"Well, this is where we part ways," Lane said, tipping an invisible hat. "You were pretty good company—for a thief."

  Green groaned in annoyance. "I said I was sorry and you said you were okay with it! It should be illegal for you to keep bringing it up!"

  "Back home we busted kneecaps for stealing. Well, that's not true. Don't think that was done for a long time. Maybe? I don't remember. Either way, I think that you got off pretty lightly because I'm such a good guy."

  "This is the real reason that we have to part. You're too much of a goody two shoes for a little bit of thievery." Green couldn't keep a serious face before she burst out laughing. "Nah, I think carrying around bombs is worse than anything I've done."

  In front of the gate into Celadon, their shoes were stained with the grass and dust from the backroads that they took, making them stand out amongst the bright morning's denizens of daily walkers, younger trainers, and those who prefer walking their Growlithes where natural light shined, and whole groups passionate about current events who didn't recognize the little kid swinging his arms around in boredom. She spun around, hands clasped behind her back.

  "So you're going to Johto sometime in the future?" A slow wink made Lane's body involuntarily shudder. "Interesting. Maybe we'll see each other again."

  Lane knocked against the checkpoint's wall. "In the future I'm going to be rooted here. If you're talking about the far future then I'm going to actually call you a stalker."

  Lane mused that a girl's laugh has been compared to bells, birdsong, the sound of the ocean, a symphony; hers should've been nice and melodious frequently descended into cackles, ruining any melodious aspect that could've been in there. "Let's just say that you've stoked my adventuring spirit. All this talk about other regions and typings that I don't know makes me curious. And hey! You still have to get me a Fomantis. We're going to meet up again regardless."

  "Oh, right. I'll have one for you the next time that we meet. Li'l Fomantis here already has a destiny, so…"

  "You better! I'm going home for now, but I'll be out on the road again soon enough," she said, running off to the treeline. Just before she barged ahead, she spun on her heel and shouted. "You better be stronger the next time that we meet! I'm going to be stronger too! We'll see about your legendary destroying Lurantis when I've beaten the Champion."

  Lane waved. Fomantis nearly knocked himself off as he enthusiastically waved.

  "What is she even talking about being stronger? She already has a fully evolved team and a mega evolution. Is she going to have a team of mythics or something? Actually catch Mewtwo? Steal a Phione?" A beat, Fomantis sneezing. "Oh, jeez. Hope I'm wrong."

  Celadon wasn't much different since he visited last. Cities didn't change overnight, especially ones built in Kanto that had invisible strands of red tape creating a web over the town, tying down the buildings that dared against the height of the department store; yet cities were always changing overnight, with year long construction projects finishing while demographic change in the hundreds shifted, and the tiniest details which were subsumed beneath the great monuments. A fountain that was under construction next to the entrance had taken five years to start with a piece of paper into the half-finished stone structure that didn't even have the piping started yet, standing across a person's garden, having been neglected for years, starting to bloom with the help of a Bellsprout flooding the soil with nutrients.

  Visiting the duo's greatest escapade took him to the center of town where a chain fence perimeter staked around the ruins, a fake tear being rubbed off as he saw that little sidestory still hadn't concluded. Signs promoted the company who bought it, a clean 'DE' logo declaring that the site would be developed within the next quarter. Officials in suits stood with their backs to the fence, discussing the possibilities of the property. Former walls were rended into bits by metal claws. The noise of wood and stone falling into the metal containers rang like church bells across the street. Passerby were long used to the constant clanging; Fomantis wasn't, and Lane could admit that he didn't like loudness either, so they retreated pretty quickly. Past Lane's ability to hear was a complicated debate about what to do about the Team Rocket base that was built underneath the entire city. Backfilling the entire place was too costly, collapsing too risky. Then came the provided questionable buyout in the first place, where they were debating whether selling the property to something 'good' like a kindergarten would cleanse the bad reputation or corrupt the current reputation; was a multi-story basement underneath a company that makes gambling houses really evil in essence? The argument raged on—civilly. No raised voices or insults were exchanged.

  Lane knew none of this, and most likely wouldn't have cared if he did.

  Business came after, before, preferably during pleasure, in Lane's words. Tea could be surprisingly good when you've only had water for weeks out on the road. Walking into the tea store, getting enthusiastically waved over by the lady who scolded him, got him a hero's welcome. He'd only had about three cups in his life so he still let the lady order for him. Lulu and Fomantis enjoyed their herbal blends (not tea, according to the menu) that the shopkeeper said were reminiscent of Kanto's plains in summer.

  It was around midday when he walked into the grass-gym. Opening the doors released a floral smell that couldn't be replicated by having a single flower sitting on an apartment's balcony. It was a common project between the pokémon and humans to keep the atmosphere, women of all ages manicuring those plants that wouldn't get them too dirty whereas their pokémon were working at their feet. Trimmings fell down that an Oddish picked up with its mouth. A horde of Bellsprouts greedily fought over a pile of fertilizer that an older woman poured, rolling around in it for a few moments before spreading it around the bed. Working in a gym dulled their senses, as Lane would be the only one to flinch when a jet of fire soared over their heads.

  The hedges that acted as railings gave him plenty of time to appreciate the absolute stomp that was happening on the other end of the building. Those bleachers which were set up for Red's fight were gone, since most battles didn't have a wow factor to draw in spectators. Petals and leaves absorbed most of the sound inside the fight, though the challenger's voice managed to snake through the leaves. Brushing past a small opening at the side, Lane collapsed on a dent on the grass where the bleachers must've been placed. He was the only witness to the ending.

  Despite having two pokémon who still hadn't been summoned, her eyes didn't leave the paralyzed Raticate that was having trouble turning over. The Raticate was finished off by a storm of leaves that sent him soaring. His trainer dramatically fell to his knees in despair, managing to catch his pokémon before it fell. Erika was walking slowly so he could finish whispering into his fainted pokémon's ear. Polite clapping came from Fomantis.

  Erika's soft voice made the trainer jump. She'd crossed the distance with measured, confident steps.

  "That was a good effort. Your pokémon admirably followed your orders to their last breath, and it was impressive watching you constantly adapt. However, I'd instantly noticed that you seem to rely on your starter, as there's a noticeable gap in power between him and your other pokémon. I'd recommend getting your other pokémon nearer to his power before challenging me again, or at least working at their power."

