I think I’m having some kind of attack.
Everything felt… surreal. A children’s cartoon twisted into three dimensions by the wish of some malevolent genie. The instructors’ whiteboard was a great plain of snow, marked with black lines that seemed to shift even as he looked at them.
‘TEAM ROCKET STRIKES BACK!
- All Pokémon exist for the glory of Team Rocket!
- Convene with Junior Executive Tanya in Vermilion!
- Relocate to Warehouse Base #3!
- Science!
- Strike back at the League!’
I think I can tell which of them wrote what, he idly thought. James has better penmanship. Each of the lines, the words, made sense individually, but attempting to put them together was making Hoshi’s head ache – not because he was tired or injured, he didn’t think, but because there was so much swirling around in his skull already that there simply wasn’t room.
The academy, he continued to think to himself as the others worked on… something in the background. The Electric Academy is no more. What does that mean? It had been such an off-handed sentence, he was struggling to parse it out. Did it get raided? Leveled? What other places does Rocket even have in Vermilion?
My name… the League has my name. All of our names. Or was it just the ninja clans that did? Hoshi remembered Nerine saying something, but already that long night had turned into a giant smear of red across the shaky amateur film of his memory. Does Uncle Bob know? Will he – will he be waiting for me at my apartment, disappointed? Angry? What about-
“Hey Boss.”
The interruption disturbed the whirlpool in his head, and Hoshi belatedly realised that the board had disappeared – blocked entirely by the full moon of Kenny’s bald, pale head. Actually…
“You have stubble,” his mouth said without much input from upstairs.
Kenny blinked, the heavy bruises across his face competing with red splotches of chronic acne for territory. “Yeah? We’ve been in the woods, man. I ain’t shavin’ with a damn knife, that’s dumb.”
No, not your… The thought dried up and blew away, his head too full even for the barest whisper of exasperation. Despite waking seemingly refreshed, that was only in comparison – Hoshi found that he was slowly returning to a state much like the one he’d been in the previous night, one where everything was detached, dreamy, two-steps-removed as though he was looking at himself through a screen through a memory through a drug-induced hallucination. Except I’m not drugged, just… freaking out. Is this shellshock?
Kenny blinked again, waiting for a reply that wasn’t coming. “…Anyway. Uh, you good Boss? You’ve kinda been sittin’ there a minute.”
“I… I don’t know.”
The moon-faced man frowned. “Look man, we gotta get this shit put together. You hit your head or some shit? Yer spacin’ the fuck out.”
I really am, man. I’m all the way up in fucking space. But despite how much he wanted to just keep sitting in place, waiting until the world made sense again, the senior grunt forced himself to his feet. Hoshi stood, only a little wobbly, and received a soft punch to the shoulder for his efforts.
“There ya go. Chin up Boss – we’re gettin’ new Pokémon!” Kenny’s exclamation came with a nod, and a grin – a forced grin, maybe – as he turned away, getting back to… whatever it was everyone else was doing.
What are they doing? Jessie and James told me, but I was… Not paying attention. The world threatened to devolve into meaningless babble again, but instead of standing still and entering another loop of pointless thoughts, the way every muscle across his body wanted to, Hoshi forced himself to move once more – this time forwards. “Casca,” he softly called, drawing her attention as he took a shaky step.
“Stud?” Her eyes, when they focused, were concerned. “You need a hand?”
“Tell me what we’re doing,” he replied, his tongue feeling more numb than it had back when he’d woken up… What was it, ten minutes ago? Five? Twenty?
A moment of hesitation, and then her brows shifted into something like – determination? The colours are gone. I guess… I guess it really was psychic shit after all. I used up my tank, and now it’s gone. “Okay,” she said, drawing him back out from the mire of introspection he’d briefly dipped into. “Come over here.”
He followed, and his girlfriend pointed at a half-assembled machine. It was familiar, to some extent; Hoshi could easily compare it to the healing machines in the Academy’s battle court. “This is a terminal for the Pokémon Storage System – or it will be, once we put it together.” As they huddled, Tor and the other two rookies approached with what looked like a pamphlet and two different mechanical pieces respectively. “It’s not too complicated; grab a box, open it, and then find someone with instructions to tell you where it goes. The instructors should be back in a half-hour, and hopefully we’ll be done by then. Most of…”
She must’ve noticed the blankness of his stare, because Casca trailed off before fixing him with a look. “Hoshi, are you alright? We all got banged up pretty bad, and – how many fingers am I holding up?”
