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Vines of Deceit	By : Manifest Destiny Category: Pokemon > General Views: 14167 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon. Pokemon is copy write by GameFreak, INC. and Nintendo. I make no money from this story, nor do I seek any.

Chapter List
- 15
- 16
- 17
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Chapter 16: The Hero and the Girl
—————
The world around him was changing; becoming something new and strange. The path ahead of him was rough and dangerous.
He didn’t like it. He could feel a pressure beginning to build; surrounding him and threatening to swallow him up and crush him into nothing.
So he chose to run far away from the world that had fallen out of his control.
But no matter how far he ran, or how deeply he dug, or how high he climbed, something stayed with him.
A black cloud, dark enough to block out the light of the world, hung over his head.
It grew with every step he took.
As time marched on, the swirling void of black began to feel enormous. It felt as if it were everywhere.
And it was angry.
“Do not run from your destiny! Face it down and tackle it with all of your might!”
The cloud was harsh and demanding. It was cruel.
And it was correct.
Only now, when at the end of the road and out of places to hide, did he face the void.
“But what if I fail?” he asked.
The cloud was quick to bite back. It had no patience for such questions.
“The fear of failure is no excuse for inaction, for the two have the same outcome!”
The cloud was wise.
“But… what if I succeed?” he asked.
The cloud was silent. Had it finally been stumped?
“If you do not know, then at least answer me this: How can I accept victory when I don’t even know if I’m right?”
The cloud rumbled and quaked. It was furious.
And it was determined.
“You must steel yourself and purge the doubt in your heart. Find your one, unwavering goal; a perfect, solitary ideal that you can swear in an instant that you would never compromise.”
“How will I know what that is?”
“The answer to that is the same for everyone. When does one fight the hardest?”
The cloud asked and waited. It expected an answer.
Fortunately, the answer had been obvious.
“When you are afraid of losing something you love.”
The cloud was silent and still. It had been proven right.
It had been satisfied.
“Find your sword, oh dreamer mine. And keep it sharp.”
—————
The first one had been tolerable. It wasn’t very frequent or very loud, but it did sometimes take him by surprise. The second was louder, if somewhat pleasant in its own way, but the third—the third was just too much.
Too. Much. Noise.
Those were Tristan’s final thoughts before he finally opened his eyes, unable to stall any longer. He stayed still in the warm bed, trying to isolate the noises he could hear. The softest of them all were low, regular rumbles separated by a second-long pause carrying on somewhere in the room. The loudest was the sharp ringing that jingled in his left ear, somewhere close by. Then, seemingly random tones rang out and rattled around in his head, somehow coming from all around the room.
He felt an unhealthy amount of hatred toward the noises that had pulled him from his comfortable sleep.
To his left, he blindly reached out with his hand, looking for the source of the closest noise: the hotel room’s phone.
Tristan grasped the receiver from the bedside table and quickly brought it to the side of his face.
“H…Hello?” he winced, the first words of the day sounded rough. He coughed lightly. “Sorry, hello?”
[“Mr. Adeku,”] the voice was polite but stern. [“Over the past few minutes we have been receiving some noise complaints, and neighboring rooms seem to believe the noise to be coming from your suite. Do you know what could be causing the disturbance?”]
Tristan lifted his head up and looked around the room, his eyes widening at the obvious source of the various complaints.
“Yes!” he said quickly, sitting up in the bed. “Sorry, it is us. I’ll get it sorted out. It won’t happen again.”
[“Please see that it doesn’t.”] The hotel employee hung up quickly.
Tristan hung up the phone quickly and threw the covers off of himself, the comparatively colder air making him shiver a bit as his bare skin became exposed. Before he could get to his feet, he felt a furred hand grasp his, tugging him back toward the warmth he was trying to leave behind.
“Don’t…” The simple plea came before some movement on the bed. Letting his hand go free, Draya brought herself up behind Tristan. She slowly snaked one arm over his shoulder and the other around his chest, holding onto him gently. She rested her head on his shoulder. “Come back to me, please?”
“I can’t,” Tristan said, putting a hand over one of hers. “I gotta take care of this one.”
Tristan pointed to the culprit behind the ringing in his head—and apparently other hotel patrons’ heads as well. The Sigilyph that N had lent to him during the previous day’s events had somehow gotten out of its Poké Ball and was now frantically fluttering around the room, letting out a disastrous melody of noise and knocking its body against various pieces of furniture, the walls, and the window that had had its blinds pulled open in the Avianoid’s panic.
“What’s the matter with it?” asked Draya, sitting up on the bed on her own now.
“I don’t know,” Tristan stood, quickly pulling on his underwear. “Wasn’t I wearing more clothes when we fell asleep?”
“Oh, you know…” Draya’s averted her gaze in false shame, grinning as she spoke. “I thought it would be a shame if we didn’t share our first night together without annoying clothes in the way.”
Tristan chuckled, “If you say so.” He grabbed the Sigilyph’s ball from the tray he had set down the previous night, and carefully made his way over to the stressed out Pokémon. He didn’t plan on recalling it without any warning; it needed to be calmed down first.
“Hey, easy now.”
The Sigilyph stopped its frantic movements momentarily and turned to face the human. It shook its wings and tail, sounding off another series of chimes and bell noises. The sounds seemed to be focused directly on Tristan now, he assumed by the ferocity and tempo of the notes and tones.
“Remember me? We flew through the city and fought a big moth?” Tristan held his arms out to his sides welcomingly and was surprised when the strange, spherical body of the Sigilyph flew into his embrace. The sudden affectionate gesture caused Tristan to stagger backwards a step. “Hey, there we are. You okay now?”