  The trainer's eyes widened until they were little saucers. "What? None of them are good enough?"

  She tried looking sympathetic, though Lane personally thought it was more mocking. "I'm afraid so. What could possibly be the problem if you're secure in everything? I'm hardly one to advocate for overwhelming power, but there comes a point where your attacks just aren't doing enough damage. Your super effective attacks hardly fazed most of my pokémon even though they always landed, strategies faithfully carried, and so much more that I can praise. Whatever your current training is, I would discard it momentarily to focus on output. A Charmeleon shouldn't be relying on Ember at this point."

  The boy looked more and more beaten down as she continued talking. Grass parted as his fist slammed into the ground, not sticking around after that. Many gardeners had seen the ending, more interested in a losing trainer's reactions than the battles themselves, and at least had the decency to wait until the boy was out of earshot before tittering.

  Erika brushed off her kimono with a sigh. Lane thought that it was more to do with mentally wiping off the battle mindset than getting rid of any excess dirt. He chose that moment to cross onto the field. He could at least see where her complaints came from; compared to Red's fight, this had merely been a summer's breeze, with only a single blade being glazed black.

  "Makes hero's rise to champion a little more auspicious, eh? His pokémon were little loyal powerhouses that he empowered within three months or so. So so? Eh, I never kept a calendar."

  It was her turn to jump. "Lane! What are you doing here?"

  Keeping his act as an omnipotent being came with certain standards. All those time wasting maneuvers were carefully chosen so that he was standing there at that exact time. With an eye on his pokédex, he opened his mouth just as another person entered the clearing. Her paint-crusted finger wiggled in greeting.

  "Hey, Lane. Hello, gym leader," she greeted. Professionalism took over in the same vein that it did with Oak, her tone less lazy. That didn't hide the way that her pupils still had a travel time. "The name's Mina. I'm a trial leader over in Alola."

  Blinking rapidly at the new arrival, Erika shook her hand. "Oh my! I've only heard of Alola through second hand. My name is Erika. To what do I owe the pleasure? Surely there's more interesting things in Kanto than a grass gym if you're coming all this way."

  "Well, there was a specific reason that I came here. I was over in—where was it again? Ah, that's right. I was at the beach over in Alola and—mmm mm mmm."

  A hand had coincidentally found itself in front of her mouth. It took an entire sentence until she got the hint and stopped talking. Erika just curiously looked on as Lane tried flicking off the little droplets of spit.

  "I'm sure that Erika would love to hear about that later, but let's get the business out of the way first." Lane put away the pokédex and made sure to slightly angle his body so that Fomantis, on his shoulder, was in front. Always show your better side. "I was wondering if you'd take me up as a gym employee for the rest of my stay in Kanto. I could show you how to take care of the grass-types that I know of and test out some ideas that you could spread around in Kanto."

  Erika gave a bashful smile. "I'm sorry, but what ideas are these? You certainly showed potential to be a good grass-type trainer when we battled, but…"

  There was an idea in the back of her head not to finish the sentence. His initial performance had impressed her so much that she raised the suggestion of hiring him with her secretary, getting a big fat 'no' slammed down. Technically the only-women pseudo-policy of her gym was never officiated, a technicality that broke down when you looked around.

  "This is where I come in, huh?" Mina said, pulling out a pokéball. "I still think that the whole pokédex thing is a little more important than trading this little guy. I just picked him up when they flew over the islands. It's not like they're rare or anything."

  "It's more of a time thing. Think about how much you're saving me by trading this guy. I would've had to go all the way across the world just for a single Cottonee or hoped that one floated over here."

  The pokéball opened. A tiny ball of cotton revealed, its eyes barely visible past the fluff. Lane was pretty sure that Erika's pupils widened enough that a cop would've stopped her for a drug test. She didn't bother kneeling properly, getting her clothes knotted and stained as her arms sank into its body. Clumps of cotton caught on her sleeves that dug into the living cloud.

  The pokémon adored the attention. His little leaves patted against her arms in glee.

  "What is this? It's so cute!" she asked, voice about half an octave higher.

  "A Cottonee. They're a pretty big problem on my side of the world. Random flights will have to be stopped since they like to fly together; you haven't seen a disaster if you haven't seen a plane's engines after running into them. They're pretty beautiful when against a cloudy day since their bright white cotton stands out against the stormy skies. I've made plenty of paintings with them as the main subjects, as they're an image of a cloud without being sullied by all the imperfections of being a cloud," Mina said.

  "You're both one-track minds, aren't you? Don't get too touchy-feely with that one, by the way. It's mine," Lane said.

  Erika pulled away with her entire body covered. Wagging her arms didn't do much more than make them seep through the fabric, getting even more stuck. She stood back up with as much dignity as possible—very hard when there were hundreds of little needles pressing against her skin. Itching wasn't womanly. She was not going to pick out cotton from her clothes in front of guests.

  "Are you trying to bribe me with foreign grass-types?" Erika said.

  'Because it's working' went unsaid.

  "Let's make this sound as altruistic as possible: this is a joint Kanto-Alolan education initiative trying to modernize the region's understanding of typings and abilities." He had to work to find the smuggest Lane that existed in his heart, who could create a smirk modeled after every punchable face in the world. "More succinctly, I'm so tired of people losing to me because they don't actually know how to battle."

  "I hope that you aren't talking about me. If I remember correctly, you were the one to run away," Erika said dryly.

  "I just approached you because you're the only gym leader in the region who would be willing to hear me out without asking something stupid like if I know how to battle," Lane said. He picked up Fomantis and presented him. "Look at this guy. Imagine if you knew what the ability 'Contrary' did when we fought. Then there would be no way that you could ever lose to him. Well, Lulu's another story. She'd still beat you."

  "More importantly," Mina interrupted, warily watching as Erika's hands clenched shut, "you could learn more about the typings that my region knows and then teach the other people in Kanto about them. We thought that you would be the best to learn since…"

  Lane had no care of offending anybody. "The rest of the leaders don't have the personalities for this kind of stuff. Since you're kind of region-renowned for your proper gentle lady persona, we thought that you would get along with them the best. Now, gift time! From me, it's the state-of-the-art pokédex that was invented by Professor Oak. This isn't a bribe; when I mentioned that I'd be going over here, he gave me one specifically for you. What totally is a bribe is that we can collect the data from these typings and then we can then present it to the good professor. You look smarter, are smarter, get in the professor's good graces, and help out humanity. It's a win-win-win-win-win."