He waved off her concern. “I’m not concussed.” I don’t think. “I just…” He watched the machine gain a few new parts, Mimi and Bart sliding past the edges of his awareness to slot in a couple more doodads. Like putting plastic bricks together. “Why are you not freaking out? Why isn't anybody freaking out? I’m- I can’t stop thinking. Are our lives over? What will…” What will we do for money? Will we have to leave the country? My- my aunt tried to kill me. My own flesh and blood.
Casca held his gaze for a long moment, steady baby blue like the spring skies keeping red-tinged white from bleeding into black. “Well, it helps that we all woke up before you – got it out of our systems early.” Her hand found his – and his skin was still numb, her warmth present but muted, somehow, like there was a layer of plastic between Hoshi's brain and body clogging up all the signals. “But also, we got a better explanation. C’mere, let’s sit for a second.”
Again Hoshi followed his girlfriend, her image slightly foreign in the hyper-traditional garb of the Fuchsia Gym Trainer uniform – a black and pink kimono, startlingly vibrant while still breaking up the lines of her body. Camouflage, in a way, for people who still needed to be seen to do their jobs.
They sat, and Hoshi fought against the urge to zone out like he’d been. His finger drew across his Pokéballs, and the memory of that warbling crystalline tone brought him down a little closer to earth. Can I- would it be okay to release my girls?
He didn’t voice the question; he was about to get some actual concrete answers, and interrupting that would be dumb, no matter how much his fingers itched to examine his newly-evolved team. “Let’s start,” Casca began, “With us.”
She gestured to the room. “According to the instructors, we’ve all been made. Cover’s blown, no going back.” Hoshi swallowed, again pushing down the urge to interrupt. “So… we’re gonna have to smash-and-grab some places for capital, before we do anything else. Not sure exactly where yet, but I’m pretty sure Jessie and James have a whole plan going, so I’ll leave that part to them. Our part, right now, is to get into the system and pick out some Pokémon – we haven’t been wiped yet, according – again – to the instructors, so we’ll be able to get out pretty much any Pokémon that isn’t owned. We’ve got the run of it, thanks to that thing we shoved into Surge’s computer, so the computer thingy’ll see us as genuine League admins.”
“As many as we want?”
She paused, expression uncertain. I can still tell. Even without the colours – I’m not crippled. That’s good. “I don’t know that bit. Maybe we’re still locked to six at a time? I’m not sure if anyone gets to break those rules.”
“If it sees us just as administrators, then no, it’s still six,” Hoshi answered, the trivia floating to the top of his brain. “I looked this up once, I can’t remember where – I think Gym Leaders can have as large a team as they want, but not League guys.”
Casca smiled. “There’s my man. You feeling more awake?”
“Yeah.” With slightly-less-shaky movements he stood. “Thanks, I needed that – and I still want the rest of what you’ve been told, but I think we can do that while getting some of this done.” He waved toward where Bart and Ryan were arguing, both men gesturing to their instructions as Mimi held up a part with multiple wires coming off.
Casca had been right; it wasn’t complicated. Actually, it’s impressive how easy it is – not quite a kid’s block set, but almost like putting together furniture.
The storage system kiosk came together startlingly quickly with so many hands – especially when Hoshi remembered he was actually an authority figure, and started to organise things a bit better. And as more of his brain was freed up by the passage of time – or maybe just having the focus of a job to do – he was able to slip in some extra observations.
Like the fact that Puce and Cliff weren’t present. “Hey, where’s the other two?” Nobody died, right? No, obviously not – people would be even more shaken if that had happened. Stupid post-trauma brain.
It was Ryan who answered. “Recovering. They were both much more injured than the rest of us… though speaking honestly, I think Puce’s affliction is more emotional than not.”
Really? Her head got sliced up… maybe? Again, his memory of only a few hours ago seemed washed-out and unreal, the mental equivalent of looking through a dirty window. I’ll have to push through that – yesterday was important, I can’t afford to forget any of it. “Maybe. Her and Nerine were close.”
