

Across from us, Weedle's Trainer hurried forward and knelt beside his Pokémon with a worried expression. Thankfully, Weedle was already twitching and trying to push itself upright, which seemed to take some of the sting out of the loss.

The counselor crouched beside them for a moment before smiling. "Don't get discouraged. Remember, this isn't the end of your tournament. You'll move into the second-chance bracket now, so you've still got another opportunity to fight your way back in."

That managed to get a reluctant nod from the boy before he quickly moved off to see to his injured 'mon.

Which was, admittedly, one of the better parts of Professor Oak's tournament setup.

The final day of camp had been dedicated almost entirely to battling, giving everyone a chance to put the last week of lessons into practice while showing their parents what they'd learned. And considering there were nearly a hundred campers scattered across several battlefields, Professor Oak had apparently decided that knocking half of us out after a single match would defeat most of the educational value.

Everybody was guaranteed at least two battles. Lose once, and you dropped into the second-chance bracket. Do well enough there, and you could still work your way back into the later stages of the tournament.

As someone who had helped organize dozens of tournaments in the past, I knew from experience that it made the entire thing considerably more complicated. Considering this was supposed to be a learning experience, however, I could understand the purpose behind it.

Honestly, watching how everyone handled the tournament was proving almost as interesting as participating in it.

Most of the temporary partners Professor Oak's Lab had assigned were exactly the sort of Pokémon you'd expect newer Trainers to start with around Kanto. Rattata, Pidgey, Spearow, Caterpie, Weedle, and a handful of other common species made up most of the field, with only a few notable exceptions. Ash had somehow lucked into Poliwag; there were a couple of Nidoran scattered between the groups, and one particularly fortunate and unfortunate kid had managed to draw a Mankey.

That last one really just went to show how misleading a good matchup could be if the Trainer and Pokémon themselves were a bad fit.

On paper, a Fighting-type should have been a fantastic draw for a tournament where Normal-types made up a good portion of the competition. Even with the abundance of Flying-types running around to keep things from becoming completely unfair, a Mankey had enough raw ability that I would've expected the pair to make a decent run.

The problem was that Pokémon weren't numbers on a spreadsheet.

Mankey was temperamental even by the standards of its species, and its Trainer had spent most of their first match getting increasingly frustrated whenever it didn't immediately follow an order. By the time they reached the second-chance bracket, whatever shaky cooperation they'd managed over the week had fallen apart completely. Mankey had eventually stopped listening altogether, and the resulting loss had sent its Trainer into a meltdown almost as impressive as his Pokémon's.

It was an interesting reminder of just how many variables were actually at play. A strong Pokémon certainly helped, but so did temperament, experience, type matchups, and whether Trainer and Pokémon had learned how to communicate with each other at all. Some campers with less immediately impressive partners were already doing far better than kids who had gotten luckier draws simply because the two of them had figured out how to work together.

And with nearly a hundred different Trainer and Pokémon combinations scattered across the grounds, there were plenty of examples to watch. Cheers rose from the surrounding battlefields every few minutes as another match reached its end.

One voice, however, was considerably easier to pick out than the others.

"THAT'S MY BABY!"

Pichu chirped beside my ear in what sounded suspiciously like amusement.

I tried and failed to smother my own chuckle. "Don't encourage her."

Mom was standing near the edge of the field, waving both arms over her head as if I'd just won the Orange League rather than the opening rounds of a children's camp tournament. Blissey stood beside her, looking almost as excited, clapping her hands together with a broad smile.

And then there was Momo, simply standing behind them with a banner stretched between her upper pair of hands that was large enough to be read from the other side of the grounds. GO TRAVIS! was emblazoned across its front while a third hand gave me a massive thumbs-up.

"...I was hoping she'd forgotten the banner."

"Pichu."

"Yeah, that was probably optimistic."

Mom caught me looking and somehow began waving even harder.

I sighed, though I couldn't quite stop myself from smiling as I stepped off the battlefield and started toward them.

I made it perhaps three steps past the boundary line.

"Travis!"

"Oh, shi—!"

Mom hit me like a redheaded missile.

One moment I was walking, the next I was wrapped in both arms and lifted clean off the ground as she squeezed hard enough to make several vertebrae reconsider their current arrangement. Pichu gave an alarmed squeak from my shoulder before getting dragged into the embrace along with me, his face disappearing somewhere between my neck and Mom's cleavage.

"Another win!" Mom cheered. "That's my boy!"

"Mooom," I wheezed. "You've done this after every match!"

"And I'm gonna keep doing it!"

I went limp in her arms. I both hated and begrudgingly accepted the situation.

She finally loosened her grip enough for my feet to touch the ground before immediately turning her attention toward Pichu, scratching beneath his chin as he melted against my shoulder.

Traitor.

Blissey stepped forward with a cheerful trill and offered him a Soft-Boiled egg, which got a considerably more enthusiastic reaction as Pichu practically launched himself into her arms before digging in.

Technically, outside healing might have sounded unfair in a normal tournament. Professor Oak had made it clear this wasn't that kind of competition, though. A separate healing area had been set up near the front of the grounds specifically so campers could have their partners looked over between matches, with basic restorative treatments available to everyone.

Blissey saving us the walk wasn't exactly breaking the spirit of the rules.

Momo stepped forward while Pichu ate and offered one enormous fist toward me. My smaller fist barely met a single knuckle in a fist bump.

"Thanks for being the sane one."

"Champ."

Mom beamed. "She spent twenty minutes making sure the banner was straight."

I looked up at the enormous sheet still hanging between Momo's upper hands. "You made her bring that?"

Mom placed one hand against her chest. "Excuse you. Momo volunteered."

The Machamp nodded solemnly.

Apparently there were traitors everywhere today.

A laugh from nearby finally dragged my attention away from my family's ongoing routine.

"Well, at least now we know where you get it from."

I turned to find Chloe standing a few yards away with Yamper at her feet, one hand covering a smile. Goh stood beside her with Caterpie perched comfortably against his shoulder, looking far less amused.

"What exactly am I supposed to be getting from that?"

Chloe glanced toward Mom. Then back to me.

I narrowed my eyes. "Choose your next words carefully."

"I wasn't going to say anything."

"Sure you weren't."

Goh snorted.

I pointed at him. "You're in no position to laugh after what happened in your match!"

His expression immediately soured. "I knew what that Rattata was going to do."

"And you also spent so long deciding what Caterpie should do about it that the Rattata still hit first."

"I was thinking!"

"Out loud, in the middle of the battle. Your opponent even made it a point to ask if you knew you were talking loud enough for her to hear."

His eye twitched.

Chloe laughed before stepping forward and giving Pichu a careful scratch behind one ear while he continued eating. "You two did really well, though. That Weedle barely touched him."

"Thanks." I glanced toward her. "You done already?"

She shrugged with absolutely none of the anguish most would have expected from someone eliminated from a tournament. "Yep."

That tracked. Chloe had enjoyed learning to battle well enough, but nothing during the last week had suggested she was suddenly going to dedicate her life to competitive battling. If anything, she'd seemed more interested in figuring out what Yamper liked doing than whether they actually won.

Goh, meanwhile, crossed his arms. "My second match was closer."

Chloe looked at him.

He frowned. "Shut up."

"I didn't say anything."

"You didn't have to!"

A quiet laugh came from behind them.

Standing a short distance away were the four adults I'd been introduced to earlier that morning. Professor Cerise stood closest to Chloe, looking considerably more amused than his daughter probably wanted, while her mother Talia smiled beside him. Goh's parents, Walker and Camille, were watching the entire exchange with equal interest. From what little I'd gathered, Chloe had been Goh's only real friend before camp, which probably explained why they seemed considerably more entertained by our bickering than their son was.

"Congratulations, Travis," Professor Cerise said when he noticed my attention had turned to them. "That was an impressive match. Pichu maintained remarkable control of his Charge while staying mobile."

"Thanks, Professor Cerise."

Talia smiled. "And congratulations to Pichu too, of course."

The little Electric-type lifted his head from the remains of his egg and chirped proudly.

Mom looked immensely delighted that someone else was praising us.

Dangerous territory.

Thankfully, Mom managed to restrain herself to only looking insufferably proud rather than immediately launching into another speech about our progress.

The group had already spent most of the morning together anyway, with our various matches giving everyone plenty of opportunities to talk while waiting around the fields. Mom had taken to Chloe and Goh's parents with predictable ease, and within an hour she'd gone from exchanging introductions to chatting with them like they'd known each other for years.

That wasn't exactly unusual for her.

Mom could probably make friends with someone while actively arguing with them, but seeing her fall into the distinctly parental sort of conversations the others kept drifting toward was a little different. She had plenty of friends through the Grand, the Gym, and the League, but most of those relationships had started through work.

Actual parent friends were somewhat rarer. Not that she seemed to be having any trouble making up for lost time.

Professor Cerise had also taken a rather noticeable interest in me, although not because of anything I'd done during camp. Apparently, he'd read one of Professor Ivy's research papers.

That had been enough for him to recognize my name before Mom had even properly introduced me that morning, which had led to several questions and a conversation I had thankfully been pulled away from by another match.

For now, I was simply glad everyone seemed to be getting along. Chloe and Goh had already been eliminated, which meant they had no reason to wander far from the group, while Mom appeared perfectly content talking with their parents between my matches.

Ash and Serena were somewhere on the opposite side of the tournament grounds, which I continued to consider an act of divine mercy. Last I'd heard, Serena had already been knocked out as well, though she'd apparently gone straight back to cheering Ash on afterward. Her assigned Spearow hadn't been a bad Pokémon by any means, but the two had never quite figured each other out. Spearow needed a firmer hand than Serena was comfortable giving, and Serena hadn't realized that until far too late into the camp to make real progress.

Mom meeting my "twin" was something I was both dreading and almost looking forward to, if for no other reason than getting to watch someone else have an existential crisis.

"Travis Cashion!"

I glanced toward the voice and spotted one of the counselors waving from beside the tournament board.

"Looks like that's me."

Pichu immediately choked down the last pieces of his egg and scrambled back onto my shoulder and, because he was a little shit, used my shirt to wipe his face.

Mom brightened. "Next match?"

"Apparently."

Momo lifted the banner higher.

I pointed at her as I started backing away. "Don't encourage her!"

"Champ~"

Mom laughed.

I shook my head and headed toward the counselor to find out who we were going to wipe the floor with next.

---

Ash 'Future Pokemon Master' Ketchum POV!

"Nidoran, use Peck!"

The little Poison-type charged straight toward us, head lowered as it kicked up dirt with every step.

"Dodge it, Poliwag!"

"Poli!"

Poliwag bounced aside just before Nidoran barreled past him, landing in a little skid before spinning back around.

"Now! Water Gun!"