  Which would then further endear Lane to the professor who would be more lenient whenever dealing with Lane, which then could be exploited into a longer joint tenure that would pay for traveling, which would also be both ethical and self-interested because he was getting tired of hearing silly questions and responses—"that's not a real typing," and "what's that?" and various other statements that had wound up his nerves in a way that surprised even him, making it yet another win-win-win-win-win-win.

  Erika turned the device over and over again as if she were making a pancake. It was sometimes hard for Lane to remember that some people in Kanto legitimately didn't even know how to use a cell phone. When she folded her hands at her waist with the device still held, it was also a reminder how she didn't have pockets either.

  "And for you, I've got another," Mina said, giving Erika a pokéball. The gym leader took it with her other hand, nearly dropping the pokédex as it became slack in her grip. "That one is also from Alola. Morelull are usually well-behaved when they're caught so he shouldn't give you much trouble."

  "So you want me to do what exactly?" Erika said. She couldn't stop staring at the ball.

  Lane grinned. "Want to catch up Kanto with the international understanding of typings?"

  "International? That's not true," Mina said.

  Lane's mouth sucked in. He wasn't used to having him be contradicted when he was talking genuinely. "What?"

  "Only Kalos and Alola acknowledge the existence of fairy-types at the moment. Hoenn doesn't acknowledge the existence of steel-types either."

  Erika looked lost— not in the bad way. There was an all too obvious hunger in her eyes that demanded more.

  Lane was a little disappointed by how the meeting turned out. He actually wanted her to protest being bribed.

  "I'm not sure what we're trying to do here," Erika said.

  They stood behind the gym, in the little niche that had nothing except dirt. Cars occasionally rumbled by. Passerby watched curiously as their gym leader whispered seriously with a boy her own age behind her gym, on the clock. Tabloids salivated at such easy prey.

  "Do you have any pokémon that know fighting moves?" Lane asked.

  "No."

  "Dragon?"

  "No! Of course not!"

  "Dark?"

  "I'm not sure what that is." She didn't want to sound overly dismissive, but the looks that the pair were getting started turning embarrassing. "Is this going somewhere?"

  Lane flicked two finger guns. "Sure is, beansprout. You surely have a bug move somewhere there, right?"

  One of the balls rumbled when her fingers passed by it. A mushroom that nearly eclipsed the two in height came out, tiny pincers feeling around the grass for its bearings. Lane leaned down to get a better view of the Parasect. She hadn't brought the bug out during their fiasco at the game corner, but he could clearly see the marks of an experienced battler from the scars on its claws. Compare that to the measly ball of fluff that was having trouble floating against the wind (though seemed to be making a game of trying to fly in place against its biology's wishes) and it became a goliath-style puzzle without the goliath-style ending.

  "Is there a weaker bug pokémon that you have? One that won't send a newbie sky-high? Mina specifically said that she just caught the Cottonee. Not sure it could do much else but cleave my poor guy in two," he said as slowly as he could. A glance was afforded to his newest member. "No offense, Cottonee."

  Erika continued staring at him with the grace, respect, tolerance, that was required for a lady of her station.

  "I'm a grass-type leader," she said.

  "Right. Grass leader. Right. No coverage moves is fine. It's fine because I predicted that something like this could happen so—"

  Finger guns redirected towards the sky. Erika followed their path before turning back to him.

  Checking his pokédex one more time, Lane realized that his prediction was entirely on the mark. Chaos principle struck. He was disappointed but didn't let it get to him that badly. Nobody could be exactly on time everytime. But it had left them no longer as two battlers—now they were two kids with their pokémon out. Above all, the sun shifted so that the light colors of the gym started reflecting harshly against the two. Erika wore her ceremonial clothes everywhere and they were stiflingly hot in a way that she quickly had grown used to from the high-intensity fights that'd commonly happen in her gym, making her nearly impervious to heat; Lane wasn't.

  He also wasn't used to being quiet. And the judgmental stare didn't feel nice. He'd rather get one that was for something intentionally dumb than for someone else being late.

  "So how do you like being a gym leader? Since we're waiting here and all," Lane said.

  Though she didn't let it show, she appreciated that the conversation strayed from such ambitious, region-shaking topics. "I'm in love with my position. At the moment the full brunt of the inner workings have been left to my secretary and family members, which gives me more time to focus on battling. It's indescribable what I feel during battles against strong opponents. Do you not feel the same?"

  "Eh. I'm not huge into battling. Being around magic monsters is enough for me," Lane said, watching as Cottonee lost the battle for a moment as it was carried into his chest. The pokémon was the affectionate sort, giving him a nuzzle before pushing off into its drifting state again. Bits of cotton stuck to his faux-suit jacket like grenades on a soldier's bandolier.

  "Oh! I apologize for making it sound like I only cared for their battling abilities. Learning how to bring out the best qualities in them is just as fulfilling as taking care of the indoor garden. My mother taught me everything that I know and I caught on to it quickly—almost as quickly as battling. Within a year of learning I could take any pokémon and use it to beat my parents. How about you? You must've taken to it easily yourself considering Lulu's skill," she said.

  "Pretty much instantly," Lane said with a shrug. "That's why my title is 'lazy genius'. I can pretty much do anything."

  "Who gave you the title?"

  "Me."

  "...I see."

  He nudged his head backwards. "So your whole gym shtick is set up by you or someone else?"

  "It's mostly me!" Dismissed before it even got a chance to rise out of her brain, an idea so horrible that she didn't want to remember: telling him about where the design came from. Her father still had the notebooks that she marked in crayon about all the things that she wanted if she ever became a real gym leader. The best/worst part? Most became reality. It was her greatest joy. She'd never let that secret leave her inner circle. "Many people had to be in the loop during the whole process, but nearly all my designs had enough merit that they were introduced into the gym at some point. The girls and I like to make a few changes with the type of flowers that we have depending on the season, which is the greatest design change that it's had since building it two years ago. I'd like to say that I've done a fine job."

  "That include the whole gender-skewed hiring ratio or what?"