The blond nodded, solemn, and then turned away to direct the latest wave of new bits and bobs. Unlike before, with people just doing whatever, now there were specific people doing specific things; Kenny, Casca, and Mojo were opening up the little cardboard boxes with the parts, then passing them to the other two rookies, Mimi, and himself. Then, the carriers were directed by Bart and Ryan.
It was much more efficient than the way it’d been going, and Hoshi was surprised someone else hadn’t done it first. Actually…
His eyes lingered on Ryan’s face as he walked back to the unboxing place. Now that I’m looking for it, we all seem pretty much the same. Hoshi could see the signs; blank looks, jerky movements, moments where his fellow Rockets just sort of stood there for a half-second and stared off into space… They’re freaking out too. Just… as quietly as I am, now that I’ve started moving again.
It was reassuring in a way that it probably shouldn’t have been. Casca handed him a mechanical piece – like an oversized version of the computer chips Danny liked to line up on his windowsill, wires thick and colour-coded – and rounded, heading back to the nearly-complete machine. “Got a…” He glanced down at the thing. “An ay-oh-one-two-two.”
Less than a second between Ryan flipping through his instructional pamphlet, and pointing to a spot. “The blue port goes into the ay-oh-one-two-one – yes, right there.”
Again, it wasn’t hard; the bits were all numbered, with the only problems coming from making sure they were brought in the right order. And having dedicated box-sorters handled that. The connector snapped into place with a solid, that’s-right feeling that managed to finally penetrate through the plastic numbness disconnecting Hoshi’s skin from the rest of him. “Looks almost done.”
An absent nod. “Any minute now.”
It looks kind of like a sci-fi robot.
The machine was very obviously not whole; like its distant cousins that Rocket used to heal their Pokémon, it was stripped down to the bare minimum. There wasn’t an outer casing like the full Pokécentre version would have, and all the wires were left hanging loose with the screen sitting flat on the ground, nothing there to secure them or hold them up. Maybe we can stack some empty boxes..? No, whatever, it’s fine. But despite looking half-done, the most important bits should be there; this machine would, unless they’d messed up somewhere, automatically connect to the network when they turned it on.
“So,” Casca said, drawing Hoshi’s eyes backwards to find her amongst the small crowd of grunts. “Are we gonna wake up Puce and Cliff for this?”
It took a moment for him to realise she was asking him. “Oh, uh.” Still kind of soup-brained, even now. Hopefully I just need some more sleep – fuck, I hope I didn’t break something on my weird spirit-quest. He’d just gotten confirmation that all this psychic shit was for real; losing it right after would suck all kinds of ass. “Yeah, they should be here for this. Kenny?”
A maybe-sarcastic salute. “On it, Boss.”
He headed off, and Hoshi’s attention was dragged back, almost against his will, to the transfer kiosk waiting to be used. It feels ominous, somehow. Why is that? Almost like the blank screen was looking at them, waiting for someone to step close so it could snatch them up like a victreebel hiding in the treetops. Steady, he admonished himself. Breathe in, breathe out.
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Thirty seconds passed in silence, more than enough proof that the rest of them were feeling the heavy atmosphere as well – though whether they were reading dread or anticipation from it, Hoshi couldn’t say. Fuck, I can say for myself either. This plan is crazy. Then, footsteps.
Hoshi turned again to see the trio of muscleheads approach slowly, Cliff leaning on Kenny’s shoulder. Puce, somehow, was fine to walk despite taking enough poison to down a full-grown elephant.
Not that she looked good, but it was amazing the woman could stand at all. “Hey Puce, Cliff,” he called. “You two doing alright?”
“Been better,” Cliff answered. Puce, for her part, only made a small sound like the wind heard through a thick glass window.
Yeah, me too. “Good to see you both up, at least. You know where we are and what’s happening?” Neither was wearing the Gym trainer uniform, only great swaths of bandages with what were probably their undergarments peeking through.
The enforcer nodded. “I knew the plan from the start – or, well, a version of the plan.” His lantern jaw quirked as a lop-sided smile bent his face. “Wasn’t expecting a damn Gym Leader and someone as strong as one, too. That tree-man-thing beat the shit out of my team.”
Hoshi nodded back, more solemnly. “Yeah, that was…” Do I wanna say? “My aunt. Probably my fault we were hit so hard; she was there for me.”
