The inevitable segregation had finally set in. To an innocent bystander, it would have been obvious who belonged with whom. The ultimate mingling of before was gone. The melting pot that the convention had been had suddenly become null and void. The colors had cleanly separated from one another, like water and oil, to form neat groups of like hues. Clustered over there, one could see a mass of people in earth tones. And pooled over there was an accumulation of bright neons. An aerial view would have been most interesting. There, an observer could see different colors being pulled to different things, attracted to them like magnets. High above the convention, you could see a stream of blue make its way towards what looked like a very large table. Around what seemed to be a massive tree, a bird's eye view would show a crowd of green. And, if one could see it all from that kind of perspective, they would also see, forebodingly, and in a high corner of the clearing, a distinct gathering of white and black.
- - -
The first person he noticed was a girl wearing a very visible pair of underpants. Blinking in astonishment, James felt above his upper lip quickly to make sure he didn't have a nosebleed. After taking a second look, he supposed that she couldn't help it that the waistline of her pants sagged dangerously past her hips. After all, he'd never seen pants that baggy before, and she did seem pretty slim. But couldn't she at least be wearing a belt? "Yo. What up?" His eyes darted quickly from her trousers to her own wide eyes. They were a very clear blue, light and honest and carefree. "Er… not much," he answered quickly, blushing. Had she noticed what he'd been staring at? "Um.. how're you?" She laughed richly. "Shit, I'm bone tired, dawg. I was up all last night, ya know, and then after taday…" She trailed off, shaking her head in bewilderment of the trials she had to face. "Shit," she concluded, hitching up her pants with one hand as she did. They resumed their original position almost immediately. James was at a loss for words. "… that's, uh, a real shame," he finally said. He'd known a guy at the HQ who'd worn his pants real baggy, too… that is, until Giovanni had reminded the poor guy of the strict Rocket dress code. But that guy had always worn boxers. This girl was wearing panties, and their front was almost completely visible. Her particular pair of undies was adorned with a large, vividly yellow smiley face, and its bright color kept attracting his attention. "Why were you, uh, up all night?" he asked distractedly. Despite this girl's seemingly strange personality, he felt obliged to keep up his end of the conversation. Her amulet was a muddy reddish-brown, and she tapped it with a manicured fingernail. "You got any idea how hard it be, gettin' directions from some foo' keeps fallin' asleep?" She rolled her eyes. "Pur' damn hard." "Asleep?" James remembered a past assignment, back when he and Jess had been real young, and real eager, and real formidable. They'd spent a very frustrating four hours on that particular job, in which they'd ran after a highly annoying Pokémon that, despite its seeming lack of awareness, had been awfully adept at dodging thrown Pokéballs with one overused Transport attack. "Is it an Abra?" he asked her, feeling rather proud of his deducting skills. "Course. Any fool know that." She brushed a strand of her carefully gelled black hair behind her ear. "Ne'er mind. So..." She didn't seem to blink much. James found her constant gaze very disconcerting. "What the hell's up wit' this?" "With what?" James was not a person who was used to a steady stream of profanity. But, as he talked to her, he was becoming more comfortable with it. Though it was odd to respond to her audacious vernacular with his more naive dialect, her bold words seemed so natural to her that the brashness of it all seemed almost fitting. "Shit, mofo, whatchoo think?" She sighed in frustration. "Shit, I dunno," she muttered. "This whacked up." Pushing her hair out of her face again, she jabbed a thumb behind her. "Hey," she said, on a lighter note, "check out that cracka's punk ass." "Hmm?" He looked over her shoulder to peruse the psychic crowd. There weren't many people to look at, actually; only a handful of individuals had gathered so far. Besides he and the Abra girl, there looked to be four others: a tall, ginger-haired quiet young man who was standing alone, a short girl playing with a yo-yo, and a pink-haired girl deep in conversation with a very disturbing young man. Instantly, James knew it was he to whom the Abra girl was referring. He had black hair, and pale, pale eyes, and a hint of a smirk on his otherwise neutral face. His clothes were white. His amulet was white. "Dee-amn. Whatchoo s'pose he got stuck up his ass?" She raised one pencil-thin eyebrow. James had no answer to this, but he still felt obliged to say something. "There's something weird about that guy…" he stated hesitantly, feeling a jolt in the nether regions of his gut. It was not a good feeling. The girl nodded slowly in agreement. "Man, I feel you there." She coughed. "Uh-huh. Check this out. I'm'a get back ta ya, aiight?" She saluted. "I'ma check you laytah, dawg. I'ma go see what's up wit' that dude." She pointed to the tall, quiet young man. "Peace." She smiled and, turning on her heel, sauntered off. He looked after her distractedly, chewing on his lip. He didn't feel right… something about the guy over there… "Um... excuse me." James looked around, startled, into the hazel eyes of the pink-haired girl he had noticed earlier. She blushed fiercely. "Hello," she giggled. "My name's Faith. What's yours?" She regarded him shyly. "I'm, uh, James." He blinked, confused, which only seemed to make her blush even more. "Isn't this weird?" She rubbed her hands together in excited anticipation. "Do you know where we're supposed to be going? I can't wait to see it! Ooh, this is so exciting!" "I suppose so." He looked past her. "Hey, who was that guy you were talking to?" "Hmm? Oh, him." She blushed even redder. "That's Tengu. He's really smart. And cute. But listen…" She leaned in confidentially. "Have you ever heard of Mewtwo?" she asked in a hushed tone. No, he hadn't, but his stomach lurched nonetheless. A dozen bad memories flooded back into his mind, memories so upsetting that he had been careful to bury them deep, so that he wouldn't be troubled by them ever again. Or so he had hoped. Bad, bad memories, of secrets whispered, and scores of dead adversaries. He had never heard the name 'Mewtwo' before. Then why did he immediately recall such horrific events? His mind kept returning to the Viridian City Gym, and to the man Giovanni himself. But why? "James? Have you?" "N-no... no, I haven't. Why?" "That's the amulet that Tengu has. He's terribly mysterious." Her eyes sparkled mischievously. "And it's supposedly the most powerful Pokémon ever. Isn't that cool?" The most powerful one. Tengu had the most powerful one. "Real cool," he echoed, and his voice sounded mute to his own ears.