  She smiled sheepishly. "It's an agreement between my secretary and family. She said that my reputation preceded me and that a lot of boys my age may use the position to get closer to me because they're 'that age'. I agreed just because women are better gardeners. As time has weaned on, fewer men have even tried. I'd like to say that this won't be considered against you. I've never really personally stepped into the hiring process so I'm sure that will convince everyone to let it happen, and I can't imagine you being the romantic type."

  Lane had been struck speechless, not reacting when Erika started laughing at her own joke. He tried to get any sort of sign from her that she was merely pretending, waiting, nothing. Just the same proper woman who believed that women had natural green thumbs more than men. There were plenty of farms in Kanto—it was an autonomous region that hardly traded with its neighbors because of the natural obstacles in the way—and Lane was pretty sure that those farmers were nearly all men.

  It brought up an entire questioning of what exactly a green thumb meant. Obviously it didn't mean actual growing, unless Erika thought that the guys only hauled things around while the women really worked the magic on the soil. There must've been an aesthetic part of it that men were worse at determining the 'feel', 'vibe', 'aura', however topical or spiritual a term that you wanted to pin on it. This further raised the question of what that meant for those who worked within the arts; did men who designed buildings and paint and sculpt all have different brains—that a green thumb was an entirely different set of aesthetic judgements which only women understood?—or that there was some strange claim within that even men weren't good at art, a strange sort of discrimination that he couldn't fathom the reasoning for?

  A cloud of dust erupted, finally making Cottonee lose the battle as he was sent spiraling. A burly man wearing a karate gi dismounted from the Fearow that landed (not done because he was a fighting-type gym leader, but that fast methods of reliable travel were limited towards the few flying pokémon that could carry heavy burdens or skilled psychic-types; most trusted the ever-reliable Fearow, including Erika herself), walking up to the kids without the same swagger that Lane could feel from the actual gym leaders. The wingspan that shadowed the kids could keep any load aloft, an exaggeration, from one end of the region to the other.

  Lane stumbled as a big fist pounded into his little chest.

  "So you're the little man who called me out here? Hah! I would've ignored you if I didn't recognize your name. You're lucky that I check my mail often," the man said. His big hand landed on Lane's little shoulder to help balance.

  "I would've asked Sabrina to give you a heads-up but I've never met her. Lane Rand, if you remember," Lane said, straightening up his jacket.

  Erika didn't interject until she was sure that the man's name had come to mind. "You're the fighting specialist Kiyo in Saffron."

  The man scowled at her, making the girl recoil back. "And it'd be gym leader Kiyo if I weren't put in the same city with a psychic-type specialist. Now what did you want? All that I received in the mail was a promise of some tech from Professor Oak in return for a favor."

  "This is the tech in question." Lane traded the pokédex. Another set of hands manhandled the device, though the rippling muscles and lack of decorum made the fiddling much more nerve-wracking. "Meet your new pokédex. It'll soon have a database on every pokémon that's known. If you want to know more, then just call the professor yourself 'cause we're on a schedule. I needed you here to see if you had a fighting-type that could be used against new trainers."

  Just like Erika, the man's uniform didn't have any pockets. The pokédex was just stuffed behind the man's black belt as he nodded.

  "I've got a new runt right here. He's newly hatched and just started battling, so any kid who has some experience should be able to beat him."

  Tyrogue came out of the ball screeching to the sky before taking a low stance. Cottonee took his sweet time to rejoin the group as it had to float against the breeze. When it finally made it back, it settled onto Lane's shoe. Lane kicked out.

  The pokémon went flying. It went higher, higher until nearly reaching beyond the gym's roof. Before any sense of tension could build the pokémon started floating down like a paper. Back and forth, like it was on a swing, the fluff floated back until it landed. Lane backed up first which prompted everyone else to follow suit. A few residents stopped to watch the fight. Most didn't recognize who either of the men were but they were sure that a fight that had attracted Erika was going to be good. Cheers came supporting either side, coming down to which trainer and pokémon looked the coolest.

  "We're going to do a test. Cottenee here can resist fighting-type moves, so I want to prove that with your little guy here," Lane said.

  "Is it a flying-type? That'd make sense why it flew into the air like that," Kiyo said.

  It took a few seconds for Lane to comprehend the sentence before he broke out into mutters. "Right. It would even look like a flying-type even if I used fairy wind. That makes sense and it's fine because I think that Tyrogue can learn a dark-type move, right? Hey, Kiyo! Does your Tyrogue know any dark-type moves?"

  "What's a dark-type?" Kiyo asked with a frown. "Did you call me all the way out here for a prank?"

  Erika jumped at the sudden thump. Another cloud of dust, meager in comparison, flew in a circle around the bag that was just thrown on the ground. Lane casually picked it up as if nothing even happened and started pacing around. Finally he turned back to the fight to return his pokémon.

  "Tell me the nearest person who has a dragon-type," Lane said.

  "Dragon-type?" Kiyo repeated, rubbing his chin. "Lance actually came down to Saffron. Took some time to himself because of the loss, I imagine. Probably spending some time over here so his family doesn't harass him!"

  "Cool. Champion or Elite Four. Whatever. Right. Take me to a phone and then take me to him and—you know what?—nevermind what I just said, instead circle around here so we can pick somebody up before going to Saffron. You're about to watch me get scientific up in here, or magician. Whichever one suits me better," Lane said.

  Erika was horrified at the suggestion. She had a sturdy enough sense of self to peacefully accept that the world was vastly larger than she was, along with the threats that came with it. It's partially why the gyms were generally held in 'tiers' from the weaker to the stronger. Unofficial 'tiers' existed as a barely kept secret to encourage trainers to take their journey as a step by step basis. Fighting against Blaine as your first one was susceptible to giving your pokémon life-threatening injuries compared to any other one, and he was a mere gym leader! Holding against her wasn't even on the same planet as fighting against an Elite Four member who firmly held their position until Red and Blue came barging through the entire circuit.

  She didn't want to be the one to interject. Yet, to her horror, the man whose arms were wider than her torso laughed at the suggestion, as the heckling from the crowd around them got louder. Every word was heard, and her city (to her shame) had never grown past petty rivalries of all sorts, which surged on these two boys who hadn't grown past their childish want to have their ego stroked. As the intensity increased, those two trainers seemed to be getting more confident. Shouts of the younger generation becoming the new one and Saffron vs Celadon and many more incoherent beliefs that appealed to the primal part of their brains.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  "You want to fight Lance? Now this I've got to see! Magician or science doesn't get you around the pure power needed to train a dragon-type," Kiyo said.

