Chapter One

Principal Henry Jefferson strode down the hallway of his school, smiling hugely at the custodians as they gave the currently vacant residence rooms a last clean. In his hand he held a student's acceptance letter found under his desk just yesterday by his secretary, and only because she accidentally dropped a memo and it fluttered under the desk. None of the custodians were smiling back, perhaps because he was making them clean the rooms all over again. If an acceptance letter could sit under his desk for three months undiscovered, who knew what was lurking in the student rooms?

He eventually arrived at the mailing room, where two dozen carrier Pidgeys were dozing at their roosts. The bird he wanted was halfway down the row, sitting on the perch labelled 'Fuchsia', and distinctly plumper than the rest.

"Well," he harrumphed to himself, "I daresay you'll deliver the letter to its proper location, if your colon doesn't rupture first. They must feed you five times a day down there."

The Pidgey continued to doze, so he poked it in the belly with a corner of the letter, "Come on, budge up you lazy bird!"

It stretched its wings, fluffed its feathers, and finally donned the hat that marked it as a post-bird. It held out a leg obediently, and after attaching the letter Jefferson carried the bird to the proper window.

"Now, go forth and deliver happy tidings!"

It would have been ideal for the Pidgey to make a joyful exclamation and soar out the window. Instead, it grumped to itself, hopped out into the air, fell a good two storeys, and finally flapped its way towards Fuchsia City.

"Good lord," Jefferson muttered to himself, "another pound or two and that bird will qualify for a student project!"

The herd of Tauros moved along the edge of the river, some grazing on the grass while others drank the water. One particularly large Tauros was standing slightly apart from the others, scanning the tall savannah grasses for possible threats. It continued to stand guard while the others settled in, but failed to notice the cleverly built hide a mere fifty feet away.

Inside, a man and his daughter were taking turns to peer through their pair of binoculars at the massive Pokémon. The man was tall and solidly built, and boasted a large and bushy moustache that covered his upper lip. His daughter was a wisp beside him, with short brown hair cut like a boy's and large glasses. The two were an odd pair physically, but their minds were much the same. It had taken three weeks of careful manoeuvring and tracking of Pokémon herd patterns to erect this hide, and their patience and meticulousness had paid off. They'd already seen a herd of Kangaskhan and a herd of Rhyhorn earlier in the day, but it was the Tauros that they'd wanted to see. Wild Tauros were virtually unheard of, and the herd in the Safari Zone was the largest one known in Kanto.

"She's a beautiful one, that's for certain." Horace Reeves went to hand off the binoculars to his daughter, but she was distractedly drawing a circle in her sketchbook, "Lan, I'm sure you'll get in next year."

"Oh, daddy, it just… it doesn't make any sense." She gave up all pretence of drawing and flopped onto her bum, the book sliding onto the floor, "I did absolutely everything that my counsellor told me to."

"I know, dear."

"I filled up all my spare time with community involvement."

"Yes…"

"Took a first aid course and two babysitting courses."

"Now, Lan…"

"I even peer tutored most of my classmates! What else could I possibly have done?!"

"Lan dear, keep it down." He waved his hands at her anxiously, "We don't want the Tauros to know we're here."

"Yes, daddy." She heaved a sigh and looked over the drawings she'd made so far. Her sketches usually accompanied her father's theoretical papers, as he said it gave the papers the feeling of legitimacy that a snapshot couldn't duplicate.

They stayed in the hide uninterrupted for another hour, until the beating of wings, accompanied shortly after by a flop as something landed on the cloth roof of their hide, alerted them that some type of flying Pokémon had landed. Lan carefully opened the flap at the top while her father made sure the Tauros hadn't noticed, and beckoned the post-bird inside.

"Really now," her father took the rotund little Pidgey from her and squished its sides in irritation, "they could have waited until we returned to town. This research is…"

Lan paused from correcting a line on one of her earlier sketches and looked up at him, "Is what, daddy?"

"Er… the letter's for you, dear."

He handed her the letter, and her eyes widened as she saw the emblem printed across the front: F.O.C.U.S.

"Why would they be sending me a letter now?" She mused, opening the envelope reverently despite her mounting excitement.

"Read it, Lan. What does it say?" The Pidgey's eyes were starting to bulge as her father held it; clearly she wasn't the only one who was excited.

"'Miss. Reeves'," Lan began, "'greetings. I am the principal of the Facility for Open-minded Correction of Unwieldy Specimens, sometimes called F.O.C.U.S. It has come to my attention that, for reasons unknown to myself, your acceptance letter was misplaced at the time when the rest were being sent out'." She paused, unsure whether to be disappointed at the mistake of the school or excited for what was coming next. "'If you are still free from any other obligations, you are most heartily welcome to attend the school, commencing on the first of September'."

She stayed there for a full minute, staring at nothing as her mind caught up with what she'd just said. When it did, she let out a squeal of happiness and bounced up and down on her knees, unable to stand inside the hide, "Daddy, daddy, daddy! I got in! I'm accepted! I'm going to the school!"

"That's wonderful dear!" He dumped the overweight Pidgey to the side and wrapped his daughter in a bear-hug. No sooner had he done so then he realized that the sounds of the herd had gone very quiet. The corner of his eye twitched as he looked out the window of the hide; the irate Tauros matriarch was glaring through it at him.

Lan, unaware of her father's sudden paranoia, held the letter up again, "I wonder how they misplaced it?"

"It shall forever be a mystery, Lan." Horace wrapped an arm around her waist, tucked it into his armpit, grabbed his binoculars and notes, and ran. Seconds later three Tauros collided with the tent, narrowly missing the disgruntled post-bird.

"And look at this." Lan was completely oblivious to the fact she was being carried or that her father was running for their lives, "It says, 'due to the actions of one of the members here at the school, we are adapting one of the double rooms into a single, for your comfort. Please accept this as a sign of our apologies for the temporary misplacing of your letter'."

