Archive of Our Own

Rock is reliable. 

It is sturdy and stubborn, much like Kuramochi Youichi.

Youichi has always been fascinated by the ways in which history can be told through stone; as a little kid, he would spend hours exploring the outskirts of the Rusturf Tunnel with his older brother looking for mysterious objects embedded in the sediment. When Youichi's brother grew old enough to start training Pokémon on his own, these excursions became less frequent. Then, the Rusturf Tunnel collapsed, and Youichi was banned from going to his favorite exploration spot by his parents. So, stubborn Youichi would find different adventures for himself while he waited for the opportunity to catch up to his brother. Often, he would dig around in his backyard with their family pet, a docile Mightyena named Pochi, but more often he would sneak off to look at the fossils in the Rustboro Gym a few blocks over. His brother would always end up having to wrangle Youichi from the gym when it was time for dinner, often resorting to wrestling tactics to pry Youichi away from the fossil displays.

Kuramochi Tatsuya has always been the immovable rock in Youichi's life. Two years Youichi's senior, he's strong and dependable. He has an uncanny ability for telling when Youichi has found trouble, always coming to his rescue before things turn bad. Tatsuya even helps Youichi capture his very first Pokémon–a Geodude they encountered on a small trail outside of the city while they were walking Pochi. Soon after, Youichi joins Tatsuya at the Rustboro training school and begins learning about the complexities of Pokémon battles. To Youichi's great frustration, he hasn't been able to shake his brother's reputation. Throughout his time at the training school, the nickname Little Kuramochi (he's not that little, dammit!) follows him like a curse, as well as the high expectations to perform just as well as Tatsuya. Often he finds himself distracted, thoughts always wandering instead to his favorite exploring spots. Youichi's lesson notebooks are filled more with doodles of places and Pokémon than moveset compatibilities and type matching. But he quickly finds that he learns better by doing, anyway.

Although Youichi is never quite able to live up to his brother's reputation, he still does well enough at the training school, thanks to his impressive instinct and indomitable fighting spirit. He shapes himself into a formidable opponent, though he can never seem to topple his unwavering brother. Having outgrown wrestling each other (for the most part), the brothers instead settle their differences through Pokémon battles. 

Both of the Kuramochi brothers' talents earn them recommendations by their teachers at the training school to work at the Rustboro Gym. So, after their lessons, Youichi and Tatsuya go to the gym to referee, clean up after matches, and learn more about the intricacies of battling as a rock-type specialist. Kataoka Tesshin, the gym leader, is serious and strict, but Youichi learns a lot from observing his fighting style so closely. Kataoka has been a significant mentor throughout Youichi's life; living so close to the Rustboro Gym, Youichi would often find himself curiously wandering the gym's grandiose entrance hall–which is also a museum of sorts–long before he started working there. When time allowed him to, Kataoka would patiently teach young Youichi about the fossils that line the walls. Youichi would spend hours memorizing every little detail of these fossils and would then sprint home to draw them before they left his mind. He'd let his imagination run wild, creating crayon drawings of what these Pokémon may have looked like when they roamed the earth. Young Youichi even gave a few of these drawings to Kataoka, who, despite having a stony exterior, deeply cherished these drawings. 

When Youichi graduated from training school, Kataoka entrusted him with something very important: a living, breathing Aerodactyl. It had been resurrected by Devon researchers with a small sample of fossil DNA. Youichi had admired the imposingly majestic wingspan in a well-preserved fossil of this very same Pokémon throughout his entire childhood. He never imagined that he would be able to see one of these rare fossil Pokémon with his own eyes–let alone work alongside it! This gift signifies that Kataoka has acknowledged Youichi's potential as a trainer worthy of working with this ferocious creature. Without hesitation, Youichi accepts the arduous challenge of working alongside this Pokémon while growing as a trainer. Despite learning from the master of rock-solid defense, Youichi has always preferred techniques that value speed. Aerodactyl allows him to hone this aggressive fighting style while staying true to his rock-type foundation. His new companion is surprisingly docile, patiently awaiting Youichi's commands with unmeasurable wisdom and patience in its slate-gray eyes. However, in the heat of battle, the unbridled ferocity that Aerodactyl unleashes toward its opponents never fails to take Youichi's breath away.

