The Long Way Home

Background color
Font
Font size
Line height

"So, where to next?"

Fang asks first, tail wagging, and I can sense his eagerness to put as much distance between him and Pisces's deathbed as possible. If anything, I'd suspect that this would be the best place to grieve, given the cheery demeanor of the houses and the kind, almost too pleasant nature of the locals, but I guess the road heals all wounds. I'll admit that I've ran away from my own share of problems. Still, Reginae's amber eyes at the edge of the bed catch my attention. I want to give him a few extra days, but Fang has a point. We need to move on.

"No clue," I admit, as a compromise, throwing the debate back their way. "You have somewhere you need to be?"

"At the next four gyms before the end of the world." Minerva growls from her resident corner of the room, where she drapes herself over the chair like an angry fur rug. Her tails fall over all the edges, like dead snakes, but there's live venom in her voice.

"Good point." I say, getting onto my own feet. "Speaking of stuff we need to do, I have... business to attend to with Ten and Ethan."

"Blast," clucks Ten. "Have I done something wrong?"

"Ethan?" asks Reginae, lifting his head from the bed.
"Nothing wrong, but I've given you more than enough time to sleep on your past. As for Ethan, I was thinking we could try him out on the road, once we're out there." I shrug. "We can't wait forever. He and Hycanith should be close in level, shouldn't they...?"

Hycanith shakes her head. "She needs a little more training than that." Reginae agrees. "Didn't Ethan one-hit Lance's Charizard and Bella? I wouldn't call that 'close in level' to any of us."

"I don't know what's going on with him. That's why we need to get training. Ten hasn't fought in a while either, and though the switch-in method works great for Hycanith, it's not doing a thing for him at this point. Powers, no powers, he needs to get back in there before it becomes a problem."

Ten ruffles his feathers. "Are you sure...?"

"Still haven't answered the question. Where's our next stop?" Fang yells over Ten's worried clucking.

I check the map for nearby gyms and our next stop becomes obvious. "Fuschia Town. The only way there's through the Cycling Road, so we'll take that today."

"Do you have a bike?" asks Reginae.

"Psh. That's just a name." I wave him off. "Some tourist bullshit."

After breakfast, when we get to the entrance to the route, which is nestled up at the edge of town, I'm displeased to know that it is tourist bullshit but I'm going to have to deal with it. The left side of the post is shut down, with admission granted solely to those on bicycles.

"Come on, man, let me through." I say, looking at the closed metal screen over the route entrance with a rueful expression. I've considered walking around the post, through the forest, but I've been on the run from the law enough times to know that won't end well.

A lean, sharp looking man leans over the counter with an expression that conveys perfectly the fake kind of happiness one must master with retail jobs. As if explaining to a child (okay, I might look like one, but I sure don't feel like a child anymore), he explains: "Ma'am, you need a bicycle. If you'd like, we can rent a bicycle to you for your trip... it'll only be a low, low cost of 4000P."

I laugh it off. "Excuse me? Did I hear you right? Sir, I've been to hotels that charge less than your bike rental."

The man laughs back, a sick, fake sound. "This is a discount. Bikes normally go for 9999P."

Frustrated, I slam my hands onto the counter. "You know what this is? This is highway robbery."

"No, ma'am, this is a bike path."

I lay down a wad of cash (goodbye gym earnings) and he brings out an admittedly slick bike. It's even got decals on it...

4000P, Ashley. This bike wouldn't be worth that if you bought it.

The man has already deposited the cash in the register and opened the westward gate. With a resentful flick of the bell, I mount the bike and begin riding down the road.

I'm halfway down the other side when the ground begins to fall out beneath me. Unable to control the bike at the higher speed and looking out at the approaching ocean, I veer all the way off course and into some trees. The bike rolls away, trying to make its escape, but collapses a few yards off.

"Nice," Fang remarks.

"I hate bikes," I groan, looking straight up at the blue abyss of the sky.

"Next time, we'll rent you a tricycle." Reginae suggests.

"Ha, ha, very funny." I get to my feet, uninjured (though a little winded, not going to lie) and hold my hand to my burning back. "I'm not getting on that crazy thing again. What do you guys say to me slowly rolling it down the path while you guys do the fighting?"

"Is the bike alright?" Ten asks.

"Good to know you care about my welfare." I mumble.

"No, no, I know you're fine. I suppose I was just concerned that they might operate on a 'you break it, you buy it' policy, seeing as they're cheap bastards." Ten turns his head a full ninety degrees from me to the bike and clucks, "Ah, never mind. Bike's good."

I grab the bike, which quivers and creaks beneath my grip, but I've got it now. I take a hand off of it and throw out my final Pokeball. Ethan emerges just outside of the forest, eyes wide and curious. He looks over the team, calm, but his lips curl up when he sees the tourists further on the road.

