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THE MORTAL EARTH

Chapter Four: The Rusted City

The rainforest did not end all at once. It faded with the hours as Ash approached the Rusted City, giving way to the signs and scraps of civilization. The slumped shadows of shacks built amid blackbark trees and ferns. Sunken potholes in crumbling cobblestone roads. Moss-covered clusters of rusted buildings beneath the gloom of rainforest trees.

Ash followed a trail through the lush decay. He passed deep green ponds rimmed by floating algae, alone in his trek apart from the splash of Lotad and blue flash of Taillow. Bootprints in the muddy path were the only evidence people hung around the rainforest now.

Craning his neck, he stared in disbelief at the mossy, broken structures of Rustboro's outskirts as he hiked beneath them. It was a world of industry fallen into ruin, wrecked by war and the creep of nature. If he scrutinized the rainforest carefully, he could make out the boulevards that had been, before trees punctured their medians and encroached on crumbling towers. Ash pictured the people who had dwelt in the warped and molding buildings. There for generations and then gone in a blink.

Oblivion trailed at his heels, sniffing at the giant ferns that choked the path.

Ash glanced back and waited for the Type: Null to catch up to him with a tired sigh. The temptation to curl beneath the ferns, to doze in the dappled light of the afternoon, crept up on him whenever he halted. Travel had been rough ever since he'd lost his tent in the escape from the wild Vigoroth. He was lucky his ankle had healed after a few days of riding Oblivion, but his back ached from nights spent shivering in the rain, without even a sleeping bag to shield him from the downpour. He was muddy and sodden and bruised, and it had taken every scrap of Ash's devotion to maintain his team's training regimen during their time on the trail.

He didn't care that Rustboro was known as the Rusted City – to him, it promised paradise.

"Rustboro must have rivaled Saffron in its heyday," Ash said when Oblivion wandered up to him. He didn't like the stillness of wreckage. There was no soul left to it; just rotting timbers and shattered hulks of glass.

Oblivion cocked his head at Ash's comment, lacking the frame of reference to understand it.

Ash spared him a wan smile. "Have you ever been to a major city before? Hau'oli maybe?"

The Type: Null shook his head, growling lowly.

"So this will be your first time. Your owners really didn't like to travel, huh?" Ash said. "When we were in Littleroot, I could tell from how often you got sand clogged in your mask that you also weren't used to beaches."

Ash wasn't surprised when Oblivion ignored him. He frowned, thinking about how inexperienced the Type: Null was for a domesticated pokémon. Tried to imagine the life Oblivion must have led, living in a mega-complex on the sea, unused to sand or dense crowds or even simple human affection. He glanced at his starter for a long moment. The more he considered Oblivion's origins, the more his neck began to prickle. Perhaps distrust wasn't the only reason the Type: Null revealed nothing about his old life in Alola.

"Hey, Oblivion?" he asked, keeping his voice neutral. "I only know a bit about Alola, but aren't all the ports located in major cities like Hau'oli and Malie? If you've never been to any of them, where did your owners dock when you left the mega-complex?"

Oblivion stiffened in midstep on the trail. He swung his masked head around to stare at Ash in suspicion.

Ash locked eyes with the Type: Null, an even expression on his face. "I'm just asking."

He hated to make Oblivion uncomfortable, but he had to know.

Oblivion's green eyes flashed with an emotion Ash couldn't identify – misery? Bitterness? The Type: Null let the question hang in the air, breaking eye contact to stare down at his paws.

Ash exhaled a breath. There was only one answer that would warrant Oblivion's reaction. "You never left the mega-complex, did you? Locking you in a cage, it wasn't – it wasn't just how they transported you on the ocean liner. It was how they always treated you."

Those bastards. Anger flared in Ash's gut. He'd suspected Oblivion's old owners were abusive, but until now it had just been abstraction. He never got it. Somehow he let himself conflate the Type: Null's past with turquoise tropical waters, with glittering white beaches and leaping Wishiwashi. Instead, Oblivion had been imprisoned in one of the most beautiful regions on Earth, unable to understand what it meant to have his fur tangled with leaves, or for warm sand to shift beneath his paws. Locked in a harsh, walled-off world.

The irony didn't make him laugh.

He shook his head, controlling himself. Oblivion wasn't looking for sympathy, not if he had tried so hard to conceal his past. He swallowed and cleared his throat. "We'll go to all the amazing places in Hoenn, okay, you and me and the rest of the team. We'll see the Wailord pods swimming through the kelp forests of Mossdeep. The thousands cheering in the crowds of Ever Grande Stadium – cheering for us. Everything."

Oblivion glanced up into the rainforest tangles, searching for the sky. His eyes flicked toward him, questioning, and Ash felt himself nod. "I promise."

The Type: Null nodded in return, then hesitated for a moment, perhaps lost in memories. He padded ahead of Ash on the trail, glancing back to wait for his trainer to follow him into the gloom.

They walked on in tired silence. Ash watched Oblivion for a time, thinking about the pact between them ever since that night on the ocean liner. The way he'd clung to Oblivion through the storm-lashed waves; the way Oblivion now clung to Ash as the only human he could trust. Despite his growling and suspicious cynicism, Ash knew the Type: Null would stand between him and danger no matter how outmatched they found themselves. All because Ash had been the first human to let him out of a cage instead of forcing him in.

Ash tightened his fists. I'll do better than that. Oblivion, Cirrus ... they have faith in me even when they have reason to never trust others again. I have to live up to that faith.

The thought of Cirrus made Ash grimace at the mud clinging to his calves, at the dried blood staining his shirt. He knew he reeked as well, from the little Swablu's distressed attempts at scrubbing him clean over the past week. He sighed. "Bite me if I try to leave Dewford without a water-type; I'd like the ability to wash up and do laundry on the trail. Next time we do something like this, we're going to be prepared."

Oblivion glanced up from sniffing at Shroomish footprints, cocking his head curiously.

"What? Oh. Dewford's the next city we're visiting – I've heard its gym leader is only a little stronger than Roxanne. With any luck we can catch a Spheal or something on the beach there."

If we can actually defeat Roxanne, Ash silently added. He shook his head and squashed the worm of doubt. He and his team had trained hard these past few weeks, devised tricks and techniques now written in his battered notebook. Together, they'd braved the horrors that lurked in the rainforest night.

They could do this.

At last, the rainforest parted, and Ash blinked as he stood beneath the wide blue sky. The dipping slope gave him a view of the city expanse. Skyscrapers stood as needles in the distance, piercing the clouds.

"Rustboro," Ash said.

If he remembered right, what he saw was just a husk of the city's former glory, before even the most loyal supporters of Rustboro were unwilling to weather the tragedies suffered by the industrial powerhouse.

Some companies like Devon Corp. had raised shielded towers in defiance to the Imperium, but investors and traders soon had enough of the endless Dragon Wars, and so left the cratered city to deep-sea loading platforms and industrial factories and slums, while they relocated their homes further east, where the beat of a thousand wings wouldn't be the first sign of an invasion.

At one time in the past, Rustboro had been known for its university and glittering wealth, its fusion dishes and star parties and nightlife. Now, in the years after the Ninth Dragon War, it was known for its lingering devastation, for twisted skyscrapers melted by massive gouts of flame, for the charred apartments and overgrown kudzu vine of a city struggling to rebuild.

Ash himself only knew of Rustboro because of his mother's fixation on the television during the war. He'd just grown out of his toddler years then, and was always trying to befriend Pidgey in the backyard, when he'd stumble into the dark house and see Delia huddled on the sofa, sniffling as the television glow reflected off her pale face. "Mom?" he'd say in his child's voice, and he'd give her a clumsy hug and overhear the somber voices of news anchors he didn't understand.

The Dragon Wars were over now – Lance Blackthorn had vowed to end his father's legacy of fire and blood. But for the Kanto separatists that still jeered whenever he appeared on television, for the white-bearded veterans that had fought in three Dragon Wars over their lifetimes, it would be blind not to expect a tenth.

Ash had faith in Champion Lance, yet he still didn't plan to linger in this ghost of a city. Even for him it held too many memories.

The trail stretched toward the skyscrapers, shimmering in a haze of humidity. The crumbling outline of the university stadium hunched behind them. That would be Rustboro's financial district. His destination.