A burst of water blasted from Poliwag's mouth and into Nidoran's face. The attack knocked it off its feet and sent it tumbling through the grass, where it rolled once before coming to a stop.

The counselor acting as referee leaned forward, waited a moment, then lifted one arm. "Nidoran is unable to battle! Ash Ketchum and Poliwag advance to the next round!"

"We did it!"

"Poli!"

Poliwag launched himself at me before I could do the same to him, and I barely managed to catch him without both of us falling over. That didn't stop us from celebrating, though. I spun around with Poliwag while he kicked his little feet excitedly, both of us laughing.

"Top sixteen!" I shouted.

"Poliwag!"

"Top sixteen!"

"Ash!"

I stumbled halfway through another spin and looked toward Mom, who stood beyond the edge of the battlefield with both hands cupped around her mouth.

"The next match can't start while you're still standing in the middle of the field!"

Oh.

I glanced around and found the counselor staring at me alongside the next two campers waiting to battle.

"Sorry!"

I hurried off the field with Poliwag still tucked under one arm, earning a laugh from Serena the second I reached her.

"You two were really good!" she said, smiling brightly before offering me a towel.

"Thanks!" I said, taking the towel. Hopefully she wasn't getting sunburnt, though; her face was looking a little red. "Did you see that last Water Gun?!"

"I saw!"

Poliwag wiggled happily in my arms at the praise. Which he deserved! Poliwag did awesome!

A hand came down against my shoulder hard enough to make me stumble a bit. "Not bad, kid!"

I looked up at Serena's mom, who was grinning down at me.

Mrs. Grace was a lot different from Serena. Not in a bad way, of course! She was just louder, stronger, and apparently liked slapping people on the shoulder whenever she was impressed.

"That's what I like to see! You two fought all out, even with that little ankle-biter trying to get up in your faces."

"Thanks!"

Serena made a small noise, and her mom glanced over. "What's the matter, sweetie?"

"N-Nothing!"

I tilted my head. Was it just me, or was her sunburn looking a little worse?

Before I could point that out, Mom finally came back with a Potion and immediately held out both arms toward Poliwag. "Come here, sweetheart. Let's get you fixed up before Ash decides he needs another victory dance."

I frowned (no, it wasn't a pout, no matter what Gary says!). "Mooooom."

Mom only giggled as Poliwag happily settled into her arms. He barely even reacted to the Potion's spray once she started rubbing the top of his head between applications.

"So you're really in the top sixteen now?" Serena asked as we started toward the center of the tournament grounds.

"Yep!" I grabbed her hand before she could fall behind. "Come on! Maybe we can still catch one of the others!"

"A-Ash!"

She nearly stumbled before catching herself and hurrying along beside me, while Mom called for us to stop running off without them.

Camp had been awesome! I'd expected it to be fun because Professor Oak was running things and there were going to be tons of Pokémon, but it had been even better than I'd thought! I'd gotten Poliwag, done a ton of battling, camped outside, explored the woods, and learned all kinds of cool things.

Even getting yelled at by Professor Oak hadn't been all that bad…could have done without all the extra chores, though.

And then there were all the people I'd met! Goh was annoying sometimes, but he knew a ton about Pokémon. Chloe was nice, even when she gave us that look whenever we did something cool (okay, and maybe a little dumb, but it was cool in the moment!). Serena had stayed with me even after losing her own matches, which was really nice of her.

Then there was Travis, who was weird. Really weird.

He was our age but talked like the Professor sometimes, read boring books for fun, and somehow knew how to do almost everything!

…but he was also kinda cool. And I still wanted to battle him!

Somewhere ahead of us, electricity crackled loudly enough to rise above the noise of the surrounding battlefields.

My head snapped over at the same time as Serena's.

""Travis!""

We took off toward the noise, Mom calling after us as we pushed between campers and parents. Another sharp crack of electricity came from somewhere ahead, followed by a flash of orange fire above the crowd, and that was all the proof I needed.

We squeezed our way to the forefront of one of the central-most battlefields and found Travis and Pichu in the middle of a fight. And it looked awesome!

"Growlithe, use Ember!"

The orange puppy Pokémon spat a burst of fire across the field, forcing Pichu to leap sideways before it could catch him. He landed running, little sparks dancing through his fur as Travis stood casually behind him.

"Whoa..."

Serena leaned closer to be heard over the crowd. "They're really fast!"

"Yeah!"

I couldn't stop grinning.

I'd seen a bunch of battles already today, but this one felt different. Growlithe belonged to one of the lucky kids who'd been allowed to bring a Pokémon from home like Travis, and even I could tell the two had battled together before. Growlithe didn't hesitate when his Trainer shouted something, and Pichu was moving so fast that I kept almost losing track of him whenever he changed directions.

It was awesome!

"Cut him off with a Bite!"

Growlithe suddenly stopped spitting out fire in order to charge straight toward where Pichu was going.

My eyes widened. "Look out!"

Growlithe lunged with his jaws open.

"Nuzzle!"

"Huh?"

Pichu didn't dodge.

Growlithe crashed into him, and for one horrible second I thought he'd gotten Pichu good.

Then the sparks around Pichu exploded.

"GROW!"

Growlithe yelped as electricity surged across his body. His legs jerked beneath him, his Bite closing on nothing as Pichu twisted free and bounced backward.

I stared. "He did that on purpose?!"

Serena looked just as surprised as I was. "I think so!"

Pichu shook himself off, looking way too pleased with himself while Growlithe stumbled around and tried to get his feet back.

Travis grinned. "Thunder Shock!"

Electricity gathered around Pichu's cheeks, but the other Trainer gritted his teeth before suddenly shouting, "ROAR, GROWLITHE!"

Everyone around the field jerked at the sudden shout, and I couldn't help jumping when Growlithe threw back his head and—

"GROOOOWL!"

The Roar hit like a wall. Pichu's ears flattened as his whole body locked up, paws skidding backward through the dirt while the electricity gathering around his cheeks flickered wildly and started to fade. For a second, he looked like he was fighting against something I couldn't see.

"Hold on, Pichu!" Travis shouted.

Pichu gritted his teeth and dug his paws into the ground.

I blinked. Wasn't Roar supposed to...?

"Now! Ember!"

I didn't get the chance to finish the thought. Growlithe fired immediately, and with Pichu still recovering and so close, there wasn't enough time to dodge before the blast of fire hit him square in the chest.

"Pichu!"

He went tumbling across the grass, and my stomach dropped. For a second he didn't move, and I felt Serena's hand tighten around mine before Pichu slowly pushed himself back onto his feet.

"Yes!" "Go, Pichu!"

We cheered as Pichu shook his whole body, little curls of smoke rising from his fur, and tried to take off again before Growlithe could follow up.

"Don't let him recover! Bite!"

Growlithe lunged forward, only for its entire body to suddenly seize. Its legs locked beneath it as electricity snapped across its fur, and the Fire-type stumbled with a pained bark.

I blinked before remembering the Nuzzle from earlier. Hadn't Travis said Nuzzle could almost always Paralyze something?

Travis didn't waste the opening. "Calm down, Pichu. Keep your distance."

Pichu's ears twitched before he quickly backed away, putting as much of the field between himself and Growlithe as he could. He was still breathing hard from the Ember, but instead of rushing to attack again, he seemed to force himself to slow down.

Growlithe's Trainer noticed too.

"Don't give him time to set up another Charge! Ember!"

Growlithe shook off the last spasm and fired. Pichu darted aside, the flames tearing through the space he'd occupied a second earlier, only for another burst to chase him across the field.

"Keep blasting!"

Pichu kept moving, slipping away every time Growlithe managed to line up another Ember. A few times it got close enough that I thought for sure he was going to get hit, but then Growlithe's legs would suddenly twitch or lock up again, giving Pichu another few seconds to breathe and put some distance between them.

I frowned. Was it just me, or were Pichu's eyes shining a bit brighter than usual?

Before I could voice the thought, however, Growlithe's Trainer shouted again.

"Stop letting it get away! Ember again, and spread it out this time!"

Growlithe planted its paws and swept its head from side to side as it attacked. Instead of a single blast, Ember scattered across the field in a wide spray of flames that covered almost everything in front of it.

I leaned forward. There wasn't anywhere to go.

Yet when I looked at Travis, I couldn't help but remember that night with the Nidoking. He'd told us afterward that he'd been scared too, but it hadn't looked that way when he started fighting, especially since he'd been smiling.

The same smile he was wearing now.

"Dig deep, Pichu! Thunder Shock!"

Electricity erupted from Pichu's cheeks so brightly that I flinched and threw one arm in front of my face. The crackling was louder than anything Pichu had thrown out earlier, strong enough that I could almost feel it in my chest, and a really weird thought suddenly crossed my mind.

Had Pichu been holding back this whole time?

The Thunder Shock slammed into the scattered Ember. Fire and electricity crashed together in a burst of light, and for a second I couldn't see anything except orange and white before the lightning punched straight through. Growlithe was blasted backward, hitting the ground hard enough to roll several times before finally coming to a stop.

The whole field seemed to go quiet as Serena and I leaned forward.

The referee raised an arm.

"Growlithe is unable to battle! Travis Cashion and Pichu advance!"

I threw both fists into the air. "Yes! I knew they would win!"

Okay, maybe I hadn't known exactly how he was going to do it, especially after Pichu got hit by that Ember, but I knew Travis would figure something out!

Serena started clapping beside me. "That was amazing!"

"Way to go, Travis!"

Somewhere behind us, Mom finally caught up. "Ash, you can't just run off every time you hear...a..."

"Sorry, Mom!"

I glanced back, only to realize Mom wasn't looking at me anymore.

She was staring across the battlefield instead, eyes wide as she stared at Travis. Serena's Mom stopped beside her a moment later, followed her stare, and seemed to pause too.

Mom made a tiny sound.

Mrs. Grace turned toward her. "Delia...?"

I frowned. What was that about?

Before I could ask, an even louder cheer exploded from the other side of the field.

"THAT'S THE WAY! SHOW 'EM HOW WE ROLL, BABYCAKES!"

I jumped and looked around.

A really pretty redheaded lady stood near the edge of the battlefield, waving both arms over her head while a big pink-and-white Pokémon that looked a lot like a Chansey did the same. Behind them stood one of the biggest Machamp I'd ever seen, holding an enormous banner between two hands while another gave Travis a wave as well.

My eyes widened. Hadn't Travis told us his mom had a Machamp?

And if that was Momo...

"That's Travis's mom!"

Mom made another strange noise behind me, but I was already moving.

"Come on!" I grabbed Serena's hand and started pulling her through the crowd toward the others.

"A-Ash!"

"Travis!" I shouted as we hurried over. "That was awesome!"