More people, he insists, his human eyes set down the road and full of panic. I don't want them to see me.

"We're going to need you to fight some if you're going to help us in the field. Otherwise, we might not be able to defeat someone further down the road and that could spell trouble for the team."

Who did this? he asks.

"Team Rocket, but they disbanded after we kicked their arse in revenge. They're getting what they- they're being punished." I correct myself.

Can they make me better? When he doesn't get an answer, he raises the intensity of his voice. I want to be better. Everything hurts.

My Pokemon are all in different levels of discomfort right now, since they're tapped into the mutual team bond too. They can feel the uneasy creak of his mangled limbs, his panic, all of it... it's a dull pain, like the first sensations after coming out of anaesthesia, but it's enough to set us all on edge.

"I promise I'll get you some answers tonight, but we're burning daylight right now. Let's go."

Walking is hard. We hadn't practiced any movement on our few 'sessions' with Ethan, and Lugia is made for aquatic or aerial movement. While we could do water, seeing as there's a river beneath the bridge, I don't want him to panic and drown. He senses my worry and asks, Okay?

"Yes, I'm okay. Can you walk?"

With difficulty, he lifts one hand, all the joints attempting to press through the skin, and replies, Don't think these are for walking. Can't fly. Back legs too small. With a huff that shakes nearby trees, he continues, Trying anyways.

Pity wracks my heart. I hold his arm, not tight enough to hurt but enough to let him know I'm there. I hear a sick noise at the back of his throat but my concern changes to distraught pity when I realize it's something akin to a purr and not a warning sign.

I'm okay too.

The voice in my head grows incessant: Don't think about pancakes. Don't think about New Bark. Don't think about home or anything before the journey. Not right now. Not yet.

Alright.

We approach the group of tourists, all of whom are in their late thirties, female, and wear expensive-looking tight exercise clothing. They watch me like I'm a lost domestic Purrloin. Trying not to glare, I ask, "Hello, miss, do you know where I can find trainers to fight on this route?"

"Uh- uh... oh my. Is that your Pokemon?" asks the woman closest to me, angling a shaking finger towards Ethan.

"Yep. Now that we've established that, can I get some directions?"

She points to the left, arm as stiff as a tree branch. "That's where the thugs hang out. They're the only people around here who do challenges for well over a mile."

"Think we can handle ourselves?" I ask the team, and they nod back. Ethan tries to mimic the gesture, with moderate success. His mouth twists up into an uneasy smile.

We head left.

I'm still close to Ethan, though Ten has ceased his hopping and glides alongside us, struggling not to soar too far ahead or behind. The road forks like the tongue of an Arbok, leading us onto a huge bridge flanked on both sides by huge numbers of bikers, some of which race each other up and down the road, pulling their motorcycles up into wheelies. Not one is wearing a helmet nor protective gear of any kind, which I suppose is to be expected, but even I, a Pokemon trainer, and somewhat appalled by their sheer disdain for their personal safety.

As we approach, the bikers circle in like a pack of Sharpedo, revving their awful bikes and baring ugly yellow grins. "Ya here for a challenge, little miss?"

"Suppose so," I say. The men are too campy to be threatening, thank goodness, but even forgetting that it's hard to feel any kind of fear with my Pokemon by my sides.

"Now that's a metal Pokemon." One of the men roars with surprise, parking his bike aside from Ethan, who shifts himself away, nostrils flared with indignance.

"Actually, he's Psychic and Flying type." I inform them.

"No. Metal. Like hardcore. Rad." The man lets out a hearty laugh from deep in his throat. "You really don't know the lingo 'round these parts, do you? Tryin' to get through the left side of Cycling Road on a rented bike you're not even ridin'. What's your deal, kid?"

"I came out here to have a good time." I shrug.

"You're about to have one." the man says, dismounting his bike and throwing a Pokeball up in the air. A Spinda emerges, staggering around like a drunk sailor, and is joined by a Pelipper, Weezing, Roserade, and several other Pokemon, all of whom who share the greasy sheen of their owners and the same disgusting, yellowed smile.

Hycanith comes out first, excited to prove herself now that her levels are more even with the trainers of the area, and as soon as she's thrown the first bone Minerva's by her side, not eager to be outdone. Minerva lunges at a Weezing, but before she reaches it it's caught in a pink field of energy and thrown far out of the way by Ethan, who's struggling not with the effort but to restrain himself from using the full extent of the King of the Sea's wrath. When the Weezing is withdrawn, he lets out a more violent gurgling noise and drowns some man's Magcargo in a torrent of water. Minerva just dodges out of the way of this, too, and survives with nothing more than damp fur. She scowls up at him, and he draws his head back, but I rub his arm. "You're doing okay."