The lone eye on top of Sigilyph’s body blinked rapidly at him, followed by a delighted series of notes that rang out in his head.
“Looks like he thought he was lost,” Draya commented from the bed. “I wonder why he didn’t see us in the bed. He knows us.”
“Well, I was wrapped up in your arms until a few minutes ago, maybe the fact that you’re a Dark type hid me from him.” Tristan said, gently rubbing the round body of the Sigilyph. “How long were we in that illusion of yours?”
“I’m not sure,” Draya said. “We fell asleep while it was still covering us, but it can last for a while without me maintaining it.”
Sigilyph floated out of Tristan’s arms and began calmly wandering around the room, looking behind furniture and under the bed.
“Are you looking for something?” asked Tristan. “If you’re looking for N, he—” As soon as he said N’s name, the events of the previous day rushed into his mind. Tristan blinked a few times, trying to pick back up on the thought. “He left too quickly for me to give you back to him, I’m sorry.”
The winged creature slumped down onto the floor, ringing out in slow, somber tones.
“He thinks he’s been abandoned, I bet. Some Pokémon look forward to being found by a human,” Draya said. “And others are curious enough to go looking for one of their own.”
“Which one were you again?” Tristan asked playfully.
“Neither,” she grinned. “I saw a poor little boy all alone and I just couldn’t bear it anymore.”
“I’m glad you found me,” he said, smiling back. “Maybe that’s what you’re feeling, huh buddy?” Tristan knelt down to the sulking Pokémon on the floor. “If you don’t want to be alone, then you’re more than welcome to come with us. I…” he paused, choosing his words carefully. “I promise that if you’re with us, we’ll run into N again.”
The offer at least seemed to lift the strange Psychic Pokémon’s spirits somewhat, its body floating up into the air a bit and the feathers on its wings ruffling excitedly. It turned to face the human kneeling on the floor and bobbed up and down while sending out light, upbeat notes for Tristan to interpret.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to tell me,” he said honestly. “Sorry, all I can hear are music notes.”
Sigilyph shook its wings in frustration and began flying around the room with clear urgency. It came to a stop at the bedside table and levitated the receiver of the telephone. The Avianoid hovered expectantly beside the bed, waiting for something.
“Uh,” Draya spoke up. “I think it’s for you?”
Tristan stood up and set the Sigilyph’s ball on the bed, then walked over to grab the phone from the Pokémon’s psychic grip, hesitantly putting it to his ear.
[“………………”]
There was no dial tone despite no call having been made or answered, just the same kind of silence one would expect to hear if the other person on the line paused while talking.
Tristan looked over to the Sigilyph and began to hear a dull tone coming through the speaker. It slowly rose in pitch, staying on a specific note for a few moments before moving on to the next octave.
[“_______-------———~~~~~~~*********```````````````”]
“Are you trying to speak through the phone?” Tristan asked.
[“`````Are… -----you…?”] A synthesized voice came over the phone, borrowing the sounds that Tristan had spoken into it.
“Hey, that’s good,” Tristan complimented the still-learning Pokémon. “Keep going.”
[“Keep-----you~~~good…?”]
Tristan kept the receiver against his ear, trying to decipher the message from such a limited vocabulary. “I can’t just talk until you have all the words you need. We don’t have that kind of time.”
[“You…//Are....||kind…_/I_just#need…—you.”]
“You want to stay with me, then? Don’t you want to go back to N?”
[“N?…don’t—~want…me/You…Do.”]
“Well, you’re not wrong,” Tristan thought back to their aerial escapades throughout Nimbasa City from the night before. “We got along just fine when we fought off that Volcarona, but N didn’t—” He stopped himself before he said “abandon”, but wondered whether or not he was even correct.
N is seeking liberation for all Pokémon, forcibly. He wants Pokémon kept separate from us whether or not either side wants it.
“Even if you were with N right now, he’d probably insist you stay in the wild. He believes that humans and Pokémon should be kept apart,” Tristan explained. “But I don’t think like that.”
He looked over his shoulder, back to Draya sitting up on the bed.
“Humans and Pokémon can live together,” he said, “and if you want to stay with a human, then stay with me and let’s prove N wrong.”
[“I..want_to,,,stay—with~~-you. ((Can_I?”] the Sigilyph tilted in the air a few degrees. [“Humans~~should stay#with/Pokémon__/we`are|both_/live.”]
“‘We are both live’?” Tristan asked the creature.
[“We~are.”]
“I think he means, alive,” Draya suggested, leaning forward. “Humans and Pokémon are both living creatures; we belong together.”
[“That’s good.”] Sigilyph bobbed up and down in agreement.
“Hard to argue with that logic,” Tristan agreed. “How about a name, then? Or, do you already have one? I never spoke to a Pokémon before getting to know them.”
Draya poked him in his side playfully.
[“I_~want#one.”] Sigilyph swayed from side to side impatiently. [“I never-name/before.”]
“Let me think,” Tristan said, considering the situation. “Do you like ‘Eonos’? Like the word, ‘eon’?”
[“Hard to argue--just fine,”] said Sigilyph.
“Alright,” Tristan said. He let go of the room’s telephone receiver, leaving it hanging in the air in Eonos’ psychic grip, and stood up from the bed. “In the future, since we can’t really carry around a phone like that, you can just use—” he was halfway bent down to pick up his XTransceiver from the floor when he remembered the reason why it had been there in the first place.