Travis turned toward us while Pichu sat comfortably in the big Chansey-looking Pokémon's arms, already halfway through eating some kind of egg. The grin Travis gave us was still a little wild at the edges, but before he could respond, his mom reached over and ruffled his hair.

"Nice work, babycakes. Good thing you gave Sandy back to me before the tournament."

Travis grimaced. "Yeah, I got lucky there. If Roar had actually pulled him out..." He glanced back toward the battlefield. "Depending on how strict the referee wanted to be about the one-Pokémon rule, that could've caused a whole mess. Might've even gotten me disqualified."

"Oh, I would've argued."

"I know you would've."

His mom smiled brightly before looking toward Pichu. "Still, I see you finally got that move working."

I perked up at the mention of a Move.

Travis reached over and scratched between Pichu's ears while the little Pokémon continued stuffing his face. "Only locked it down a few nights ago. He's still a little slow getting settled into it, but it's coming along."

What move?

Before I could ask, however, Travis turned back to us. "How'd your match go?"

"We won too!" I puffed my chest out. "We're in the top sixteen!"

His eyebrows went up. "Seriously?"

"Yep! So we might actually get to battle each other in the finals!"

"Assuming neither of us loses first."

I frowned. Why'd he have to be such a downer sometimes? "We're not gonna lose!"

Travis stared at me for a second before snorting. "Right. Of course you won't. At least, not until you get to us."

I grinned as he seemed to finally be getting excited before finally noticing Goh and Chloe standing nearby with their Pokémon. "Oh! How'd you guys do?"

Chloe shrugged. "I'm out."

"Me too," Goh muttered.

My shoulders dropped. "Aw, really?"

"My second match was closer," Goh added quickly.

Chloe looked at him.

"It was!"

I was about to ask what happened when Mom and Mrs. Grace finally caught up with us. Mom still had Poliwag in her arms, though the Potion had apparently done its job because he was happily bouncing against her chest and looking around at everyone.

Mom's eyes moved over the group before settling on me. "Ash, aren't you going to introduce us?"

"Oh! Right." I pointed around. "That's Travis, Chloe, Goh, and Serena. Guys, this is my Mom and Serena's Mom!"

Mrs. Grace barked out a laugh while Serena covered part of her face. Even a couple of the other adults I only just noticed chuckled.

Mom shook her head, smiling strangely again. "That's very helpful, sweetie."

That was when I noticed Travis's mom staring at me.

Not in a bad way or anything. She just kept looking between me and Travis, and after a second I realized some of the other parents were doing it too. One of them would look at me, then Travis, then Mom, then Travis's mom.

Oh, not this again!

I almost groaned. How many times was this going to happen?! I knew I didn't have any brothers! Mom would have told me! Besides, Travis might've looked like me, and he was smart and kinda cool, but he also read really difficult books for fun and acted like an old man sometimes.

Brothers were supposed to have more in common than that, right?

Before I could tell everyone they were wrong, Travis's mom stepped forward with a bright smile. "Luana Cashion. Travis's mother."

"Delia Ketchum." Mom accepted her hand, although that weird look still hadn't gone away.

Mrs. Luana quickly pointed around the rest of the group. "Professor Cerise and Talia are Chloe's parents, and Walker and Camille belong to Goh over there."

The introductions should've ended there, but Mom kept staring at Travis's Mom, and weirdly enough, Mrs. Luana was doing the same now.

Then Mom tilted her head.

"This is going to sound really strange, but..." Mom hesitated before giving an awkward little smile. "Did anyone ever ask if you were a Psychic-type because they could see you in their future?"

Travis's Mom jerked back.

I blinked.

What was that about?

For a second, Travis's Mom just stared at mine. Then her whole face lit up, and she stepped forward to grab both of Mom's hands.

"Is that before asking if I knew Thunder Wave because I'd left you paralyzed?"

Mom's eyes went huge.

Mrs. Grace made a choking sound beside me.

"Well, it would certainly be before I said that I needed a map because I got lost in your eyes!" Mom returned brightly, her smile growing.

Mrs. Luana snorted, and then both of them started laughing.

Not normal laughing either. Mom had to grab Mrs. Luana's arm to stay upright while Mrs. Luana looked like she was trying and failing to breathe. Professor Cerise and the other parents were exchanging looks like they knew what the joke was, but I had absolutely no idea what was so funny.

I looked at the others, but they seemed as confused as me. Serena was poking her snickering mom while Chloe was frowning at both women. Goh even mouthed a 'what's going on?'.

I could only shrug. Adults could be really weird.

Heck, even Travis seemed confused!

He was staring between our moms with his eyebrows pulled together in that way he got whenever he was thinking really hard.

I'd tried making that face once after seeing him do it. It mostly made my forehead hurt.

Before I could ask what he was thinking about, a voice boomed across the tournament grounds.

"ALL COMPETITORS ADVANCING TO THE ROUND OF SIXTEEN, PLEASE REPORT TO THE CENTRAL STAGING AREA!"

My eyes widened.

"That's us!"

Travis barely had time to look away from our moms before I grabbed his arm.

"Wha—Ash, wait a second?!"

"Come on!" I started pulling him toward the central fields before looking back at the others. "You guys too! We gotta find out who we're battling!"

Pichu squeaked before jumping to Travis's shoulder as I dragged him along. Poliwag jumped out of Mom's arms to chase after us, and Serena hurried to catch up while Goh and Chloe followed at a considerably more boring speed.

Whatever that was all about could wait! We had a tournament to win!

---

Author's Note:

I'm not even going to pretend that some of you haven't figured out the direction I'm going with this. If you think you know the answer to that vague little statement, feel free to comment, lol. I'm always happy to see speculation or ideas or just how people are enjoying the story so far!

Hope it's not too presumptuous, but I've got a Patreon up and running! If you want to read 5 chapters ahead or just support me in general, feel free to visit my p.a.t.r.e.o.n.c.o.m / IcurasFallen

 

[IcurasFallen]

Pokémon Version Orange

Arc 2 - The Summer


Chapter 18
​

---

"LADIES, GENTLEMEN, AND POKÉMON OF ALL TYPES! THE MOMENT YOU'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR HAS ARRIVED!"

One of Professor Oak's assistants had clearly gotten very invested in his temporary role as tournament announcer.

The man stood beside the central tournament board with a microphone in one hand and enough enthusiasm to make it sound like we were about to compete for the Indigo League Championship rather than bragging rights at a children's summer camp.

"The preliminary rounds have concluded! From nearly one hundred competitors, only sixteen remain! The Round of Sixteen begins now!"

Cheers erupted across the lawn.

Big Wayne would love this guy.

(Actually, that was probably a dangerous idea. The two of them would either get along like a house on fire or somehow cause one.)

"Competitors, please check the tournament board for your placements! Matches will begin shortly!"

People immediately started moving toward the large board.

I followed with considerably less enthusiasm, though not because I wasn't interested in the tournament. It had proven to be an excellent test of Pichu's training so far.

Instead, my brain couldn't let go of what I'd witnessed barely five minutes ago, namely Mom's first meeting with Delia Ketchum.

I glanced back.

They were walking a short distance behind us with the other parents, still talking like they'd known each other for years rather than approximately ten minutes, which wasn't necessarily weird.

Mom had spent years traveling throughout the various regions before eventually returning to run the Kumquat Grand. I'd met plenty of people she'd known back then, usually when they appeared at the Grand and immediately started telling me embarrassing stories about whatever she'd been doing twenty-something years ago. So the idea that she'd met Delia before wasn't out of the question.

Maybe they'd crossed paths during their journeys, forgotten about each other after two decades, and needed a minute and a few reminders before something clicked.

It was a perfectly reasonable explanation…except for the pickup lines.

Why the hell had they started throwing pickup lines at each other? Bad pickup lines, at that!

Mom had recognized Delia's first line almost immediately; Delia had recognized hers, and then they'd both started laughing like they'd suddenly remembered the funniest joke in the world.

There was obviously some context I was missing, and I couldn't figure out what.

Had they traveled with someone who constantly used them? Was it some old inside joke? Had Mom gone through an aggressively terrible flirting phase in her tweens that she'd somehow neglected to mention?

That last possibility was horrifying enough that I immediately tried to stop thinking about it.

"Travis!"

I snapped back to reality as Ash started shaking me, grinning hard enough that I briefly wondered whether I'd somehow missed him winning the tournament already.

"Look!" He spun me toward the tournament board, and I only had to stare at it for a moment before it clicked.

"Well, that's a thing."

Ash practically danced in excitement. "We could fight in the finals!"

Despite myself, I smiled. "Assuming we both make it that far."

"We will!"

Of course we would. Apparently, the possibility of losing had yet to enter Ash Ketchum's worldview.

I turned back toward the board and finally started paying attention to my own path through the tournament.

My first opponent was someone from the Squirtle Group that I knew basically nothing about. After that, I'd be facing one of the two Trainers in the next pairing, which included a kid from the Charmander Group whose name I vaguely recognized from earlier rounds for having an interesting strategy with his Oddish.

Then came the semifinals.

I huffed a laugh. "Why am I not surprised?"

A familiar name sat on the opposite branch.

Gary Oak.

Almost as if fate itself had decided to accentuate the point, the moment I lowered my gaze from the board, I found myself locking eyes with the obvious suspect.

The little bastard had apparently reached the same conclusion I had, because the moment our eyes met, his mouth curled into one of the smuggest grins I'd seen from him all week.

Slowly, a smile spread across my own face.

Well, this could be interesting.

---

By the time I stepped onto the battlefield again, the Round of Sixteen had already come and gone, and mine hadn't exactly been memorable. The kid from the Squirtle Group had sent out a Spearow that would've probably been a serious problem against quite a few of the Pokémon still competing. It was fast, aggressive, and apparently more than happy to throw itself beak-first at anything its Trainer pointed toward.

Unfortunately, that had included Pichu.

One Nuzzle later, Spearow's greatest advantage had gone from impressive speed to violently twitching in place every few seconds. A Thunder Shock shortly afterward had finished the job before its Trainer could figure out a new plan, which brought us here.

"Welcome to another Quarterfinal match!" the counselor called from the edge of the field. "This round we have Travis Cashion and Pichu against Oliver of Pallet Town and Oddish!"

"So let the battle! Begin!"

Across from me, a boy with almost comically appropriate dark green hair dramatically threw one arm forward. "Make them wish for death, Oddish! Spore Cloud!"

"Odd!"

Purple dust immediately puffed from the leaves atop Oddish's head, followed by a second cloud of yellow powder. The two mixed together as Oddish shook itself from side to side, quickly forming a hazy cloud of spores around its small body.

I raised an eyebrow. "Keep to the outside and Charge, bud."

Pichu chirped before taking off, electricity beginning to flicker across his fur as he circled the edges of the field. I kept my attention on Oddish, because as ridiculous as Oliver's dramatics had been, the actual strategy was pretty clever.