"Lovely, Lan." Horace dodged around an outcrop of boulders, and several Tauros ran by, "School teams are fun."

Lan frowned, looking up at him, "That's not what I said."

"Oh, right."

She blinked, finally realizing the change of setting, "What on earth are we doing here?"

He heaved a sigh of relief as no further Tauros appeared, and set her down, "Nothing, dear. Let's go home."

The Reeves household gave off the very clear vibe of a scholar's home. Half-finished papers and reports covered every possible writing surface, diagrams and maps took the place of wallpaper, and models of flying Pokémon hung from the ceiling. The building itself had once been the town's lighthouse, before a newer model was built. The old lighthouse was slated to be destroyed, until Horace bought it and had it moved to its current location. The stairs wound up the side of the interior to the light room, converted into Lan's bedroom. There were two landings on the way up, the lower one containing the basics of a kitchen and a rickety table. The higher landing was originally meant to be Horace's bedroom, but he preferred to sleep on one of the couches on the ground level. The upper landing, therefore, was overflowing with Lan's drawings and other knick-knacks she'd picked up.

Visitors to the building rarely went up the open-air stairs, afraid of falling because neither Horace nor Lan had seen a point in adding a railing. Pushed under the stairs on ground level were three empty organizers from Horace's last romance; she'd attempted to introduce some method to his research, to no effect. A pile of dirty clothes was slowly consuming the entry-hall, a reminder that laundry had better be done soon.

Horace pushed the pile further into the corner and strode into the main room, "What a wonderful day of research! Just wait until the Museum of Science reads what I have to say!"

Lan gave him an indulgent smile, trying not to roll her eyes, "They'll absolutely love it."

This was absolutely true, but it was also true that the Museum had been waiting on Horace Reeves to submit research for the past three years. He had many ideas, most of them brilliant, but he could never be persuaded to finish any of them. The Tauros project, hopefully, was going to be the one that broke the mould.

Lan left her father to shove papers from his desk and climbed up the stairs, her acceptance letter clutched tight in her hand. She paused in the kitchen, wondering if she should check the fridge for expiry dates, but decided that it could wait and continued up to her room.

The only place in the house that was closed off from the others, she had to climb up onto an unused dresser beneath a trap door, push it open, and pull herself into her room. Her room was no less cluttered than the rest of the house, brimming with seashells, Pokémon models, and more drawings. Unlike her father, she had a bookshelf for all of her sketchbooks, each one date-labelled. There was a hole in the side of the roof large enough for post-birds to enter through, and a slotted mailbox nearby. Their house served as the unofficial post-office for Fuchsia city, something that would have to change now that she was going to school somewhere else.

The Pidgey from earlier was sitting on one of the perches nearby, looking distinctly ruffled at its encounter with the Tauros.

"Thank you for delivering this," Lan held up the letter with a smile, before setting it reverently on her desk and opening her lower desk drawer. Three containers of poke-chow met her eyes, and she sighed, "We really do need to go grocery shopping soon."

She took one out and opened it, much to the Pidgey's delight. After pouring the chow into the feeding dish near the Pidgey, she sat down at her desk and penned a response:

Mr. Jefferson,

I would be delighted to attend your institution, and look forward to arriving in a week.

Sincerely, Lan Reeves.

She knew that she should probably make it longer, but the more she wrote the more she gushed about how thankful she was and incredibly happy he'd made her. A shorter answer, she decided, was better.

She clipped the letter to the Pidgey's foot and patted its head, "Finish your meal and rest up, then please return this letter as soon as possible." It cooed at her, the sound muffled by food.

It took a few minutes of irritated shuffling until she found her notepad for groceries, and after writing down "poke-chow" she opened the trap door and climbed back down into the main room.

The next few days, Lan engaged herself in a flurry of packing. The old suitcase took an hour to find, and was eventually discovered propping up a corner of the dryer. Her father had needed the metal corner for research. Two drawers from the organizers were now in the suitcase's place. Just because the suitcase was free from its propping-up duty didn't mean that Lan could use it immediately, however. It was packed with old notes and models that Horace had forgotten about, and upon rediscovering them he insisted that she sit down and they go through them all together.

With three days until departure, Lan was so wound up with nervous excitement that she couldn't sit still. Horace noticed this and gave her an affectionate thump on the back, "Come on Lan, let's go and take a stroll along the beach. One of my rediscovered papers had a hypothesis about the interactions of beach and ocean Krabby that I simply must retest."

Lan immediately picked up her sketchbook, but frowned at him, "What about the research paper about investigating wild Tauros herds?"

"Oh, it's coming along."

"Daddy," she opened the sketchbook to the pages of Tauros drawings and thrust it into his face, "you were so excited about it. You need to finish it so the Museum of Science can read it, remember?"

"Yes, dear, it will be finished eventually. Now, about those Krabby…"

She sighed and followed him out the door. They tried to close the door three times before realizing two sweaters had fallen in the way. The laundry really needed to be done before she left.

The late afternoon walk down to the beach was a pleasant one. There was always a sea breeze blowing in from the open water, and having lived around it her whole life she found it soothing. Her father chatted away about the merits of his old paper, wondering how he could have forgotten about such essential research. She offered the occasional opinion, but was content to just listen to his theories.

When they reached the beach, he removed a container of poke-chow from his pack and sprinkled it across the sand near the water. Lan moved further down the beach and sat on a rock half-submerged in the rising tide. She watched her father's elation as first a Krabby from the ocean scuttled for the food, and then a second Krabby dug out of the sand and made for the same piece. She opened her book and sketched the scene as the two Pokémon raised their claws at one another and circled. Horace was scribbling furious on his loose-leaf note paper, unaware of anything other than the encounter before him.