  "I've got more than power or science or magic: I've got moxie. I've got grit. There is a lot of swag inside of me. And the indomitable force of being in the right place at the right time cannot be triumphed. Now let's get down to the brass tacks. That giant bird can carry both of us, right?"

  "Easily! Fearow may not be trained for fighting, but no pokémon that I have can get away from strength training!"

  The last straw was Lane actually hiking up on the bird's back.

  Erika tried shouting them down. "Now hold on a second! You cannot be serious!"

  "Sorry that you're not going to be in the paper Erika. But hey, you still got a pokédex and two foreign pokémon out of this deal. That's got to count for something. When you read the article that I've done the impossible, we can talk about my employment if I haven't been snatched up by then. Now git!" Lane yelled, slapping the bird's behind.

  Spearow rolled its eyes at the callous slap and took off just a little more violently than normal. Everyone on the ground shielded their eyes from the sudden gust. Erika felt herself very annoyed, an emotion that seemed reserved for Lane visiting her city and people with bikes taking up the sidewalks. Her usually immaculate appearance had been disheveled by hugging a cotton ball followed by being on the wrong end of a typhoon. Smoothing out the wrinkles and dust didn't do anything except smudge her hands. Dirt was an acceptable circumstance of interacting with plants and pokémon, neither of which she did while being dragged out of her gym for nothing.

  It was infuriating actually! Getting dragged out for no reason! A random boy acting like he controlled the whole universe walked through her doors and kept pointing around as if he were a conductor. Then when she was promised a battle, had that broken, promised to be able to at least watch a battle, had that broken too, she was left wanting more—more, being anything but an Elite Four member tangibly having a reason to blame her for interrupting his vacation!

  On precise steps she went back into her gym. One of her girls was at the front door.

  "Help me get dressed quickly. I need to be somewhere."

  Thankfully she didn't have any appointments that day. Otherwise she wouldn't have been able to clean up the mess that she was partially complicit with.

  "Fighting a big fish is kind of more in line with what I was expecting. This pokédex seems like it's going to be super useful and I don't see Alola getting their hands on it anytime soon, so when you just wanted some pokémon that could be found by any kid walking outside, I was like, 'what?' This is way more of a favor," Mina said. She was trying to talk while still imprinting the scenery into her head. "Not that I mind. I'm not going to be a trial leader for nothing. I think we're making it a bit too much like a League though. First the gyms and then the badges and then we're gonna have our own Champion. They're really dragging their feet on everything though. We still don't have a real Champion chosen, nor the theming of our gym leaders that aren't gym leaders. Oh! What's that city?"

  Lane had to lean far back to hear the relaxed voice over the wind. Not that it was especially hard to do so since she had to wrap her arms around his stomach, but it led to an uncomfortable position where her mouth was pressed against his ear. 'Uncomfortable' was the best way to describe the flight. High winds made it near-freezing without long-sleeved clothes. Even with your body fully covered, it felt as though the wind's frigid fingers were tearing through any opening they could find. Being sandwiched between pure muscle and a little girl who could turn into a kite if her grip loosened wasn't exactly the same as a leather seat with a stewardess handing out cocktails either. He felt flying was a thing that he could say that he's done before and leave it at that. There was undoubtedly a thrill to being stories up into the air, aloft with only the wind, and it was certainly smoother than riding the back of a Tauros without a saddle, though it tasted like a bad trip of nostalgia as he simply reminisced on the thrills that were hundreds of feathers below.

  She repeated the question. Neither of them were great conversationalists when there was an entire region on display. From the great sapphire to the shrinking jade to the gems that didn't gleam yet still were cherished, all was visible on the back of the bird. Lane couldn't really see why people liked the place so much. Being stuck in a mountainous region with no hope of escaping was the plot to a horror book.

  She repeated the question again. Lane looked to where her finger was pointed. Squat buildings. Triangle roofs. Very western.

  "I have no idea!" he said.

  They landed at the edge of Saffron, inside the city walls while being at a place Lane thought must've been specifically made for fliers. Nobody seemed surprised as they touched down next to the pokémon center, neither from their landing or components; two unrecognizable kids and a not-gym leader weren't exactly cutthroat in Kanto's largest city. The largest of them led the group into a part of town that Lane never got to explore: large buildings, large wallets, anything that superseded the size of a singular person was allowed in the only place where Kanto's traditional views faded. Up to date infrastructure and the newest technology were hand-in-hand inside all the hi-tech corporations that made the heart of the city their homes. International shops were what most people were interested in and made up most of the city's tourist traffic, as the department store only had everything a person could need rather than want.

  They were bumping shoulders, literally at times, with the higher society, a people who were physically present yet were of a different cloth. Out of all of them, Lane was most surprised that Mina had no qualms with pushing people that got too near. Her shoulders were rock solid concepts that bluffed against men twice her height without worry. He didn't bother asking if Kiyo knew where they were going since you weren't supposed to ask a question you weren't ready to hear the answer to. An unspoken question was answered when Kiyo exclaimed in surprise when they'd been walking next to an open-patio restaurant.

  The beret and peacoat nearly made Lance unrecognizable, as was the relatively invisible presence that he carried being another person in another restaurant. Press was limited to an undercover man drinking coffee behind them and the only fawning was done by the waiter, attempting to contain his excitement with a near-illegible order that had been scrawled on his notepad. Kiyo dragged the kids directly to Lance's table.

  Lane didn't need any prompting. Despite having a much shorter stride, he put enough power to be in front. The other person at the table didn't matter. They didn't matter so much that Lane didn't acknowledge their existence as he stuck his hand out in front of their face, getting an annoyed glare from Sabrina. Above drinks not for kids, Lane's arm wiggled around.

  "Mr. Lance. My name is Lane, allegedly. Historian, scientist, magician. I would like to battle against you. Don't matter if you have your weakest team or strongest."

  Lance had to look between all the people who were now gathered at his table, swallow, before looking at Sabrina—raised eyebrow telling of her opinion. He wasn't going to get any help.

  "Why did you let a kid interrupt me in the middle of lunch, Kiyo?" Lance asked. He started eating his avocado toast again. Say what you will about the thing making no sense, it was good.