- - -
It ended here. A girl he'd known for only one night. He didn't want to say goodbye. Could it have been only yesterday? A mere twenty-four hours. What would he had said then, if he had known what was to come? He would probably have laughed. Laughed it off and driven away, in a cloud of dust. But he had no idea where his car was now, and he had no idea where his cheerleaders were now. Of course, he was not troubled by these two facts. If you'd asked him only twenty-four hours earlier, he would have declared his car and pep squad necessary for normal life. The way things were at the moment, however, the only thing he really needed were a girl named Daija and someone to tell him that things would all turn out okay. "Don't worry, Gary," she said, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "I'm sure things will turn out okay, in the end." Well, at least there was that. But what was he going to do now? Daija was a poison-type, and he was not, and so it was obvious that the two of them had to part. Destiny, and all that crap that he didn't like to think about. She had a place to go; she had an amulet. But he didn't, and yet here he was in this convention, about to be totally abandoned, with nowhere to go, with no destiny to fulfill, unlike lucky Daija, whose future seemed clear enough to him. She would grow up and fight for freedom and liberty, or whatever. But what was he supposed to do? What was his destiny? He looked into her eyes, and they were so sad, and for a split second, he could see all the great things she would become. And he was sure, absolutely positively sure, that the two of them would meet later in life. He was sure of it. And she would be this magnificent, formidable creature, and what would he be? He had to become something. Something that could make a difference. He knew that she would be fighting for something, in the near future. And he fully planned on being at her side, fighting with her, as she did so. But he would need a way to fight. He had had a dream, as a very young child. And now it was even stronger. He'd be the best Pokémon Master… ever. And he didn't have much time to do it. After all, who knew how long those amulet people would train? He'd need to train even harder. Wouldn't she be surprised?
Wouldn't she be…. proud?
- - -
Misty kicked the ground and felt very lonely. She was standing very apart from the rest of the fire-types, and was, at the moment, wishing that, instead of spending the entire convention with a psychic- and flying-type, she'd hooked up with a fire-type like herself. Ash had actually done something smart when he'd befriended that Victory girl. She bet that he wasn't lonely at the moment. Thinking of Ash made her even more lonely than she already was. She banished the thought from her mind. Red was everywhere. It painted the landscape. It colored the booths, and the clothes, and the people all around her. It was comforting, to be surrounded by such a warm color. Well, kind of comforting. She uprooted a clump of grass with the toe of her boot and inspected her fingernails scrupulously. A lifetime of living with her three perfect, overpowering sisters had seriously damaged Misty's social skills. She had a tendency to come off as rude, violent, and grumpy to anyone just meeting her. To a newcomer, she seemed to be in a perpetual bad mood. Of course, none of this was really her fault. She'd been raised in a family that had a habit to ignore the youngest when it came to daughters. Even worse, sometimes it even came to downright belittlement, like the too-painful recollection of all of her sisters getting dolls except for her. As a result, she hadn't made many friends as a small girl, and the ones she had made hadn't been very good ones. And as a result of this, now and then, Misty had great difficulty meeting new people. Thankfully, her early abuse of Ash hadn't really deterred him from trying to make friends. But Ash wasn't here now. She missed him so bad. He had been such a good friend, and she'd shared so many experiences with him. She missed him, and she missed Claire and Faith, and she missed Brock, and she missed all of her Pokémon. But the heavy nostalgia that she was currently using to be miserable was a waste of energy. She knew that there was really no going back. She'd just have to suck it all in. Darn it all, she was Misty! She was tough enough to handle anything dealt her way! Still, though... she kinda wished that her sisters hadn't been so hard on her, growing up. In fact, she could almost hear their annoying valley accents at that very moment, no doubt making some mocking remark about something about her. Wait a minute... she could hear their annoying valley accents... "Like, omigod! Hi!" Misty looked up, horrified, into a pair of big blue eyes. She jumped back. "W-what?" she managed to reply. "Geez, like, take a chill pill, or something." The owner of the eyes tossed her long, shining blonde hair and laughed. "My name's, like, Cyndi! Like, what's yours?" Misty regarded the girl in front of her warily. The girl was tall, with long legs and the afore-mentioned long hair. She was dressed in orangey-red clothes whose style seemed almost too rough-and-tough for her, but she wore them cutely and scantily enough that she still managed to pull off her "glamour-queen" image. She was amiably holding out a hand at