Then, not long after Youichi turns fifteen, Kataoka selects the ever-reliable Kuramochi Tatsuya to succeed him as the leader of the Rustboro Gym. Even though he is disappointed, Youichi remains at the gym full-time underneath his brother, a mere shadow cast by the mighty mountain. Not knowing what else to do with himself, Youichi works as a trainer in the gym, acting as a sentry for his older brother, holder of the Stone Badge. However, the lingering disappointment of not being worthy of this spot festers within Youichi, causing him to act up often during his teen years. He is rash and short-tempered, lashing out at any provocation. The other gym trainers quickly learn that if they piss Youichi off, they piss their boss off too, because Tatsuya's always the one who has to defuse his little brother. As a result, the other trainers tend to avoid Youichi to save themselves from their boss’s wrath. Eventually, Youichi convinces himself that he’s better off as a loner, because he can never seem to be able to really connect with people.

Now well into his early twenties, Youichi’s daily routine has been carved into his bones. Recently, however, it has been much harder for Youichi to get up in the mornings and make his way to work. After being corralled by his insistent Mightyena, he finally ambles into the Rustboro Gym with a large yawn, his hands stuffed into his pockets. The weather is unusually gloomy and dark for early May, which makes Youichi feel even more sluggish–like he's been hit by a mud-slap that bogged his limbs down with clay and sediment. He grabs his trainer's belt from his designated cubby, slinging it over his shoulder and heading to the break room for a coffee, as has been his morning routine for years. While he waits for the ancient coffee machine to sputter out a sufficient amount of caffeinated liquid, Youichi examines the Pokéballs on his belt. Tatsuya provides his trainers with a specially-tailored party that matches the difficulty level of the gym. Seeing as the Rustboro Gym is the first in the Hoenn circuit, Youichi ends up spending much more time than he would like with these three lower-leveled Geodudes, which have movesets similar to the basic tutorials that the training school used. Some days, when Youichi is challenged by a bright-eyed kid who's just starting their Pokémon journey, he'll take it easy to help build their confidence. Other days, he welcomes the special challenge of kicking some smarmy teen's ass with just a puny Geodude. However, Youichi misses being able to battle freely with his real partners– Aerodactyl, Graveler, and Metang. 

By sheer willpower, Youichi manages to slog through this day, which is just as predictable as every other day in this curated space. Now that he's actually covered in dirt and grime from battling and the subsequent cleanup, Youichi feels even more exhausted. Tatsuya glances curiously at Youichi as he shuffles out of the gym, but mercifully doesn't say anything. Though Youichi knows what he's probably thinking:

If doing something as simple as this is tiring, then what does that say about your ability as a trainer?

He scoffs at the thought as he walks home, kicking a pebble on the road and watching it skitter into a bush. A startled Taillow bursts from the shrub with a shriek and flies away, leaving a mess of broken twigs and feathers in its wake. This sours Youichi's mood even more, because he's now a miserable asshole who disturbs innocent Pokémon. 

It isn't until a few days later–on his 22nd birthday, to be exact–that Youichi really understands why he's been feeling so strange lately. At this milestone in his life, he is finally forced to acknowledge how stagnant his existence is. He's been working as a trainer underneath Tatsuya for seven years–and has been at the gym for even longer. Youichi hasn't been able to challenge himself in this space, and his growth has been effectively stifled as a result. Incidentally, because Youichi spends all of his time either at the gym or doing something for the gym, he never really made any real friends outside of work. He's friendly with the other trainers, but a clear rift exists between them. Most of them are wary of Youichi, which is partially due to his own tactlessness and bad attitude as a teenager. 

Another painful thought slaps Youichi in the face: Tatsuya is only two years older than Youichi, but he is much, much more accomplished. He has this gym, along with respect from trainers and civilians alike throughout the region. As Youichi struggles to blow out all twenty-two candles on his cake, he realizes just how little he has to show for all these years.