Everyone… saw me on TV… and everything that happened…
“Tristan?”
Draya’s voice pulled him out of the light panic he felt and he picked up the wrist-worn device.
“In the future,” he repeated, standing up, “you can probably use this to talk to me. It has a speaker, so you should be able to get it to work.”
Eonos let the phone fall back onto its base and inspected the XTransceiver in Tristan’s hand. After a few exploratory telekinetic pushes and pulls, a garbled voice seemed to creep out of the small speakers on the face of the watch.
[“Like this?”] came a voice, no longer using the copied tones of Tristan’s own words.
“Yeah, there you go.” Tristan congratulated Eonos, patting its round body. “I hate to do this to you, but I need to take care of something. Mind going back in your ball until later?”
[“Not at all. Please do not disappear again. I was worried.”]
“Don’t worry,” he smiled. “We’ll try and warn you if we do that again.” Tristan picked up the Poké Ball N had tossed to him and recalled Eonos into it.
“What do you have to do?” asked Draya.
“It’s time to see what everyone thinks. I’ve put it off long enough,” Tristan said, holding up his XTransceiver. He sat down on the bed, keeping the device turned away from him. He fumbled with it in his hands, lightly tossing it from one to the other. “Why can’t I bring myself to do it? I shouldn’t be this afraid. I know they just want to know what’s going on… that I’m safe…”
“But you’re afraid of what else they might say,” Draya finished for him. She moved closer to him on the side of the bed and held him close. She nuzzled his neck, taking one of her hands and placing it over his. “We can look together. Would that help?”
“Sure.”
Tristan turned the screen towards the two of them and pressed the button to bring the XTransceiver to life, only to immediately wince at the amount of missed calls and unread messages. He slowly scrolled through the lengthy list of notifications that had built up overnight:
//Mom\
\Missed Call (24) Voicemail (24) Message (18)//
//Dad\
\Missed Call (15) Voicemail (10)//
//Prof. Juniper\
\Missed Call (3) Voicemail (1) Message (1)//
//Bianca\
\Missed Call (43) Voicemail (12) Message (24)//
//Cheren\
\Message (1)//
“Just one, huh?” Tristan asked, almost amused at the lack of response from one of his oldest friends. He selected Cheren’s unread message:
[Unbelievable.]
“Can’t say I’m surprised,” he sighed.
He wanted to move on and read through the multitude of messages, but a new call started coming through.
It was from Bianca, who had attempted to contact him the most out of everyone.
Tristan answered the call; it was audio only.
“Hello—”
[“TRISTAN! Oh my god, you’re okay! Wait, are you okay?! You are, right?!”] Even considering the surprise in her voice, Tristan could tell she was trying her best to speak over the loud music he could hear in the background.
“Yeah, I’m alright. Sorry,” he apologized. “I’ve—”
[“That’s great— Oh, right! I got ahold of him!”] Bianca yelled to someone else wherever she was. [“Tristan, I need your help! Can you come to Nimbasa Gym right now? It has to be right now!”]
“Why?” Tristan began to worry.
[“It’s my Dad… He’s here.”]
“Oh, no.”
[“Miss Elesa is trying to talk to him right now, but he’s yelling at her and the referee— Oh, I was in a gym match and he interrupted it. I should’ve mentioned that.”]
“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Tristan said, standing up from the bed and looking for a set of clean clothes. “Just try and stall him until—”
[“He also wants to talk to you.”]
He paused what he was doing “What’s that supposed to mean?”
[“I don’t know… He’s angry about what happened last night,”] Bianca explained.
“But that wasn’t—” Tristan stopped himself. “Fine, I’ll talk to him.”
[“Please hurry!”]
Bianca abruptly hung up, leaving Tristan staring at the silent XTransceiver in his hand.
“That was quick.” Draya grinned from where she sat on the bed.
“What?”
“You,” she poked his forehead. “A minute ago you were on the verge of having a meltdown over everything that happened, then once you heard Bianca’s cries for help you’re ready to just jump right into action.” The Zoroark knelt on the bed, bringing her height just above Tristan’s, and pulled her human close her. She looked down at him.
“Her hero,” she teased.
“Please don’t joke about that.” Tristan stared at her intently. He was serious.
“What’d I say?”
“You know what. Bianca’s just a friend to me, and nothing else.”
“Does she know that?” Draya asked.
Tristan couldn’t answer her, because he had no idea.
“Well, I can’t very well come to the rescue without at least a shower,” Tristan said, changing the subject. He ducked out of Draya’s arms and stepped away. “After everything that happened yesterday, I’m sure I smell awful.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Draya said, looking away and then glancing back and adding, “Want some company in there?”
Tristan grinned and chuckled lightly, “Why not? As long as we get to the gym quickly.”
“Hopefully not too quickly,” Draya teased.
“Bianca’s in some serious trouble,” he said, walking towards the bathroom door. “Five minutes.”
“Oh fine,” Draya relented, jumping off of the bed to follow him.
“Before that, can I ask you something?” Tristan stopped in his tracks, continuing to face forward. “You didn’t know, did you?” he asked, turning to look back at her.
“Know what?”
“About N being Team Plasma’s… King.”
“Do you think I did?” Draya asked.
“You’re good at hiding things; maybe you noticed something I never did,” Tristan explained. “I just want to know what you thought about all this. Him and me, these dragons, what’s at stake; everything.”
Draya sighed lightly, as if she had been expecting this conversation.