the moment, a hand that was enclosed in a big, heavy duty black glove. Her eyes squinched cutely. Misty groaned inwardly. This was not what she needed right now. But, she reasoned silently, an acquaintance was an acquaintance. She extended her hand to shake. "Oh, hold on. Just a sec, a'kay?" the girl giggled, retracting her hand. Biting the tip of the index finger of her glove, she pulled it off of her hand deftly. Then she held it out again. "Like, sorry about that." Misty, rolling her eyes very slightly, accepted the hand, wincing slightly at its moisturized softness. She could only imagine how rough her travel-worn hand must have felt to the other girl. "My name's Misty," she said, faking a bright smile. "It's so nice to meet you, Cindy." "Huh? Oh, it's, like, Cyndi, not Cindy." The girl's eyes squinched even more and she giggled. "I'm, like, totally psyched to meet you! Isn't this, like, totally awesome?" She shoved the glove into her pocket as she talked. Misty sighed and covered her face with her hands. "This is hopeless," she muttered to herself despairingly. Thankfully, Cyndi hadn't heard, though she did seem to pick up on the fact that Misty was less than happy. "Are you, like, okay? Cause you seem kinda out of it, or something." Cyndi reached into the pocket of her leather jacket. "Like, you want some gum? It's cinnamon." She held out a stick. Misty, hesitating for only a second, took it. "Thank you," she said. The paper wrapper of the gum was comfortingly familiar in her hand. Cyndi turned and squinted at the crowd of fire-types. "This is, like, so crazy. We're going to be, like, spending the rest of lives with these people." She stuck a finger in her mouth. When it reemerged, it was trailing a strand of gum. She stretched the gum out until the strand broke. "Oh, he's, like, kinda cute!" She pointed her sticky finger at someone in the crowd. Misty, feeling little obligation at all to respond to this insight, smoothed her jacket fastidiously. Cyndi noticed. "Your jacket is, like, the cutest color. Ugh... I got stuck with this putrid orange." She held out her arms and wrinkled her nose in disgust. "You're, like, so lucky you got a good color." Misty looked down at her jacket and smiled. "Yeah... yeah, I guess it is a cool jacket." She smiled. "Thanks." "Like, what's your amulet?" Cyndi smiled. "I bet I can guess." She tapped her chin thoughtfully, her eyes pointed dreamily upwards. "It's, like, probably cute, I bet. And, like, I know it's not Flareon, so... it must be, like, Vulpix. Simple." Her eyes squinched a third time. "I'm, like, right, like, right?" Misty was, despite herself, shocked, not to mention genuinely impressed. But she mustered up enough Misty-ness to say angrily, "Well, yeah, but what do you mean 'probably cute'?! I'm not cute!" Cyndi shrugged, totally unfazed. In fact, she didn't seem to notice that Misty's mood had made a drastic turn for the worst. "Like, I dunno," she giggled ditzily. "Just something, like, about you, I guess." Misty wasn't used to having her bad moods unanswered. Ash had always been good about having an attitude right back. This Cyndi girl seemed to be such a total airhead, she didn't even recognize that Misty had, for a second there, been rude. Misty, feeling kind of absurd, calmed down a little. "Something about me?" She shrugged. "Well, then, how did you know I wasn't a Flareon?" "Cause, like, that guy over there is." Cyndi, peeling gum from her finger, nodded in the direction of a tall, uncomfortable-looking boy. "Besides, Flareon's, like, more orange than pink. And, like, your jacket is totally a not orange red." She rolled her eyes. "You are, like, soooo lucky." She looked back down at her own attire. "Gross me out." She sighed. "Well, what amulet are you?" Misty looked closely at the girl's clothing. "I know I've seen that shade of orange somewhere..." Cyndi rolled her eyes and crossed her arms moodily. "Like, it's Charizard." "Charizard?!" If she had ever met a person less qualified to represent Charizards all over the world, it was this girl. "God, I know. Doesn't it, like, suck? Gross. I would, like, much rather have something cute or elegant or pretty, but instead, I'm stuck with this, like, overgrown lizard." The girl's amulet, hanging around her neck, suddenly flared with an intense light. Misty yelped and stepped back, shielding her eyes, but Cyndi scoffed and dismissed the whole incident with a flip of her hair. "Sorry, but, like, this amulet has, like, the worst temper. I'm, like, omigod, and then it'll just, like, freak out." She rolled her eyes again. Misty raised an eyebrow. "Well, maybe if you didn't talk about how much you dislike it, it would be nicer." "Like, no. I can't ever, like, talk to it. It's, like, so stubborn, and so out of control. Do you have, like, any idea how Charizards can be?" Misty snorted, surreptitiously covering it up with a cough. "I know a little about Charizards, yeah." "Like, fer real? Omigod! Cause I'm, like, totally in the dark, or whatever. This is so awesome!" she squealed. "I know we're going to be, like, such good friends!" Misty tried to muster up a groan, but she couldn't quite pull it off. In fact, staring at this ridiculously cheerful airhead who had just referred to her as a 'friend', Misty was horrified to find a smile tugging at her lips. Well, maybe not that horrified.