The Krabby were about to latch claws when a larger than normal wave washed over them and took them both out to sea. Lan shook her head at her father's obvious disappointment, but then turned her attention to the sea and gasped. A Lapras was making its way unerringly for the shore, and for a moment she didn't see the rider on its back. Fantasies of capturing such a beautiful Pokémon disappeared as she not only noticed the rider, but saw the collar around the Lapras's neck that declared it to be a transportation Lapras.

The boy leapt from its back, wearing a backpack and carrying a large duffel bag, and splashed ashore. He turned and waved the Lapras away, "Thanks, girl! See you in a few months!"

The Lapras chirped at him before turning and disappearing beneath the water.

The boy was closer to her than her father, and realized that she was staring at him. He turned and waved with his free hand. While she climbed off of the rock he made his way over, tossing the duffel bag further up the beach as he went.

"Hello." Lan held her sketchbook behind her back with both hands, "My name is Lan."

"I'm Lysander." He didn't even stop, just walked right up to her and gave her a hug, "It's nice to meet you."

Lan turned a bright red and spluttered, "It's… well it's good to… to meet you as well."

He released her and stepped back, smiling. She tried her best to smile back through her embarrassment. He was an attractive boy, about her age, with dark brown hair spiked by the sea salt and wind. His eyes were a cheerful hazel, and his smile was every bit as friendly as the rest of him.

She was just beginning to feel the flush on her face fade when her father arrived on the scene, his moustache bristling. He tapped Lysander on the shoulder, "And who might you be, young man?"

"I'm Lysander. Are you Lan's father?"

"I… er…" Horace had been expecting Lysander to feel intimidated by his height and bulk, "Yes, I am."

"Hello." Lysander smiled up at the big man and wrapped his arms around Horace's chest, hugging him as well, "Pleased to meet you."

"What in…?" Horace held his arms free of Lysander, confusion eventually giving way to realization, "Ah, you're from Cinnabar Island, aren't you?"

"I sure am!" Lysander turned back to Lan, noticing her pink face, "Oh, did I embarrass you?" He scratched the back of his head with a nervous laugh, "I'm sorry, Lan. Everybody hugs where I come from!"

"Oh, ah, really?" She attempted to recover her decorum, "What brings you to Fuchsia City? The Safari Zone?"

"Well actually, I'm just passing through." Lysander indicated his bags, "I'm going to spend a few days in the PokéCenter and then head out. I'm going to a school near here."

"The Facility for Open-minded Correction of Unwieldy Specimens?!" Lan could barely contain her excitement.

"Er, yeah. That's the long way to say FOCUS, right?" Lysander raised an eyebrow at her, "Are you going as well?"

"I am!" She nodded, "I was just sent my acceptance a few days ago. Somehow they lost it when all of the other ones were being sent out!"

"Wow, that's lucky for you." Lysander grinned, "What do you think it will be like? I've heard the Pokémon can get pretty unruly."

"I'm ready for them!" Lan clapped her hands together, so eager that she forgot about her sketchbook. It fell to the sand with a thud, and she scooped it up before the waves could get it.

"We should definitely train our Pokémon together." Lysander winked at her, "I think we'd get along really well. But," he glanced at the sun, sinking below the horizon, "I have to get checked in at the Pokémon Centre."

"Of course."

Horace draped his massive arm over Lysander's shoulders, "Nonsense! You can stay with us until we leave! We have plenty of room!"

Lan's mouth dropped open as she remembered the state of their house, "But daddy, what about…?"

"It's fine, Lan!" Horace led Lysander across the beach, effortlessly picking up his duffel bag as he went, "We haven't had company in months!"

"There's a reason for that!" Lan cried in vain, scrambling across the sand after them. All chances of Lysander being friends with her would disintegrate if he saw inside their house. The laundry would eat him!

There was no chance of convincing her father to take Lysander on a tour of the town so that Lan could clean up. Horace didn't see anything wrong with their house, and reasoned that Lysander would want to put down his bags before he saw anything. So it was that when they reached the front door, Lan pointed out to sea, made an exclamation about seeing something, then dashed through the door and shoved the pile of laundry away while the two men tried to see what she'd pointed at. It was the best she could do.

She stood in front of the shifted pile as they came inside, noting in humiliation that it came level with her shoulders. Lysander was too busy staring at the openness of the main room and the hanging Pokémon models to notice, for which she counted herself lucky.

Lysander turned and gave her the same look of amazement, "This is the best house I've ever been in! Have you lived here your whole life?"

"Most of it," Lan refused to move from her station in front of the pile, "we moved in when I was five."

"Wow." He waited a few moments before asking, "Can I see where I'm going to sleep?"

Lan sighed in defeat and walked to the stairs. Sure enough, Lysander's eyebrows rose at the sight of the human-sized laundry pile. He didn't make any comment, however, just followed her up the stairs to the double bed.

"Well, here it is."

"Great!" He was careful to drop his bag away from the art and other papers that littered the area, "Where do you and your father sleep? I don't see any other beds…"

"Daddy sleeps on the couch," Lan pointed and Lysander peered over the edge to the indicated piece of furniture two levels below, "and my room is up there."

Lysander looked up the stairs to a half-landing with a chest of drawers on it. He was about to ask what she meant when his eyes caught on the trap door, "Do you mind if I look at your room? It must have a great view."

"Well, it's kind of dirty." Lan twiddled her fingers, "Maybe if I clean it up first."

Lysander nodded, "So how much should I pay you?"

Lan blinked, "Wh-what do you mean?"

"I'm going to be staying here for three days, Lan; I'm not just going to freeload off of you." Lysander shrugged, "If you like, I can pay in labour. I've been told I'm good at cleaning."

Lan didn't know whether to laugh or die of embarrassment. He wasn't oblivious, he was polite. Clearly he'd noticed the mess but didn't want to say anything, "You really don't have to. We haven't had company in ages, and it will be nice to have a new voice in the house."