The three joined the group, nearly doubling its mass. Cliff replied with a conciliatory sound, while Puce was again silent. “Well, we won,” the enforcer continued. “Damn close fight – but let’s get this show on the road, yeah?”
A general murmur of agreement followed, and Hoshi turned back to the machine. Well… no point in stalling. He stepped forward and flipped a bare electronic toggle, and the screen came alive.
At first it showed only a no-signal background of coloured bars, and there was a moment of spiky anger and sick, humid relief that mixed together so thoroughly they were impossible to separate – and then the machine began to churn. A half-dozen fans all spun to life at once, an electric hum joining in as the screen flickered black then blue then black again-
And then, with a cheerful jingle, a graphic of a slowly-spinning Poké Ball on a blue gradient background appeared. The words ‘Insert ID’ blinked on top, while more text below read ‘Safety Mode.’
“Yeah!” Kenny yelled. “Shit works! You goin’ first Boss, or can I?”
Various replies sounded out, while Hoshi just stared. “No, I’ll go first. But before that…”
He turned to the gathering once more, and took in the Rockets’ various expressions. Casca, Cliff, and Bart appeared calm; Lilian and Mojo were blank-faced while Tor vacillated between cringing fear and solid determination. Kenny and Ryan were annoyed at the delay, and Mimi was actually smiling.
Puce had no expression, even moreso than the shellshock the rookies – and probably Hoshi himself – were sporting. She didn’t even move her eyes to look at him. Yeah. Yeah, we didn’t exactly make it all the way out yet, did we?
“I wanted to take my turn with a speech yesterday,” Hoshi began. “But that got interrupted. So I’m doing it now.” Kenny groaned, but the sound was easily ignored. “It was gonna be a big spiel about patriotism and Johto and shit – I’m sure you three would’ve loved it, while everybody else would’ve groaned and rolled their eyes like Kenny did just now.” The rookies blinked at being aknowledged, but didn’t otherwise react – save for Tor, who stood even straighter for a second. “This is gonna be an entirely different speech. Basically the opposite.”
A humourless smile crossed his lips. “I’m sure you’ll hate it just as much, but it needs to be said…” This is going to get me in trouble, but… No, I can’t do anything else, it really does need to be said. “Guys, we aren’t ready to fight the League.”
Before anyone could protest, he rushed forward. “We got our asses handed to us, guys.” I was really hyped at the end, but looking at it in the light of day… “And not just because most of us have only been part-time trainers for three months. We got split up, we got played with, and at least a few of us would’ve straight-up died if the instructors had been literally one second later with the save.”
Again, expressions were mixed – though it was, at least, a different mixture. The only person actually angry was Cliff – even Ryan and Bart, the next most likely candidates to riot, only looked bleak and closed-off respectively.
“It was an ambush,” the enforcer growled. “When we fall on ‘em, it’ll be the exact opposite – our ambush, us with the upper hand.”
Ryan stepped forward to argue as well, though his voice was hesitant. “I… Don’t disagree with the content of your argument, Mutsu, but I think you’re taking things more poorly than they warrant. Yes, we received our Pokémon recently in the grand scheme of things, but is that not, in fact, a point in our favour?” He looked around, meeting eyes. “We, being mostly untrained rabble, managed to fight evenly with a Gym Leader’s ace Pokémon. That is impressive! That is astounding!” As his voice went on, it became more boisterous. “With stronger monsters, I have no doubt we’ll become a force to reckon with! And do not forget, we won’t be alone; many other members of Team Rocket will be joining us, including Executives.”
“I didn’t fight a Pokémon last night, Sampo,” Hoshi snapped. There was no red film, no dark cloud eating out the back of his eyes, but still the fury came – thick and fast, urging his feet to move, his fists and jaw to clench. “I fought a human, my fucking aunt, my dad’s little sister. With six Pokémon, including Cliff’s pinsir.” Heat rose up his face, veins standing out as his heart beat hard enough to rattle the cage of bone enclosing it. “And we lost. A woman with a sword and some knives beat my whole team, and Casca’s team, and she only left when she smelled a chance they might lose. Hands up, who actually knocked out an enemy Pokémon last night?”
Only a single hand rose, Bart waving lazily before crossing his arms. Despite being the one who could most easily counter Hoshi’s argument Clifford Moon was still, almost statue-like, the only motion to mark him as flesh and blood being the slight flare of his nostrils as he breathed. “I took out Nerine’s team,” Casca said into the silence. “But I… understand your point, Hoshi.”