- - -
His amulet had led him, with short, terse directions, to the very edge of the clearing, where convention and forest coincided. Here was where the grass-types gathered, at the foot of a colossal tree, amidst an ocean of grass and green. Here was where the wind blew through the treetops, carrying the whisper of leaves to the ears of those who waited. Brock leaned against the gigantic tree trunk and idly opened and closed a Velcro pocket on his vest. His thoughts couldn't seem to stay on one thing. He thought of Iyami. He thought of Ash and Misty. He thought of the Pokéball in his pocket. He thought of how scary this whole idea was. How much fun it was going to be. How pretty all the girls were. There were lots and lots of pretty girls. There was an immaculate, slender young woman, with delicate features and beautiful, pursed coffee-colored lips. And then over there was a wicked bombshell, with spiky hair and a dangerous gleam in her almond-shaped eyes. Baggy jeans and a yellow-green leather halter top made up her attire. There was an elegant-looking fox over there, picking her way meticulously across the uneven forest floor in her high heels. Her black hair was gathered in a tight bun at the nape of her neck, and a pair of chic glasses rested on her nose. And there was a curvy girl, with flowers in her hair and a long, multicolored skirt. Pretty, pretty girls. Realizing himself with a harrumph, he tried desperately to center his thoughts on Iyami again, but his attempts were blown away as yet another girl settled beside him against the tree trunk. He stared obstinately ahead, but from the corner of his eye, he could see her long, pale arm, and he could easily hear the rustling of her long dreadlocks. Though it was torture to do so, Brock gritted his teeth and focused on not looking to his left. "Hello!" It was no use. He turned to face her. She was watching him through half-lidded eyes, her head slightly cocked to one side. Her long dusty-green dreadlocks framed a sweet face, a face with a disturbingly winning smile. She was, at the moment, focusing the power of this smile, dimples and all, on him. Brock blanched, then blushed mightily. "I'm Mona." Her smile intensified. Brock suddenly realized that he was supposed to reply in some way, but the only response that came to mind was 'Puh-puh-puh-pretty.' He was just about to resign himself to his fate by acting a usual fool, but, then, for some odd reason, he found the words, "Hi. My name's Brock," come from somewhere inside of him. What's more, he even found his hand rise up to grasp that of the girl's. The girl shook hands accordingly. "So, where you from?" she asked amiably, still looking at him sideways, her eyes slits. He opened his mouth to babble something that would probably end up embarrassing him, but before his tongue could become sufficiently tied, the girl turned to look at him quizzically. Her eyes opened widely, and Brock paled, for her eyes were a very disconcerting red, and they caught the moonlight in a most eerie way. They flashed. "Well?" she asked, blinking, and he involuntarily shuddered. For some strange reason, despite how very pretty the girl was, Brock just didn't find her to be horribly attractive anymore. Still, she seemed nice enough, and she certainly couldn't help how freakish her eyes were, so Brock shook himself out of his little daze and answered politely, "I'm from Pewter City." And then he realized that, though he didn't find them to be terribly gorgeous, he was having no trouble returning the gaze of those red eyes. In fact, it was downright nice to be able to look a girl in the face without losing control like he normally did. "I was Gym Leader there, but I left a year ago," and the end of the sentence was so familiar to him, his voice rose dramatically without him even noticing, "to become the world's greatest Pokémon breeder." He smiled proudly. Mona pursed her lips, amused, but before she could say anything, a voice rang out over the general hubbub of the plant section: "If I have everyone's attention?" Both the boy and the girl looked up, and Brock immediately recognized the Asian-looking girl in the leather halter-top. He began to drool. "My name is Honey, and I have the Victreebell amulet." Her almond-shaped eyes narrowed dangerously, but her smile was sweet and her voice was uplifting. "And I've been appointed as temporary manager." "Until when?" a short kid piped up hotheadedly. The girl's nostril flared, and she whirled on the kid, glaring daggers. Despite himself, the kid shrank back, albeit just a little. "Until I say so, so shut up, you disgusting little brat." Sending one last dirty look at the kid, she turned back to the task at hand. "Anyway," she chirped, reassuming her cheerful look, "it looks like we've all assembled, but I have to go through a checklist, so you all better listen good." Wagging her finger playfully, she pulled a rolled-up stack of papers from a pocket in her jeans and smoothed it out as best she could. "Oh, and, um, one more thing." In a flash, her eyes had narrowed and her face had darkened. "Whatever fool thinks they need to interrupt me next is going to be in a world of hurt," she threatened, eyeing the crowd warily. There was a collective sweatdrop and bemused blink, but everyone wisely refrained from making a sound. The girl smiled sweetly, and turned to her papers. "Bulbasaur?" Brock stood for a moment before he realized he was supposed to answer. "Uh, that would be me," he said, as suavely as possible, "and the reason I took so long answering was because I was smitten by your gorgeous looks." He smiled charmingly. The girl's amulet flared irritably and she delivered to him a look worse than the one she'd given the kid. He sweatdropped, and shrank up against the tree fearfully. "Check! Ivysaur?" Brock chuckled weakly. Mona glanced at him, her red eyes bright with delight. "It looks like you need a girlfriend," she murmured, eyebrow arched. "I have one," he answered feebly, feeling very foolish, while at the same time wondering if what he had just said was actually true. Mona's eyes widened, and Brock looked away, half because he was still slightly unsettled by her eyes, and also because he was embarrassed at having made a fool of himself. Honey, meanwhile, had been methodically making her way through role call. She was now on Weepinbell, and when the appropriate person, a sturdy little girl, raised her hand, she read aloud, "Victreebell," and followed immediately with a "Check," smiling almost smugly. Next on the list was "Tangela?" and Mona stepped forward, her voice loud as she said, "Here." Honey glanced up at her. Her eyes locked on the girl's swinging dreadlocks, and her lips twitched. "How appropriate," she murmured almost inaudibly. Mona frowned slightly, but the girl had already moved on. "Eggxecute?" she read aloud. "Present," came a clear, practiced voice, and all eyes turned to fall on the woman who had answered. It was the immaculate woman Brock had seen earlier. She noticed the extra attention and fixed her peers with an experienced disapproving stare. "Preeeetty," Brock drooled, but an ominous glower from