I'd noticed Oliver during one of the earlier rounds specifically because his approach stood out from the straightforward battling most of the campers were doing. Poison Powder and Stun Spore weren't particularly complicated Moves on their own, but using both to surround Oddish created a surprisingly irritating defensive position. Most of the Pokémon in this tournament were Normal, Flying, or Bug-types, and plenty relied almost entirely on getting close enough to hit something.

Charging directly into that cloud meant risking poison, paralysis, or both. Staying away wasn't necessarily much better when Oddish could still reach them with Absorb or spit Acid at anything trying to wait it out. A Pidgey or Spearow could probably disperse the powder with enough wind, but even that meant spending time dealing with the cloud instead of dodging.

Honestly, it wasn't hard to understand how Oliver had made the quarterfinals. He'd found something that worked and built his entire strategy around it.

Unfortunately for him, Pichu was probably one of the worst Pokémon left in the tournament for that strategy to matter. The Growlithe from earlier was one of the only matchups I could think of that would've been worse.

I watched the cloud thicken for another moment before speaking aloud. "Hey Oliver!"

The boy blinked, clearly surprised at me addressing him outright. "What?"

"You can surrender if you want."

Silence fell across our little section of the field. Oliver's expression slowly twisted into something I could only describe as delighted before he suddenly threw his head back and laughed.

"HAHAHAHAHA!"

I stared dryly at him while Pichu actually stopped mid-step long enough to do the same.

"So!" Oliver thrust one finger dramatically toward me. "You finally understand the hopelessness of your situation! You dare not enter our FIELD OF DEATH AND DESPAIR!"

Oddish bounced proudly inside the poisonous yellow-purple haze. "Odd!"

Oliver's grin widened as he folded his arms. "You know that one wrong step shall doom your precious Pichu! There is nowhere to run and no way to approach! Your only choice is surrender!"

I waited mostly because I wanted to make sure he was finished. When several seconds passed without another proclamation, I slowly nodded. "Right, that's what's happening here."

His expression became even more triumphant.

I pointed toward the cloud surrounding Oddish. "Out of curiosity, though…are you aware that powder and spore moves tend to be pretty flammable?"

Oliver stared at me.

I stared back.

Pichu smiled.

Slowly, Oliver's eyes shifted toward Oddish before his face went pale. "Oh shi—"

"Thunder Shock."

"PI-CHU!"

Lightning cracked across the battlefield, and the moment it reached the suspended powder, the entire cloud disappeared into a fireball.

The little Grass-type flew backward and landed several feet away, smoke curling gently from its scorched body. The battlefield went quiet as I looked toward the referee, who in turn looked toward Oddish just in time for the little Pokémon to twitch once before going still.

One arm rose. "Oddish is unable to battle! Travis Cashion and Pichu advance to the semifinals!"

I shook my head and started walking off the field to a few scattered cheers while Pichu trotted along beside me, looking unbearably pleased with himself. "Well, that was easy."

"Pichu." No reason to be so smug, pipsqueak.

For once, Blissey probably wouldn't even need to feed him afterward, although I doubted that would stop the little freeloader from trying. Sure enough, by the time I made it back toward the others, Pichu was already scanning the crowd for his favorite pink enabler.

I was considerably more distracted by Mom, or, more accurately, Mom and Delia.

They had somehow gotten worse.

The two women walked toward us with their elbows linked, laughing quietly about something, while Serena's mom, Grace, followed nearby, looking like someone who had been given access to extremely entertaining gossip and was loving every second of it. Mom noticed me first and immediately lifted her free arm.

"There he is! Congrats on another win, babycakes!"

Delia smiled right along with her. "Congratulations, Travis!"

"…thanks."

My eyes narrowed as I looked between them. There was something about those smiles I didn't trust. I'd spent nine years living with the human hurricane that was my mother, and if there was one thing I'd learned, it was how to recognize when she was planning something that would annoy me.

"So," I began carefully, "are either of you going to explain what exactly is going on, or am I supposed to keep pretending the two of you suddenly becoming best friends after exchanging terrible pickup lines is normal?"

Mom and Delia exchanged a glance, and for the first time since they'd started this whole bizarre reunion, some of their amusement faded. There was something else underneath it now, almost hesitant.

"Travis!"

Before I could try and pry more, however, hands grabbed both my arms, and I looked down to find Chloe holding one side while Goh had claimed the other.

"Come on!" Goh said, already pulling.

"Ash is still battling!" Chloe tugged my other arm. "Your match ended so fast we can probably catch the end!"

I looked between them before glancing back toward Mom. She was still smiling, Delia was now covering her mouth, and Grace was just laughing outright.

I sighed.

There had been a time earlier this week when being physically dragged from one disaster to another had bothered me. At this point, I'd learned to conserve my energy. Unless I actually had somewhere important to be, resistance only delayed the inevitable.

Mom's laughter followed us.

The remaining battlefields were close enough together that reaching Ash's only took a few dozen steps. The crowd around it was thicker than the one we'd just left, but Goh apparently considered basic social etiquette optional when Pokémon battling was involved and started squeezing through whatever gaps he could find. Chloe followed, still dragging me along, and eventually we broke through near the front.

The first thing I noticed was Serena. Mainly because of how worried she looked.

The second thing I noticed was why.

"C'mon, Poliwag, it's right there! Use Water Gun to your left!"

Poliwag fired, but the stream of water missed by several feet. A blur of brown and white darted in a zig-zag before slamming shoulder-first into the Water-Type's side.

"Zig!"

"Poliwag!"

The Water-type went tumbling while Ash stood on the opposite end of the field with both fists clenched, looking increasingly desperate. Across from him was Violet, the Eevee group member that I remembered actually managing to keep Gary in check.

And judging by the way she barely needed to finish giving instructions before her Zigzagoon reacted, this wasn't another temporary camp partnership.

"Keep it up, Ziggy!"

"Zigzagooooon!"

A Growl rolled across the battlefield. Poliwag flinched and turned toward the noise, which only made things worse. His eyes were squeezed nearly shut, and I frowned as I watched him struggle to orient himself.

The cause of his apparent blindness was probably from a Sand Attack, but that wasn't the only problem. Ziggy kept Growling as it circled him, forcing Poliwag to split his attention between Ash's shouted directions and the much closer noise moving around him. Every time Ash tried to guide him toward Ziggy, another Growl seemed to pull Poliwag's attention somewhere else and leave him only more befuddled.

"Poliwag, listen to me!" Ash shouted. "He's coming from your right!"

"Headbutt, Ziggy!"

Poliwag couldn't see well enough to track Ziggy himself, forcing Ash to direct him manually. Every time Ash started getting any sort of rhythm going, however, the Zigzagoon used Growl and muddied Poliwag's hearing with enough noise that either Poliwag hesitated, or Ash had to shout louder to compensate. This caused Poliwag to lose track of where it last heard the Zigzagoon and left it easy pickings for an attack.

It was a simple strategy, but even simple strategies could prove highly effective.

"Get up, Poliwag!"

Poliwag pushed himself upright again, wobbling badly. Ash pointed across the field. "Good job, buddy! Now try a Double Slap when it gets close!"

Violet beamed. "Dodge it and Tackle, Ziggy!"

Both Pokémon moved. Poliwag whipped his tail through the empty air, trying to catch Ziggy as it came within reach, but the Normal-type never approached in a straight line. It darted left, cut sharply right, then changed direction again with the kind of erratic movement that made the name Zigzagoon feel painfully appropriate.

"Move back, Poliwag!"

Too late.

Ziggy slammed into him, sending Poliwag bouncing once before rolling onto his back. He didn't get up.

"Poliwag!"

The referee stepped forward and watched for several seconds before finally lifting her arm. "Poliwag is unable to battle! Violet and Ziggy advance to the semifinals!"

The crowd erupted, but Ash didn't seem to hear them. He was already running onto the field before dropping to his knees beside his partner and carefully lifting the Water-type into his arms. Poliwag stirred after a moment and gave a weak little croak, causing Ash to bite his lip as he pulled him closer.

Beside me, Serena looked close to tears while Chloe sighed quietly.

Goh just crossed his arms. "Well, once Sand Attack ruined Poliwag's accuracy, there wasn't really much Ash could've done unless he found a way to compensate for it."

Chloe smacked him on the arm.

"Ow!" Goh glared at her. "What? I'm right!"

"Which isn't helping, Goh."

I tuned them out because my attention had shifted to the opposite side of the field.

Violet had crouched and thrown both arms out. The Zigzagoon practically launched itself into her chest, nearly knocking her backward as she laughed and scratched furiously behind its ears.

A smile slowly spread across my face.

That wasn't a Pokémon she'd met a week ago.

There was a difference. It was hard to explain unless you'd spent enough time watching experienced Trainers work, but it was there in the immediate responses, the lack of hesitation, and the way Violet trusted Ziggy to move without micromanaging every step. Even when she wasn't giving orders, Ziggy never needed to look back for reassurance.

Maybe this tournament had a proper Challenge in it after all.

Ash eventually left the field carrying Poliwag, and Delia was waiting the moment he crossed the boundary. She scooped both of them into a hug before Ash had a chance to protest.

"You were wonderful!"

Ash's face disappeared against her shoulder. "But we lost."

"You made it all the way to the quarterfinals," Delia reminded him, rubbing his back. "Both of you did wonderfully."

Poliwag gave a tired little chirp, but Ash didn't look convinced. "But I wanted to win the whole thing."

I sighed and spoke up before I could stop myself. "Ash, you realize there were almost a hundred kids in this tournament, right?"

Ash looked down at me, and his eyes were a little glassy. "Y-Yeah? What about it?"

"You made the final eight, Ash." I nodded toward Poliwag. "With a Pokémon you've known for what, a week? Meanwhile, there were kids here who brought Pokémon they'd already been training with before camp even started."

I reached up to pat his back. "You did better than nearly ninety other kids. That's nothing to be embarrassed about."

Serena stepped closer. "He's right, Ash! A-And you would've done even better if Violet hadn't done that cheap trick at the beginning!"

Several of us looked at her in surprise at the claim.

Goh was the first to ask. "What do you mean?"

Whatever disappointment Ash had been feeling vanished surprisingly quickly as he shifted out of his mother's arms and lifted Poliwag higher in his own. "You should've seen it! Right when the match started, Ziggy just disappeared!"

I blinked. "Disappeared?"

"He was standing all the way across the field, and then Violet said something and WHOOSH!" Ash swung one arm dramatically through the air. "He crossed the whole field in a blink! I barely even saw him move!"

I cocked my head. Pichu did the same from my shoulder.

That…sounded familiar.

A hand landed on my head before I could ask more. I looked up just as Mom started ruffling my hair, wearing a smile far too innocent for me to trust. "Aren't you sweet?"