“The moment they decided to stop holding back, we were dead. I-”
“Boss,” Kenny interrupted. “C’mon. Like, you aren’t wrong, last night was fucked up, but what else can we do? Hop a boat to the islands?” He shook his head. “I ain’t got any cash – and I sure as fuck ain’t leavin’ my nana behind. Nothin’ ta do but push through.”
Hoshi opened his mouth, but no words came out. Do you not- do you not get it? We were dead. Dead-dead. You can’t make any money if you’re a damn corpse, you roided-to-the-gills-! Then, even the thought stopped as he ran out of words to say to himself. Hoshi continued to stand, facing his grunts and the other Rockets, in the main chamber of the Fuchsia City Pokémon Gym.
Behind him, the machine hummed. Waiting.
Then, movement. Casca took a step forward – and was all but bowled over by Puce as the larger woman, who looked like a pile of hospital supplies possessed by an unruly haunter, pushed past.
“Puce?”
She continued, silent, and put her hands on his shoulders – and there was a moment, brief and terrible, where Hoshi was sure, down to his bones, that he was about to have his neck snapped like a dry twig. It was her eyes – cold, lifeless, more dead than he could imagine an actual corpse’s being.
But then she pressed him in with a force that was still terrifyingly large, but without malice. The hug bent his ribs, his shoulders, his spine, almost to the point it was painful.
“Puce-!”
The voice that whispered in his ear held no girlish enthusiasm or shrinking shyness; it was also cold, also dead, the rattle of something with no will to live. “Tell me what to do,” Puce whispered. “Please. I don’t know what’s real anymore… Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it…”
“Puce..?” A second passed, and Hoshi calmed down. He wiggled, but it was impossible to move; he wasn’t breaking this hug with force. “Puce. I…” I don’t know either. It’s not like I want to give up. I just… I can’t even imagine fighting the League as I am now. As we are now. Even if I pull six dragonite out of that thing and the instructors come back with all the Potions and Revives they can carry, I don’t think it’ll amount to anything.
I want to win, I do, I just… I can’t see a way to get there.
“Puce,” he said again. “It’ll be okay,” he lied. “We just- I need to sit down and think. I don’t have an answer for you right now, so… How about you go get some more rest? You’ll feel better when you wake up.”
She didn’t reply. Puce only released him, her movements as ponderous as a tree’s, and trudged back to the room she’d emerged from.
Hoshi sat in the corner as the others used the machine. He wasn’t abstaining, he just… Needed a moment to put himself back together.
It’s done, a dark thought narrated inside his head. They’ll never respect you now. You flinched, and they saw – none of them are going to take orders ever again.
Shut the fuck up, he said to himself, the anger having nowhere to go but in. Fuck. Fuck! This is fucked up. I was supposed to be in Pewter a week from now, to visit Auntie Denju and Uncle Huck. If I actually show up, she’d probably try and cut my head off!
FUCK!
And then, like an exclamation point bouncing out of the aether to punctuate his curse, a tiny speck of red coloured his vision. Oh, great, you’re fucking back now. Fucking missed you too, useless-ass psychic empathy. What was even the point of being able to read his own emotions? Actually, what was the point at all? It had never helped him tell what anyone was thinking, no more than their expression and body language already spelled out. It was, in fact, a fucking pain. Obscures my fucking vision with rainbow nonsense, and it isn’t even more accurate than a damn horoscope. Can’t see it through walls, or smoke, or when someone’s behind me – no, nothing that’d actually be useful.
He realised he was spiralling again, and violently stood. A sharp motion scattered his Pokéballs, and in the next moment he was buried in fur.
It… helped. “Hey girls. You’re probably confused – we just won from your perspective, didn’t we?”
He tried to dredge up that feeling of victory, that wild elation he’d had in the last moment before he’d passed out – and, coming with a few cool blue sparkles of relief, Hoshi was able to capture a ghost of that feeling.