Lysander grinned, "Don't encourage me. Sometimes I think my parents sent me to FOCUS just to have peace and quiet in the house!"

Lan went to respond when a bell ringing above their heads alerted her to the fact that a post-bird had just delivered a letter, "I have to go and get that. Excuse me."

She hurried up the stairs, climbed up the chest of drawers, and quickly entered her room. There was a Spearow perched on the roost, preening and looking quite pleased with itself. Upon seeing her it squawked and pecked at the feeding dish.

"Here you go." Lan fed it and removed the letter from the box, along with two more than had come while she and her father were at the beach. One was for Nurse Joy, the second was for the warden of the Safari Zone, and the third was addressed to her father.

She was about to go back downstairs when her eye caught on the return address; the Museum of Science. Reasoning to herself that she was a partner in her father's research, and his key motivator, she opened the envelope and read it:

Mr. Reeves,

As much as we wish to continue to fund you in your research, we need to have confirmation of legitimate progress in your studies. To that end, we are sending down one of our top scientists to assist in the completion of your current project. Expect them within the week.

We sincerely hope that you will continue to provide us with your outstanding work.

The Museum of Science

Lan slapped a hand to her forehead. This was the worst news possible! Not only did her father not have a project to show the scientist, but there were at least fifty half-done projects strewn about their home! She thanked the Spearow and ran back down the stairs.

Her father was busy showing Lysander the model of a Pidgeot's wing musculature when she arrived on the bottom floor, and the two looked over at her disgruntled state in surprise.

"Lan dear, what's wrong?"

Lan waved the letter, slightly winded. She'd nearly tripped over a child-size lump of laundry on the stairs on the way down, "Museum of Science."

Horace took the letter from her and read it. Lysander came to stand by her and placed a hand on her shoulder in concern, and she was so nervous she actually placed a hand over his. She expected her father to react as she had; instead, he tossed the letter in the air and gave a single booming clap of his hands.

"This is wonderful news!"

"Daddy, you don't have a project to show them!"

"Dearest, look around you!" He gestured with his arms, "I have dozens of projects to show them!"

"But they aren't in order, daddy!" She exclaimed, "The scientist isn't going to want to sit and wait for you to piece your projects together!"

"Oh, bosh. I'm a researcher, not a secretary!"

Lysander gave Lan's shoulder a reassuring squeeze and moved to the nearest pile of paper, "When is the scientist getting here?"

"Within the week." Horace put his fists on his hips and laughed, "I wish it were within the day!"

"No!" Lan put her hands to her head and shook it from side to side, "Daddy, if you don't impress them with a finished project, they won't fund you any more and you'll be out of a job!"

"Ah." Horace pulled at his moustache with one hand, and cupped his elbow with the other, "What can we do then?"

"Well," Lysander was holding three loose-leaf sheets, "can anyone find page four of 'The Pollen Collecting Habits of Beedrill?"

Lan left for a while to take the other letters to their recipients, and the two men got started on the task of sorting the numerous projects. Horace turned out to be a bigger hindrance than help, as every project over two weeks old that he came into contact with he insisted on rereading and making notes in the margins. More than once Lysander would pile up several reports, cross the room, and come back to find his work undone and Horace commenting on what a naïve fool he'd been. Finally Lysander brought a stool down from the kitchen landing and set it in the middle of the floor.

"Mr. Reeves…"

"Call me Horace, boy! Look at this theory on Goldeen colouration!"

"Later, sir."

"Horace."

Lysander sighed in frustration, "Horace, come and sit on this stool."

"Alright." Horace sat down, and then blinked, "Why?"

"Don't move." Lysander instructed, "It'll go faster this way."

"I see."

Lysander continued to sort, and not long after Lan returned. She giggled when she saw her father, immediately realizing what Lysander must have done. The sky was dark, so she left Lysander to his sorting and went up to the kitchen to make dinner. It certainly felt different to have someone else in the house, but even though she hardly knew Lysander, having him there didn't feel strange. He just wasn't the sort of person who caused a fuss.

The water for instant noodles was coming to a boil when she heard Lysander give a surprised shout from underneath the stairs. She supposed that he'd discovered the unused organizers, which her father had ironically buried in research papers. A few moments later, however, she saw him approach her father with something that looked suspiciously like a Pokéball.

She turned off the kettle and went quickly down the stairs. It was a Pokéball, and Lysander was brandishing it in front of Horace in annoyance.

"It reads that there's a Pokémon inside this, Horace. How long has it been back there?"

Lan gasped. Her father hadn't owned a Pokémon in years!

"Well, boy, I have no idea. I'd have to see what Pokémon it is." Horace held out his hand for it, "Let's open it."

"And what if it's a Gyarados, daddy?" Lan crossed her arms, "Why don't you open it outside?"

Horace glanced down at the stool, which he'd obediently sat on for three hours, but then stood and marched out the door, "Come, Lysander! This will be a discovery!"

"Let's hope it's not an aggressive discovery," Lysander muttered, following him out the door.

Lan ran upstairs as fast as she could, grabbed a container of PokéChow, and ran outside. Horace hadn't opened the ball yet, savouring the brink of discovery that he was currently on.

He spotted the container in Lan's hand and grinned, "Excellent idea, dearest! The Pokémon will no doubt be slightly peckish." He took a deep breath, held the Pokéball out in front of him, and commanded, "Pokémon, come on out!"

Nothing happened. They all stood there expectantly, but after a long pause Horace shrugged, "The ball's probably broken, and saying there's a Pokémon in there when there isn't."

"Here, let me see." Lysander took the ball and rapped his knuckles against the top, "We've got food, Pokémon. Come and get it!"

Immediately the Pokéball opened, and out came an extremely thin and evidently annoyed Raichu. It staggered on its feet before collapsing to the ground and giving a weak moan.