My eyes narrowed. "In what way?"

"Giving Ash such good advice." Her smile became positively unbearable as she added, "Very big-brotherly of you."

My eye twitched, but Ash responded before I could. "We're not brothers!"

Mom hummed.

I stared at her while Ash continued to huff, and Delia opened her mouth, apparently about to add something of her own, only for an amplified voice to roll across the grounds.

"ATTENTION, EVERYONE! THE QUARTERFINALS HAVE CONCLUDED AND FOUR TRAINERS REMAIN!"

"SEMIFINALISTS, REPORT TO YOUR ASSIGNED BATTLEFIELDS! THE SEMIFINAL ROUND WILL BEGIN SHORTLY!"

Ash's eyes widened before he immediately thrust one fist toward me. "Go kick Gary's ass!"

Delia immediately smacked the back of his head. "Ow!"

"Ash Ketchum, you know better than to use that kind of language!"

"But Moooom!"

I couldn't help laughing. I raised my fist to bump against his own, and I could feel my smile widen enough to show teeth.

"Don't worry, Ash. I've been looking forward to this."

---

"AND NOW, FOR OUR FIRST SEMIFINAL MATCH!"

I stepped onto the battlefield to another wave of cheers as our increasingly enthusiastic announcer swept one arm toward me. "On the western side, having battled his way through the tournament alongside his partner Pichu, we have TRAVIS CASHION!"

The cheering got noticeably louder from one particular section of the crowd.

"GO, TRAVIS!"

I didn't even need to look. Mom had lungs.

"And facing him on the eastern side, grandson of our very own Professor Oak, battling alongside Rattata, GARY OAK!"

Gary strode onto the field like he'd personally arranged the applause that followed, Rattata moving alongside him with considerably more confidence than the confused little Pokémon I'd seen a week ago.

Judging by the smug expression already spreading across Gary's face, however, the last week had done absolutely nothing to reduce his opinion of himself.

"Hope you're ready to lose this time, Cashion."

I gave him a lazy smile. "Honestly? I was kind of hoping we could just skip this so I could battle Violet already."

Gary's expression twitched, and somewhere behind me, I heard someone choke on a laugh.

"You think you're funny?"

"On occasion? Yes, yes I do."

His fists clenched. "Well, you'd better start paying attention, because Rattata and I aren't the same as last time!"

I glanced toward the little Normal-type, who stamped all four paws and glared back at Pichu. "That part I actually believe."

Gary blinked, apparently not expecting me to agree with him, but the referee stepped between us before he could retort. "This will be a one-on-one match between Travis Cashion and Gary Oak! Trainers, are you ready?"

"Ready!" Gary snapped.

I nodded, and the referee raised one arm before bringing it down sharply. "Battle! Begin!"

"Charge!"

"Focus Energy!"

Both Pokémon moved immediately. Static crackled through Pichu's fur as he took off along the edge of the battlefield, building a Charge while keeping mobile. Across from him, Rattata lowered its body close to the grass, breathing slowing as its eyes narrowed and focused entirely on Pichu.

The two began circling each other, and I couldn't help humming in amusement. "Well, look at that. You finally used something besides Tackle."

Gary's face immediately scrunched up. "We know other Moves!"

"Our last battle suggested otherwise."

"Oh, shut up! Rattata, Quick Attack!"

Rattata vanished.

My smile disappeared as Pichu's ears snapped upright, his Psychic Potential apparently giving him just enough warning to brace before Rattata slammed into him in a purple blur. There wasn't enough time to actually dodge, but Pichu managed to twist at the last second, turning what would've been a direct hit into something closer to a glancing blow.

Gary's grin returned immediately. "Not so easy now, is it?!"

I ignored him. Pichu was already done recovering.

"Nuzzle!"

Electricity snapped across his cheeks as he lunged toward the Rattata that had just passed him.

Gary reacted immediately. "Quick Attack away!"

Rattata kicked off, and Pichu's cheek passed through empty air as the Normal-type shot backward so quickly that it almost looked like someone had yanked it away on a string.

I raised an eyebrow. "Huh."

Gary folded his arms. "What's the matter? Didn't expect that?"

"No, I'm impressed." I watched Rattata settle several yards away. "You've actually been training."

His expression suggested I'd insulted him even though it was a genuine compliment.

I rolled my eyes. Children.

Turning my attention back toward Pichu, I called out, "Calm down and dodge for now, bud."

His ears flicked before he inhaled slowly, some of the tension leaving his body as he settled lower against the grass, and for just a moment I caught a faint blue sheen light up across his eyes.

Gary obviously wasn't one to let such a juicy target lie. "Quick Attack!"

Rattata burst forward again, but this time Pichu was prepared. He slipped sideways an instant before Rattata reached him, the Normal-type flashing past close enough to stir the fur along his back.

Gary looked honestly shocked. "Again!"

Rattata dug in, turned, and came back. Pichu ducked beneath it.

"Don't let him get away! Tackle!"

The sudden change in speed nearly worked. Rattata abandoned the explosive burst of Quick Attack and charged normally instead, almost throwing off the timing Pichu had been settling into.

Yet Pichu still twisted aside, and Rattata's shoulder Tackle barely missed.

"Darn it!" Gary clenched a fist. "Try a Bite!"

Rattata pivoted much faster than it had managed during our first battle, mouth opening wide as it snapped toward Pichu's back. Pichu's ears twitched, and he dropped flat, letting Rattata's jaws close on empty air before rolling beneath the attack, springing back onto his paws, and putting several feet between them.

I chuckled. "Getting frustrated?"

"I am not frustrated!"

"Could've fooled me."

"Quick Attack!"

The exchange continued, and as much as I enjoyed annoying him, I couldn't deny the obvious.

Gary had improved. Considerably at that.

During our first battle, he'd attacked in straight lines and expected raw enthusiasm to make up for the fact that neither he nor Rattata knew what the other was doing. Now he varied his timing. Quick Attack forced Pichu to stay ready for sudden bursts of speed, Tackle changed the rhythm whenever Pichu started anticipating them, and Bite gave Rattata a faster option whenever they ended up close.

I had to give credit where it was due. Gary Oak clearly knew what he was doing when it came to training Pokemon.

Unfortunately for him, Pichu had been training too.

Another Quick Attack flashed across the field. Pichu swayed aside before Rattata reached him, his eyes glowing slightly brighter now as his breathing remained slow and even. Gary's frustration continued to mount.

"Cut him off!"

Rattata planted one front paw and tried to redirect its momentum, and that was when a familiar mistake happened. Its hind legs crossed awkwardly, and for half a second the little Pokémon lost control of its own speed, nearly going face-first into the grass.

I didn't hesitate. "Pichu, in—"

Gary flinched. "Rattata dodge!"

"—for a kiss!"

Gary froze. "Bwah!?"

Rattata had the same reaction. It had only just managed to get its paws underneath itself when Pichu reached it. Instead of attacking, Pichu rose onto his hind legs, caught Rattata's cheeks between his tiny paws, and planted one quick kiss directly between its eyes in an almost ironic-sounding "Chu!"

Pichu pulled away wearing an expression of such exaggerated innocence that I almost rolled my eyes. Rattata blinked at him once, then twice, and its eyes slowly crossed.

Gary stared. "What the heck was that?!"

"Max Power Pichu!"

My partner immediately sprang backward as the stored Charge he'd been carrying since the beginning of the match surged through his fur. The faint glow in his eyes brightened as he planted his feet, and electricity began to burst from his body.

Gary's eyes widened. "Quick Attack! Get out of there!"

Rattata tried.

One paw went forward while the other went sideways. It stumbled, shook its head, then somehow turned almost completely around before stopping to stare blankly at its own tail.

Gary's mouth fell open. "What are you doing?!"

Rattata gave a confused squeak, and Gary stared for another second before realization finally hit.

"You've gotta be kidding me! It's Confused?!"

I laughed. "How'd you like Pichu's Sweet Kiss?!"

Understanding flashed across his face, but it was too late.

I grinned. "Thunder Shock."

The battlefield disappeared beneath a brilliant flash of white-yellow electricity, the discharge exploding outward with enough force to drown out the cheers around us. Several people in the crowd shouted in surprise, and Rattata never had a chance to move.

"RAaaATttttTAAAaaaaa!"

Its cry vanished beneath the crack of electricity before the light finally faded, leaving smoke drifting lazily above the grass. Rattata stood frozen where the attack had caught it, fur puffed in every direction while tiny arcs of electricity snapped across its body.

Its eyes rolled upward, and the Normal-type collapsed in an almost perfect mimicry of our last battle.

The referee hurried closer and crouched beside the fallen Pokémon long enough to check it before raising one arm. "Rattata is unable to battle! The winner is Travis Cashion and Pichu!"

The crowd erupted, but I was already looking toward my partner.

Pichu trudged over before climbing my leg with considerably less energy than usual. I helped him the rest of the way and settled him onto my shoulder before he pushed his forehead firmly against the side of my head.

I winced. "Headache?"

"Chuuu."

"Yeah, I figured."

Between holding Charge for most of the fight, leaning heavily on his warning sense, and maintaining our secret weapon while dodging Gary's attacks, he'd pushed himself even harder than he had against Growlithe. Nothing looked wrong beyond exhaustion, though, so I scratched between his ears.

"You'll be fine once Blissey gets another egg in you."

Pichu's head immediately lifted. "Pi?"

I snorted. "You glutton."

I started toward the edge of the field when a voice stopped me.

"Hey."

I glanced back to find Gary walking toward us with Rattata cradled carefully in his arms. The little Normal-type had started to stir, although one back leg still twitched every few seconds from the lingering electricity in its system.

Gary stopped a few feet away, and for once, there wasn't any smugness in his expression. He looked down at Rattata before returning his attention to me.

"You won."

I raised a brow. "That is generally what the referee announcing me as 'the winner' means."

His eye twitched. "I was trying to congratulate you!"

"Could've fooled me."

Gary grumbled something under his breath before adjusting Rattata in his arms. "Fine. You were better today."

I could physically see how much it pained him to admit that, so I decided to be nice and let my expression soften slightly. "You were a lot better than last time too, and so was Rattata. Trying to go at different speeds nearly got us more than once."

Gary blinked, his surprise lasting approximately two seconds before his usual confidence came roaring back.

"Of course! We trained all week!"

I rolled my eyes. There was the Gary Oak I knew.

He shifted Rattata into one arm before sticking his free hand toward me. "But next time, I'm gonna win."

I looked at his hand for a moment before taking it. "Sure. I'll look forward to beating you again."

"Keep dreaming!"

"You're the one making promises about next time~"

"Because I'm going to win next time!"

"Uh-huh."

We released hands before the argument could devolve into anything even more childish, and Gary turned away with Rattata still resting in his arms.

I watched him go for a few seconds.