“You’re all- you’re all so much bigger.” A giggle escaped his throat, laden with conflicting emotions. “Look at you. My girls…” Pride, and hysterical joy, and despair, and even a tinge of bittersweet melancholy…
Because even though they were evolved, Hoshi’s team still carried as many fresh scars as he did. Crow’s left foot was a paler blue than the rest of her, the fur shorter to match its slightly stunted size. Venus had a great scar going down her entire face, and while it looked healed it still bisected her nose into two pieces. And Guts…
They weren’t visible, but when he ran his hands through her fur Hoshi felt ridges of scar tissue. And not just from last night. Every time we fight, she takes a beating for me… Even when they won, it came out bloody. She was so small, smaller than a raticate should be. I made her evolve too early. I’m a terrible trainer. I should march up to Surge and hand back my Thunder Badge, apologise, turn myself in…
Again, he attempted to pull himself out of the sucking whirlpool in his skull, and again he succeeded for the moment. The three Pokémon crowded, hugging and nuzzling, working off their own stress from the long night.
And gradually, Hoshi’s heart settled. His eyes dried, his limbs ceased to be leaden weights dragging him down, and the pulsing red-blue wave of anger-swallowing-fear-swallowing-anger rushing up and down his throat dwindled to background noise. He breathed in, imagined all the poison of cowardice and directionless rage soaking into the air like it was a sponge, and blew it out.
It didn’t fix anything, but he still felt… cleaner.
“Hey, stud,” came a sweet voice from behind his back, as if Arcus Himself was rewarding him, and Hoshi managed a genuine, if small, smile.
“Hey sunshine. Come to join the pile?”
Casca let out a half-laugh half-scoff, her eyes twinkling. “We can cuddle in a minute. First…” Her own smile disappeared as she subtly checked their surroundings, and he felt anxiety creeping back.
“What?” What is it? Are the actual Gym trainers back?
“Turn around,” she replied, and he obeyed. She slid into the huddle, an intensity to her face that Hoshi rarely saw.
“Casca..?”
“Just making sure we aren’t overheard – Mimi can read lips, and I’d bet that Cliff can too.” She took her own deep, steadying breath. “Do you want to bail?”
The question made Hoshi’s brain seize. “Huh?” I- do I…?
“I swiped some of Mimi’s emergency stash while we were changing, and I’ve got Nerine’s Pokémon. We could tell the others you need a nap, sneak out a side door – there are like five I’ve found so far – and bribe a fisherman or something to drive us out to the archipelago.”
He was speechless, and the look on his face brought back Casca’s smile. “What?” she continued. “We’ve got good odds. You’ve got a Fuchsian face; throw in a sob story about our parents not letting us be together and we might even manage it for free.” It was a sly expression, half-joking and completely serious at the same time. “Hoshi. Talk to me.”
He swallowed. “I…” Do I? Actually want to split? He didn’t. That would be the most disgusting cowardice imaginable, deserting before a battle. Dad would come back as a gastly just to slap him across the face.
He did. He couldn’t handle another battle like the one he’d only just barely survived, not now, not so soon. And Casca… Casca almost died too. That’s even worse. I can’t face that.
He didn’t. Kenny had been right; there wasn’t anywhere to go but through. Even if they escaped, he’d be spending the rest of his life looking over his shoulder – and they might not escape.
He did. If they went to Viridian, other ninja would be there. The rest of Clan Mutsu. And while he didn’t know them, not even as well as Tsuyu, fighting his own family wasn’t something he wanted to do.
He… “I don’t know,” came the most honest answer he could give. “If I leave- if we leave and make it out, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. And if anything happens to you because I stayed, I’ll die. I’m not seeing a good answer here.” This must be what Puce felt, or at least something close. The uncertainty was a wall, tall and sturdy as any castle, as solid and unyielding as the cold, unused cannons lining the docks. “I’ve never had to make a decision like this. I’m a construction worker, Casca. I can’t handle this. I can’t beat the League – I couldn’t even beat Auntie Tsuyu.”
His girlfriend’s eyes softened, her voice following suit as she hugged him closer. “Okay. That’s… That’s fine. I’ll make the call, okay? So you’d better not regret a damn thing – if anything happens, it’s on me.”
“No…” Hoshi muttered, but his heart wasn’t in it, and Casca knew it. She put her hands on either side of his face, guided his eyes until they were locked on her own, and with a hard expression opened her mouth-
Only to be interrupted by an aged, masculine voice.
“Meow,” said Meowth the persian from behind his back, and Hoshi’s blood turned to ice.