A Houndoom with its lips drawn back into an ugly snarl jumps at Ethan, fangs shrouded in dark energy, but before it can hit him it's blown back by a V-shaped wall of blue fire. I look around, seeing Minerva tussle with a Flareon, and realize that it was Ten who used the attack. His eyes widen with guilt when he sees me watching him."Blast, sorry Ashley. I didn't want him to panic, so I..."

"No problem, bud." I tell him. "Go get 'em."

"...with restraint, or...?" he asks.

"Nope. Go nuts."

I give him a thumbs up, and Ten fights like he hasn't since the Elite Four battles. He's a cannonball of fire and feathers, darting around the battlefield like the legendary Moltres. His attacks are a mix of new and old techniques, moves I know he's learned and moves I know he hasn't, and techniques a Noctowl should be able to use with ones he really, really shouldn't.

"Do you think he's getting better?" asks Reginae, who despite some bruises is looking no worse for wear.

"I think he is better," I tell him, watching with pride as Ten tag-teams with Minerva on one of the last Pokemon.

"Really?"

"Oh yeah."

"I'm glad you think so. I don't know if he'll ever really be better, but we're making progress, right?"

I squint at him. "That's a little harsh to Ten, don't you think?"

"I... I was talking about Ethan." Reginae says, head tilted to the side. "Ten's totally got it under control. Look at him go."

Ethan, who has long since grown disinterested in the battle, asks, Progress? Is this... I feel... it's not pain.

"Oh, that's called gaining a level." Reginae tells Ethan. "It's a Pokemon thing. You know, now that you're going to be coming along, I'm going to need to teach you some of the basics."

Ethan gives him a slow nod, and Reginae immediately begins blabbing his ear off about basic Pokemon mechanics. I'd love to stay, but a certain feathery hooligan and I need to talk.

I stand over Ten, who actually might be a few inches shorter than me, and say, "Now for you. I think we've established that you can keep it under control, whether you think so or not. So even if it's a little tough, I want your best effort, okay?"

"I'll do what I can, Ashley." Ten cooes.

The bikers are long since gone, and the rest of the team is heading back down the road. Picking back up my bicycle from its unceremonious position on the floor, I begin to follow them, but something still prods at the back of my mind. "So... what were they like?"

Ten swivels his head around to check no one is listening before he answers. "Us?"

"Y-yeah."

"Like this. It always has a habit of going like this." Ten says. "Long periods of safety, moments where everything snaps, good afternoons... sometimes, you load the team up with grass-types. Sometimes, your starter doesn't make it this far. Sometimes, you reject any advances from Morty or Ethan-"

"Or Ethan?"

"Bloody hell, Ashley, yes. I think he was my trainer once." Ten says, peering off into the distance. "That was a weird one."

"Ethan!" I exclaim. "Okay, now I know you're pulling my leg."

"What part, him training me or you two falling in love?"

"Obviously the latter- I'm sure you'd get along well. Ethan loves all sorts of nerd stuff. I mean-" I say, looking ahead. Minerva, Fang, and Hycanith have caught up to Ethan and Reginae, and are now all offering what I can only hope is advice. Ethan certainly looks more settled than before, but I can see the pain in every movement. It's like trying to put a kid with a broken leg on the sports team, but in this case, he might never get better. "My Ethan."

I don't know this one. He doesn't know me either.

"You don't have to push him away, Ashley."

"I haven't been." I respond.

"But you're trying to dissociate him from him, in your mind."

"It's healthier for me to just accept they're gone."

Ten doesn't respond, but I hear a strange hoot die out in his beak, like a long sigh.

The end is in sight, highlighted by the red death of the sun overhead, which provides contrast with the now-shadowed evergreens below. The bike path ends in a small building, much like the one we started in, and I feel a weight leave my shoulders as I withdraw Ethan and go inside.

"Have your bike back." I tell the woman at the counter. "You should run a charity or something. At least then the 4000P would go somewhere useful."

"4000P?! Miss, did you get ripped off by Fred? I'm sorry, he works the counter up at the top of the Cycling Road, and he has a habit of trying to rip off-" she looks me up and down, pursing her lip. "-foreigners." She slides me a wad of cash back. "That's 3600P. The real rental cost is 400P."

I look up at her in disbelief. She flashes me a smile, not a fake retail smile but a genuine, 'hey I'm trying to do a good deed here' kind smile.

"Woah, nice! How are we going to blow this?" asks Fang. "I say ice cream!"

I shake my head, placing the wad back into my pocketbook. "Save it, for once. Like I said, there are hotels that cost less than 4000P, and we just so happen to need a hotel."

Or so we would, in theory, but from the second I enter Fuschia and see the gym I feel all of my Pokemon tense up in excitement. Too many easy challenges have made them giddy and they're well aware that they stand just a few Hyper Potions from being back to full battling capacity.

"I don't know about a hotel. The night's still young." Minerva chides.

Oh, but it wouldn't be. Not by the time we were done with it.

You are reading the story above: TeenFic.Net