Completely unaware of its condition, Horace slammed a fist into his open hand, "Of course! I was researching the effects a Thunder Stone had on electrical output versus costs of upkeep for a Pikachu and Raichu!"

Neither of the younger people was listening to him. Lysander was cradling the Raichu in his lap while Lan broke the poke-chow into smaller pieces and fed them to it. The Raichu chewed weakly on the food, but paused to fix a dark look on Horace.

Horace cleared his throat, "Right then, let's get back inside. I'm as hungry as that Raichu."

The sparks that gathered on the lightning rodent's cheeks indicated that if it had the strength it would shock him, but it continued to munch on the food. Lan handed the chow over to Lysander and went back to the kettle in the kitchen. She kept glancing over her shoulder at the boy and the Pokémon on the lower level, a smile on her face. It was obvious that Lysander cared as much about Pokémon as she did, and she knew that they would be good friends.

Downstairs, Lysander crumbled several pieces of chow for the Raichu before resuming his sorting. He now concentrated on moving all of the papers away from the organizers, in case they covered any other Pokéballs. By the time he discovered with more than a little relief that Raichu had been the only one, dinner was ready.

They sat down around the table, and Lan hoped that Lysander wouldn't dwell on the issue of the Raichu. The fact that her father had forgotten about it for at least six years was horrible, but pointing this out to him wouldn't change anything.

"Well now, this is delicious, Lan." Horace ate the noodles happily, making no comment on the fact that they'd had the same thing every night for the past four months. The budget was getting tighter, and they really needed the Museum's renewed support.

Lysander nodded in agreement, "It is. So Horace," Lan tensed, but the topic wasn't what she thought, "what project are you going to show the scientist?"

"Hrm, well you know, I'm not really sure. I've been rediscovering all of these new ideas, I want to work on them all at once!" He laughed, "I'm sure that once the scientist sees all my work, he'll agree!"

"I'm glad you're so enthusiastic, daddy," Lan patted his arm, "but don't you think the scientist would rather see a single project? He might not be able to stay long enough to read it all, don't you think?"

"An excellent point, dear." Horace tugged at his moustache, "In that case, I have no idea what to show him. I suppose once we've finished sorting I can decide."

The rest of their meal was spent exchanging stories about their lives. Lan learned that Lysander had two sisters, both much younger than him, and that he was one of the top surfers on Cinnabar Island. He'd applied to FOCUS after witnessing the effect that a released Tentacruel had on a marina on the island. The Tentacruel had been abused, and in turn destroyed five boats and damaged nine others before a trainer finally took it down and captured it. Lysander speculated that it was probably one of the Pokémon that the students of FOCUS last year were given.

When dinner was finished and cleaned up, Horace declared that he was going to read over more of his research. Lan and Lysander continued to sort, but it was clear that most of the next day would be spent sorting again. Finally, when the clock had shifted from four digits back to three, Horace declared that they should all stop and go to bed.

Raichu followed Lan and Lysander upstairs sleepily, clearly not wishing to stay with its neglectful owner. Lan wondered who was going to tell it they were leaving soon, and Horace would be its only company.

When they reached Lysander's bed, Lan waved Raichu to it, "I get mail at all hours of the night, so why don't you sleep down here, Raichu?"

The mouse rubbed against Lysander's leg, and he scooped it up, "Who knew Pokémon were so resilient? I can't go for a day without food, let alone six years!"

Lan smiled and lowered her voice so her father couldn't hear, "Thank you for not getting upset at daddy. He can be very absent-minded at times."

Lysander smiled, "It's never wise to insult your host. Besides, Raichu's fed now and will be fine." He scratched Raichu behind the ears, "We just have to hide the Pokéball before we leave, so your father can't put it away and forget about it again!"

Lan woke up the next morning to the sound of the ancient washing machine chugging away. She rolled out of bed, checked the mailbox, and went through her trap door. The first thing she noticed was Lysander's level; it was completely clean. The bed was made, his bags were tucked neatly under the stairs, and all of her drawings were pilled according to size. The next landing offered a similar surprise. All of the counters and the table were sparkling from a good scrub.

If she'd been expecting a similar miracle for the bottom floor, she didn't get it. There sat Horace in the middle of twenty piles of paper, reading over them and dropping them into a messy pile on his left when he was done. Lan wordlessly went over and resorted the mess, casting a glance around for Lysander.

"Morning, dear." Horace handed her another page, "He's outside. Apparently the dryer has stopped working."

Lan thought of how it had made an ominous clunk when she removed the suitcase, and sighed. If the Museum renewed her father's grant, they could get new appliances.

Soon after Lysander reappeared, a basket of laundry balanced against his hip. He looked so much like the domestic housewife that Lan giggled. It didn't help that Raichu, obviously deciding to champion Lysander, was wearing the pink apron Lan used to wear when she was young and helping her mother in the kitchen.

To cover for her mirth, Lan observed, "Raichu looks completely healthy today."

Lysander nodded and set the basket down on the couch, "I took it to the PokéCenter this morning and Nurse Joy looked it over. After fifteen minutes in the healing cylinder it was back to normal."

"Fifteen minutes? Doesn't it normally take only five?"

Lysander winced, "The first ten were spent trying to convince it to go back in the ball. I don't blame it, right Raichu?"

"Chu!" It leapt up on the couch, and proceeded to pull a pair of underpants from the basket and fold them.

Lan consciously decided not to be embarrassed that it was her underwear, and instead continued sorting the papers, "Well, daddy, I think we're going to have to go down to the Mart and get some binders for all this to go in."

Horace sighed, "And now my own daughter is enforcing organization on me. I should have just kept Mary around."

Lan frowned, "Oh, daddy, for goodness sake! I'm doing this so you can keep doing what you love to do."