“I thought he was a weirdo back when we first met him, and the things he said sounded like some of the things that Plasma’s goons were preaching, but after that, he’s done nothing but help you—a Pokémon Trainer—and spent time looking for a Pokémon—something a Pokémon Trainer does.” Draya moved her paws to Tristan’s shoulders held him at arm’s length. “That doesn’t exactly scream ‘King of the Pokémon liberation movement’ to me.”
She leaned forward and gave Tristan a quick kiss. “Besides, I wasn’t looking too hard. I had my eyes on another human most of the time.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Tristan said. “It’s just… I thought he was my friend, and he ends up being responsible for the very thing I’ve been fighting against.”
“No way you two could ever make up, is there?” she asked.
“I can’t.” Tristan reached out and took one of her clawed hands in his, “He’d keep us from being together if I take his side.”
“Then don’t take his side,” she tightened her grip, squeezing his hand. “If you can’t work with him, can’t we see if we can get him to work with you?”
“We can always hope, can’t we?”
—————
Unlike most cities that might have clear and well-defined entertainment districts, Nimbasa City was so well known for its plethora of attractions and venues that it was a wasted effort to try and tell where its own entertainment district ended—if it indeed ended at all. The entire city buzzed with activity day and night, drawing in tourists from all around the region and the world.
Shining bright as the centerpiece of Nimbasa’s suite of revelry was the aptly named Neon Pier. Surrounded by a man-made river, its restaurants, arcades, roller coasters, and its iconic Rendez-View Ferris Wheel, occupied the city’s entire southeastern quarter. At the end of it all, the Nimbasa Gym stood proudly amongst the flashing colors and blaring music of the pier.
Apart from a handful of isolated fires, the commotion from the previous night had mostly taken place in the northern section of the city, leaving the rest of Nimbasa intact. The Neon Pier itself was very much alive with crowds of people, some of whom were likely trying to shake off any sense of fear and worry they might’ve felt from watching the disastrous Master Bowl.
One fact about the lively amusement park that troubled Tristan was that there were no major roads that led into the park itself. Shuttle services did exist to help ferry tourists and park patrons along the pier, but having to rely on a predetermined travel schedule that could make many stops along the way worried Tristan that he might not make it in time to stop Bianca’s father from doing anything rash. He needed to get to the gym as fast as he could—faster than he could run or a bus could drive through thick crowds of people.
As he and Draya rode the elevator down from their hotel room—kept private with the help of a convincing illusion of a crowded cab—an idea came to him.
“Hey,” Tristan spoke up as the doors closed once again on another disappointed hotel guest. “How fast can you run?” he asked his Zoroark.
“Why?” Draya asked. She had a pleased grin on her face from deterring the various people from trying to board their private elevator ride, which shifted to sly curiosity at Tristan’s unexpected question. “I hope you aren’t planning on riding me all the way there.”
“No,” Tristan plucked one of the stored Poké Balls from his belt. “I’m asking if you can keep up.”
“Won’t that draw a bunch of attention to us—especially you, Mr. Hero?” Draya teased him.
“That’s the point. I need to be seen. I was called a ‘Hero’ by N last night; I can’t afford to be painted as some coward who hides away from the world.”
“Oh yeah?” Draya crept up close to her human companion and whispered into his ear. “You think you can handle that many people looking at you?”
Tristan smiled, bringing one of his hands to the side of her face, kissing her lovingly. “I’m not afraid; I made my stand against Team Plasma on live TV at the Master Bowl. What are a few more people on top of that?” He leaned forward and whispered back into her ear, “Besides, who could be afraid of anything after the night we had last night?”
His Zoroark grinned, saying nothing else.
The doors to the elevator chimed and opened to reveal the lobby of the hotel ahead of them.
Tristan tossed the Poké Ball in his hand.
“Let’s go!”
The effect was immediate—unsurprising, as the quiet and peaceful morning the citizens of Nimbasa had been thankful for was so suddenly disturbed.
The further they made their way through town, the more it looked like Tristan’s idea would work.
People were looking at him.
Draya had assumed her Serperior disguise and stuck close by, the bright green and yellow scales of her false image shimmering in the sunlight as it slithered down the road. She fit right in with the colorful buildings and decorations of the pier.
In contrast, the dark purple spots and pink shell of Cole the Scolipede drew people’s attention first to himself, and then up to the human riding on its back.
Just like he had ridden him to try and stop Team Plasma from reaching the Volcarona, Tristan sat atop his Scolipede as he galloped through the crowds of people.
“Please move aside!” Tristan yelled a warning ahead whenever a particularly thick crowd of people stood in his way. “Sorry, but this is an emergency!” he said as he passed on by.
The trainer and his Pokémon running through the amusement park with such determination reminded many of those who saw him of the young man they watched on television that night.
“Hey, watch it!”
“Some trainers these days, jeez…”
“Who was that?”
“Must’ve been in a hurry.”
“He said it was an emergency.”
“That guy at the Master Bowl who fought with Alder rode a Scolipede like that didn’t he?”
“You don’t think—?”
“No, he had to have fled town by now…”
“I don’t know; they had the same jacket.”
“What’s going on?”
“Is he the other hero?”
“Does that mean Reshiram is coming back?”
“That’s gotta be him.”
“Did he find his dragon too?”
“Want to go see what’s up?”
“Should we leave? What if another fight breaks out?”
“He’s fighting against Team Plasma, how bad can he be?”
“Who says Team Plasma are the bad guys?”
“Do you want to lose your Pokémon?”