Honey, and he looked down, abashed. Then came Eggxecutor, and a tall, tanned young man with windswept short blond hair and a moderate physique laughed and raised his hand. There was a collective sigh from the majority of the females of the group, and Brock's shoulders sank with dismay. "Bellossom?" was next, and Brock blinked in confusion as the round girl in the long skirt raised her hand shyly. "What's a Bellossom?" he whispered, half to himself, and half to anyone who might know the answer. As it happened, someone did. "It's, um, number 182 in the Pokédex," Mona whispered back. "You know, it's a cute little thing, with a grass skirt?" She glanced at him sideways. He shrugged, mystified. "How'd you know that?" he asked, feeling slightly inadequate. He had always prided himself on the fact that, of Ash, Misty, and himself, he'd always known the most, PokéTrivia-wise. But even he had never heard of a Bellossom. Mona smiled. "Before I got this amulet," she told him, "I was-" "I'm sorry, but excuse me." "Hmm?" Both Brock and Mona turned simultaneously, eyebrows raised. Honey was standing in front of the two of them, hands clasped behind her back, smiling sweetly. The entire attention of the grass section was focused on the two leaning against the tree, and Brock suddenly felt the tips of his ears go bright bright red. Instantly, he recollected a certain day, years ago, when a little Brock had been scolded in front of the entire Pewter Pokémon Elementary School's second-grade class for trading Pokémon cards instead of practicing his cursive. The entire class had laughed at him, even the friend he had been trading cards with. His ears had gone red then, too. Honey noticed his discomfort and felt a little triumphant. She'd grown pretty tired of the constant interruptions from that couple over by the tree. She wasn't an irritable person by nature, mind you; at least, she hadn't been before. It's just, ever since she'd gotten this amulet, she'd bee feeling pretty strange. She'd been moody to an extreme. She'd found herself acting from simpering and nice, to hostile and ready to blow. (She actually didn't know which was worse: she wasn't that mean, but she sure as hell wasn't that nice either. Hopefully she'd eventually be able to make a smooth transition from her former personality to the attitude she figured she was stuck for the rest of her life. Until she did, however, she felt she was stuck in the middle, in mind-set limbo, where no one knows how to act. But she was fed up with being interrupted, especially since what she was trying to explain was so important. "If you're quite done flirting," she said loudly, directing at the two offending persons one of the bloodcurdling glares she had suddenly become so good at, "then maybe you could bother to shut your mouths. No matter how boring this may be, it needs to be done." Rolling her eyes, she looked back to her list. Crap. She still had a lot to go, a lot more than what seemed there should be. There weren't this many grass-types in the world, even she knew that… in fact… wait a minute… "Scyther?" she read aloud, confused. "What's a bug-type doing on our list?" "Ahem." Honey looked up distractedly into the face of a well-groomed woman. Her hair was pulled back neatly into a professional-looking bun. She wore a beige women's suit that did not look like it had come from the clothing booth. A pair of small, elegant glasses rested on the end of her nose. She was perhaps only a few years older than Honey, but she carried herself with the bearing of someone a great deal more important. As the attention of the large group shifted from the pair by the tree to this new woman, Brock sighed with relief. "Yes?" One of Honey's eyebrows raised involuntarily. The woman tapped the paper with a well-manicured nail. "That would be me. I'm the one representing Scyther, I mean." Her voice was clear and carried more than a hint of snootiness. "I have been informed that the bug-types are supposed to leave with the grass-types. Supposedly our training grounds are linked." "Oh, yah, I heard that too!" Scores of heads turned to focus on a wide-mouthed teenage girl, with short blond hair. She twirled her blue amulet around her finger and smiled. "Same fer us poison-types, dontcha know!" she said in a heavy Minnesotan accent. "What?" She blinked. "Why?" The girl shrugged. "Oh, gee, I dunno. My amulet told me, I guess." "Yes. Quite." The Scyther woman reclaimed the attention of the group. "I'm assuming that we're all similar enough to account for a single training ground." The poison-type girl nodded. "Oh yah, you betcha!" Honey sighed and, scrolling down the list, recognized the names of both bug- and poison-types. She sighed. "Well, this is going to take a good while," she muttered darkly, before putting her happy face on and looking up at the crowd. "Okay, folks! Get comfortable, because this might take a while." Sighing one last time, she perused the paper again. Brock sat down in the high grass and settled against the tree. It seemed to him that he ought to be put out and impatient like Honey was, but as he sat there with Mona on his side and a forest of green all around him, he couldn't help but sigh contentedly…
- - -
He had appointed himself the head of the group, and no one had had the backbone to challenge him. It wasn't like he exuded charisma or leadership. In anything, he was just kinda…. threatening. But he did seem to know what was going on, way more than anyone else in the group. And so the psychic section sat back and listened to Tengu. More and more people had trickled into the psychic section, which was nothing more than a small, secluded area occupied only by empty booths. Now a fairly large group waited for direction, and Tengu was, if not happy to give it to them, at least willing to. He didn't have much to say, however. He had basically just given them a short, not-very-rousing-at-all speech about the things they were about to encounter. It had all been bull, just like the Briefing. If Tengu had really told them what to expect in the coming years, he doubted they would have gone with him. And so he fed them a quiet, mildly high-spirited little story, barely outlining where they were going, and what they might do there. He saved most of it for later; he wanted them to see for themselves first. Now his speech was finished, and, surveying the small crowd that had gathered around him, he found their general excitement almost refreshing. All those bright innocent eyes, shining with hopes and dreams. How much of their innocence would be left when it was all over? How many of them would be left when it was all over? The grass-, poison-, and bug-type training worlds were all linked and close together. The water-, ice-, and dragon-types would all train together as well. But the psychic types were to train in complete seclusion. And in order to get there, they had to walk. It was a long, long walk. 'This is going to be so much fun,' Tengu thought, to the great amusement of both himself and his amulet, before he and the rest of the psychic types turned towards the forest and began to walk, out of the convention and into oblivion.