Oblivion nudged Ash, tilting his head skyward as a white blur streaked beneath the clouds – Cirrus. She caught an updraft, circling them twice, before swooping down and landing on Ash's shoulder.

"Did you find the Pokémon Center?" Ash asked. It was blunt, but the three of them were past formalities. A week of sleep deprivation had that effect.

The Swablu chirped an affirmative. Pokémon Centers were designed with their iconic red roofs so flying-types could spot them from the air; they stood out even in cities of millions like Castelia.

"Great," Ash said. "We'll be counting on you to guide us when we get closer." He almost groaned with exhaustion as he imagined crawling beneath bed sheets. It had been years since he'd been in a city as massive as Rustboro, but he couldn't walk through it fast enough.

The three walked over a moss-covered bridge, passing over brackish water, brown with mud and leaked sludge and rotting fish. They walked past floating platforms and piles of ropes. Shipping crates were being loaded in ocean freighters with cranes. Machoke toiled, dripping sweat, as they hoisted anchors and lugged ropes as thick as their biceps.

Ash guessed he was in Rustboro's port district. He wasn't impressed – it was an ugly construction of concrete and industry – but he was glad he had Oblivion with him, protecting them as he led them deeper in. A few men squatted as they smoked cigarettes, tattooed with unfamiliar street symbols. A Mightyena slunk behind them. Ash could feel their eyes on him as he moved through their territory. His hands instinctively went to the pokéballs on his belt. He knew they were eyeing his team, evaluating their odds in a scrap.

Oblivion knew it too and growled at the Mightyena. The mangy pokémon bared its teeth at him in response, snarling as the man nearest it dropped his cigarette and let it sputter out on the concrete. His eyes never wavered from Ash.

Ash forced himself to calm, wiping emotion from his face and staring straight ahead as he trudged forward. If he showed an ounce of fear the men would mark him as prey. He felt Cirrus shiver on his shoulder.

But once they were closer, the men frowned and narrowed their eyes at the muscles that rippled as Oblivion moved, at the blood and slashes marring Ash's shirt. The Mightyena stopped snarling. They muttered to themselves but let Ash past, not knowing what to make of a trainer that wore dried blood on his shirt and walked with a pokémon that loomed over grown men.

Ash exhaled a breath after the men were all behind him. He shuddered, contemplating what would have happened if he'd wandered past the men with only a rare Mudkip or Charmander.

At last they poured out onto the main street of the financial district. He motioned for Oblivion to follow close, and they threaded through the foot traffic. Here, with the skyscrapers looming on either side and crowds crushing the thoroughfare, Old Rustboro survived. Suited men and skirted women rode by on bicycles, bells ringing as they streamed past. The smell of a bakery wafted into Ash's nose, mingling with the stench of cigarettes and reeking dumpsters. His stomach rumbled.

Eventually, they came upon the Pokémon Center. Ash felt himself smile at the building as the commotion of Rustboro swirled around him. It had been a week of nerve-wracking agony, but that was over now. He was in the city of a beatable gym leader. He was a step closer to his dreams.

"We made it, guys."

Cirrus looped in the air and let out a joyful chirp, swooping down to nip Ash's hat. He laughed and rested a hand on Oblivion, while the Type: Null lowered his head to lick his trainer's face.

The rainforest had been brutal. His time there had been an onslaught of roaring rain, slashing claws, and nights shivering beneath ferns. But in the end he completed the Rainforest Trail. That was what mattered.

Ash Ketchum had prevailed.

~O~

Later that evening, Ash lay facedown on his bed and sighed in pure bliss, having checked into a room and washed himself clean beneath hot shower spray. It felt like eternity since he'd last relaxed. The sheets were scratchy compared to his bed at home, and he'd noticed the walls were peeling, but compared to the Rainforest Trail, this was luxury.

He lay motionless for a few minutes, listening to the whisper of the AC and Oblivion's grumbling – the Type: Null had not enjoyed the scrubbing Ash had given him – before he sat up with a groan to look at his team. Cirrus was curled up on a pillow nearby, fluffed and puffed from the hair dryer after her bath in the sink. There was a perch in the room for bird pokémon, but she preferred a nest of pillows; Ash had an inkling it reminded her of cuddling with her flock. Oblivion, meanwhile, was resting on the rug, green eyes glimmering in the orange glow of sunset.

Ash yawned. He settled against a pillow and reached for the thick book he'd left on the nightstand: A Trainer's Guide to Hoenn Pokémon. Max had gifted it to him during his time in Petalburg, but the book still had the crisp scent of inked paper. Until now it had been buried in his backpack, untouched and unread.

Might be a good idea to just skim through the pictures before I fall asleep.

Research was his least favorite aspect of pokémon training, but it was embarrassing how little he knew about Hoenn's pokémon compared to May and Brendan. He'd often lapsed into silence during their conversations on the species they wanted to catch, unwilling to admit he didn't know what a Spoink was, let alone whether he wanted to catch one.

Ash wasn't going to lie to himself – as much as he liked wandering among unfamiliar, colorful pokémon on the streets, it would be a relief to feel less like a foreigner in his new home.

He was glad he at least had a foundation to build upon. He recognized many species from years spent cheering in front of the television with Gary, watching every conference that broadcasted to Kanto – Indigo, Silver, Ever Grande, Lily of the Valley – with his dad's Vulpix napping in his lap and Delia ruffling his hair whenever she walked past amid her chores. Remember to get me a ticket so I'm not watching on this old TV when you boys win your medals, understand? she'd say.

Ash smiled at the memory as he flipped through the glossy pages. This was an expensive book. It had multiple colored photographs of each pokémon, detailed research on their ecological niches, and even tiny maps of each species' suspected distribution across Hoenn. Considering the region was predominantly untamed wilderness, many species only had question marks where their maps were supposed to be, such as Snorunt and Bagon. It must have been a tremendous undertaking for the author to even attempt compiling such information; pokédex technology relied on crowd-sourced data from trainers marking the location of their captures, but data on rarer pokémon was seldom volunteered.

Trainers, after all, had motive to keep their discoveries to themselves.

He continued skimming through the book's pages, pausing occasionally to read about the strangest pokémon. The gametic organisms known as Beldum that contained DNA for fusion-induced evolution. Exploud and how most of their trainers needed hearing aids after years of exposure to Boombursts. Crawdaunt and the intestinal teeth that gouged their prey – Ash winced and quickly flipped past that page. Feebas and the mystery over how such an ugly, elusive fish evolved into the coveted Milotic.

Ash's imagination conjured phantasmal images of him releasing a Milotic to the gasps of a crowd, or commanding a Raichu to summon thunder from the heavens. He laughed quietly to himself, indulging in the fantasies, before he shook his head and brushed them from his mind. The possibilities were tantalizing, but he had a different dream that was about to become reality.

Battling a gym leader.

The hunger for triumph ached within him. A victory against Roxanne would be almost unreal, vindication for his struggles against the predatory pokémon of the rainforest. The means to assuage nightmares of bloated corpses and eyes glowing in the darkness. Usher them into faded memory.

Setting the Trainer's Guide on the nightstand, Ash clapped his hands to catch the attention of his team. Oblivion lifted his head from the rug, and Cirrus hopped onto his lap. He even glanced at the egg incubator on the window sill, egg gleaming white inside, wondering if it could understand him.

"Let's all get a good rest tonight. I'll need to restock our supplies while we're here, and we'll continue your training regimens as usual, but otherwise how soon we challenge the gym leader is up to you," Ash said. "Roxanne will be the toughest trainer we've ever faced, so I want you at full strength when we battle her. Is a single day of rest enough?"

Oblivion and Cirrus shared a glance. The Swablu chirped something that caused Oblivion to shake his head. They weren't friends, and Ash would never partner them in double battles if given an alternative, but after his ultimatum in the rainforest they could at least communicate.

"Keep in mind our training sessions will just be review until we challenge Roxanne, so I wouldn't stall too long if I were you," he said. "Oh, and Cirrus, with your knack for learning moves I thought we could try for an advanced technique next."

Cirrus's eyes brightened at the prospect. Whatever debate she and Oblivion were having, that seemed to quell their indecision. As Ash yawned and switched off the lamp, they settled on a single day of rest.

I have faith it'll be enough for them, Ash thought, closing his eyes. But I hope it's enough for me.

~O~

"You sure you're ready?"