As the gym drew closer, Tristan grinned. People began to notice him from further away and move out of his way ahead of time. It certainly made him feel heroic, arriving in such a grand fashion.
“Someone’s pleased,” he heard Draya say behind him. She gave him a sidelong smirk and continued running down the road, cloaked in her disguise.
The doors to Nimbasa Gym were open wide, welcoming any and all challengers that walked along the pier. Tristan urged Cole to continue on inside and through the lobby, startling staff and trainers alike at the sudden intrusion. He made his entrance to the battlefield standing on top of the Megapede Pokémon’s back.
“Bianca!”
Tristan’s voice carried throughout the large arena, stealing the attention of everyone in the room.
Bianca was standing behind the gym’s referee and a tall woman with blonde hair, her Musharna hovering behind her. Her face lit up with a wide smile, her eyes bright at the sight of her friend arriving.
The taller blonde woman—Tristan recognized her from the various posters and portraits throughout and outside of the gym—was Nimbasa City’s Electric type master, Elesa. An intimidating Zebstrika stood by her side.
Tristan could hear Bianca’s father, Richard, even before he had made his way into the auditorium of the gym. The energetic music Tristan had heard over the XTransceiver had been shut off, likely because of Bianca’s father not relenting in his demanding rant. He had turned around at Tristan’s obnoxious entrance and was now standing cross-armed and glaring towards him.
“Draya, you’re okay!” Bianca looked incredibly relieved, stepping to the side and greeting the new arrivals. “I didn’t see you in the videos, so I was afraid something terrible happened.”
The fake Serperior waved to the girl with her leafy tail.
“You be quiet, Bianca!” the large, balding man growled to his daughter. He looked back to Tristan and furrowed his brow. “So, you decided to come out of hiding?”
“Who’s hiding?” Tristan jumped down off of his Pokémon and stepped forward. “Just sleeping in. I heard you wanted to see me?”
“I want to knock you right through the wall is what I want to do!” Richard yelled. “I always knew you were a troublemaker; I told my little girl over and over again to stop hanging around you, but she kept disobeying me.” He stepped forward and matched Tristan’s approach, the two meeting in the center of the battlefield. “And every time she did, I let it slide. Your parents even talked me out of dragging Bianca back home right away because they swore you were going to look out for my daughter! Then what do I see?! You! On the damn TV almost getting yourself killed and my daughter nowhere in sight—thank the Alpha for that!”
“Dad, that wasn’t—”
“Shut up!” he snapped at his daughter. “I don’t care anymore! No daughter of mine is going to be out in the world alone while freaks like Team Plasma’s King are out there!” Richard looked back at Tristan, “Blame yourself for getting into this mess. She’s coming home with me. Today.”
Tristan sputtered with laughter, breaking his serious composure. He let a handful of stifled chuckles slip past before gathering himself again.
“No she’s not.” Tristan crossed his arms. A smug grin spread across his face, “And here I was thinking on the way over here that this would be difficult.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’ve seen real threats before, you know,” Tristan said. “I’ve seen much worse than you out there since I left home, and seeing you act like this helped me put to rest any doubts I had about standing up to you.”
“And just what do you think you’re going to do about it, little boy?”
“I’m going to fight you for her.”
“For me?!” Bianca asked.
“If I beat you,” Tristan continued, “You let Bianca do what she wants.” He looked away from the older man and asked the Gym Leader standing a few feet away. “Miss Elesa? Can I ask a favor?”
“And what would that be?” answered the Electric type trainer, her interest piqued.
“I’d like to borrow the battlefield.”
“Just who do you think you are, you little pissant?” growled Bianca’s father. “You think you have any right to interfere with my family?”
“Last night, I made a stand as the Hero of Ideals,” Tristan declared. “I know it sounds like something out of a fairytale, but N was right; I am the one who will stop him and Team Plasma from liberating Pokémon from humans. I have to stand in defense of all trainers and fight back against not just Team Plasma, but also people like you,” he jabbed Richard in the chest with his finger, “who think they know better than us.”
“Touch me again,” Richard leaned forward and lowered his voice, “and you’ll lose that finger.”
“That’s more than enough, thank you.” Elesa stepped forward and motioned for the two to separate. “Tristan Blake, the trainer who helped fight off that Volcarona last night…” The Gym Leader looked him over from head to toe, then at the two Pokémon behind him. “I’m afraid I cannot honor your request.”
“But—”
“However,” she held up a finger to halt his protest. “Might I offer another solution?”
Tristan was surprised by her willingness to help resolve the situation. “Please. Anything to help my friend.”
“Now then,” she turned to the heavy-set man. “Mr. Una, or Richard if you prefer, I will inform you of something you are seemingly not aware of. As I mentioned when you first barged your way in here, I do not appreciate being interrupted—especially in the middle of my matches—but something I absolutely cannot stand are adults suffocating the dreams of children. I propose—”
“Like I care about what some airhead like you thinks—”
“Mr. Una,” Elesa snapped her fingers, signaling to her Zebstrika. The Thunderbolt Pokémon sparked brightly beside her, silencing the loudmouthed man. “I do not like being interrupted. May I finish?”
“F-f-fine.”
“I propose that Bianca and I proceed with our battle, but I will allow yourself and Tristan to join in, making it a double battle,” Elesa explained. “She and I were left with just one Pokémon remaining, so the two of you would each be allowed one as well. You and I shall be on the same team, Mr. Una.”
“What good will that do?” asked Richard. “What makes you think I’ll buy into your little game?”