- - -
It was a very homey place. Everyone seemed to blend with one another nicely. They were all very different, personality-wise. They were loud and quiet, shy and brash, seemingly aggressive and docile, all at the same time. It was logical that they would all clash horribly with each other, and yet they didn't. It was all very friendly. Mom was there to keep an eye on everyone, but for the Normal amulet-wearers, there was no need of supervision, because they all liked each other. More or less. Several of them had been rubbed the wrong way by a little girl wearing a tattered school uniform and a collar, but most of them had brushed it off. The ones who hadn't had stalked over to Mom, who soothed their pride with the natural ease that comes with caring about everybody. Few of them noticed that, when the role was called, one person was missing. And the ones who did notice shrugged it off and concluded that whoever it was with the Persian amulet probably knew what they were doing. At any rate, as they walked off into the forest, chatting and laughing and getting along fine, the lone girl who should have been there but wasn't, wasn't missed by many. A few miles ahead of the happy bunch, she ran, alone and frightened.
- - -
They stood before the rushing stream and waited. They'd been standing there for quite a while, actually; after meeting at the appointed place at the convention, it hadn't taken long to take roll call, get everything together, and start off into the woods. They'd moved very efficiently, but now the water-types were starting to wish they'd taken a little longer. They'd been sitting by this river for what seemed like an eternity, and their situation didn't look ready to change anytime soon. Ash sat on the bank and held Pikachu close; he knew that Pikachu would never be foolish enough to accidentally fall in, but you never know. Best not to take chances, especially with how long it had taken him to find the little guy in the convention. Victory was next to him, her feet dangling in the water, her eyes vacant and staring off into space. At least their location was a nice one. Ash had momentarily amused himself by trying to think of worse places than this to have to wait. He'd come up with quite a few, actually. The grass was nice and plush, and the river was pleasant to listen to. The forest had ended a ways back, and the early morning sun was unhindered and had begun to shine warmly on the motley crew. None of them were very hungry, and there was plenty of water to drink. In fact, some of the water-types had spied one or two of the Pokémon they represented swimming in the fast-moving river, and it was pretty cool to see the interaction between the Pokémon and the people. Some Goldeen had even done a few back flips for them, before moving along with the current. But as nice as it all was, it was still incredibly boring, and Ash had run out of things to think about. He'd even attempted to take a nap, just to waylay some of the boredom, but he'd found himself too excited to even shut his eyes. He couldn't wait to see their training area; the problem was getting there in the first place. And it seemed like getting there was going to take forever. Victory was now scouring the waters in a futile attempt to spy a Dratini. Ash had already spent a good half-hour looking for a Squirtle, so instead he lay on his back, his feet in the cool flowing water, counting the clouds for lack of anything better to do. He was tracking his thirteenth one slowly across the sky when a unanimous yell nearly scared the pee out of him. "Wha?!" he cried, rising up halfway, and Victory nudged him immediately. "Get up!" she cried, bewildered. "Look at this!" He sat up, took one look, and felt his jaw drop. Far up the river, something was swimming towards them. It was enormous; it filled up the river. It looked too big to just be one thing. After a moment, as it swam closer and closer to them, Ash realized why. It was too big to be one thing because it wasn't one thing. It was several things, and a diverse group at that. There was a train of Pokémon swimming towards them, and it stretched far back into the horizon. Several looked to be Lapras, but there was a Cloyster too, and there was a Blastoise, and there was a Seaking, and a Golduck, and a Starmie… there were too many to count, and too many to categorize; he didn't even recognize some of them! And they kept coming, swimming swiftly towards them, filling the river's surface. The one at the head of it all, a large silverish Lapras, stopped directly in front of a surprised tall young man standing right at the water's edge. There was a moment of silence, and then everybody ran forward, craning their necks to see if they could spy a Pokémon like the one on their amulet. Everyone was talking, to each other, to their amulets, to the Pokémon who still continued to swim towards them. It was unbelievable, the spurt of adrenaline they all felt: they had gone from bored beyond imagination to excited out of their minds. They clamored and jostled each other, the arrival of the Pokémon like the lighting of some sort of fuse. Ash was fighting for space between a small boy and a large woman at the river's edge as he impatiently searched for a flash of Squirtle shell in the jumble of Pokémon in the water, when a piercing whistle filled the air. Everyone drew back instinctively. The tall young man had climbed up onto the Lapras' back, and was standing there now. He surveyed them all silently. "Okay, listen up," he shouted after a moment. "My name's Max, and I have the Lapras amulet." 