He was annoying, arrogant, loud, and had apparently decided within hours of meeting me that we were competing over everything from Pokémon knowledge to who could breathe more impressively.

But he'd also spent the entire week training after I handed him his first loss, and judging by that battle, he'd taken it seriously. He hadn't just taught Rattata a few more Moves. They'd actually learned how to work together. Then he'd walked over after losing again, admitted I'd been better, and promised to beat me next time.

Was this what getting a rival felt like?

"TRAVIS!"

I had just enough time to turn before Ash tackled me like a poorly trained Tauros.

"Oof!"

We went down together, my back smacking into the grass while Ash somehow managed to land half on top of me without dropping Poliwag.

For several seconds, I simply stared up at the blue sky. Somewhere along the line, I had clearly made a series of terrible life choices to end up like this.

"You beat Gary!" Ash shouted from approximately six inches away from my face.

"Yes, Ash." I continued staring upward. "I was there."

"I knew you would!"

"Thank you. Now, would you mind getting off!?"

The others finally caught up. Mom was laughing openly, Delia was trying and failing to hide her own amusement, and Chloe at least had the decency to help peel Ash off me before he accidentally broke something.

I had barely gotten back onto my feet when Goh suddenly spoke.

"How was that Thunder Shock so strong?"

I paused halfway through brushing grass off my shirt. "Hello to you too."

Goh either ignored the comment or genuinely didn't notice it. "I've watched Pichu use Thunder Shock after Charge several times now, and even accounting for how much better he's gotten at holding the Charge while moving, that last attack was stronger than the others." His eyes narrowed as he looked between us. "There was something else happening while Pichu was dodging, wasn't there?"

Before I could even think of a reply, a hand settled lightly on Goh's shoulder, and he looked up to find his father standing beside him. Walker wasn't angry, but the slight lift of his brow apparently meant enough because Goh immediately shrunk down.

"Dad?"

"You're prying, son."

Goh blinked. "But I just asked what he was doing?"

"I know." Walker gave his shoulder a small squeeze. "But there's a difference between asking someone about a cool trick and demanding they explain one of their techniques."

That was actually a fairly important piece of Trainer etiquette, especially once people started battling seriously. Training methods weren't necessarily secret, and plenty of Trainers happily traded advice, but personal techniques, combinations, and anything that could provide a competitive advantage were treated a little differently.

I reached up and scratched Pichu beneath the chin. His eyes had already started drooping again now that the adrenaline from the battle was wearing off.

Deciding to throw Goh a bone, I answered honestly, "I've mostly just been making him rest a bunch. Turns out it helped him get better at staying calm in battle."

Both father and son stared at me in surprise.

I kept my expression perfectly innocent.

Mom snorted. I glanced toward her just in time to catch the amused look she was giving me.

Goh's eyes narrowed.

"That doesn't make sense."

"Sure it does."

"No, it doesn't!"

"It's what we did though, so obviously it does."

Goh visibly puffed himself up, which only made Mom laugh harder.

Pichu leaned against the side of my head, apparently deciding the argument wasn't worth staying awake for. I gave him another scratch between the ears before looking past everyone toward the remaining battlefield.

One more match, then camp was over.

Might as well finish strong.

---

Author's Note:

So, a few battles, a few declarations that I may or may not forget in the future, and a "secret weapon" that tons of you have speculated about so much that I've physically rubbed my hands together in glee. Continue to string board mystery solvers; the truth will be revealed next chapter!

Also, what's up with all the wild theories about "half-brothers" and "child support via bats to knees" I've been seeing? Is there some conspiracy that I'm just not aware of?

Hope it's not too presumptuous, but I've got a up and running! If you want to read 5 chapters ahead or just support me in general, feel free to visit my p.a.t.r.e.o.n.c.o.m / IcurasFallen

 

[IcurasFallen]

Pokémon Version Orange

Arc 2 - The Summer


Chapter 19
​

---

Pichu let out a pleased little trill as my fingers worked through the fur behind his ears, his attention otherwise occupied by the rapidly disappearing remains of a Soft-Boiled egg.

"Feeling better?"

"Pi Pichu Pi."

"I'll take that as a yes."

I gave him another scratch before reaching into one of the smaller pouches in my bag and pulling out a Leppa Berry. Pichu's ears immediately perked up, his eyes locking on the Berry even though he still had a mouthful of egg remaining.

"Don't inhale it." He snatched it from my fingers and shoved it all in at once. "Or ignore me. That's fine too."

Pichu mumbled around the Berry, entirely unrepentant, while I settled back to let him finish. Between Blissey's egg, the break between rounds, and a Leppa Berry to give his reserves a little extra pick-me-up, he should be in decent shape for…

"LADIES, GENTLEMEN, AND ALL THE POKÉMON IN BETWEEN! THE MOMENT HAS FINALLY ARRIVED!"

I rolled my eyes with a dry chuckle as the crowd around us exploded into noise.

Professor Oak's assistant stood beside the remaining battlefield with his microphone raised dramatically overhead. "AFTER A FULL DAY OF BATTLING AND NEARLY ONE HUNDRED COMPETITORS, ONLY TWO TRAINERS REMAIN! IT IS TIME FOR THE CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH OF PROFESSOR OAK'S SUMMER CAMP TOURNAMENT!"

The crowd responded exactly how he'd probably hoped, cheers spreading across the lawn while campers and parents gathered tighter around the final battlefield. Pichu swallowed the last of his Berry and sat a little straighter on my shoulder, apparently deciding that the presence of an audience meant he needed to look suitably impressive.

"FIRST, ON THE EASTERN SIDE!" The announcer spun and thrust one arm toward the opposite end of the field. "REPRESENTING THE EEVEE GROUP, ALL THE WAY FROM LILYCOVE CITY IN THE HOENN REGION! BATTLING BESIDE HER PARTNER ZIGZAGOON! WELCOME VIOLET OTTER AND ZIGGY!"

Violet threw both hands into the air at the resulting cheers while Ziggy barked excitedly beside her, apparently just as willing as Pichu to enjoy the attention.

"AND FACING THEM ON THE WESTERN SIDE!" The announcer swung his attention toward us with enough enthusiasm that I briefly wondered if he'd been saving energy specifically for the finals. "REPRESENTING THE PIKACHU GROUP, ALL THE WAY FROM KUMQUAT ISLAND IN THE ORANGE ARCHIPELAGO! BATTLING ALONGSIDE HIS PARTNER PICHU, PLEASE WELCOME ORANGE LEAGUE GYM LEADER, TRAVIS CASHION!"

That last part earned noticeably more than noise. A mixture of surprised gasps, confused questions, and excited cheers rippled through the campers and parents around the field, apparently proving that my job hadn't become common knowledge over the last week. Pichu responded by puffing his chest out as if the announcement had somehow included his résumé too.

I ignored him in favor of looking toward the particularly loud section of the crowd where Mom and the others had gathered.

At some point during the break, Ash had apparently convinced Momo to let him perch proudly on one of her shoulders with Poliwag occupying the other, both of them waving excitedly while Momo held her enormous GO TRAVIS! banner overhead with two of her free hands. The others had also somehow gotten their hands on small flags bearing my name and a caricature of my face that Rayna had originally made years ago as a gag gift. Mom was the likely culprit, but I wouldn't put it past Bliss as well. She could be annoyingly wholesome sometimes.

"COME ON, TRAVIS!" Ash shouted, nearly falling off Momo's shoulder in his enthusiasm. "YOU CAN WIN THE WHOLE THING!"

"WHAT HE SAID, BABYCAKES!"

With a helpless shake of my head, I stepped toward my side of the battlefield. Violet was already waiting opposite me with an amused smile.

"So, Gym Leader," she called across the field, drawing out the title just enough to make it obvious she was enjoying herself. "If I win, does that mean I get a Badge?"

I snorted. "I'd focus on being happy with second place."

Her smile sharpened. There was no irritation in it either. If anything, she just looked more excited, and something in my chest responded immediately as that familiar heat began to build and my pulse picked up. I could already feel my own grin spreading across my face.

Yeah. This was going to be fun.

The referee motioned us toward our starting positions, and Violet gave Ziggy a quick nod before the Normal-type trotted onto the field. I reached up and lifted Pichu from my shoulder, keeping my voice low as I pulled him close. "You remember the plan?"

Pichu looked across the field toward Ziggy, then back up at me before giving a sharp nod. There was a spark in his light blue eyes that hadn't been there against most of our earlier opponents. It wasn't just his usual smug confidence or the promise of getting to show off. He knew this one might actually push him, and he looked genuinely excited about it.

I felt a little pride at that. He'd gone from a little rat mostly concerned with food and survival to a Pokémon that actually wanted to push himself, both in training and in battle. He'd reached the point where the prospect of a genuinely tough fight was something to look forward to rather than be annoyed by.

Pichu really was my ideal Starter.

I smiled and gave him one last scratch between the ears before letting him perform his off-the-hand vault onto the field.

The referee waited until both Pokémon had settled into position before raising one arm between us. "This will be a one-on-one battle! Battle continues until one Pokémon is unable or unwilling to continue, a trainer performs a return, or I make the call. TRAINERS, ARE YOU READY?!"

Violet and I answered at practically the same time, and the referee brought his arm down. "Then let's…Begin!"

"GO!" "GO!"

Ziggy became a blur.

Pichu barely had time to blink before the Zigzagoon crossed the battlefield and slammed into him. The impact produced a sharp crack that made several people around the field flinch at the suddenness of it all.

The noise wasn't just from Ziggy slamming into Pichu, however!

Because while Pichu was knocked backward from the impact, Ziggy was left reeling as well from the burst of electricity that snapped between them upon contact.

I couldn't stop a laugh from escaping me. "Nice Extreme Speed!"

Violet's answering giggle was just a little too delighted to sound entirely innocent. "Thanks! Getting a Nuzzle off that fast was awesome!" She swept one arm forward before either Pokémon had properly reset. "Ziggy, run them down!"

Ziggy shot forward again, forcing Pichu to scramble sideways before he'd even fully recovered from the opening hit. The little Normal-type stayed on him from there, darting forward in sudden bursts before cutting sharply to one side and coming around again, never giving Pichu enough room to settle into a rhythm. My partner's warning sense kept him from taking another clean hit, but only barely, his paws constantly changing direction while Ziggy snapped at his heels.

I clicked my tongue as Pichu threw himself aside from another pass. The opening trap had worked in theory, but Extreme Speed had earned its place as the pinnacle of Priority Moves. Pichu had managed enough of a Nuzzle to not leave Ziggy unscathed, but Extreme Speed had broken contact before he could properly complete the Move and force the Paralysis we wanted.

Fine. If we couldn't slow him down, we'd just have to make ourselves inconvenient!

"Pichu, grab him!"