When his family finally finishes embarrassing him with baby stories, as is a yearly birthday tradition, Youichi grabs the Pokéball he wants from his bag and slinks out the back door. He can feel Tatsuya's intense gaze burning into his back as he leaves, which only makes Youichi want to get away faster. Youichi takes a deep breath as he steps onto the spongy grass of his family home's backyard, enjoying the sweet, earthy scent of the late-spring air. Then, he lobs his Pokéball into the air, greeting Aerodactyl with a lopsided grin. The gentle giant nuzzles its head into the palm of Youichi's outstretched hand, emitting a small, contented rumble. Its perceptive eyes study Youichi's face closely, picking up on the tightness in his expression in the hazy early-evening light. It snorts lightly, indicating that it understands his turmoil. 

"Let's go," Youichi murmurs, and Aerodactyl dutifully lowers its wings to accommodate him.

As they ascend, Youichi takes a few moments to clear his mind before he re-examines his painful realization. During this time, he focuses on just how much he enjoys flying freely in the sky like this, watching the bustling activity on the familiar cobblestone streets below him as the wind hits his face. They fly over the stone-clad walls of the Rustboro Gym, which towers proudly over the surrounding buildings. Youichi sees his brother’s back, a mountain that always seemed impossible to surpass. But from up here, it doesn’t seem so daunting to climb.

Youichi accepts that he wants more out of his life than what he has right now–most importantly, he refuses to let himself be overshadowed by his brother any longer. He's going to challenge the Pokémon League and make a name for himself by beating the reigning champion, the shrewd steel-type trainer Chris. Beating this incredible, world-renowned trainer will finally set Youichi apart from Tatsuya once and for all.

Aerodactyl seems to sense Youichi's change in heart, beating its powerful wings with more force and propelling them higher into the sky. They break through a misty layer of clouds, the condensation refreshing against Youichi's skin. Then, he drinks in the breathtaking view of the twinkling lights of the city far below, surrounded by spans of forest. In the distance, he can just make out the silhouette of the large mountain range that separates Rustboro from Verdanturf. Further back, the rocky cliffs of Meteor Falls starkly contrast with the lush foliage of the surrounding area, but they are still breathtaking in their own right.

Youichi tightens his grip, finding comfort in the warm, leathery texture of Aerodactyl's skin. He doesn't doubt his companion for a moment, having complete faith that Aerodactyl will keep him safe as they soar swiftly through the clear blue skies.

Suddenly, they dip downward. 

As they gain even more speed, an exhilarated laugh bubbles from Youichi's lips, which blends in with the howling wind. They barely skim the tops of the coniferous trees that surround the suburbs of Rustboro, garnering curious stares from the surrounding people and Pokémon. When Aerodactyl finally touches down in the spacious backyard of the Kuramochi residence, Youichi's entire body thrums with adrenaline. He gently rubs the rough, scaly patch on Aerodactyl's muzzle, silently thanking his friend for helping him solidify his resolve.

The next morning, Youichi gets ready for work with more purpose. Tatsuya always leaves much earlier to do paperwork, so Youichi takes advantage of his brother's absence in their home to really fire himself up. Before he leaves, Youichi triple-checks his bag, making sure the Pokéballs with his trusted companions are exactly where they should be.

Youichi arrives at the gym earlier than usual, allowing enough time for him to catch his brother before he assumes his post at the leader's ring. He bursts into Tatsuya's small office brazenly, staring down his older brother with a fiery gaze. 

“Fight me.”

Not long after Miyuki Kazuya's eighth birthday, he suddenly starts to see a small flicker of light in his periphery. This warm red glow follows him constantly, but, to his great frustration, he can't seem to pinpoint its source. Eventually, Kazuya brings this up to his parents, who immediately make him an appointment with his doctor.

It turns out Kazuya needs glasses.

With his world now in crisp focus and no strange light in sight, Kazuya feels compelled to explore as much as he can. He's long grown tired of the familiar hallways of the family business and itches to explore the wide world that lies just beyond it.