“Think of it as a chance to prove your point to young Tristan here,” Elesa offered, looking to the trainer. “You see, Tristan, the flaw in your admittedly valiant suggestion to fight for your friend’s freedom does nothing to strengthen her position in her father’s mind. It would not be because of her power that she moves forward, but because of someone else doing the work for her. And you,” she turned back to Bianca’s father, “will prove that you are right with your actions rather than words.”
“I get it,” Tristan said. “You’re right. Sorry Bianca,” he said to his friend.
“Oh, it’s okay. I l-liked that you came here willing to fight for me,” Bianca said bashfully. “I called for you, after all.”
“That’s enough out of you two,” Richard barked. “As for you, Leader Elesa, I’d love nothing more than to beat his smug little face into the dirt, so I’ll take you up on your offer. We’ll beat these kids right here and I’ll be on my way with my little girl.” He reached into the pocket of his jacket, revealing a plain Poké Ball. “I thought you hated it when us adults went against kids?”
“When there is an unfair advantage, it is disgraceful for one to take it,” Elesa said, not talking just to Bianca’s father. “If we level the playing field, we can finally begin to act as equals.”
“Whatever.”
“One more thing about our battle before we commence,” Elesa said, to everyone present. “One of the original rules agreed upon for the match between Bianca and myself was that it had a strict time limit of twelve minutes.”
Tristan could follow where this was going.
“There were three minutes and eighteen seconds remaining in our battle, and that will not be amended.”
“Oh no,” Bianca said. “I guess I shouldn’t have taken it slow…”
“This’ll take less than that.” Bianca’s father tossed his Poké Ball into the air, releasing a heavy, furred creature. Landing onto the battlefield with an audible thud, it growled at Tristan when it saw him, its teeth barely visible from beneath its hairy jowls. “We’ll take care of this, won’t we Brutus?”
“Oh, why’d you have to bring him?” Bianca whined.
“That Stoutland never did like me,” Tristan said, shaking his head.
“Because he has a good judge of character, just like me,” Richard said, proudly. “You’ll like this guy, Miss Leader. He’s a real fighter.”
“Let’s hope you two don’t disappoint. Especially you, young Hero. Can you win despite these odds stacked against you?” Elesa turned and walked toward the defender’s side of the arena, her Zebstrika following in her footsteps.
Tristan and Bianca began to walk toward their own side of the battlefield, the latter clearly nervous about the outcome of the battle.
“Oh god, what if we don’t win?” she asked. “How am I gonna help you beat Team Plasma if I’m stuck at home?”
“We’ll win,” Tristan assured her. Beckoned his two Pokémon over as he and Bianca took their side of the battleground. “So, who wants in?”
“Who do you think?” Draya asked, sure to keep her voice low enough to avoid any unwanted attention. She slithered around Tristan’s neck, sticking out her forked tongue. “I haven’t fought much since I evolved, you know.”
“That settles it, then.” Tristan recalled Cole into his ball and looked over to Bianca. “How’d the rest of the match go for you?”
“Well, I thought it was going okay. Her Pokémon kept trading places with this one move, but now we don’t have to worry about that!” she smiled, thankful for something in her dire situation. Her Musharna floated close by and whined, trying to tell her something. “Oh, look out for my Dad’s—”
“Hey, no help little missy!” Richard yelled from across the field. “Don’t make me come over there!”
“Oh fine!” Bianca stamped her foot. “Ready Tristan?”
He nodded, then looked to his disguised Zoroark. “Make it look good,” he told her.
“Always do.”
[“Attention: the Unova League Gym Battle between Bianca Una and Gym Leader Elesa will now resume as a Double Battle!”] the referee announced over the loudspeaker. [“Joining the Defender; Richard Una and his Stoutland. Joining the Challenger; Tristan Blake and his Serperior. The time limit of the match will resume, in three… two… one…!”]
The loud, energetic music that Tristan had heard while talking to Bianca earlier that morning began playing once again, signaling the start of the match.
“Burn ‘em, Brutus!” Richard yelled. His Stoutland took off running toward the challenger’s side of the ring, a burning mouth full of fire, and an obvious target.
Draya puppeteered her Serperior-form around the battlefield, slithering back and forth toward the advancing Pokémon. She attempted to swipe her long tail at Richard’s Pokémon, but Elesa’s Zebstrika came charging in from her left, also utilizing a Fire type technique to take down what they assumed was a Grass type opponent. Afraid of being struck and losing her illusory cover, Draya turned away and retreated, both attacks missing her.
“When opportunity strikes, take care not to miss,” Elesa said.
“Don’t encourage them,” Richard complained.
“It’s my job to challenge as well as teach young trainers, Mr. Una.”
Tristan gritted his teeth, frustrated at the exchange he saw.
“Bianca, what’s wrong?” he asked. “Our Pokémon should have gone in together.”
“I’d rather not get burnt to a crisp alone, at least.” Draya said, quietly.
“I’m sorry! Moony isn’t used to battling with more than one opponent. She can’t focus!” Bianca looked up to her Pokémon, who swayed uneasily in the air, clearly confused by something. “If Moony can’t concentrate, she can’t pick out a target.”
“Well, what can we do?” he asked. “We have a time limit.”
“I know, I know!” Bianca shut her eyes tight, trying to think of anything they could do. “Tristan… I have an idea,” Bianca said, unsure of herself. She opened her eyes, “It could even end this in a second.”
“What is it? Let’s do it!”