He relented, "Yes, yes, dear. I know. Oh, is that my paper on Properties of Vileplume Spores and Mating?"

She passed it to him wordlessly and stood up, dusting off her skirt and going over to help Lysander with the laundry, "I'm sorry, I usually don't sleep late. You really don't have to do this."

"Yes I do. Good morning, by the way." He gave her a quick hug and went back to folding.

She was pleased to find that her cheeks barely changed colour at his embrace, and held out a cautious hand to Raichu, "Good morning, Raichu."

It let her pet its head with no objection; it really was remarkable how much two containers of poke-chow and a trip to the PokéCenter could cure. It still steered clear of her father though.

Once the laundry was folded Lan and Lysander headed to the Mart, Raichu hopping onto Lysander's shoulder after hanging its apron on a nail by the door. For a moment Lan was envious of its choice, but then reasoned that Lysander's shoulders were much broader, and Raichu probably couldn't fit on hers without making her fall over.

"It's strange to think I just met you yesterday," Lysander gave voice to the same thought going through Lan's mind. "It feels like we've been friends for much longer."

"I agree." Lan smiled, "I'm so happy that we're both going to the Facility for Open-minded Correction of Unwieldy Specimens."

Lysander laughed, "It would really be less of a mouthful if you just said FOCUS, like everyone else."

"Bosh!" Lan exclaimed, mimicking her father.

They strolled through the doors of the Mart and made their way to the writing supplies section, where the binders were easily located. Lan picked up a hole punch as well, doubting that her father had one. A cashier in a larger city would probably be shocked at the fourteen binders they were buying, but this one was quite familiar with Lan and Horace, and smiled with encouragement.

"He's finally organizing his research, is he?" The cashier rang the items through, and pressed the 30% discount button when Lan wasn't looking, "Good. We all hope he succeeds."

Lan smiled, "There's a scientist coming to visit him some time during the week. We're making sure that he's ready."

"Well, good luck!" The cashier turned to help the next customer, and they left the store.

There was a tense moment when they returned to the lighthouse and found half their work mixed together, but solved the problem of Horace mixing papers by putting him in charge of hole punching every sheet he read and putting it into a binder. Lan sorted out the mess while Lysander kept up the cleaning, and by the end of the day all of the research was in binders and labelled. The laundry was folded and put away in various drawers, and a start had been made on the cleaning of the bottom floor. They went to bed satisfied with their work, and intending to finish it by lunch the next day.

The sound of the mail-bell woke Lan up the next morning. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and took the letter out. As soon as she read the title she sat bolt upright and dashed down the stairs. Lysander and Raichu were still sleeping, but her father was up and about.

"Daddy! The scientist is here! In town! This letter says you're to go to the PokéCenter at your earliest convenience and discuss your project!"

"That's wonderful! I'll go immediately!" Horace was halfway to the door before Lan managed to leap in front of him.

"Daddy, no! You don't know what you're going to show him yet!"

They moved back into the room and poured over the different projects. Lysander and Raichu came downstairs together, Lysander still in his pyjamas, "What's going on?"

"The scientist is in town." Lan flipped quickly through one of the binders, "He wants a meeting, and daddy hasn't picked a project to showcase yet."

"What about the Tauros one?" Lysander pulled the appropriate binder from the pile and flipped to the section, "It's obvious that you'll be able to work on it, Horace, because the herd is a twenty minute walk away, and you have a lot of work on it."

"What if he doesn't like it?" Horace was pulling on his moustache nervously.

"Then show him the research on the Vileplume mating." Lan held up the binder she was flipping through, "Remember when we went on that camping trip this spring? There's that meadow full of Gloom half a day from here."

"Alright, alright. Now what do I wear?"

Lan gaped at him. For someone who had been prepared to dash down and greet the scientist in his robe and bath slippers, with no project in mind, he was certainly nervous all of a sudden!

In ten minutes they had Horace dressed, fed, and groomed. The Tauros project was in the front of his presentation binder, accompanied by Lan's sketches, and the Vileplume project was behind it, separated by a divider.

Horace took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders, "Are you sure you two don't want to come?"

Lan wanted to come very much, but knew that it would be better if he did it himself. That way he couldn't send her back to get more research, and get sidetracked, "No, you go, daddy. We'll be right here when you get back."

"Right then. Wish me luck!"

They did. As soon as he left Lysander turned to Lan, "What are the odds he'll bring the scientist back here?"

Lan sighed, "Very high, but probably not for an hour. Let's clean."

It was approaching nightfall, and still there was no sign of Horace. The house was the cleanest Lan had seen it since they'd moved in eleven years ago, and there was nothing else she could do to prepare for the return. Her room was cleaned, she was wearing the nicest dress she owned and she even had a clip in her hair. She hadn't even asked Lysander to dress nicely, he'd simply opened his duffel bag and put on a suit and dress shoes. Raichu had waffled between a barrette and a bowtie before finally choosing the latter of the two.

Lysander had run to the Mart earlier in the day and brought back the ingredients for a real dinner, and blueberry muffins were already cooling on the counter. As soon as Lan spotted her father from her window, she was to call down to Lysander so he could start the oven. Her leg was twitching in impatience; there hadn't even been a letter to take her mind off the return of her father.

Finally she spotted the familiar shape of her father coming up the hill, and flew through the trap door and down the stairs. Lysander switched the oven on and asked, "Is the scientist with him?"

"I don't know! I think so?" Lan thought about going back up to check, but was worried that if the scientist were there, they would see her peeking through the window.

"Well, there's nothing else we can do except wait." Lysander grinned at her, "I'm so glad I'm staying here instead of the PokéCenter."

"Me too."

The sound of the front door opening brought their attention to the lower level, and they heard Horace continuing, "…is where I live. Please, come in Miss. Prescott."

Lysander mouthed the word "Miss?" at Lan, and she shrugged. They'd just assumed that the scientist was a man, but apparently not.