"Pi?!" Pichu shot me an offended look even as Ziggy came barreling in again.

"Tackle em Ziggy!"

Violet's command forced Pichu to commit.

Pichu made a distinctly frustrated noise before throwing himself forward instead of away. Ziggy slammed into him chest-first, driving a pained cry from Pichu, but my partner wrapped both arms around the longer Pokémon's neck and clung on instead of letting the impact throw him away.

Violet's eyes widened in immediate understanding. "Headbutt Ziggy! Get him off!"

"Thunder Shock!"

Electricity erupted across Pichu's body at point-blank range. Ziggy cried out as the attack coursed straight through him, his entire body jerking while Pichu buried his face against the Normal-type's fur and stubbornly refused to let go. Ziggy snapped his head around, but there wasn't enough room to put his full weight behind the Headbutts.

So he changed tactics.

Ziggy twisted hard, his long body falling to the ground as he began a death roll. One roll became another, then another, until the two of them were practically tumbling across the grass together while electricity continued to crackle around them. Pichu held on for several seconds longer before Ziggy suddenly reversed direction and threw his entire body into one final and violent twist.

That finally did it, and Pichu was ripped loose. He went skidding across the field, while Ziggy staggered several steps in the opposite direction with smoke curling faintly from his fur. Neither of them looked particularly pleased with how that exchange had gone.

Good. At least we'd made them pay for it.

"Pichu, calm down and make some distance!"

My partner shook himself and immediately started backing away, but Violet was just as quick to capitalize on the separation.

"Sand Attack!"

Ziggy spun and kicked hard at the ground, sending a spray of dirt and sand straight into Pichu's face before he could get clear.

"Piii!"

Pichu recoiled with his paws flying toward his eyes, and I felt my stomach twist as Ziggy was already starting to move again. "Don't panic, bud! Calm down and lock in the Calm Mind!"

That got a reaction from more than just Pichu.

A faint blue glow slowly spread across his tightly shut eyes as his breathing began to even out, the frantic twitching of his ears settling into something much more deliberate. Around the battlefield, surprised voices rose from the crowd at the first open confirmation of the Move we'd spent the last few matches hiding behind carefully worded commands.

Violet looked just as startled, but only for a moment. "Ziggy, we can't let them set up! Tackle!"

The Normal-type shot forward. Pichu still couldn't see him, but that didn't stop him from moving.

Ziggy darted left, cut sharply right, then shifted again in the same erratic pattern he'd used to make Poliwag's life miserable earlier. Pichu's ears twitched with each change, his body remaining almost unnaturally still until the last possible second before he slipped sideways and let the Zigzagoon tear past him.

Violet's eyes widened. "How did he dodge that?!"

I grinned madly as Ziggy wheeled around for another pass while Pichu adjusted with him, the two falling into a strange little dance across the battlefield. Ziggy zigged and zagged through sharp changes in direction while Pichu reacted without ever opening his eyes, guided by the warning sense we'd spent weeks trying to sharpen into something actually useful. Made all the stronger by Calm Mind giving him a greater understanding of his natural Psychic abilities.

"I didn't think Pichu could learn Calm Mind!"

I chuckled even as blood roared in my ears as I tracked the back and forth. "Most probably can't. Mine's got some pretty strong Psychic Potential though."

Violet looked suitably impressed. "Seriously?"

My grin grew. "Very."

That particular bit of training had actually started with a completely different goal.

Rest was still the only Move I'd taught Pichu through a TM. It was the sole Psychic-type move I knew for a fact a Pichu could learn, so it was an ideal way to start familiarizing him with the Type Energy responsible for his latent abilities. After our Charge exercises, I'd have him use Rest while slowly eating Chesto Berries since the Berries allowed him to remain conscious enough to get a proper feel for the Psychic-type energy the Move used to heal oneself.

The idea had been to make that strange mental state familiar. Let him feel Psychic energy working through him, learn what it felt like to reach for it deliberately, and gradually gain more control over instincts that had previously amounted to little more than sensing danger and other minds nearby.

Alakazam had been the one to point out that repeatedly practicing Rest while hovering in that half-awake state was also training Pichu to settle his thoughts, control his breathing, and maintain focus while Psychic energy moved through him.

In other words, I'd accidentally spent weeks building almost the perfect foundation for Calm Mind without realizing it.

I might have felt prouder about that if Alakazam, smug bastard that he was, hadn't been the one to point it out and then spent the next several days holding it over me.

Across the field, Violet was still watching Pichu weave around Ziggy with his eyes squeezed shut, and the grin on her face only seemed to grow. "This is awesome!" she called, earning an excited bark from Ziggy as he wheeled around for another pass. "I'm really glad you two ended up being our final match!"

I barked out a laugh. "Happy to exceed expectations!"

"Oh, you have!" Her expression sharpened as Ziggy dug his paws into the grass. "Now let's see if you can keep up! GO! GO! GO!"

My grin grew.

After all, talking wasn't a free action.

While Violet had been enjoying herself, I'd been doing the same thing I'd practiced with Pichu since before camp began: narrowing everything I wanted into one sharp point of Intent. No complicated directions, no attempt to explain an entire plan through whatever half-formed connection we'd built between us. Just one command, focused as hard as I could make it.

"GO!" Up!

Pichu jumped.

Ziggy erupted forward beneath him, Extreme Speed carrying the Normal-type across the battlefield in a straight brown-and-white streak. Pichu twisted in midair and dragged one forepaw across his face, using the sweat matted into his fur from all the running and dodging to wipe away some of the sand around his eyes. He immediately winced, because rubbing sweat into irritated eyes probably felt about as pleasant as it sounded, but one light blue eye managed to crack open enough to lock onto his target.

I was absolutely going to owe him for that later.

For now, though, it was enough.

I'd noticed right away that there was a clear difference between the way Ziggy normally fought and the way he used Extreme Speed. His usual movement was chaos made fluffy, constantly cutting left and right with almost no warning, but Extreme Speed demanded commitment. Ziggy understood the Move well enough to launch himself at ridiculous speeds, but he was still young and nowhere near experienced enough to make those same violent direction changes while using it. Every time he activated the Move, his path straightened, and every time it ended, there was a tiny moment where his body had to catch up with what he'd just forced it to do.

Extreme Speed was powerful, but it wasn't free.

"Thunder Shock!"

Pichu twisted toward the recovering Zigzagoon as the blue glow of Calm Mind mixed with the yellow light exploding across his cheeks. The resulting Thunder Shock was noticeably stronger than the ones he'd been throwing around before, even without Charge backing it up, and the bolt caught Ziggy just as he tried to turn away. Electricity detonated across the grass in a burst of light and dirt, swallowing the Normal-type beneath a rapidly expanding cloud of dust.

Pichu landed hard a moment later, nearly collapsing before he managed to catch himself on all fours. His chest heaved from the combination of running, maintaining Calm Mind, leaning constantly on his Psychic senses, and now throwing out another heavy electrical attack. Through the thinning dust, I could just make out Ziggy lying motionless on his side.

For a second, I thought that was it…

Then Pichu's head snapped violently to the right.

My stomach dropped as the Ziggy inside the dust seemed to shimmer, his outline breaking apart before flickering out entirely. At almost the exact same moment, another brown-and-white blur tore in from Pichu's side, moving even faster than Ziggy had before.

Violet cackled. "Headbutt!"

"Pichu!"

But it was too late. Ziggy crashed into him with enough force to send Pichu tumbling across the grass. My partner bounced once, rolled, and finally came to a stop several yards away, while Ziggy skidded to a halt, looking almost as battered as the Pokémon he'd just hit. His fur was singed, his legs were trembling, and his breathing had become ragged, but somehow the little bastard had gotten faster.

So that was why she'd said "GO!" so many times! A fake-out Extreme Speed into a Substitute of all things!

"Come on, Pichu!" I called as he planted one paw against the ground and tried to force himself upright. His first attempt failed, but his ears twitched at my voice, and he tried again. "You've still got more in you than that!"

Across from us, Violet was doing much the same as Ziggy struggled to steady himself. She looked every bit as exhausted as her partner despite having never left her side of the field, yet her grin had only gotten wider. "This has been amazing!" she shouted before pointing toward Pichu. "But we're finishing it now! Ziggy, give us one final Headbutt!"

Ziggy barked and surged forward, and I felt a smidgen of true worry worm its way in.

Then the Zigzagoon, a Pokemon that had been practically dancing with its fancy footwork all match…tripped.

Yellow static suddenly crackled across his entire body, and Ziggy gave a startled yip as his legs locked beneath him. His momentum carried him forward just far enough to send him tumbling onto his face while Violet stared in shock.

I stared too, but only for a second.

Then everything clicked.

The first hit. The dozens of Physical Moves. Pichu clinging directly to him while Thunder Shock poured through both of them. Ziggy hadn't suddenly become faster because he'd somehow shaken off the damage!

He'd been faster because something had happened during it!

A laugh escaped me. "Quick Feet!"

Violet's head whipped toward me.

I pointed toward the still-sparking Zigzagoon, unable to keep the mad grin off my face. "He got faster after the fake-out because he's got Quick Feet. Ziggy's been Paralyzed!"

Her eyes widened before dropping toward her partner, understanding dawning across her face.

Which meant Pichu's Static Ability had apparently triggered sometime during that mess of direct contact without any of us noticing. Quick Feet had turned the status condition into an advantage by boosting Ziggy's speed, but it hadn't actually removed the Paralysis itself.

I laughed again. "Static, you beautiful bastard!"

"Pi..." Pichu managed weakly from where he was still trying to steady himself.

"It's a compliment, bud!" I thrust one hand toward Ziggy. "Now give us everything you've got! Thunder Shock!"

Pichu's cheeks began to glow.

Violet reacted immediately. "Stop him, Ziggy! Dig deep and use EXTREME SPEED!"

Ziggy forced himself upright despite the lingering sparks crawling through his fur, dug his paws into the ground, and ran. Pichu barely had time to brace before the Zigzagoon crossed the field, but this time we weren't planning on running.

"MAX POWER PICHU!"

Ziggy slammed into him at the exact moment Pichu released the attack.

The collision disappeared inside a violent burst of yellow-white electricity; Thunder Shock erupted outward from the point of impact hard enough to kick dust and burned grass into the air. Most had to look away from the blinding eruption, and the crowd went silent as the haze swallowed both Pokémon.

I leaned forward instinctively, searching for any hint of movement through the settling debris.

Two shapes slowly emerged.

Pichu stood on trembling legs, his head hanging low and his body already darkening in places from the beating he'd taken. Ziggy stood opposite him in much the same condition; every breath seemed like it might be the one that finally knocked him over.

But neither fell.

"Come on, Pichu."

My voice came out quieter than I'd intended, but his ears twitched toward me anyway.