  A heavy hand fell on the kids' shoulders. "These ain't normal kids, Lance. The one next to me knew the Champion and the other is from another region—Aloma, or something. They're insisting there's something big they discovered."

  "Many kids have crazy theories. So far I haven't seen a Golbat able to challenge a meteor," Lance said dismissively. "I'm in the middle of something. Let them go play at your dojo instead."

  "Then let me sweeten the deal." Lane pulled out a pokédex from his bag. "See this? It's Professor Oak's new invention. I'll give you one for free if you battle us. Sure, you might get one eventually, but isn't the cost of opportunity in waiting for this thing way too enormous for you to ignore?"

  Lance stared at the brick of plastic in disinterest. He shook his head, making a show of adjusting his chair. "I've heard of it. The dex or something or the other. I have no need for it. All of pokémon that I need to know the details of are from the clan. No piece of technology is going to substitute generations of experience."

  "Sure, until the new typings, moves, and abilities are implemented into this. Then you're constantly going to be playing catch up with everyone else. Because, level with me on this, you know that everybody is going to scramble for this just as I do. The general knowledge and experience of the general trainer is going to skyrocket when they don't have to rely on their close friends and experimentation. Why not get ahead early?"

  Lance rolled his eyes, though the slight quaking of his lips was visible enough that even Mina could tell he was starting to enjoy himself. "Tell me, what does this matter to someone of my position? It's no exaggeration to call me one of the strongest trainers in the world. The general public's ability doesn't change that most don't have the talent or grit to ascend far enough to give me a good fight. Therefore, it's useless to worry about how the general public is doing. Far as their ability goes, they'll never catch up."

  "You shouldn't only be thinking about their ability. Your experience may be in dragon-types and you may think that your experience has taught you everything about pokémon, but au contraire! Can you draw by memory every pokémon's tracks?"

  After a moment of contemplation, Lance conceded, "no, I can't. What situation would I ever need to know that?"

  "Don't underestimate the power of imaginative thinking!" Lane knew that he was onto something, and let his smirk fully turn mocking. "Consider this, if you will: a strange, aggressive pokémon has been sighted and you're tasked with dealing with it. How do you proceed? Without a pokédex, you're forced to actually fight against it before learning about it. With a pokédex, you'll know that it's a Seismitoad from Unova that's a water, ground-type. Besides, how can you say no to good information?"

  It took a moment of contemplation before Lance took the napkin off his lap and threw it on the table. "I can pick up my own pokédex, but you've earned yourself a fight. Let me at least finish my meal."

  Mina didn't even think of asking when she slid herself into one of the free chairs. Her finger jabbed over to a plate next to Sabrina, holding shrimp in some kind of sauce. "Can I have a bite of that?"

  When Erika finally arrived, she could already see the crowd that gathered from the sky. Dismounting quickly, she ran up and, even though it caused her great shame, used her status as a gym leader to shove through the wall of reporters then a wall of children then a wall of businessmen playing hooky until she made it to the front row of brave idiots who wanted to see the action up close. Between the multiple public arenas that were in the city, Kiyo's dojo was chosen as a popularity boost and an apology for using him as a taxi. Nearly all the people who were in earshot to the argument had followed them. Diffusing from those original people were those wondering why so many were gathering around the usually empty building. Once the message hit the streets, an exponential effect had begun.

  An indescribable smell to anyone not familiar with dojos overwhelmed even the crowd of humans clamoring for their seats. No bleachers or mats were present which made the young stand as the older ones sat on their knees. Some locals who were quick to react had been able to bring lawn chairs to stretch on as the combatants got their pokémon ready, quickly pushed out as they were taking up valuable space. The students of the dojo acted as security and didn't protest as she walked into the group discussing the upcoming match. Sabrina's trainers gave her a short nod as their pokémon worked at constructing a barrier to protect the spectators.

  Inside the translucent purple wall were the two sides chatting. Lance and Sabrina were talking about how to sell the fight afterwards. Lane and Mina were sitting on the wooden floors discussing how best to paint the mountains.

  He was taken out of it by a sudden yanking on his ear. It was gentle, sapping any effect it could've had. "While I admire your tenacity, do you not think that challenging an Elite Four member makes your claim more the work of a madman than an inspired genius?"

  Mina willingly turned away from the adults. "Hey, Erika. Long time no see."

  Lane tapped Erika's hand that was holding him. "See this? This is the rage that comes from the lack of knowledge. It's an anger of not knowing. Unknowing. Lack of knowing?"

  "Dumbness. Like that Green lady," Mina said.

  "Yeah. Look, it was cute when people thought that fairy-types weren't real. Then I learned that people don't know what a steel-type or dark-type was and that's like, wow, okay. Then I learned how there's a genuine gap of knowledge with abilities which was just silly. Some of these things are known in Johto! Do you even know what a Bellossom is? And yet you have a Tangrowth, which apparently isn't common knowledge on how to evolve it! Abilities are just basic pokémon!"

  "It kind of is," Mina said, nodding.

  There was a very slight twisting to the grip. She gave special care to not let her nails get caught against his skin.

  "I am not afraid of inflicting harm upon you if you continue casually insulting me."

  "What insults? I'm just saying that the whole region is kind of stupid because—"

  A harsh yank finally made the hand a danger, making his body shudder in anticipation that a delicate part was held under threat of violence. She leaned down into the ear that was held open.

  "Do you understand how rude that you're being? It's one thing to claim that I don't understand a part of pokémon, another to act as though I don't deserve my position."

  "Well, it's more that the region as a whole—" he yelped when another tug came. "Okay, it's more that the knowledge hasn't spread, which makes you people definitionally—" another yank made his jaw shudder. "There's nothing wrong with being ignorant!"

  She gave it the firmest yank yet, frustrated grunts eating her sneer. "I was hoping that this was your off switch, but it appears that your nasty language is simply built in. Do you have no idea how saying these kinds of things makes it harder to convince people?"

  "Um, no?" He held his hands up when she started clenching harder. "I'm not good at those words stuff! Please let me go!"

  "I'm not sure. Perhaps some old-fashioned training can teach you to keep your mouth shut whenever an insult would come out," she said.