"Please, call me Danielle." The two adults stepped into the main room, and Danielle stared around her in awe, "Oh, this is incredible!"

From the look on her father's face, Lan could tell that he was thinking the same thing about Miss. Prescott. She wasn't a gorgeous woman like his last girlfriend Mary had been, but she had the kind of calm beauty that reminded Lan of her mother. Her physique showed generous curves that a vainer woman would diet obsessively to lose, but she carried herself with dignity and dressed sensibly in a skirt suit. Her hair was pulled into a bun, saved from severity by a few strands that must have blown loose on their walk up the hill.

She caught sight of Lan and smiled broadly, "Oh, you must be Lan. Horace couldn't stop talking about your drawings during our talk, and how you've been accepted into the Facility of… what was it again?"

"It's easier to just call it FOCUS." Lan supplied helpfully, aware of the cynical look Lysander was throwing her. She ignored it.

"FOCUS. You must be so excited. And…" Danielle turned to Lysander, "I wasn't aware Horace had a son…?"

"I'm a friend of the family," Lysander smiled, taking a cue from Lan and refraining from moving down the stairs to hug the newcomer. "Lan and I are attending the school together."

"That's wonderful. I hope you both have a lovely time." She smiled up at him, before refocusing her attention on Lan's pleasantly dazed father, "Now, Horace," she touched Horace's elbow gently, "where is that paper on the Pollen Collecting Habits of Beedrill? There is expected to be a very large increase in the population around Viridian Forest next spring, and I simply must read it."

"Right this way, Danielle." Horace recovered his equilibrium and directed her to the couch, and while she was sitting he turned to Lan for assistance. She mouthed "B" at him, and he grabbed the binder displaying that label, "Here we are."

Lan turned to Lysander with a grin, but he was handing a decorated plate with two muffins to Raichu. The mouse gingerly walked down the stairs with the plate over its head, and offered the muffins to the two scholars.

"How lovely. Thank you, Raichu." Danielle took a muffin and patted Raichu's head without taking her eyes from the research.

Lan watched her father and Danielle with their heads together over the binder, and relaxed with a smile. It was obvious that Danielle was going to approve the grant for Horace to continue research, and who knew? Maybe she would stick around and motivate him to finish his work!

Morning couldn't come soon enough for Lan. The four had dined and discussed until late at night, at which point her father walked Danielle back to her accommodations and Lan got ready for bed. Only when her head hit the pillow did she remember that she was leaving tomorrow, and then she couldn't sleep. She tossed and turned the entire night, and right when she felt her eyelids meeting the smells of breakfast wafted up through the cracks in her door.

It surprised her that her father was the one cooking. He was following the cookbook with strenuous attention, and it was then that she realized Danielle was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and chatting with him.

Lan didn't think that they'd seen her yet, so she crept down the stairs to Lysander's bed. He didn't appear as though he'd had any difficulty sleeping, and was still fast asleep. Raichu twitched awake as she sat on the bed and yawned, greeting her by sitting up and sending a spark through its cheek into hers. She patted its head and shook Lysander awake.

He smiled dopily at her, "Morning."

Lan leaned close and whispered, "Danielle's here for breakfast. Daddy's cooking for her."

Lysander took in Lan's glee and stretched, "This is good news. It means he got the grant."

"Hey, you two!" Horace's booming voice was jovial, "Come down here, I've prepared a special send off breakfast!"

Lan started down the stairs, but then paused, "Send off?"

Horace scratched the back of his head sheepishly, "Well, Danielle has graciously agreed to stay an extra day and look over more of my research with me. I thought that since you had Lysander to travel with…"

"Oh." Lan sat down at the table and placed her napkin in her lap, "Well, of course. We'll have a lovely time." She abruptly changed the topic of conversation, "It smells absolutely delicious, daddy. What are you making?"

"Pancakes, bacon and scrambled eggs." He beamed at her praise, "I'm going to have to learn to fend for myself, now that you're heading out into the world!"

It took longer than expected to leave the house. Lan and Horace said goodbye to one another at least six times, and Danielle kept bringing up suggestions of things to bring that Lan had forgotten. Raichu clung to Lysander's leg and stared up at him with teary eyes. While Horace was hugging Lan goodbye for what he promised was the final time, Lysander knelt down and whispered in Raichu's ear where they'd hidden its Pokéball. It finally let go of his leg, and he stood.

"Thank you again for letting me stay here, Horace," Lysander gave Horace as large a hug as he could manage.

"Yes, well," Horace harrumphed, "here's a piece of advice for you, boy. Don't go hugging everyone you meet at the school."

"Why not?"

Horace rubbed the back of his neck, "Well, you see, in some areas they think that a hug is as good as a declaration of love, if you're not family. Just don't do it."

Lysander shrugged, "If you say so. Are you ready, Lan?"

"Absolutely!" She lugged at her suitcase and followed him down the hill, stopping to wave back every fifteen feet.

As soon as they were out of sight of the house, Lysander handed her his duffel bag and took her suitcase, deaf to her protests. His bag was remarkably lighter than hers, and she was forced to admit to herself that she probably wouldn't be able to carry her suitcase all the way to the school. Then again, she'd been expecting her father to come with them.

They reached the edge of Fuchsia City, and stared ahead at the road in front of them. Lysander took out his guidebook and flipped to the appropriate section, "It says here that there's a campsite halfway up route fourteen. I figure if we walk all day with a break for lunch, we can make it shortly after sundown. Then tomorrow we can walk the rest of the way, and be at the school for noon or so. Is that alright with you?"

Lan nodded, "I have to admit, I'm a little nervous about doing this without a Pokémon. Aren't there a lot of trainers along route fifteen?"