Ash frowned at the Swablu nestled in his arms, scratching her downy feathers as he stood in the Pokémon Center lobby; she cooed and learned into his ministrations. It was the day after their arrival in Rustboro, and the two were about to scout out the gym. They didn't plan on battling Roxanne yet, but Ash wanted to book a time for his match.

"Don't think you have to push yourself, Cirrus," he continued. "I know you'll make a great battler one day, but if you're not ready to step onto the battlefield tomorrow, you just aren't."

Cirrus shook her head, eyes gleaming with determination. Her wings flashed the silver of a perfected Steel Wing.

"If you say so." Ash sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He wasn't going to feign calmness – the thought of battling Roxanne tomorrow sent nervous energy crawling beneath his skin. His heart was beating quicker, and his palms were slicked with sweat.

Around them, the Pokémon Center was teeming, a tangle of suntanned trainers that walked the streets of Rustboro as lively ghosts, drinking in bars and flashing exotic pokémon before vanishing for finer shores. Rookies waited in line for Nurse Joy while cradling bruised Pidove and Roselia. Hikers shouldered their way to the cafeteria, bellowing an off-kilter tune as Aron trundled after them. A Skitty peeked out of the tote bag on the sofa beside Ash, listening to the chatter of two girls in the uniform of Rustboro University. Sunlight drenched them all, promising summer swelter later in the day, and the AC was a steady drone beneath the laughs and chirps and mewls of morning.

Ash watched his fellow trainers, letting the commotion wash over him. It was somehow both comforting and overwhelming after weeks spent in the rainforest with no voices besides his own. The rich colors and flow of humanity staved off darker thoughts. Let him focus on the present instead of the past.

"The cafeteria's breakfast hours are already over, but want to get a bite to eat on the way to the gym? I haven't spoiled you with nearly enough treats yet," Ash said, stroking Cirrus's feathers.

Cirrus chirped in delight. Fluttering into the air, she circled his head and attempted to land on his League Expo cap, but Ash squawked and caught her, pulling her back down into his arms. She sighed and stared at him with pleading eyes.

"I'm already wearing a hat, girl, and fashion is hard enough for me to figure out without wearing two hats at once, especially when you're so ... cute and fluffy. It's not really my style." He shook his head wonderingly as she blinked at him. "But I guess you wouldn't see yourself as a hat, huh, just our heads as nice perches. Well, you can try landing on others' heads and see if they like it."

On the way outside the Pokémon Center, he imagined himself with a Swablu on his head and snorted at the mental image – he doubted anyone would consider him an Ever Grande contender if he walked around like that. Then again, most Elite Four members did dress rather strangely.

The main street of the financial district was livelier than it'd been yesterday evening. Bicycles still streamed past, and skyscrapers vaulted into the clouds around them, but now there was an assortment of street carts, vendor tents, and rickety tables strewn about the street, crowding close to the Pokémon Center, all vying to snag a cent of profit from visiting trainers. Ash inhaled and enjoyed the scent of noodles frying in woks, strings of onions hanging from street cart rafters, and freshly baked bread. He couldn't wait to taste a meal he hadn't tried to cook himself.

After consulting with Cirrus, he counted out some coins and exchanged them for a loaf of milk bread at one of the tents. He bit into the warm, yeasty crust and sighed in pleasure. Tore off a chunk and let Cirrus nibble it from his fingers.

The two of them soon scarfed down the milk bread. Ash's stomach rumbled in pleasure, but he felt a twinge of guilt upon glancing down at the pokéballs clipped to his belt. Oblivion hadn't wanted to walk the streets with him today – he wasn't keen on a gawking swarm of humans, and it wasn't wise to publicize his existence too much with the pale man hunting for them.

Ash wandered the jumble of street sellers, wondering what Oblivion would like, when he spotted an ice cream stand between a malasada cart and a woman selling shell jewelry. He grinned at its sign with pictures for each flavor – vanilla, pineapple, coconut, and more besides – before releasing the Type: Null. He stifled a laugh at the ice cream seller's surprised yelp, then turned to Oblivion.

"Pick a flavor," he said, gesturing at the sign. "It's my treat. You too, Cirrus. We deserve a little break after the past few weeks."

Oblivion stared at the sign and prowled closer to it, deadly serious. He was still deliberating some minutes later, after Cirrus had picked the bluest flavor she could find – cotton candy – and Ash had ordered himself a cone of rocky road.

Ash smiled and stepped closer to the Type: Null. "It's not a consequential decision, Oblivion," he said. He licked his own cone even as Cirrus perched on his other arm and shivered at her ice cream's cold taste. "This won't be your only chance to have ice cream."

Startlement shimmered in the Type: Null's eyes, though he quickly suppressed it. He turned his head back to the sign and stared fixedly at the caramel flavor.

Ash sobered upon remembering their conversation in the rainforest. Of course he'd consider opportunities like this to be fleeting. He thought for a moment, then ordered two scoops for Oblivion; his size meant that the standard portion would be tiny to him.

They settled at an open table jammed amid the street stalls, and Ash offered the caramel cone to Oblivion. The Type: Null padded up to him and eyed the ice cream cone skeptically, before lowering his masked head and swallowing it in a single gulp. His eyes widened.

"Yeah, it's cold," Ash said with a grin. He was about to ask if he liked the taste, then noticed how Oblivion's eyes tracked his own cone. "Oh no you don't, this one's mine. Ask Cirrus if you can have her leftovers."

The Swablu was sitting on the table, having given up eating a quarter-way through her own ice cream. She'd been more interested in the cone than in the ice cream itself – that she seemed to mostly like for the color – and now it was dripping onto the table in fat blue globs.

Cirrus flew to Ash's wrist, letting Oblivion have it. It was licked up a heartbeat later.

Soon Oblivion was recalled into his pokéball and they were walking the streets again. Dilapidated apartments and blown-out windows and rubble were everywhere. And the city was endless. On and on the streets stretched and still the university stadium remained in the distance. Bicyclists and Wingull flickered past them.

Eventually, the cobblestone streets gave way to the cooler, tree-shaded campus of Rustboro University, with ivy-clad brick buildings and students in uniform chatting as they walked to class. The campus seemed untouched by the war's devastation, a small patch of rebirth amid the crumbling city. Ash read out the engraved signs on the buildings to Cirrus as they went past, explaining what each of them were: Lund School of Astronomy, Stern School of Engineering, Joy School of Medicine, and Birch School of Pokémon Science.

"Huh. For an old university, most of these names sound like contemporary figures," Ash said as he came across a statue of an Alakazam and a plaque on it that read: The Eighth and Ninth Dragon Wars devastated the university campus, but most of it was reconstructed courtesy of the donors for which the schools are named. Thanks to a partnership with Devon Corp., the campus grounds are now protected with psychic-designed shields and an emergency alert system, so that Hoenn's first university may continue to serve as a center of scholarship for generations.

And then abruptly Ash came to a stop, the stadium towering above him. Its two iron-wrought doors were chained shut. He rattled them anyway, confused. Where was Roxanne? Students sat on nearby benches, eyeing him as he stood awkwardly at the entrance, the only person in sight who wasn't in uniform.

"You want the building past the fountain over there," a girl finally said. "Roxanne only uses the stadium for gym battles. Right now she's teaching, but she won't mind if you interrupt to schedule a match. Don't be surprised if she drags you into her lessons though."

Ash nodded in thanks before striding across the lawn, towards the building labeled Stone School of Trainership. He swung open a rusted door vined with passion flowers and stepped into the shadowed interior, blinking at the empty reception. Grunts and roars sounded from further inside the building, and he moved down the hall, opening the door at the end to arrive in a courtyard.

Students in the university's red-and-umber uniform were scattered throughout the courtyard, pokémon at their side. Nuzleaf and Geodude and Vulpix were engaged in simple combat, dodging and trading blows without the use of elemental techniques. Ash recognized Instructor Roxanne by her uniform: a vest worn over her blouse with intricate crimson stitchwork, which he guessed depicted the university's coat of arms.

"Instructor Roxanne," Ash called. He weaved his way through the dueling square, past dozens of battling pokémon, and stood before her. Cirrus flew on a few feet before realizing he'd stopped.

Roxanne pushed back a long strand of dark hair to assess him, her eyes calculating, before she fixed her attention back on her students. "I don't believe we've had the honor of meeting. Are you a prospective student here?" she asked with her back turned. "Have your Graveler step into its swing, Elimar!" A snapped instruction to one of the older students.