Miyuki Steel stands proudly in its dusty alcove just on the outskirts of Meteor Falls. Even though it is far from the region's busiest metropolises, its strategic location allows for easy travel throughout the rest of Hoenn. The mill always buzzes with activity, people and Pokémon constantly coming and going. Kazuya's father patiently teaches him about the inner workings of the steel mill from a very early age, with the expectation that one day Kazuya will take over it's operation. He shows Kazuya the importance of respect and teamwork, which is especially important with such a diverse team of people and Pokémon. Kazuya finds that he is much better at communicating with Pokémon than with people, quickly befriending the gentle Torkoal that amble around the iron furnaces.

The heavy expectation of taking over the business always nags at Kazuya's mind. He enjoys interacting with the Pokémon, but Kazuya hates being in the boiling-hot building for too long. The smell of soot and charcoal is oppressive, so Kazuya often sneaks off to explore the surrounding areas. He collects stones and berries and anything else that he finds interesting on his journey. He always starts at his favorite spot on the mill grounds: the blast furnace. Kazuya isn’t allowed inside without his father’s supervision since it is so dangerous, but he enjoys exploring outside of it because it is at the highest point on their expanse of land.

From this vantage point, Kazuya can see the lights of Rustboro City twinkling in the distance straight ahead. If he turns to the right, he sees the jagged edges of the cliff that hangs over the glittering ocean. Now that he has glasses, Kazuya can make out the faint specks on the ocean's surface where Feebas and Magikarp breach the water. He longs to skim his hands along the water's surface, to feel the cool fluid pass through his fingers. A majestic verdant mountain range spans the other border of the mill grounds. The mountain forest is Kazuya's favorite place to go, because he feels protected wandering among the shadows that the trees create. Though his parents often chastise him, imparting stern warnings of how dangerous it is to be in such a place on his own, these harsh words don't deter brave Kazuya in the slightest. He constantly devises new ways to sneak around the watchful eye of their family Umbreon, but Kazuya's mom always ends up tracking him down, having the uncanny ability of knowing just where his whims have taken him that day. As they walk home hand-in-hand, she'll point out interesting things to Kazuya about the things they see on the trail. After Kazuya scrubs away all of the grime and dirt from his adventure, his mom always has a warm cup of chamomile tea and a plate of his favorite cinnamon sugar cookies ready for him. Then, they curl up on the couch and watch TV until the chamomile tea settles like molasses in his veins. Flanked by the steady breathing of Umbreon and the comforting warmth of his mother, Kazuya falls asleep before the end of their show. When he wakes up, he's in his father's strong arms, being carried off to bed.

One evening, Kazuya and his mom happen upon a televised battle between the Hoenn champion and a world-renowned elite trainer. The match is incredible to watch; the young champion, Takigawa Chris Yuu, has a calculating, yet fierce aura. His Pokémon clearly respect him, and he thoughtfully treats them with the same regard. As the son of a steel mill operator, Kazuya also feels a special bond with Chris, a steel-type trainer.

Instead of falling asleep with his arms wrapped around Umbreon like he usually does at this time, Kazuya ends up with his face practically pressed against the TV screen. The competitive fire that quietly blazes in the champion's eyes as he scrutinizes his opponent makes Kazuya gape in awe. As he continues to watch these matches, Kazuya realizes that he wants to challenge Takigawa Chris Yuu one day–he wants to forge himself into a trainer worthy of facing such a formidable opponent. Now, if Kazuya isn't sneaking off to his favorite spot in the mountains, he's watching battle tournaments on the television. He analyzes fighting styles, type compatibilities, and all of the other intricacies of Pokémon battles. Watching these battles stokes a deep-seated competitive fervor within Kazuya. In Hoenn, once you turn ten, you are officially allowed to begin the Pokémon League challenge. Even though he doesn’t have partners of his own yet, Kazuya hopes that he can soon take on this challenge. He anxiously counts down the days to his next birthday, determined to set out on his journey to beat Chris in earnest. He spends even more time sneaking off into the mountains to observe the Pokémon that hide in the trees until his mother and Umbreon track him down and bring him back home. A small, familiar splotch of light flits in the periphery of Kazuya's vision once again, but when he mentions it to his mother, she tells him that it must be from all of the time he spends staring at the TV screen.