'Duh,' Ash thought sulkily. He was itching to see if he could find a Squirtle somewhere in there. Why did this guy have to talk now? "Most of you will see your Pokémon here. This guy here," and he reached down and patted the Lapras between the ears; Ash rolled his eyes, "has told me that you need to find your Pokémon, somewhere in here. They know where to go, so get ready to take a ride." He paused. "Oh, and for those of you whose Pokémon are too small or whatever, there's a Lapras for each of you." He waved. "So see ya there!" The silverish Lapras shot off through the water at top speed, with Max hanging on, whooping as he rapidly sped out of sight. There was another moment of silence. The water-types measured one another up coolly. A Seadra slapped the water with its tail impatiently. It was like a gunshot at the start of a race. Every single person there, with a jump and a yell, rushed towards the river. It was a pretty disorganized attempt of an operation, but Ash was right in the middle of it, shouting and scanning the muddled crowd in the water. He had decided that he was one of the people for whom the Lapras were designated, and he was about to fight his way towards one of them when a cool hand clasped his shoulder and spun him around. Victory pulled him away from the horde of people and Pokémon, dragging him back. "Come on, Ash!" she cried, as he feebly montioned towards the bustle. "Your ride will still be waiting for you after all these people have cleared out! Don't add to the confusion." She sat down in the grass, watching the disorder with detached amusement. After a second, Ash settled in next to her. "I guess you're right," he sighed, scratching his head. He felt odd. After a moment, he unzipped his new backpack and withdrew his hat. He pulled it on and felt a little better. Victory glanced at him. "That looks kinda silly," she giggled. "It does?" He placed a hand on top of his head. "How come?" She shrugged. "I dunno. It makes you look like a little kid, I guess." Her attention returned to the river, focused on the mayhem on the shore. "A little kid," he repeated softly. "I didn't always like it… but I thought I was a little kid." "Hmm?" He glanced up and met Victory's eyes. "Whadja say?" she asked curiously. "Oh." He paused. "Nothing… I guess." Pikachu, having tired of its conversation with a Goldeen, managed to weave its way through the crowd and bound over to Ash without being trampled, and settled contentedly in his lap. Ash placed a hand on his Pokémon's back and thought deep, distracted thoughts.
- - -
She had managed to smuggle a root beer bottle out of the food court before hustling off to the flying-type section, and now she took swigs of it as she took in the scene around her. A feather momentarily settled on her nose. She sighed and batted it away. There were a lot of feathers. There were a lot of birds. She'd been so teary-eyed after splitting up with Misty and Faith that, if not for the directions of her amulet, she probably would have stumbled around forever. As it was, blurred vision and all, she had managed to find her way… … back to the Briefing. The large clearing and stage looked exactly like they had earlier, minus the previous hundreds of people, of course. There was just one major difference. There were birds everywhere. Someone had set up dozens and dozens of perches and small topiaries and stands, all over the clearing, and as far as Claire could see, they were all occupied. The diversity was unbelievable. And yet… to tell the ugly truth, she had yet to spot a single Fearow. Granted, there were quite a few Spearows, and they seemed to be annoying quite a few people there with their racuous caws and irritable tempers. But she, unlike many, had never really held any sort of grudge against the particularly peevish species of bird; in fact, they were being kinda nice to her, and she was finding them to be cuter by the minute. In her honest opinion, though, there were way too many Pidgeots. In fact, it seemed sort of like favoritism. There were tons of the dang things, and they wouldn't leave her alone. Sparrow-sized Pidgey fledglings flitted around her head. Pidgeottos swooped past her, sending her long green hair flying. And the Pidgeots… she was getting tired of, every time she turned around, running into one of the danged things. It was too much, however, when the reddish-colored Pidgeot pooped on her new shirt. Cursing loudly in a pronounced Southern drawl, she pushed through the crowd of birds and people angrily, one hand over her root beer bottle (… you know… just in case.) There had to be at least one Fearow somewhere in here. She just had to find it. "Figgers they wouldn't have th' best breed," she muttered grumpily to herself, shoving past a flock of Hoot-Hoots. "Some people just ain't got the sense they were born with." Eyes on the lookout for the first sign of a red crest, she failed to see the boy until she had walked straight into him. "Dammit!" she yelled, surprising quite a few birds around her into flight. "Hey, there, tiger!" someone said charmingly. "I guess you ought to keep your eyes on the road, huh?" She took a good look at the young man she had run into. "DAMMIT!" Rokou grinned. "I didn't think I'd be lucky enough to run into you a second time." He wiggled his eyebrows up and down. "Run into you? Get it?" She sighed. "If you don't mind," she said pointedly, "I'm kinda lookin' fer something, and it sure ain't you." "Hey, babe, you're the one who walked into me, not the other way around." He raised his hands innocently. She glared at him, but he wasn't looking at her face, and the effort was wasted. His grey eyes were instead focused on her shoulder, and they were, at the moment, wide and bright with mirth. She followed his line of gaze curiously, and immediately remembered the unfortunate encounter she had had with the Pidgeot only moments earlier. She sighed wearily. "Looks like I'm not the only trouble you've run into tonight," he snickered. "But I guess that's the price you pay for having a flying amulet." She sniffed. "I don't see any poop anywhere on you," she said accusingly. He instantly turned and jabbed a thumb at his back. "Right there, toots," he laughed. He turned back to look at her. "But I had the sense to wash it off." He smiled. She rolled her eyes and made to walk around him. "Come on, I was just kidding around." He stuck his hands in his pockets and regarded her scrutinizingly. "What is it you're looking so hard for, anyway?" She looked at him sideways. "What d'you care fer?" she asked suspiciously. He laughed incredulously. "I just want some company. Hey, don't tell me if it's too