  "Please don't. I need that ear to focus on the battle," Lane said. He tried eyeing Mina for help, the girl whose attention had already drifted off to a couple who was standing at the opposite end of the room, the girl berating the man in a scene that emphasized their distinct features, the girl's sketching hand twitching in anticipation. "Look, um, I'm sorry for insulting you? My mouth is stupid and even if I mean it, I don't really mean it to be this mean? And, well, uh, I don't know. Are you apologized to yet?"

  Erika sighed, finally letting go of his ear. "It was not a good apology, if that's what you were asking. I'll accept it, if for no reason other than Lance looks as though he's ready to begin."

  Cordoned off from the others by the dojo's disciples was a pseudo-VIP area that had anybody notable sitting in two rows. She sat down in the front, hands trying to stay folded in her lap and quickly devolving into nervous habits, then returning to nervous habits that were less harmful since various important people made a scary ensemble of the region's power: herself, Sabrina, various supermassive reporters, the mayor, a media mogul who'd been eating at the same restaurant, and the dad of an important villain who didn't exist yet and would only become important 83 years from then.

  Cameras hung up on sturdy beams to give multiple angles on the fight. Networks hurriedly cleared up slots to show the first fight Lance was participating in since his loss, along with being the first fight of any Elite Four member since their loss, along with an Elite Four member descending from their place in the high castle to participate in what could be called a street match. Everybody who couldn't fit inside were ushered out to watch the match through their televisions. Still some hung around outside the door just to hear the announcements.

  A rowdy crowd of women, children, and men whose weekdays were cleared and those whose weekdays weren't cleared were already chatting loud enough that individual conversations were shouted. No speaker system was set up inside of the dojo. Thus the announcer, a thirty-so year old man who worked as maintenance and coincidentally had a silky voice, had to shout his croon above the din of excitement.

  "You heard it here, folks! This is the first match that Lance has ever been a part of since being dethroned from being the unbeatable draconid! Being challenged by a pair of complete nobodies, ladies and gents. Trainers like you and me. If you asked them for their badges, they'd ask if beating Lance would give 'em all the badges! This is going to be one for the history books folks. We're here live in Kiyo's dojo on..."

  Nobody could hear Lance's quiet, "not a draconid," over the announcer's yells.

  Mina sat with her legs spread wide, shoulders being massaged. Lane leaned down next to her head. He assumed a surly, swarthy voice as if he were huffing with each syllable. Next to her Lulu was offering a towel and water bottle that were denied.

  "Do you think we can win?" Lane whispered.

  "Nah. I'm good enough to become a trial leader but not enough to beat everyone—that's what being Elite Four means if I'm not mistaken." She leaned backwards slightly. "Do you think we can win?"

  "I win everything. That's why I'm the lazy genius."

  Mina nodded. "People call me that too. Usually my dad when he gets mad that I didn't do my chores."

  They walked to the center of the impromptu stage when Lance did. The man flared his cape out just for dramatic effect, which made most of the crowd swoon. Nobody at the front was moved. Erika started chewing her cheek, imagining if she was put in the same embarrassing situation, while Sabrina was wondering what day the taxes for her gym were due.

  "I hope that dex is mine no matter the outcome of this battle," Lance said.

  "And I hope that you throw your strongest dragon moves out just for show," Lane said. "So this is a two versus one, three pokémon each person, and no substitutions?"

  "Two versus one, each combatant can use three pokémon, and there will be no substitutions!" the announcer yelled. From his slight perch on three mats stacked on each other, the man gesticulated wildly as he shouted. "Three! Two! One! Send out your pokémon!"

  The crowd roared. None of the battlers were too anxious over what amounted to a back alley scrap. Three different pokémon were chosen with only a bare amount of strategy behind them. A tiny worm-like pokémon growled cutely at the opposing Cottonee and Wigglytuff. Lance huffed at the strange choices that looked as if they could be found next to Route 3.

  There was always a kid inside of him, that preened from the attention, that always begged to be let out, guiding him to raise his hand dramatically to give out a command, no matter if his opponents were way over their heads.

  "Target the grass-type with Dragon Rage!" Lance yelled.

  The blue flames blew into the air at a speed belying the pokémon's size. Powerful and relentless, there was no opportunity that Cottonee could've been able to dodge the flames. Each mote of fire impacted with its cotton and dissipated within its fluff. The pokémon flapped its leaves around merrily just to rub in its lack of pain.

  Lance gaped. Erika paused with her teeth hovering just over her nails. Sabrina didn't show any outward reaction save for her jaw jutting forwards. Reporters dropped their pads of paper.

  Mina took advantage of the lull in combat as even the Dratini was too shocked to react. "Hit 'em with a Dazzling Gleam."

  Touching down was the first instance of pink floating from that specific pokémon's body, nobody knowing to shield their eyes when a bright flash took over nearly half the room. Those that resisted the light better could see that it undulated between the colors of the rainbow, sparkles shot shooting out from the main body that had the intensity of a flashbang. They seemed utterly repulsive to the young dragon who could barely keep itself upright when under their influence, screeching when the pain became too much. It was over in a moment, much too long for the dragon-type. Its noodle body slumped.

  Lance took a long time to recenter himself to reality. Reality was the place where he had recently lost to a few kids, went on break to avoid being yelled at by his family, then took up a challenge only to end up in the exact same situation. The same reporter who was in the stands during the fight for the champion's spot was hungrily watching another beatdown of the region's most vaunted celebrities, and Lance could feel the sleazy gazes thinking of how best to dismantle his hard-earned reputation. Unhooking another pokéball, he decided that any farce would be broken down before silly ideas could be spread.

  "Dragonair! Send a Thunder Wave to the grass-type and Dragon Rage the Wigglytuff!"

  "Stun Spore him first," Lane said.

  The lazy order had gotten an immediate reaction from the Cottonee. Its spores that were shaken from the fluffy body sped ahead like predator missiles. The thin wave of electricity that briefly connected the two pokémon weaved between the yellow balls that flung into Dragonair's face, causing it to sneeze as its body unwittingly started coiling into itself. Flickers of embers shot out, as the rumbling torrents in its throat didn't stop just because its neck muscles were locking up.

  Another stream of blue fire followed, cutting across the remaining spores and lighting up the room. Even the amateurs in the audience could recognize the sheer difference in power between Lance's two pokémon, a fire that burned brighter and sliced across like a knife, which only further drove in the point when the Wigglytuff was able to block the flames just by poking out its gut. The pokémon slammed its stomach and sent another blast of light over the field.