"I'm a challenger, actually," he said. "Call me Ash. I hear the League made you leader of this city's gym."

"The champion had disagreements with my predecessor. I hope to fulfill my duties more to his pleasing."

He recalled that the previous gym leader was rumored to have conspired with the Johto Imperium during the Ninth Dragon War. He suspected that alliance had cost the man dearly during the champion's latest campaign to clean house.

"Let's hope so," he said.

Roxanne finally turned to face him seriously, hands folded behind her back. Her face was angular and beaded with sweat from the heat of the day. She could have been taken for a student, with her diminutive stature, but no one would mistake her for someone without mettle.

"I look forward to the challenge you'll bring, Ash." She extended a hand and he shook it. Her grip was tight. Callused. "I don't accept same-day challengers, as they tend to interfere with my lessons and office hours, but I have time tomorrow. What say you to a two v. two at noon?"

"That's what I was hoping for, actually." He grinned. "I'll meet you on the battlefield tomorrow then."

Ash was about to turn and walk away when Roxanne stepped forward and gripped his arm, tracing the red line of a scar running down it. He jerked back, startled, but she didn't seem to notice, deep in contemplation. "Your scar ... a Vigoroth?"

He nodded, licking his lips nervously. "The Rainforest Trail."

"I speak to an explorer then," she said. "How interesting. I haven't seen one of your kind yet this season."

"You're familiar with Lorelei's travel-based trainer classes?" Ash asked, catching the reference.

The corner of Roxanne's lip twitched upward. "Of course. Who am I to scorn the wisdom of an Elite? I'm delighted you're familiar with the work; it's rare for me to find a traveling trainer with a similar knowledge base to my students."

Ash felt a tiny bubble of pride at that. "I was taught by Professor Oak in Kanto."

"I see. That would explain much. We've had him give video lectures here once or twice. His lessons have always been enlightening, if not always apt for Hoenn's untamed lands." She paused, tapping her finger to her chain. "It must have been quite the walk to arrive here in the midday heat, especially if you're regathering your strength after the Rainforest Trail. What say you to staying for a time? You could help my students with their training exercises."

Ash considered for a moment. He had nothing planned for the remainder of the day, but his team needed to recuperate if they were going to be at full strength for tomorrow. Not to mention, he wasn't about to reveal Oblivion as his trump card. "I only have a few pokémon, and I don't want to tire them out before our battle."

Roxanne nodded, thoughtful. "Of course. Let's have you sharpen my students' knowledge, then, rather than merely their battle expertise." She strode amid Rhyhorn and Marill and Aron, unperturbed by the battles cries and scuffling pokémon. Motioned for him to follow. "Elimar!" she suddenly barked.

A gangly student with a Graveler stood at attention. "Instructor!"

"Ash here is assisting us for the day. Tell him how pokémon are classified into types."

The trainer's eyes darted to Ash. He gulped. "Their organs?"

Roxanne waited silently, watching him and Ash. She dipped her head at Ash's questioning glance.

"Elaborate," he said, adopting the authoritative voice he'd heard countless times from Professor Oak. He crossed his arms.

"Um, you see, all pokémon have a natural internal energy to them that's converted into the energy of their type by specialized organs ... so we classify pokémon into types based on which organs they have. For elements not of their type, pokémon only have subordinate cell clusters, which is less efficient and not nearly as powerful at converting energy."

Elimar sounded like he was reciting the answer more than Ash would have liked, but he was impressed nonetheless. "And how do you explain normal-types?"

"They have a generalized catch-all organ that's able to convert their energy into most elements. It gives them a greater diversity of moves with more power to them than subordinate cell clusters are capable of, but it can't compare to a specialized organ for a given type."

"Not bad," Ash said, offering the stressed trainer a grin. He waved a hand. "You can get back to your bout. Your Graveler looks impressive."

Elimar choked out a thanks and quickly turned away from him and Roxanne.

Roxanne tilted her head. "You did nicely there, Ash. How about this? I'm going to walk around and give the students combat pointers, but I'd like you to seek out random students and test their knowledge. It should keep them on their toes. Don't make the questions easy. Worst case scenario, they don't know and you teach them something new." She flashed him a smile before turning away. "I'll make it worth your while."

Ash watched as she walked away, puzzled. He didn't mind the task – far from it, he'd hate to return to his Pokémon Center room, waiting for tomorrow's gym battle and letting his nerves build and build – but he was still trying to understand the young gym leader. She had an unflappable confidence, which he liked, and he was starting to realize that the champion had chosen her for her future potential rather than the strength she now held.

The following hours passed in a blur of anxious students and rapid-fire questions. Ash had always privately judged trainers that became students rather than face the risks of the traditional journey – Gary called them cowards – but he found himself surprised by their astute answers. And he met students that challenged his preconceptions. A Sinnoh immigrant that was attending university to make friends in her new homeland. A dark-haired boy with a burn scar on his face, one eye permanently half-lidded, who told Ash he'd been on a journey before he was almost killed by the temperamental Magmar he was given as a starter. A crippled girl whose envious side-glances told him more clearly than words that she would've ventured into the wilderness with her Shinx if she could.

He'd just finished quizzing Elimar for the fourth or fifth time when a bell chime resounded through the courtyard. Blinking, he looked up and realized the sky had turned the dusky purple of late evening. The lonely barks of feral Zigzagoon echoed from the streets, and Cirrus was nodding off on his shoulder. It had become late.

Laughing and jostling each others' shoulders, students snatched up backpacks and waved farewells to Instructor Roxanne. Some wished Ash good luck on his gym battle tomorrow, promising to be in the stands cheering. He smiled and thanked them – unsure what else to say. A girl that Ash vaguely remembered from earlier smiled at him, eyes a piercing blue, her hair shining deep gold in the pools of darkness. Her friends giggled and shoved her forward; she gave them a dirty look but smoothed her skirt and approached him regardless.

"Anything else you want to ask me?" she asked with a playful tilt of her head.

"Uh." Ash swallowed, aware of all the expectant eyes on him. There's no way she's – Would anyone really – She's probably just really into pokémon training. Right?

He cleared his throat. "Yeah, I can ask you one last question. Why is it taboo to keep attacking a pokémon after it loses consciousness?"

Tittering from her friends. The girl crossed her arms "Falling unconscious indicates that a pokémon has entered a healing trance to prevent long-term damage," she said flatly. "The only reliable way to kill a pokémon is to keep attacking it after it goes into its healing trance, so it's banned from competitive battling because we're not barbarians."

She turned and was about to slink off when a half-remembered memory flashed in Ash's mind. Golden hair. Laughter. He frowned. "Hold on. Do I know you from somewhere?"

The girl glanced back at him with a frown of her own. "No. Unless you know an Amara, you're thinking of someone else."

Silence settled over the courtyard as the last students left. Ash stood there, embarrassed but also with the uneasy sense that he'd forgotten something important to him. He wasn't sure whether to dwell on his latest social failure or attempt to grasp the memory before it vanished. He sighed. I just need to focus on what I'm good at. Then maybe everything else will fall into place.

Roxanne drifted over and stood silently beside him. She stared into the night sky, her face a pale reflection of the courtyard's tungsten lights. "My thanks for today, Ash. It may not have seemed much to you, but my students already aspire to match your expertise. It'll make my job ..." Here a smile tugged at her lips. "Much more lively."

"I may have been lucky enough to be taught by Professor Oak, but I wouldn't call myself an expert," Ash said.

Roxanne cast her gaze from the stars and smirked at him. "I should hope not. I couldn't adequately reward an expert for his time. But rookies are all the same, quick to accept even trifling gains in their pursuit of power."

Ash felt himself grin. He hadn't thought she was serious about her earlier promise to reward him, but he should have guessed otherwise. The dark-haired gym leader, with her sharp eyes and angular face, was the epitome of seriousness. He wondered if she'd ever been a giggling young girl like her students.

"A trifling gain, huh?" He raised an eyebrow. "You've got my attention."

Roxanne dangled a key from her fingers, a gleam in her eyes, and beckoned for Ash to follow her to a dimly lit corner of the courtyard. A rusted door was inset in the wall, the sort to go overlooked as a storage closet or perhaps a molding pipe room. He watched with intrigue as she unlocked the door. Swung it open. With a side-eye at Cirrus still snoozing on his shoulder, he followed her inside.