confidential." He wiggled his fingers in effect. "I'm tryin' ta find a Fearow. Looks like there's at least then of every other kind of bird Pokémon here 'cept fer that 'un." She frowned. "Heh... sucks to be you. There are plenty of Pidgeots." He grinned devilishly. She stared at him. "Just kidding. I'm sure there's a Fearow somewhere in here." "Uh-huh. And yet here I sit, wasting time with you 'stead of lookin' for it." "Hey, s'your choice, not mine." She opened her mouth to deliver an appropriately scathing barb, but she hadn't gotten a single word out before a piping, "Um, could you all shut up for a second? I only have a minute to spend here," drifted over the crowd. All heads swiveled towards the stage where only hours earlier the Jigglypuff girl had completely wiped away their previous ideas of reality. Now another girl stood there, but she couldn't have been any more different than the Puff girl. She seemed dwarfed by the stage: she was petite and looked rather young. His clothes were shabby and washed-out colors of blue and grey. As if that wasn't enough, her skin was pale pale white… so white that it almost seemed a faint tint of blue. Her hair was the only color on her, really; it was a light ice blue. She chewed on a fingernail as she waited for complete attention of the crowd. She blinked. "Yeah. Okay." Her voice was thin and strained. Her eyes were tired-looking, and they scanned the crowd nervously. "My name's -" (she winced involuntarily) "- Kublai, and I'm a flying-type like all of you. Um…" She scratched her arm. "I don't really know what to say… this kind of isn't a good time right now… we'd be better off getting to the training world or whatever as soon as possible." She went back to chewing on her finger. "So…" She twirled a finger offhandedly at their surroundings. "There's a lot of birds around here." At these words, every single one of the hundreds of birds present began to preen coyly. The girl smiled, though it was an obvious effort on her part, and it showed. "A lot of birds," she repeated. "And a lot of them are Pidgeots, you may have noticed." The Pidgeots in the crowd cooed quietly, eyeing their fellow birds with barely contained smugness. Claire sniffed. "I have noticed, matter of fact," she muttered. On the stage, the girl continued. "And, as some of you might know…" She paused. "Pidgeots are…" She took a breath. "The standard mode of flying transportation for humans." She said it as quickly as humanly possible. There was silence for a second. "She don't mean…" Claire said slowly. Rokou nodded his head slowly, as if in a daze. The girl on stage had obviously been expecting an eruption from her audience, and now took heart from their utter lack of reaction. "Okay. You all need to find a Pidgeot and um… hitch a ride." Now the crowd was starting to show signs of disbelief, and the girl threw in the last bit of information as quickly as she could: "Oh, except for, um…" She dug a grungy slip of paper out of her pocket and peered at it. "… whoever has the Fearow amulet." She shoved the paper back in her pocket. Claire's jaw dropped. Rokou glanced at her out of the corner of her eye and covered a chuckle with a discreet cough. "Are you serious?!" someone called out frantically, and the rest of the flying-types immediately voiced their opinions. The girl winced a little, but waved her arms for silence nonetheless. It slowly quieted down until the girl could make herself heard. "I know it sounds scary and dangerous, I know." She looked a little desperate. "But trust me -- it's the only way you're getting anywhere today. And it's not as bad as it sounds." Her eyes grew distant. "It's actually kind of fun." It seemed now that the entire crowd was shocked dumb. Nevertheless, someone managed to shout out a "This is crazy!", their voice shrill with panic. She shrugged and thrust her hands in her pockets. "If you can find a different way to get there, then do it." She scratched behind her ear. "Anything else?" Several hands raised in question. She ignored them. "Good. Well, see you there." She jumped off the stage in relief and into the crowd. The mass of people instantly parted where she had landed, in a unanimous attempt to thrust her back into the spotlight, every single person there equally confused. But the little girl was gone. There was complete silence. No one moved. Claire's mouth was still hanging open. Rokou reached out and closed it with a little tap on her chin. "Well!" he shouted. The entire attention of the group fell on him. He shifted a little under his leather jacket. "I'm not afraid!" Claire blinked. "That's jest 'cause yer the one with the Pidgeot amulet!" she countered a bit hysterically, loud enough for the rest of the flying-types to hear. He considered this for a moment, and then shrugged. "Well, yeah. And I'm proud of it. But just because I have a little necklace doesn't mean I'm any more familiar with flying than anybody else here. I just wanna get where we're supposed to be." Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of copper-colored feathers, and he smiled. "And it probably will be fun." Claire rolled her eyes, but before she could come up with anything the least bit contemptuous to say, someone called out, "Me neivah!" It was a little girl, and she immediately blanched as the attention of the flying types swung over on her. But she swallowed and continued shakily: "I fink it'll be fun, too. My daddy's a piwot, an' I always wanted to fwy wike him, and now I get to, so there! I'm not scawed eivah!" "Y'all must be crazy!" Claire said in disbelief. "This is so dangerous, I cain't b'lieve yer being serious at all!" "To tell the truth," Rokou said, his head close to her's, whispering into her ear. "I think you're just jealous that you don't get to." The color drained out of her face. "Like hell!" she cried, and, before she could think about what she was doing, she had pushed through the people and birds surrounding her and back into the empty convention. As she walked away, she could hear the excited murmuring behind her gradually soften and soften until it had faded into nothing at all.