"Well, sure, but we don't have any Pokémon, so they should leave us alone. Then again," he teased, "if you want to stay here I'm sure I can make it to the school by myself. They could probably send someone to pick you up."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous!" Lan lifted her chin and marched onto the path, "Nothing is going to keep me from going to school!"

Lysander laughed and jogged to catch up with her, "If it were any school other than this one, I'd say you were crazy."

By lunchtime Lysander reckoned that they were just over halfway down route fifteen. They'd already passed several kids with Pokémon, but politely declined to fight them, displaying their Pokéball-less belts. Lan was annoyed that these children had Pokémon, when she'd never owned one in her life, and while they were unpacking their sandwiches she broached the subject to Lysander.

"Have you ever owned a Pokémon?"

Lysander grinned, "Sure, I got a Seel when I was six. I lugged it everywhere with me, like a stuffed animal."

Lan giggled at the image, "What happened to it?"

"When I was thirteen, it evolved into a Dewgong. We stayed together until last year, when it found a wild Dewgong that it liked." Lysander's face was lost in pleasant memories, "I knew I was going to apply for FOCUS, so I let it go."

"Oh, that must have been hard on you." Lan couldn't image saying goodbye to a Pokémon she'd known for so long.

"It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. The two are living somewhere around the Seafoam Islands, and my Dewgong usually comes out and swims with me when I surf near there. Besides," he winked at her, "this spring it gave me two Pokémon eggs, one for each of my sisters."

Lan gasped, "That's so beautiful! It still loves you, even though the two of you don't live together!"

"Yeah," Lysander took a bite of his sandwich, "but what about you? Any Pokémon?"

"Not a one," Lan shook her head, "but I suppose I never really noticed until the other day when you found Raichu. The Safari Zone was right there, and the beach as well, and daddy is around Pokémon all the time."

"Well, this is going to be a new experience for both of us," Lysander decided. "By the end of the school year, we'll have six Pokémon each."

It was a thought that occupied them for the rest of the trip to the campsite. They eagerly discussed what kinds of Pokémon they wanted, and what kinds they thought they would get. Lan had her heart set on a Vulpix, admitting to having a life-sized stuffie on her bed at home. The Pokémon type she least wanted was rock, as they tended to be large and obtuse, and powerful enough to cause damage in their brutishness. Lysander laughed and her obvious dislike and admitted that there really wasn't a type of Pokémon he outright didn't like, but he'd rather not have rock Pokémon either. For a trainer who lived on an island, it just didn't make sense. What he wanted, more than any other Pokémon on Kanto, was a Blastoise. He showed her the mini-surfboard necklace that he wore, and sure enough there was an etching of the turtle Pokémon on the back.

Once they'd exhausted the topic of what they wanted, didn't want, and expected to get, they turned to the other major question they both had about the school; what did the Facility count as "unwieldy"? Would they all be aggressive Pokémon like the Tentacruel that Lysander had described? Or would there be other issues they would have to deal with as well? What could possibly be wrong with them?

Lysander proposed that some of them would probably be like Raichu, Pokémon that had been neglected in some way or form, only worse, because Raichu had made a springboard recovery and Lysander doubted that the school would assign a Pokémon that could be fixed so easily. It was part of their mark, after all, to rehabilitate this Pokémon.

Lan hypothesized that some of the Pokémon would have abnormal behaviours, recalling a tourist she'd once seen in Fuchsia who'd made all of his Pokémon walk upright, from an Oddish to a Rattata. She was resolved to help any Pokémon she received with a problem like this to return to their natural state.

The campsite was almost full when they arrived. One of the camp wardens told them that the campsite on route thirteen was full, so students had made the extra trek down to this site. Still, they were able to find a good spot to set up their sleeping bags, and Lysander removed a jar from his backpack along with a miniature cooking pot and a metal tri-pod.

"What's that?"

"Soup in a jar," he grinned. "You just pour it into hot water and it makes a meal. It's pretty handy."

"That does sound handy. Here, let me take that." Lan picked up the pot and stood, "I'll go and find some water. There should be something around here."

"I think I saw a spigot near the entrance."

Lan nodded and made her way back the way they'd come, noticing how many more people were there since when they'd come in. For the first time, she began to feel nervous about school the next day. At the time, she hadn't thought that there would be so many people going. Her school in Fuchsia City wasn't the largest, but she supposed that if this was the only school in Kanto that catered to "unwieldy specimens", it was bound to have a lot of Pokémon that needed "correction".

She finally found the water spigot, but discovered with some annoyance and embarrassment that it was so rusted she didn't have the strength to turn it on. She tugged at the handle for a few minutes more, and was about to admit defeat when she heard one of the wardens talking at the front.

"Sorry, kid, but we're full in here. You'll have to go to the campsite on route fifteen."

She leaned around the shack to look at who was being turned away. He was dressed only in white and black, with white streaks in his shaggy black hair. The only colour on him, besides the faint peach of his skin tone, was the dark amber of his eyes.

"If I go to the route fifteen campsite, I won't get there until sunrise," the boy reasoned. His voice was so soft Lan barely heard him.

"Well we're full here, so…"

"There you are!" Lan trotted up to the boy and tugged on his arm, "We thought you'd get here an hour ago!" She turned to the confused warden, "He's with me. Come on, let's go get you set up!"

They got as far as the water spigot, and then Lan paused, "Erm, you wouldn't happen to be able to turn this on, would you?"

The boy grabbed the handle and twisted. With a great screech the handle slowly turned, and dirty water began to pour out. They waited patiently for the dirt to work its way through the pipes until the water ran clear, and then Lan filled the pot. It was heavier than she expected, and the boy immediately took it from her.

"Oh, thank you." She smiled, "I'm Lan Reeves."

He held out his hand, "Jericho Fleming. Thank you for letting me in."

"It's not a problem," she shook his hand enthusiastically and led the way back to their campsite, "it's somewhat of a family tradition, actually."