One day, not too long before he plans to sneak off to the mountains, Kazuya’s mom invites him to accompany her to Verdanturf Town. They decide to take the long way, which requires going through the Rusturf Tunnel. Kazuya immediately lights up at the prospect of exploring the tunnel with his mom and prepares for the journey. Thanks to Kazuya’s excitement, they make it to the tunnel in record time, though he's chastised quite a bit along the way for wandering off. The jagged stones on the cave’s exterior shimmer from the small flecks of metal embedded in them. Kazuya runs his hand over the rough surface, amazed at the way it feels on his palm. It almost reminds him of the feeling of the rough calluses on his father’s work-hardened hands. Kazuya drinks in all of the novel sights and sounds as they enter the tunnel. The flickering light from the lamps that hang from the walls illuminates his mother’s gentle smile. 

Then, the ground begins to tremble and quake. A shower of pebbles and grit falls from above, the final warning before larger chunks of rock begin to fall. Kazuya’s heart leaps into his throat, and his first instinct is to seek out his mom. They link hands and make haste for the exit, dodging debris along the way. A boulder falls directly in their path, forcing Kazuya to let go of his mother's hand to dodge it. The next moments go by so fast that Kazuya can't process them: the last thing he sees is his mother's face set with determination before she pushes Kazuya out of the tunnel. He tumbles to the ground outside, scraping his knees painfully on the uneven stone. The sound of falling rock echoes in his ears, and jagged shards of stone and sediment shower over him.

When Kazuya dares to open his eyes, a familiar blood-red light shines directly in front of him. It’s the same kind he sees in the corners of his vision, except now he can see that the eerie red glow comes from the hollowed recesses of a floating skull’s eye sockets. When he blinks, the thing is gone. With the image of that skull burned into his mind, fear pools in Kazuya’s stomach like tar. He shouts and shouts and shouts for his mom until his throat goes dry and his head feels like it's splitting in half, but no one answers.

Rescue crews eventually make their way to the rubble of what used to be the Rusturf Tunnel and begin scouring the area. A Pokémon Ranger mutters a surprised curse when he finds young Kazuya, trembling beneath a pile of sediment. “My name's Jun. Can you tell me your name, kid?” 

“K-Kazuya,” he rasps as the man carefully removes him from the rubble with confident, reassuring movements.

The last thing Kazuya sees before he loses consciousness is his rescuer's reassuring smile as he says “You're safe now.”

*

The stiff fabric of Kazuya's suit constantly brushes against the scrapes on his knees as he stands vigil beside his father. The rest of his body grows numb and heavy as they greet the people who have come to pay their respects. Kazuya keeps his head down, eyes trained on his throbbing knees. Eventually, he feels a gentle hand land on his shoulder. He immediately recognizes the fierce, yet kind eyes of this man–the Ranger who brought him to safety that day.

“You have a bright future ahead of you, kid. Don't give up on your dreams.” The man grabs Kazuya's hand and presses a piece of paper into it. His hands are rough and warm. “If ya ever need anything, give me a call, okay? The name's Isashiki Jun.” Kazuya clutches the paper with Jun-san’s contact information tightly in his hand for the rest of the evening. When he finally returns home, he tucks the paper beneath the stack of books on Pokémon types on his bedroom floor.

Kazuya and his father mourn quietly, but profoundly. 

When Kazuya turns ten, he crumbles up his dream to be a Pokémon trainer into a tiny ball and throws it into the darkest recess of his aching heart. Instead of sneaking out to explore the mountains, he begins working in earnest to support his father. He's still too young to work in the steel mill proper, but Kazuya runs errands and deliveries, accompanied by their reliable Umbreon. He also tries to fill in the gaps left behind in their household; Toku can't cook, but ever-observant Kazuya has learned enough to try to take over what his mother had always prided herself on. Instead of spending the evenings curled up on the couch watching television, Kazuya now sits alone at their much-too-big dining room table, cradling a cup of too-hot chamomile tea, and trying not to think about how he had almost burned his hands trying to make it for himself. Then, one evening, Kazuya’s dad takes the chair next to Kazuya and sets down a fresh mug of tea with a soft, tentative smile. Kazuya takes a sip, and the sweet chamomile tea doesn’t burn his tongue. Slowly, the father and son begin to open up to each other more, sharing these quiet moments together. They start to fill the silence with meaningful conversation. 