There wasn't another trick left. No clever command, no hidden Move waiting to turn everything around. Pichu had already given me everything he had, and all I could do now was push every scrap of confidence, belief, and stubborn refusal to lose through the strange thread of Intent between us.

You can do this! "So stay up, bud!"

Across the field, Violet was doing the same, shouting encouragement toward Ziggy as he fought to keep his legs beneath him. For several long seconds, both Pokémon remained upright through sheer stubbornness, staring one another down while the entire battlefield seemed to hold its breath.

Then electricity crawled across Ziggy's fur again.

Violet's eyes widened. "Ziggy!"

The Normal-type's front legs folded beneath him, and this time he didn't manage to catch himself. He hit the grass and stayed there.

Pichu remained standing.

The referee waited long enough to be certain before raising one arm toward our side of the field. "Zigzagoon is unable to battle! Which means the winners of the match and Professor Oak's Summer Camp Tournament are TRAVIS CASHION AND PICHU!"

The lawn erupted around us, but I barely heard any of it.

Pichu's legs finally gave out, and I was already moving.

I reached him just before he hit the ground, scooping him up against my chest as carefully as I could. For a second I just held him there, one hand buried in his fur while all the tension from the battle finally melted into something warm and almost overwhelming.

Pride.

Relief.

Happiness.

I hugged him a little tighter, grinning so hard my face actually hurt.

"We did it, bud," I whispered into the fur between his ears. "You did it."

Pichu blearily blinked up at me before his gaze slowly wandered across the battlefield.

The cheering crowd surrounded the battlefield, dozens of voices blending together into a wall of sound as campers, parents, counselors, and Pokémon celebrated around us. Pichu's gaze wandered through them until it found the section we'd both recognize anywhere.

Mom was cheering loud enough to drown out nearly everyone else. Ash was outright bouncing on Momo's shoulder with Poliwag doing its best to imitate him, while Chloe, Goh, Serena, Delia, and everyone else waved those ridiculous little flags bearing my face.

Bearing our victory.

Pichu watched them for several quiet seconds before his gaze returned to me.

Something in his expression softened.

There was no smugness this time. No mischief, no attitude, or any of the old wariness I'd grown so used to seeing since we'd first met.

He just looked...content.

Then brilliant white light erupted from his body.

I sucked in a breath as the cheering around us seemed to die all at once.

The light was bright enough to make my eyes water, but I refused to look away. Even as black spots started swimming across my vision, I kept watching and tightened my hold as the small body in my arms began to change.

Pichu grew rapidly, his frame lengthening and filling out beneath the light as the small body in my arms became noticeably larger and heavier. My arms shifted to accommodate the added weight, and I jolted slightly when something longer brushed hard against my stomach before curling between us.

The glow finally began to fade.

I blinked several times against the spots dancing across my vision, and the first thing that came properly into focus was a pair of bright blue eyes. Eyes I knew all too well.

Pikachu looked back up at me with the same content expression he'd worn only moments earlier, larger now, different in a hundred obvious ways, yet still unmistakably him.

My throat tightened, and a wet chuckle escaped before I could stop it. I pulled him closer against my chest and smiled.

"Welcome to the world, Pikachu."

---

By the time everyone had been gathered for the closing ceremony, the battlefield had been cleared, the worst of the damage was patched over, and Pikachu had finally stopped inspecting every inch of his new body.

Mostly. His tail still seemed to be giving him trouble.

Unsurprisingly, suddenly gaining a tail nearly half your own size threw off one's sense of balance. He'd already smacked me with it twice and nearly knocked over Poliwag when he turned around too quickly. He was currently perched on my shoulder despite the fact that his newly increased size made the position considerably more awkward than it had been twenty minutes ago.

Neither of us really cared. We were too busy smiling like a pair of lunatics.

Professor Oak stood atop the small stage that had been set up near the main lawn, smiling as the last few campers settled into place with their families and Pokémon. Three small medals waited on a velvet-lined tray beside him, their bronze, silver, and gold surfaces catching the afternoon sunlight.

Violet, Gary, and I stood off to one side with our respective partners while Professor Oak stepped toward the microphone.

"Before we begin our final awards ceremony, I would first like to thank everyone for joining us this year. Campers, parents, counselors, and, of course, all of the Pokémon who helped make this week possible. Please, give them and yourselves a round of applause!"

An answering round of clapping and cheers swept through the crowd, and Professor Oak waited patiently for it to settle before continuing.

"When many of you arrived here a week ago, some had never cared for a Pokémon on your own. Some had never spent a night outdoors, read a trail map, prepared your own meals, or participated in a proper Pokémon battle. Others already had experience in one area or another, but if there is one thing a lifetime of studying Pokémon has taught me, it is that there is always something new to learn."

His smile widened as he looked across the gathered campers.

"And I believe all of you have proven that this week. I've watched new partnerships form, friendships grow, individuals learn how to work as part of a team, and quite a few mistakes become lessons that I suspect some of you won't be forgetting anytime soon."

There were scattered laughs at that, particularly from the counselors.

Professor Oak chuckled with them before gesturing toward the three of us standing beside him. "And I can hardly imagine a more memorable way to bring our final day to a close than the tournament we've just witnessed. Wouldn't you all agree?!"

Cheers erupted across the lawn all over again, several campers shouting about one match or another while the final received more than its fair share of attention. I felt Pikachu sit a little straighter on my shoulder (and almost overbalance again; he was a chonky boy now) when his name was inevitably yelled from somewhere in the now very appropriately named Pikachu Group.

Beside me, Violet looked every bit as pleased as she glanced down at Ziggy, while even Gary wore a proud little smirk as Rattata pressed against his leg. Whatever places we'd ended up taking, all three of us had fought our way onto this stage.

Professor Oak allowed the cheering to settle before turning toward the tray of medals.

"But a tournament still needs its winners recognized." His eyes twinkled as he reached toward the bronze medal. "So, without further ado, I believe we have some awards to present."

First went Gary, who received bronze after winning the third-place match against the other semifinalist. He accepted the medal with enough pride that you'd think it was solid gold anyway, while Rattata sat beside him with its chest puffed out in almost perfect imitation.

Violet came next, practically skipping forward to accept her silver medal while Ziggy happily weaved through her legs. Whatever disappointment she might have felt over losing seemed to have been thoroughly outweighed by how much she'd enjoyed the battle itself.

"And finally, the winner of our tournament, Travis Cashion and his newly evolved Pikachu!"

The cheering started again as I moved forward, Pikachu's ears twitching at the sudden volume while he practically beamed from his place on my shoulder. Professor Oak waited until I stopped in front of him before lifting the gold medal from the tray and carefully looping its ribbon over my head.

"Congratulations, Travis," he said, lowering his voice enough that the microphone no longer carried it across the lawn. His eyes moved briefly toward Pikachu, and his smile widened. "To both of you, really. Winning the tournament would have been memorable enough, but I suspect that evolution ensured quite a few of our campers will remember this afternoon for years to come."

Pikachu chirped proudly, and I didn't even attempt to hide my own happiness. "Believe me, Professor, I won't be forgetting it either."

Professor Oak chuckled before his expression softened. "Still, I have to ask. When you first arrived, you were not particularly enthused about camp. I hope your time here has perhaps changed that opinion?"

I twitched slightly at the reminder of my less-than-mature behavior barely a week ago. "There were definitely some annoying parts..." I trailed off as my eyes wandered past him.

My group was standing near the front.

Ash noticed first and immediately started waving hard enough to nearly smack Goh in the face. Goh shoved his arm away before waving too, Chloe giving both of them an exasperated look even as she raised her own hand. Serena smiled brightly beside them, while Poliwag, Caterpie, and Yamper added their own collection of excited noises.

Mom stood just behind them with Delia, Momo, and Bliss, looking entirely too pleased with herself as the rest of the parents waved and laughed at the kiddy crew's antics.

I chuckled and turned back toward Professor Oak. "But...I guess I made some decent friends."

His expression warmed. "That's about all I could have hoped for."

Professor Oak gave my shoulder a brief squeeze before turning back toward the microphone, and I stepped aside as he addressed the camp one final time.

"The lessons you've practiced here are not something I expect you to leave behind simply because camp is ending. The Pokémon you've met, the experiences you've shared, and the friendships you've made can follow you long after today, so long as you choose to carry them with you."

His gaze swept across the crowd.

"Some of you may become Trainers. Some may become researchers, Coordinators, Breeders, Rangers, or choose paths none of us here could predict. Whatever you decide, I hope this week helped you understand Pokémon and one another just a little better."

Professor Oak lifted one hand.

"And with that, I officially declare this year's Summer Camp complete! Thank you all for coming!"

The applause that followed lasted considerably longer, and judging by more than a few expressions around the lawn, plenty of campers weren't particularly happy to suddenly realize it was really over.

I waited for Violet and Gary to clear the steps before following them down, only for Violet to slow once we reached the grass.

"Sooo, Travis. Pretty great battle, right?"

There was something in her expression I recognized immediately. The unmistakable spark of someone who was already thinking about the next one.

I smirked. "Oh yeah. I had a lot of fun."

Her grin widened, that same competitive fire peeking through. "Good, because I don't plan on losing next time!"

My own smile sharpened in answer. "Funny. I was thinking the same thing."

"Hold on!" We both turned to find Gary standing a short distance away, looking personally offended by the entire conversation. "I already called a rematch!"

Violet blinked. "So?"

"So you can't just call one too!"

"Why not?"

"Because I called it first!"

Violet tilted her head as though seriously considering his words before a mischievous smile spread across her face. "Yeah, but I was his last fight, so obviously I get first dibs!"

Gary gaped at her. "That's...That's not how this works! You can't just call dibs!"

"That sounds like a you problem~"

Violet gave me a cheerful wave before walking away with Ziggy, even as Gary was left sputtering behind her in half-formed denials and kiddy curses.

I snorted and started toward my family and friends.

"Hey!" Gary called after me. "Don't think this means anything, Cashion! Next time we battle, I'm winning!"

Without turning around, I lifted one hand in a lazy wave. "Sure you are, Gary. Smell ya later."

"I MEAN IT!"

Pikachu laughed from my shoulder, the sound bright and tired and entirely too pleased with himself, yet I couldn't help laughing with him as together we headed back to the waiting arms of our family.

---

Author's Note:

Welp! How's that for the end of our first technical tournament?! Fun? Exciting? Wholesome? Lived up to the hype?! (I'm so dearly hoping, lol.)

However it left you, I mostly hope it continues to make you come back for more. You've been a wonderful audience so far, and I sincerely hope you'll continue to enjoy my story! I sure know I am!

Hope it's not too presumptuous, but I've got a up and running! If you want to read 5 chapters ahead or just support me in general, feel free to visit my p.a.t.r.e.o.n.c.o.m / IcurasFallen