  This time the psychics were ready. The barrier dimmed to protect the eyes of the humans so they could get a full view of the writhing snake. It slammed against the floor as unfamiliar energy bathed over it, sometimes spasming as the effects of paralysis still worked away at its body. Even through the pain it still reveled in being above the normal crop. The pokémon lifted its head the moment the light faded away and opened its tiny mouth. Little bundles of fire wrapped into each other bounced out in a shotgun spread that sputtered against any surface. Lazily aimed, only a single one managed to shred through the ball of cotton.

  Cottonee never stood a chance against an attack from a pokémon multiple leagues above him. Purple motes of light sizzled as the fire, without anything to sustain it, evaporated into the air—Cottonee evaporated too. Lane held out the pokéball and withdrew the pokémon so her body of tinder didn't get turned into a campfire.

  Another flash of light covered the battlefield as Lane easily sent out Lulu. No more worries about proving his 'theory', now focusing on ending the battle after giving a token effort. Lulu seemed to understand that, recognizing the man across from her from pictures. Her head kept whipping back and forth as if there were any escape.

  Before his pokémon even fainted, Lance called it back. Without any expression, he threw his last pokéball. A giant figure replaced it. The pudgy belly didn't seem to give it any extra weight as its limbs moved around nimbly. The tiny wings were able to easily keep it aloft, each flap nearly hitting its head against the ceiling.

  Its form blurred. In an impossible movement, an orange streak impacted with the pokémon who'd been flexing towards the crowd. The Wigglytuff bounced against the wall, ceiling, then ground before rolling to a stop. Its fat made it look disturbingly like a tennis ball with each impact. An orange foot landed on its face as Dragonite blasted blue fire onto the pokémon's face. Its huge nostrils expanded as it snorted in disbelief. Even its own Dragon Rage that could melt steel slid off the pokémon's sides like it was taking a shower. One last kick made it bounce around like a pinball, knocking it out somewhere during the fight.

  All Lulu was able to manage was glancing back at her trainer in betrayal before being picked up by a biological hydraulic press. Little hexagons were the only thing separating a stapler's razors from shredding her paper-thin body. Protect was a handy move, and he was glad to watch the shield stand up even as Dragonite thrashed her around like a chew toy.

  "Aim for the eyes! It'll totally let go of you!" Lane yelled.

  Lurantis tried smacking the beast's eyes only for it to clench down harder. Lane decided to withdraw her before Protect even ran out. Unwilling to give up, Mina took out her next pokémon as Lane reluctantly brought out his last.

  Hail started falling. Children raised up their hands to catch the tiny ice particles that sank into the ground, dissipated against their skin without leaving water. A glorious mane of pale blue hair graduated into white, flowing without any force keeping it aloft. The fox pokémon's snout seemed like it was smiling as it took to the field with each step almost being a prance. It leapt to the side as a rock tried splitting the floorboards and lowered its snout through the blue fire. The brief opportunity it was afforded allowed it to howl, causing a screen of distorted light to form. Looking through it gave the same effect as looking through a soap bubble. The Dragonite's snout, now with a little bit of rainbow mixed in with its furious orange, scrunched as it flew forwards to continue the brawl close ranged.

  Kneeling next to the shivering form, Lane talked casually as if they weren't in a fight. "Come on, Dunsparce, it's just a dragon. Nevermind that you're not suited for these big fights. Just throw a rock or two and it'll be over with! Just divert attention and you'll have done a great job."

  Just to taunt him, a streak of orange sped across the field and splayed Dunsparce against the invisible wall. The pokémon only managed a pitiful whine before he was also recalled. Without any reason to be there, he moseyed over to the line of important people that were in the front row. He ignored the questions and the microphone pushed into his face. Inching his butt into position, he only gave the man a few seconds to respond to the sudden rump that forced itself into the reporter's former seat. The already cramped spectators grumbled as they pressed against each other.

  "So how'd you think? Pretty convincing that there's a fairy-type when multiple pokémon shrug off Dragon Rages," Lane said to Erika.

  A microphone touched his cheek. "So the reason that Lance's Dragon Rages were ineffective during this match was because of a, as you call it, fairy-typing?"

  Erika had trouble coming up with an appropriate response. For a second she forgot that multiple other gym leaders, political leaders, and microphones were able to hear her. If only she were a little older, two years at least, then she'd have a mature enough brain to skillfully dance through the ball of interaction. Unfortunately the wiles of the young weren't nearly comparable to those who had a lifetime to learn to hold their tongues and she was due for learning about the reach of a single easy to misunderstand statement.

  "The way that you two presented it made it look stronger than even dragon-types," Erika breathed. "It's obvious that neither of you are comparable to Lance's team and yet you were able to bring him down to his last pokémon without taking a scratch."

  "It was mostly the element of surprise, but yeah. If my Cottonee was evolved then we would've had a more impressive showing. Probably would've been able to even beat this Dragonite with a little coordination."

  "Really?" Erika shrieked. Nobody paid attention in lieu of Ninetales being used in a one-man basketball game, a blue ball that was being dribbled across the field. Active, sure, she'd occasionally leap out of the way of an attack, before being caught again and flipped sports with a stray strike. Already Dragonite had adapted to only relying on basic moves rather than those with dragon energy, as they would strangely glide off the pokémon's cool fur.

  "Sure. We bring out Whimsicott and Wigglytuff. Her Wigglytuff sets up screens while Whimsicott uses Follow Me. If Whimsicott is still able, then we Stun spore or Leech seed depending on the situation. She brings out her Ninetales and then we win. Simple, prolly." Lane nudged her shoulder. "So is that job still open? I'm willing to teach you about the pokémon that I know about. Maybe your gym will get a sudden donation of Lurantis if I'm added to the staff."

  Erika imagined what the foreign boy carrying miracles could do. A field of cotton. A field of striped pokémon that shone in the sun. Maybe even more incredible pokémon that were also green. She could imagine the indoor gym becoming a paradise with flowers from all over the world growing in vines up to the ceiling and self-sufficient trees growing fruits nobody had heard of before and glowing stalks that provided light so the building would have to rely less on artificial lighting. Who knew what was possible? She didn't consider herself the type to ask that. She dreamed big and found ways to make her dreams a reality.

  They shook hands as Ninetales was laid out on its back, tongue lolled out onto the floor.