One day, Kazuya picks up a parcel for his father from a friend who lives close to the small stretch of seashore where the Dewford Ferry is docked. Intrigued by the ocean, Kazuya makes a detour to the beach, amazed by the pristine white sand and the seemingly-infinite stretch of deep blue waves. As he kicks through the sand, he encounters a small, strange-looking Cubone. Its jet-black fur has a silvery sheen from the sunlight, and its skull helmet doesn’t quite fit on its small head, tilting a bit to the side. Absently, Kazuya raises a hand to touch the frame of his too-big glasses, feeling something heavy settle in his chest as he does so. Curious, Kazuya pulls out the old Pokénav his father gave him and scans the Cubone. The entry for this Pokémon makes Kazuya’s breath catch in his throat: 

Cubone pines for the mother it will never see again. Seeing a likeness of its mother in the full moon, it cries. The stains on the skull the Pokémon wears are made by the tears it sheds.  

He swallows his sadness and observes the Pokémon once again. The Cubone–an Alolan variant, according to his device–looks back at him with equal curiosity. When their eyes meet, Kazuya can feel the unspoken understanding that connects them. Even though his chest suddenly feels much too tight and it's hard for him to breathe, Kazuya bends down and offers Cubone the Oran Berry he had stashed in his pocket. The Cubone tentatively takes the fruit, and Umbreon makes an impatient noise to remind Kazuya of what he had come all this way to do. Reluctantly, Kazuya heeds Umbreon’s warning and continues along the path to his destination, trying to forget about the small, motherless creature with the sad eyes and a helmet that is much too big for its body. 

When Kazuya picks up the parcel and starts back home, he spots that same strangely-colored Cubone toddling a few feet behind him. When Kazuya stops, it also stops. When he takes a step forward, the Cubone also takes a clumsy step closer. Kazuya walks a few more steps, and the Cubone continues to follow him. Umbreon doesn't seem to perceive the small Pokémon as a threat, so Kazuya decides there's no harm in letting it follow until it finds something else to do.

But the lonely Cubone stays with him.

When Kazuya reaches the grounds of Miyuki Steel, Cubone unquestioningly follows him, despite the bustle and jarring noises from the machinery and the Pokémon that work them. Young Kazuya crouches down to the small creature’s eye level and sets aside his father’s parcel. “If you stick by my side, I'll keep you safe, okay?” 

Through its skull helmet, Cubone’s eyes twinkle with understanding. 

When Kazuya sets the parcel on the office desk, his father quietly questions the presence of the strange Pokémon. Kazuya expected his father to react with surprise and anger, but instead he tells Kazuya with sad acceptance that he can keep Cubone as a companion as long as he promises to take care of it properly.

When Kazuya grows a bit older, he finally begins to help with mill operations. He shoulders much more of the physical labor and management, under his father's watchful eye. At first, this work is difficult, and Kazuya’s small frame can't keep up with the heavy demands of the labor. However, he hits his growth spurt not long after his fourteenth birthday, and this newfound strength becomes an asset for the mill. Even before the accident, Kazuya had a difficult time making friends. Now, he has to deal with the overbearing looks of guilt and pity in the eyes of those who knew his mother. The other workers at the mill treat Kazuya like he’s fragile–like he can’t live life properly now that he’s experienced a loss like this. A child of steel, Kazuya refuses to show weakness. So, he maintains a carefree attitude, brushing off whatever comments others make about his situation. He pushes people away with his snide comments and rude demeanor, gladly accepting anger and frustration over pity.

The years begin to blend together as Kazuya becomes ensnared in his daily routine and his strenuous duties at Miyuki Steel. 