Must and gloom. Ash squinted beneath the dark outlines of rafters as Roxanne found a dangling light-bulb and switched it on. He grimaced at the burst of light; shadows flooded into the deepest corners of what he now recognized as a storage room. Cobwebbed stacks of rummage lay near his feet: fishing poles, rain-resistant backpacks, yellowed maps, and coiled ropes. Deeper in the stacks loomed higher. The further back Ash looked, the more dated the items seemed to become. He was in a room, he realized uneasily, crammed with deserted trainer gear.

"It's a rare feat to qualify for the Ever Grande Conference," Roxanne said, sitting on a crate labelled Travel Guides. "Most that have such dreams never realize them. I imagine the majority of ex-trainers let their equipment collect dust in closets, but at least some think to donate it to the university. Of course, most of our students don't need outdoor equipment."

Ash took another step into the room. The floor creaked beneath him, and he remembered urban legends of ghosts possessing abandoned antiques, cursing those with the misfortune to bring them into their homes. Suppressed a shudder. "Is this ... supposed to be some sort of lesson on dedication?"

Roxanne blinked, then actually laughed. "No, no. It it what you make of it, I suppose, but I intended to offer you whatever you find useful here. As you can see, we don't quite make the best use of it."

Ash reassessed the rummage. His time on the Rainforest Trail had cost him his tent, not to mention dozens of smaller essentials including his flashlight, rollable sleeping bag, and utility knives. It would be a considerable relief on his funds to restock for free. And who knows what else I can find here? He knelt down to begin sifting through a pile of bagged tents.

Half an hour later, he'd shoved his own small stack of equipment into his backpack. He dusted off his jeans and stood up with a swell of satisfaction. While he hadn't found top-of-the-line Devon gear underneath the coats of dust, he'd replaced his missing equipment and collected some new supplies as well. He was leery at first of using a sleeping bag left here for Rattata to nest in, but he managed to find a newer one still in its packaging. His added supplies included a combat knife – something he'd wished he had in the rainforest – and toys meant for the pokémon that hatched from the white egg.

Ash sneezed. Wiping his eyes, he looked over at Roxanne, who was reading a book beneath the glow of the lightbulb. Cirrus dozed in her lap; the sleepy-eyed Swablu had become tired of his jostling shoulder and abandoned him for a better roost. Roxanne petted her between the turn of each page.

"I'm guessing there aren't any satellite phones or forgotten evolutionary stones in here? Maybe long-lost legendary artifacts?"

Roxanne glanced up from her book. "I'm not hiding any treasures in here if that's what you're asking," she said wryly. "Travel equipment is a more practical reward anyway. And it should help you preserve your wallet until the Summer Fair."

Ash blinked. "Summer Fair?"

"It's a historic fair that begins next week. Merchants from across Hoenn gather on Rustboro's streets to sell their wares, and even a handful from foreign shores are known to make appearances. Because of our proximity to Meteor Falls, the majority of trades at the fair used to be in rare metals, but these days there's plenty to interest trainers. Some internationally known breeders will be there, including a good friend of mine." She tapped a finger to her chin. "You might have heard of him. He's from Kanto too."

Ash frowned in contemplation. "You think it's worth sticking around for? I'd planned to catch a boat to Dewford the day after our gym battle."

He couldn't deny that a gathering of international breeders appealed to him – his pulse quickened thinking of all the young and colorful pokémon – but it would be hard on his wallet. The best breeders were highly sought after, both as a source of tamed pets and a way for wealthier trainers to acquire exotic teams. It wasn't uncommon for certain pokémon to be purchased months prior to hatching. Even as he spoke, he recalled the funds on his currency card, adding to it the meager amount he'd accumulated from trainers on the route to Petalburg and his probable winnings from Roxanne. Would it even be enough?

"Denying yourself the opportunity would be a mistake if you consider the pros and cons," Roxanne said. "It's not commonly known outside the profession, but breeders reserve a set amount of the pokémon they raise to sell at the Summer Fair and a few other events like Snowpoint's Midwinter Festival. It's a PR move to raise their intentional profiles, although most also hope to reproduce Yukimura Nursery's rise to stardom after they sold a Togepi to the young trainer that became Champion Cynthia. It's a chance to add certain pokémon to your team that you won't get anywhere else."

Ash inhaled a breath at the mention of Champion Cynthia. He idolized most of the living pokémon masters, but he'd had a fan crush on Cynthia ever since he watched her exhibition match two winters ago. Snow had danced from the skies, adorning her dark dress with pinpricks of white, and with bell-like laughter she outwitted her opponent so elegantly Ash had been entranced.

That decided it.

Roxanne must have seen the decision reflected in his eyes, for a slight smile graced her lips. "I'm sure there are enough university students willing to battle if you need a cash flow while you're here." She stood up and delivered Cirrus into his arms, the Swablu snuggling closer to him as she dreamed. "... and now a rematch won't ruin your schedule should you lose against me."

"Oh, I'm not worried about that," Ash said with a grin.

Roxanne regarded him. "Then rest well. Tomorrow is the first test of your worth as a trainer."

~O~

Lightning splintered through the rainforest night, illuminating dozens of glowing eyes, watching Ash with killer intent.

Shivering, scrabbling through the mud, he hunted for his knife. But the attempt came too late. And the Vigoroth were fast. Blindingly fast. A white blur tackled him into the mud and knocked the air out of his lungs, trapping him with claws that sunk into his tender flesh. He writhed and screamed but it only made his blood gush forth faster, and the Vigoroth's eyes held no mercy as it extended a claw to slice through his neck –

Ash woke, gasping, in his Pokémon Center room, heart shuddering and throat dry. It was just a nightmare. A nightmare like the dozens he'd had since that night on the S.S. Cactus. A nightmare ... that was all. He couldn't help the shivering and cold terror, but most of all he was relieved it wasn't real.

He sighed. Remembered that only a stretch of hours remained between him and the first consequential battle of his life. Couldn't be a worse time for this, huh?

He rubbed his eyes and realized he'd clawed the blankets away while he slept. He swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth, not sure if he was nauseated or just needed a glass of water. Moonlight spilled across the mattress and illuminated his team: the Swablu snuggled in the pillows, the Type: Null twitching in his dreams ... the incubator and the egg inside it, glowing silver in the night.

He winced, flashes of bloodied Vigoroth claws still fresh in his mind. The egg had haunted his thoughts ever since he'd recovered it from Rico's bloodied corpse. Left him with giddy anticipation and yet also shivering dread.

It was strange.

He'd handled death on an intellectual level before. The Oak family. Dad. The Aqua Armada, contributing their own tally. But he'd never seen his own end reflected in hungry yellow eyes. Hadn't felt death's claw brush his cheek or the feeble fleshiness of his human body. All it would have taken was a severed artery and he'd be just another corpse in the rainforest, surrounded by junk that would rot slower than him.

Aren't I supposed to feel ... more?

He'd expected to be emotional. He always assumed near-death experiences changed people, but when he remembered the weeping rain and the Vigoroth baying as they hunted him through the night, all he felt was revulsion. His life hadn't flashed before his eyes. He hadn't felt enlightened either. Just scared shitless, trying not to throw up.

Ash shook his head. Eased his bare feet onto the floor, trying not to wake Cirrus. He saw a crumpled t-shirt on the carpet – the one he'd worn the night of the Vigoroth attack. Were all those bloodstains really his? He didn't remember bleeding that much. The rainforest nights were all so muddy and surreal.

He grimaced as he cast about the floor for yesterday's t-shirt and jeans. Pulled them on, wincing at the stiff scratchiness of the material. The nightmare had scoured sleep from his mind, and he felt restless, in need of fresh air to clear his thoughts. A morning walk would do him good.

He glanced at his team and decided to let them rest. It would be safe enough here in the heart of Rustboro.

By the time Ash emerged from the Pokémon Center, the moon had set. Dawn light was just starting to touch the sky, edging the skyscrapers in pink. He'd managed more sleep than he thought.

The streets were deserted. He breathed in the chilled air as he wandered in that surreal time between night and morning, thinking back on the rainforest. It wasn't his ineptitude that bothered him – he had long since forgiven himself for the over-confidence that led him to the Rainforest Trail. He was a rookie, and for the next few months mistakes were going to be his specialty. No, what bothered him was his vulnerability.