“Just… Draya might get hurt…” Bianca struggled to get her words out. “I… I want to… win, but not like that…”
“What’s your idea?” Tristan asked. “Maybe we can still make it work.” Bianca quietly told him what she had planned, and all the worry that he had about her plan fell away in an instant.
“Don’t you worry, Bianca,” Tristan said. “Draya will be fine. Completely.”
“H-How?”
“I’ll tell you about it later, okay?”
“Come on, where’s that smug attitude of yours now, Tristan?” Richard called over to him. “You think you have time to chitchat all day? Clock’s ticking!”
“Draya, you think you can make this happen?” Tristan asked.
“Oh yeah,” she nodded. “I think they’ll fall for it.”
“Fall for it?” Bianca asked.
“Alright!” Tristan yelled. “Draya, you know what to do!”
Draya sprung forward and slithered forward over the battlefield, bearing down on the two opponents. Bianca’s Pokémon began to float forward as well, staying in the air and glowing in a soft blue light.
“If that snake can dodge fire, let’s try electricity!” Richard yelled.
Brutus the Stoutland chomped at the air, sparks shooting off in random directions at each bite. He lunged at Draya, snapping at nothing as she dodged and avoided his strikes.
Elesa’s Zebstrika bristled with energy and began charging as well, trying to kick at the long body of the fake Serperior.
Draya lunged at her opponent, wrapped around the Zebstrika’s neck, and pulled it down to the ground, constricting its movements. The two ensnared Pokémon became a vulnerable target for Richard’s Stoutland to attack, and he leapt to attack Draya’s body, but wound up snagged as well by her tail. She strung the three of them together into a single mass of struggling bodies.
“Moony! Now!”
Bianca’s voice carried over the music pounding in the auditorium and to her Pokémon who had been gathering strength for its attack. Tiny flecks of rubble from the battlefield began lifting up into the air from all around the gym floor. Suspended in psychic energy, they began to converge on the three Pokémon below in rapid succession.
“Psyshock!”
Zebstrika, Stoutland, and Serperior alike writhed in pain at the relentless assault of tiny pellets of dirt. Elesa’s Pokémon tried to loosen the grip the Serperior’s body had on its own by shocking it with all its might, but only served to damage the Stoutland along with the psychic barrage.
“Escape, you two!” Richard yelled. “What are you doing?!”
“Enough!” Elesa called, raising an arm. “The defenders concede!”
The referee nodded, shutting off the music and announcing over the speaker system, [“This match is over! The challengers, Bianca Una and Tristan Blake are the winners!”]
“Yes!” Bianca jumped into the air in celebration, landing on her feet uneasily. Before she lost her balance entirely, Tristan was there to catch her. “We did it!” she said, laughing in relief. “I can’t believe it.”
Tristan steadied her on her feet, leaving a hand on her shoulder. “See? I told you we’d win.”
“You did. Thank you, Tristan. ” Bianca leaned forward and kissed him, but pulled back almost immediately. “Oh god! I didn’t just do that! I’m sorry— I just… I’m so happy, and—”
“Hey,” Tristan said, catching her attention. “It’s okay. I know.”
“Wha— You do?”
“I’ve known for a while. Sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?” she asked.
“If he should apologize to anyone, it should be to his own Pokémon!” Elesa yelled as she walked toward the two teenagers. “What a disgraceful performance out of you, Mr. Blake.” Elesa shook her head. “I suppose I misread you.”
“What do you mean, Miss Leader?” Tristan asked, already smiling.
“You used your own Pokémon as nothing more than a tool to help your partner deal considerable damage to your opponents, even going as far as making your Pokémon stay in the line of fire.” She crossed her arms. “Had I not ended the match when I did who knows what could’ve—”
Just then, a green, leafy tail tapped the tall woman on the shoulder. When Elesa turned around she was met by the smug face of the very Pokémon she had thought to have been left unconscious on the gym floor. Draya stuck out her forked tongue at the Gym Leader and slithered over to Tristan’s side.
“You were saying?” Tristan asked. “I think Draya’s doing just fine.”
“What in the name of—” Elesa stared at the sight, then back to where the Serperior had just been. “I see I misread you more than I had thought.” She waved to the referee, who nodded in response. They came over to the group of trainers carrying a small hinged case. “Sorry, I’ll have to get another one of these for you, but this originally was your battle, Ms. Una. You have won this Bolt Badge.”
“Oh, thank you!” She looked up to the Gym Leader and smiled, but her face fell when the heavy footsteps of her father joined them on from the other side of the field. Bianca snatched the badge from the open case the referee held and gripped it tightly in her hand.
“I—” She started, swallowing hard. “I beat you! We both did!”
“I know you did, Bianca.” Her father’s voice was much quieter than it had been earlier. “That thing,” Richard said, pointing to the floating Musharna, “you trained that yourself?”
“I did. I saved it from being killed by Team Plasma. I want to save even more Pokémon from them, but I can’t do that if I’m stuck at the house.”
“I get it,” he said. “The thought of those Pokémon being hurt make you angry?”
“Yes.” Bianca stood her ground proudly.
“That’s how I feel every day, Bianca.” He looked down at the plain Poké Ball in his hand. “But, I was wrong. You’re not out there on your own. You’ve done alright so far with your Pokémon.”
“I also have my friends,” she said. “Tristan, Cheren, Iris, Miss Fennel, even if they’re not with me every day, they’re always there for me if I need help.”
“Then, how do you feel about me being there for you too?” He asked, almost asking for forgiveness. Richard held out the Poké Ball to her, “Will you take Brutus along with you? He’ll take care of you when I can’t.”