He'd never felt smaller than that night trapped in a black, blood-smoked pond with a Crawdaunt. Even against the Aqua Armada he'd thought – perhaps delusionally – that he had choices. But in the rainforest night, he felt in his bones that he was prey, that death could be his destiny despite his determination to survive.

He hated that vulnerability. Hated himself for recognizing it, for letting it hook its claws under his skin and strip away his self-assurances before today's gym battle.

Ash shivered and thrust his hands into his pockets, staring up at the fading stars amidst the pink-rimmed sky.

The person I was in Littleroot wasn't enough, he realized. Even the person I am now isn't enough for the trials we'll face on the road. I need to keep evolving, just like my pokémon – maybe not until this vulnerability is gone, but until I can live with it.

He watched as a flock of Wingull took off from the rooftops and wheeled before the skyscrapers, white dots against the mirror-shimmer of Devon Tower.

Yes, he knew the road he needed to walk, but it was unsettling how long it seemed. Standing with eight badges pinned to his vest, hands callused from hard months of training accompanied by an Altaria and ... whatever Oblivion became when he evolved ... that was hard to imagine. Was his current self – the self that fled in cold terror from a troop of untrained Vigoroth – capable of such an evolution? For the first time in his life, he was uncertain.

Ash sighed. He stood there for a time, lost in thought, staring at the wheeling Wingull as if their flight patterns had answers. In the dawn silence, he felt a kinship with the inhabitants of the Rusted City, clinging to their homes despite the war-scarred landscape. He stared down at his own scars, red lines now engraved into his arms. Inhaled the chill air. He'd need to dig even deeper wells of determination if he was going to win Ever Grande gold.

A feral Zigzagoon and her kit wandered past him, nosing at a dumpster. They leapt onto its rim as he watched. The tiny Zigzagoon kit, quivering with excitement, slipped and fell face-first inside.

Ash smiled and shook his head. You know what? Sometimes you just have to keep walking forward. Even when you don't know what the hell you're doing. His doubts lingered, but he didn't need to figure things out straightaway. He'd get there on his own time.

Me, Oblivion, Cirrus, and the friends I have yet to meet.

~O~

In a cramped room beneath the Rustboro University Stadium, Ash sat on a wooden bench, tightening his fingerless gloves. The room itself was dusty, even ill-kempt, compared to the vast stadium that waited above him. Tattered posters advertising past Ever Grande Conferences lined the walls. Had Ash arrived a few months earlier, the room would have hosted dozens of trainers gunning for their last badge before the Ever Grande Conference registration period ended. But that time had come and gone, and this early in the season, Ash was the lone challenger.

I hope we're ready for this.

Ash tightened his grip on Oblivion's pokéball, enjoying the cold press of the metal against his fingers. He was thankful the stadium was open to the sky, that if he listened he could hear the university bells, the shouts of students playing frisbee outside. It was a small reassurance that helped him breathe steadily and ignore his pounding heart.

The referee's stern voice echoed down the corridor. "You're up."

Ash drew in a breath and looked up at the doorway. Heavy with shadow, and beyond it the sloping corridor that led to the stadium battlefield. "Coming," he said, clipping Oblivion's pokéball back to his belt. He ran his fingers across Cirrus's pokéball, reassuring himself it was there, pulled the brim of his hat down low –

The moment of truth's here at last.

– stood up from the bench –

Hope you're watching, Dad.

– then fixed his gaze on the doorway and strode forward.

As he banished distraction from his mind, he hiked up the sloping tunnel into the glare of the white sun. The walls of the stadium towered into the sky, with hundreds of stadium seats arranged above him. Already there were close to thirty spectators waiting for the match to begin.

Roughly three-quarters of the spectators were students in uniform; they were intimately familiar with this stadium, knew the tricks of Roxanne's challengers well. Most Ash recognized from yesterday, using the breaks between classes to bask in the sunlight and trade coin based on their opinion of the challenger of the hour. The other quarter of the spectators were likely visitors to the Rusted City. They'd come to trade merchandise and political favors with the Devon Corporation.

A girl with a Sandshrew in her arms – wearing the university's red-and-umber uniform – pointed to Ash and called, "The challenger! The third challenger of the season has come to fight!"

A roaring cheer rose up as he arrived at his side of the field. Gamblers in the seating began calling out odds for his victory. He hadn't even revealed his pokémon yet, but many liked a wager and several students from yesterday crowded to place bets on him.

Roxanne studied him from across the field. As he locked eyes with her, she nodded. Then she stepped forward.

"This is an official match between Trainer Ash Ketchum and Gym Leader Roxanne!" she called. The acoustics of the stadium made her voice echo. "Ever Grande League rules apply to this match: swapping is permitted, killing is grounds for immediate disqualification, and forfeits will be recognized. Both challenger and respondent have settled upon a two versus two battle. May Rayquaza witness our contest!"

The referee signaled a Baltoy, and clear barriers with an iridescent shimmer flickered to life around the battlefield. Psychic netting, Ash realized, to protect the spectators from stray attacks. The referee stepped behind the barrier, but Ash and Roxanne remained unprotected. As trainers, they were expected to have a pokémon at their side capable of defending them.

I'll need to teach my team Protect soon, Ash thought. For now he wasn't worried. Gym-trained pokémon were skilled enough that he wouldn't be at risk from wildly overpowered attacks.

Across the battlefield, Roxanne expanded a pokéball and tossed it above her. A Geodude appeared on the dusty field in a flash of red; it smirked at Ash and punched the air.

Ash's hand fell to Cirrus's pokéball with breath of relief. May had told him Roxanne's team composition during their travels together, so he'd prepared his team to fight a Geodude and Nosepass. He wasn't sure how well they'd do if he was forced to improvise.

"I've chosen first as gym leader. Now show me what you can do, Ash," Roxanne said.

He unclipped Cirrus's pokéball and threw it into the air, his aim steady despite hands trembling from adrenaline. "Let's do this, Cirrus!"

The Swablu burst from her pokéball and arced upward into the bright blue sky, streaking past the spectators who cheered as passed. She circled back towards Ash, eyes shining with determination. I can do this! her expression seemed to say.

Ash nodded. "That's the spirit, girl." He took a deep breath and surveyed the battlefield. His mind was whirling, rushing through hundreds of what-if scenarios, contingency plans, strategies, tricks. He shook his head, clearing the chaos but leaving the information in the back of his mind where it could be summoned in a split-second if needed.

He was ready.

Roxanne narrowed her eyes at him, the look on her face one of cool assessment. The moment seemed to come into focus. Ash felt the sun's heat on his skin, the grit beneath the soles of his shoes.

The referee held a hand up. "Ready your pokémon, then wait for my signal."

"Smack Down, Geodude."

"Open with a Disarming Voice, Cirrus."

Ash heard the cry of Wingull, invisible against the blue sky above them. The flapping of the university flags.

"Fight!" The hand dropped.

Cirrus shot forward, a white blur streaking toward the Geodude. With a shrill cry, pink rings flared from her beak and burst outward to slam into the rock-type. The Geodude was buffeted back with a pained grunt. Ash grinned as she angled past her opponent and arced back towards his side of the battlefield. That opening salvo had merely been a test of the Geodude's reflexes. It hadn't even had time to attempt dodging, much less perform a Smack Down.

He could risk putting Cirrus in close, then.

"Good try, Geodude!" Roxanne called from the other side of the battlefield. "You know the plan."

Ash narrowed his eyes but ignored the gym leader. He couldn't afford to over-analyze things while they had momentum. "Steel Wing! Hit it at speed!"

Cirrus blurred toward the Geodude again, wings flashing silver as her feathers became sharp as knives. She was blinding beneath the tropic sun, dangerous in her acceleration, but the Geodude didn't move. It crossed its fists to shield itself.

Dust flew up from the battlefield as Cirrus smashed into the Geodude, slicing its wrinkled flesh with steel. A scream tore from its throat. Cirrus didn't relent, letting out a cry of her own and swiping at it again with her wings.

"Back off, Cirrus!" Ash called. She might be lost in the heat of battle, but he could see the coolness in Roxanne's eyes. She wouldn't be so easily overwhelmed by an aerial advantage. His neck prickled. Something was up.

Cirrus shot upward, high above the Geodude's striking range. Ash exhaled a sigh of relief even as his nerves shuddered with apprehension. He eyed the Geodude critically. If he had Cirrus disperse a Mist as ground cover –

The Geodude floated into the sky.