“Are you sure?” Bianca asked. “He’s been yours all this time.”
“It’d help put me at ease a little bit more,” he said. He pointed his finger back and forth between his daughter and Tristan. “Plus he’ll keep the two of you from getting too close.”
“Dad!” she hushed. “That’s not what—”
“Whatever that was,” Bianca’s father continued, “please, just take him with you. I know you’ll take good care of him.”
“A-Alright.” Bianca took the ball from him, holding it to her chest. “Welcome to the team, Brutus.”
“Pardon me, Tristan,” Elesa said quietly. “There’s something I’d like to speak with you about. If you would,” she beckoned him to follow her and began walking off of the battlefield.
He complied, asking Draya to stay behind with Bianca.
“Popular today, aren’t we?” Draya teased.
“And you’re relentless,” Tristan tossed back. “Bianca, we’ll talk in a little bit, okay?”
“Y-Yeah. Okay…” she seemed to remember the note they had been interrupted on. “I’ll be here.”
—————
Tristan followed the Gym Leader out of the auditorium and into a quiet office, much like the one Burgh had at his gym in Castelia City. Once the door had been shut, Elesa whipped around to face him with surprising speed.
“I know where Zekrom is,” she told him. Her face looked desperate and pleading, as if she had been fighting to keep herself from blurting out that information too soon.
Caught off guard by the sudden declaration, words completely failed him.
“I really do—or at least, I really think I do. And I’ll tell you if you’ll do something for me,” Elesa’s composure was falling back into place, becoming more like her persona that had been out on the battlefield. “It’s remarkably simple, for what I can give you.”
“What could you gain from holding onto that kind of information?” asked Tristan finally.
“Absolutely nothing,” she conceded. Elesa walked over to the desk on the opposite side of the office and sat on top of it, crossing her arms. “I might be a Gym Leader and a model, but above all else, I love Electric type Pokémon. Team Plasma… is trying to take away something I love. I know it’s the same for trainers all over Unova. It’s incredibly important you stop their plans as soon as possible.”
“Then why not just tell me what you know?”
“Because,” she smiled sheepishly, “I am, if anything, just a little bit selfish. It’s a personal favor I’d ask of you, if you must know.”
“Sorry, but I already know where to find Zekrom,” Tristan said.
“A bold claim, young man. I doubt you’ve done as much research as I have—”
Tristan said aloud where he thought Zekrom’s weakened form likely laid in wait. He explained that he didn’t know for sure—he would have to go there first to find out—but he had thought on the topic ever since N spoke of what occurred whenever one of the dragons of legend dies. Reshiram may not have been the cause of the unnatural glass formations deep in the underground castle, but Tristan assumed it was because Reshiram had died of old age rather than wounds sustained in battle.
N had said that when the dragons release their remaining energy, it leaves an incredible impact on the world around them. Only one place made sense.
“You’re… absolutely right.” Elesa was struck by how Tristan spoke of the place, as if he had known of it and its ties to the Deep Black Pokémon all along.
“It just feels right,” Tristan said. “I think I know exactly how N felt when his research led him to that castle in the sand. Zekrom has to be there.”
“I agree.” Elesa looked disappointed, her coveted information having been found out before she could tell it. “I’ve always admired the thought of Zekrom. The stories behind it drew me to train Electric Pokémon all those years ago… I felt a connection to them, and through them, a connection to Zekrom itself. I hoped one day to go searching that dragon myself, but I never found the time. I… envy you a bit, I suppose.”
“What do you mean?”
“To see someone else live out a dream you hold dear to yourself,” she explained. “It’s a bit painful.”
“Well, even if this isn’t my dream—these dragons,” Tristan sighed. “I can’t say I’d want anyone to take my place. I have to be the one to do this. If I hadn’t helped N get his hands on Reshiram—”
“Don’t do that,” Elesa warned. “Don’t even try and defend that kind of thinking. Regrets about the past won’t help you now or ever, you understand.”
“That’s not—” Tristan started, but he ran out of words. He knew N’s stance on humanity and Pokémon living together, and he helped him anyway. Tristan knew that N would have found Reshiram one day, with or without him. He nodded, accepting Elesa’s words.
“Now,” she began, more upbeat. “If I could, might I impose on you with my request? It really is just something small.”
“What is it?” he asked, curious about what it could be.
Even without the location of Zekrom’s slumbering form to help her, the Gym Leader was determined to see her wish fulfilled.
“I,” Elesa’s voice faltered a bit. “I want to see Zekrom. I’ve always wanted to just… see it with my own eyes. Not on television, not in a book, but so close I could reach out and touch it,” she extended her arm out toward Tristan, leaving her hand open in the air. “It’s what put me on the path I’ve walked all my life. Until last night, I didn’t ever think I would ever see it in my lifetime. But Reshiram lives and breathes in this very moment. Zekrom must be anxious in its sleep, don’t you think?”
“You’re right. I bet he’s just itching to wake up.”
“Will you let me see him?”
“Sure, why not?” Tristan said. “Once I wake him up, you’ll be the first to see him.”
“Thank you,” Elesa smiled. “You have no idea what that means for me.”
“In exchange though…”
“Oh? Now who’s being selfish?”
“I’m not,” Tristan defended. “I just think I might need some help after I get Zekrom.”
“With what?”
“I want to show him off to the world.”
“Ambitious, I like that.” Elesa waved for him to leave the office. “Go and fetch me my dream, and then we’ll talk.”
—————
To Be Continued…
—————
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- 17
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Vines of Deceit