Cirrus had glanced back toward Ash and didn't see its approach. Didn't expect its approach – she had no reason to be vigilant up in the air. The levitation ability of the average Geodude was rudimentary, its electromagnetism limiting it to a few feet from the ground. Even lifelong levitating species such as the Goldeen line lacked the technical proficiency to hover in high skies. The idea of a flying Seaking was ridiculous. But it should have been no more ridiculous than a flying Geodude.

"Evade, Cirrus!" Ash shouted even as he blinked furiously, hardly believing what he saw. Roxanne's Geodude must have had the requisite strength to evolve into a Graveler in order to accomplish something so advanced. But it remained it its base form. He exhaled sharply as the implication clicked in his mind.

It specialized in aerial combat.

Cirrus balked and managed to dart clear a split second before the Geodude's Focus Punch landed. Shrieking in alarm, she arrowed to the far side of the field even as the Geodude smirked.

"I enjoy this part," Roxanne said with a smile. "Get up your momentum, Geodude, then finish this."

Ash's mind whirled. He'd expected to use Cirrus at long range with hit-and-run tactics. She wasn't trained for air-to-air offense. Worse, he doubted she was assertive enough to handle it this soon. "Agility!"

The Geodude was already blurring circuits around the battlefield like a ball whirling about a funnel, faster and faster as it built momentum. To Ash it appeared a brown blur – a brown blur that made his head swim attempting to watch. He shifted his attention to Cirrus.

The Swablu wreathed herself in a bright aura, a sign that her speed would now be enhanced at the cost of continually edging her ever closer to exhaustion. It was a cost she would have if to bear if she was going to stand a chance.

"Be prepared to use Steel Wing to block attacks!" Ash called. "Things will move too quickly now for me to give orders."

Cirrus nodded in acknowledgment, but even from where he stood on the ground, Ash could see the worry in her eyes. She didn't trust herself without his commands. He grimaced and pinched the bridge of his nose. If she could withstand the Geodude's next attack and break its momentum, he'd have to improvise something.

Then the Geodude began to glow.

Shining with the radiance of a miniature sun, it broke from its circuit, a star-white missile careening toward its target. The seconds seemed to slow as Ash watched, belatedly realizing that the attack was a perfect Double Edge. It made his eyes water to look at. But he couldn't tear them away.

Cirrus's wings flashed silver but on an instinctive level he knew it wouldn't be enough. She knew it too. Dived down in a last-ditch attempt to dodge. The blazing missile of light pursued in its own sharp dive.

Ash heard the impact as an implosion of light blinded him. His eardrums roared. Dust billowed up from the battlefield and shards of rock spattered the iridescent netting, shimmering the psychic weave into existence. The crowd gasped but it seemed to come a beat too late to Ash's ears.

The light died. He stared through the dust with an unfamiliar numbness. The beat of his heart felt strange, sluggish. As the dust dissipated and feathers floated up from the small white lump of a Swablu, Ash recalled her to her pokéball. He tried to scrub the image of her broken sprawl from his mind.

"Okay," he whispered to himself. "Okay." He wanted to rage with frustration at how utterly his plan had fallen apart. But Professor Oak had always told him that battle plans fell apart. It was the natural outcome. A trainer had to adapt – that was the difference between good trainers and mediocre ones. So he would adapt.

Ash breathed in and out, letting his heart settle. His fingers traced the silver inscription on Oblivion's pokéball. He still had his hidden ace, and the Geodude now floating beside Roxanne was heavily battered. Roxanne had outmaneuvered him in the first round, but Oblivion could take the second and deliver worse pain than he was dealt.

He hadn't lost. Not yet.

"I'm impressed. I've never seen someone push a pokémon's levitation abilities to their limit," he said, his voice echoing across the stadium.

"Thank you. I'm pleased with the results myself." Roxanne eyed the pokéball in his hand. "I'm curious what pokémon you'll choose next. A Kanto starter?"

Ash laughed, a shadow of his old confidence returning. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

He enlarged the pokéball, tightening his grip on it as he readied to throw. The crowd hushed with anticipation. The tropic sun beat down on him; a trickle of sweat dripped from his forehead. Time to win this.

He hurled the pokéball into the air. It arced above him, a mere speck against clouds. "Oblivion, the fight's on!"

The Type: Null coalesced with a howl that echoed across the battlefield, dust swirling in his wake. His green eyes burned fiercely beneath the darkness of his mask; his black fur glistened in the heat-shimmer of high noon. He was immense, his great shadow falling across the battlefield to eclipse his opponent. Savagely beautiful.

Roxanne stared at him in confusion, then a wicked sort of glee, as Ash caught and reclipped Oblivion's pokéball.

The crowd roared.

A new flurry of betting rose, while the rest of the spectators surged against the rails, jostling for a better glimpse. Several university students held up their pokédexes, but even on the field beneath them Ash could hear synthesized Error: Species Unknown read-outs. He smiled. Waited with calm confidence.

"It's been too long since I've had a turn at a genuinely interesting battle. My colleagues are always luckier than me in that regard." Roxanne pushed a strand of dark hair behind her ear with an exhilarated grin. "Let's begin."

The Geodude came in fast, fists clenched. Oblivion let it land a punch square to his chest. The blow would have hurt ... if he hadn't been channeling Iron Defense. He batted the hovering rock-type aside with a claw, snorting contemptuously.

"Tackle."

Oblivion roared, rearing up on his hind legs, and slammed the Geodude into the dirt. The Geodude hadn't the speed to evade – not without circuiting the battlefield for momentum. It crumpled beneath the weight of the Type: Null's claw. Its stony armor cracked with a sickening crunch.

Oblivion watched it fall unconscious, and for an instant Ash could almost feel the battle rage in the Type: Null's veins, the emotionally raw scars in his memories, the instinctive need to attack. Pure in its simplicity.

Ash shook himself as Oblivion went to seize the Geodude with his mouth. "No," he called. "It's enough."

A red beam of light absorbed the Geodude a heartbeat later. Roxanne pocketed its pokéball, assessing Oblivion speculatively. "I was rather hoping to learn more about your pokémon before Geodude went down," she admitted. "But no matter. I have full faith in my next partner – let's go, Nosepass!"

The pokémon that coalesced onto the battlefield was stone-still, bearing the visage of a worn statue first carved by men and later the elements. Ash had never seen a real Nosepass and was startled to discover it was no more animated than the imitation statues displayed at the Pewter Museum. He tilted his head, as if a different angle would reveal a spark of liveliness to it. But it didn't even blink.

"The ancient tribes of Hoenn used Nosepass to defend their holy places," Roxanne said. Her lips quirked. "Or merely statues of Nosepass if a bluff was all they could manage. They're formidable guards."

Oblivion tossed his head at the Nosepass, unimpressed.

"First move's yours," Ash said, waving for Roxanne to proceed. It was a less magnanimous gesture than it appeared. Oblivion only had a few tricks he could wield against rock-types if he didn't outclass them, and Ash intended to withhold those tricks until the ideal moment to strike.

"I won't argue with that. Sandstorm, Nosepass!"

Dust whipped up around Ash. It only took seconds for it to build into a roaring vortex. Sand and grit beat against him, buffeting his clothes, and he raised an arm to shield his face. In the distance Oblivion was barely visible through the sandstorm.

He grit his teeth. Based on his research into Nosepass, he suspected he knew what was about to happen. "Brace yourself, Oblivion!"

"Now u– Roc– Tomb, –pass!" Orders muffled in the sandstorm's howl.

Ash only saw the hurtling shadows of the rocks as they fell, slamming into Oblivion with brutal force. Heard the Type: Null's ear-piercing roar. He felt a smirk flicker over his face despite the circumstances. For now pain would only focus Oblivion … make him angrier, the attacks by an unseen foe in particular.

The strategy at play here wasn't difficult for him to grasp. Oblivion would see little but confusion in the buffeting dust; Roxanne was banking on that blindness to hide her Nosepass and shield it from harm. Under normal circumstances, sandstorms left battling pokémon at a mutual disadvantage, but Nosepass had the innate ability to detect bioelectricity. It could strike, cloaked in sand, while Oblivion stumbled blind.

But this time Ash's heart wasn't palpitating in reaction to her tricks. His thoughts had a clarity of focus instead of tangled panic. He took a deep breath. Devised a countermeasure.

Listening past the storm gusts for Roxanne's next command, he caught the first snatches of her voice and shouted to Oblivion. "Thunder Wave, full power! Discharge it across the field then move!"

Dazzling electricity weaved across the battlefield with a crackle. The faint shadow of a Type: Null darted through the dancing lights. Seconds later, a Rock Tomb crashed down but from the silence Ash knew it hadn't hit Oblivion.

He waited for Roxanne to order another attack, then shouted for Oblivion to repeat his previous maneuver. Once again the Nosepass's attack struck empty air – though this time it was a cluster of glistening-sharp rocks that whistled through the sandstorm. Power Gem.

"It worked!" Ash pumped a fist. He'd guessed that the Nosepass couldn't detect Oblivion's electrical signature if the entire field was awash with lightning; ordering Oblivion to move under the guise of the electricity was an extra measure to prevent him from being hit when the Nosepass targeted his last-known location. Roxanne was now at an impasse. As long as the sand and dust howled, the battle would remain at a standstill.

The sandstorm dissipated. Ash casually brushed the sand off his shoulder and regarded Roxanne with a smirk – he couldn't help himself. The two trainers stared each other down as the crowd cheered, relieved the battle had become visible again.

"Let's settle this," Roxanne said.

Ash nodded. "Approach for a Tackle, Oblivion!"

"Volley Thunderbolts, Nosepass!"

The Nosepass reacted fast, striking Thunderbolts at the space Oblivion had occupied mere seconds ago again and again. Oblivion was faster. He evaded the Thunderbolts and sprinted for the Nosepass, his body wreathing in a silver aura as he approached. The steel reinforcement to his body from Iron Defense would pack pain into his Tackle that the rock-type wouldn't soon forget.

Oblivion nimbly leapt from the path of a final Thunderbolt and rammed into the Nosepass, striking with the full force of his body. The boom echoed throughout the stadium; the Nosepass skidded back to crash against the walls. Cuts and scratches scored its body but it leveled itself with its stone feet. Stared down the Type: Null.

Oblivion stalked closer, circling for the finishing blow.

"Power Gem."

A storm of glittering rocks leapt from the Nosepass. Cuts peppered Oblivion's legs, marking hits, but most ricocheted off his mask. The Type: Null snorted.

"Iron Defense. Attack again."

Oblivion howled and leapt for the Nosepass, wreathed in silver, eyes burning with primal fury. The Nosepass fired a point-blank Thunderbolt quicker than it had ever reacted. Lightning forked through the air and converged on Oblivion as he smashed into the rock-type. For a heartbeat the electricity danced across the Type: Null, golden flickers, at once unspeakably beautiful and deadly.

Then the lightning shot off the steel coating of Oblivion's body and surged into the Nosepass. Sparks crackled off its stone-still form.

A strange sound suddenly filled the stadium – slow, guttural groans. The Nosepass had broken its steadfast silence at long last. Ash watched, hardly believing his eyes, as it shuddered from the electricity. It attempted to roll away from the Type: Null looming above it but was helpless in its convulsions. Vanquished.

Ash stood frozen, words stuck in his throat, heart fluttering in his chest. He was too stunned to even smile. Have we really ... Have we actually –

Roxanne voiced the words that Ash didn't dare speak. "Congratulations, Ash. You've won."

Beneath a cheering crowd and the heat of the tropic sun, Ash and Oblivion surged toward each other and embraced.

~O~

Midnight.

Ash sat in his Pokémon Center room, listening to the howl of Mightyena outside his window. The thin pane of glass hadn't kept chilled air from creeping in, and his knees were drawn up against him as he sat atop the sheets of his bed, gripped by insomnia for the second night running. Not because of nightmares, just fleeting snatches of thoughts and memories making him restless without a clear reason. Visions of the day's gym battle flickered behind his eyelids whenever he closed them – both Cirrus's crushing defeat and Oblivion's roaring victory.

He would need to find some trainers Cirrus could overcome before the loss affected her confidence.

As he sat there, staring at shadow patterns on the wall, some instinct stirred within him. He drew in a sharp breath. Eyes darted about his surroundings. It didn't take long for him to focus on the white egg encased in its incubator. The twitches from the preceding hours had ceased, and the egg was still.

He barely registered shuffling out of bed, his bare feet padding on the wooden floor. He stood before the egg, lit silver by a pool of moonlight, staring.

Ash didn't spare a glance as Oblivion whined behind him, roused from slumber by instincts of his own. He slipped beside his trainer to gaze upon the egg, green eyes eerie in the moonlight. Ash settled a hand on him, scratching his neck, before a crystal certainty settled over him. He reached into the incubator and gently grasped the egg, lifting it into the air.

It twitched once more. The creature inside its shell had stirred, as if aware its time in the incubator had drawn to an end. Before Ash's eyes, a little dent appeared, cracks fracturing outward from its origin. The iridescent sheen of the egg seemed glowing in the room's darkness.

He settled himself on the floor with deliberate slowness, resting the egg in his lap. It was warm to the touch; he traced the spreading cracks on its shell. Time passed. Ash and Oblivion remained entranced by the egg, but even in their hushed silence something awakened Cirrus. She shuffled across the bed. Widened her eyes and watched together with them in anticipation.

Hesitantly, Ash picked at the cracked shell. Smiled as it revealed a stubby hand, shiny and wet and white. The egg continued to break into pieces and the pokémon worked to free itself. He shivered – Oblivion, looming over him, did the same. Cirrus landed on Ash's tousled hair, too anxious to watch from the bed.

An upper fragment of the shell broke away and the egg tipped on its side. A little Ralts crawled out.

Ash watched with his breath caught in his throat as the Ralts stumbled to its feet, teetering unsteadily. His hands hovered near to catch it if it slipped. The Ralts flopped forward and emitted a tiny squeak.

Smiling, Ash helped it right itself.

The Ralts stared up at Ash, meeting his eyes with those which glimmered red in the moonlit shadows. It tilted its head and squeaked again, a slight sound compared to Oblivion's barks or Cirrus's chirps.

"Hello," Ash said and offered his hand, smile widening further as the Ralts reached out to touch it curiously. "It's nice to finally meet you."

The Ralts blinked at him, then squeaked at the shadowed Type: Null and tried to walk over to greet him. It made little headway with its stumbling steps.

Oblivion padded forward, dropping his masked head down to greet his new teammate, green eyes gazing at the Ralts with intensity. He nudged his mask against it; it squeaked again and tumbled backwards to the floor.

Ash laughed. He settled a hand on Oblivion's flank, running fingers through his fur as Cirrus fluttered onto the floor to get a better look at the hatchling. She cocked her head at it with a fluff of her feathers, spotting the bits of shell and sticky residue clinging to its skin. Assailed the Ralts with her wings, scrubbing it clean even as it blinked in confusion.

Shaking his head, Ash grinned at his team. Surrounded by the three of them, with the knowledge that each new dawn saw them a little stronger, an elated lightness washed over him.

For the first time since he started his journey in Hoenn, he felt truly at home.

I'm back. Happy holidays, everyone, and I hope you're celebrating wherever you are in the world! For some reason every chapter so far has been the hardest thing I've ever written up to that point – if there are any veteran writers out there do tell me when it gets easier – but I hope there's at least one thing somewhere in this for everyone to like.

Next chapter will be exciting to write for a couple reasons and I'm sure some of you have a few guesses about that. I have plans for what will happen but everyone's definitely welcome to put their arguments out there for what kinds pokémon they want to see at the Summer Fair. Nothing's set in stone until it's written.

I'd also like to take the time to thank a couple people in particular for their help over the year. This chapter, first and foremost, would never have been finished without the author StandingMan – known for his fic Ambition. He was a huge help beta-reading the first half of this chapter and stopping me from throwing out thousands of words to restart for the nth time. Seanic BlueBlur has consistently provided excellent analyses on whatever questions I have, and Kaiser Wilhelm the Provider helped me keep the timeline of this story on track. Thanks to him I now have a working calendar so I don't lose track of how much time passes while Ash journeys. Lastly, DingleDangle555 wrote me an absolutely inspiring PM I still have yet to respond to, to my great shame. And of course, thanks to all of you for reading.

If you're in the holiday spirit, please review and let me know what you think; it'd be a splendid gift.

See you in 2019!