But still, weary and soot-covered from the day's work, he makes time to sit in front of the TV and watch live coverage from Battle Tower. Sometimes he sees Takigawa Chris battling on-screen, reminding him of the hopes that he had to one day surpass that kind of strength. Kazuya's twentieth birthday serves as a stark reminder for him of what could have been; this is exactly ten years past when he should have started the Pokémon League Challenge. He realizes that he still wants to follow that path, and doesn't want to be trapped within these steel walls forever. Kazuya carefully starts to unfurl the crumpled-up dream that his heart had held onto, despite his circumstances. With Cubone by his side, he diligently continues to study battle strategy. In the rare days when he finishes work early, Kazuya will take Cubone out to his favorite spot in the mountains to train and apply the knowledge that he learned. As time passes, Kazuya’s team grows. One day, he stumbles upon a Shuppet on the mountain path that follows him to his training grounds; not long after, he captures a Gastly that had been found wandering around the iron furnaces at the steel mill, terrorizing the working Pokémon.

On a mild evening in early May, just a few months shy of his twenty-second birthday, Kazuya sits at the table with his dad, nursing his cup of tea. He takes a deep breath through his nose, letting the sweet, floral aroma calm the anxious buzzing in his veins. He sets his mug on the table, the clang of ceramic on wood almost deafeningly loud.

“I’m going to be leaving soon,” Kazuya explains firmly. “To take on the Pokémon League Challenge.”

The silence that hangs between them is heavy and precarious.

“You really think you can do it?” 

“Of course I do.”

Miyuki Toku's intense gaze burns, but Kazuya remains steadfast. “This isn’t a good idea. The mill will be yours one day, and there’s still a lot that I want to teach you. I can’t do that if you’re not here.”

Kazuya can hear the blood rushing in his ears. He really thought that his father knew him better, that after all of the evenings they spent together talking that Toku would be more understanding and supportive of Kazuya's passion. “So what are you saying then? That I should follow what you think I should be doing with my life? What about what I want?”

“This mill has been in the family for generations, Kazuya.” He pauses. “And you’re all that’s left.”

Kazuya laughs. It’s ugly and bitter. “So that’s what makes me so important to you? That I’m keeping the family business up and running?” He stands up, the scraping of his chair against the floor punctuating his contemptuous tone. “I’m not going to trap myself here just to please a few ghosts who share my name. I’ve already made up my mind, and there’s nothing you or anyone else can do to change it.”

“Remember who it is you’re talking to. You weren’t raised to be this disrespectful.” His father's voice has a clinical edge that he has never quite heard before.

“I’ll finish this week’s work,” Kazuya says over his shoulder, anger running like poison through his blood. “That should give you enough time to find a replacement.”

“Kazuya,” Toku repeats, the strain in his voice almost palpable.

Without saying another word, Kazuya leaves the dining room.

The rest of the week passes in painful silence, with Kazuya and his father both going out of their way to avoid one another. The other workers at the mill gossip in hushed voices when they think Kazuya can’t hear them: He’s not living up to his filial duties. What a bad son. He’s really going to try to take on the undefeatable champion? Toku-san's getting older, soon he won't be able to run the mill on his own.

When the day finally comes for Kazuya to leave, he doesn’t look back. 

He feels guilty for leaving without mending his relationship with his father, but it feels too wrong for him to keep living a life that he doesn't want to live. He's never going to be sorry for following his dream. When left to his thoughts alone on the trail to Rustboro City, Kazuya keeps entertaining the possibility of sending a message to his father.

He doesn't.

Kuramochi Tatsuya's hearty laugh reverberates through the small office space, loud enough that the trainers just outside can certainly hear it. "You want to fight me for a badge, you mean?" he asks Youichi, crossing his arms over his chest. His biceps bulge in his too-tight shirt and he's definitely using the few centimeters in height he has over Youichi to appear more imposing. But Youichi won't let himself be so easily intimidated–especially not by his brother.

Youichi squares his shoulders and nods. "I'm gonna take on the Pokémon League.”

“That's quite the lofty goal. You really want to leave the stability of your job here to pursue this?” Tatsuya prods. 

Youichi, undeterred, narrows his eyes. “You know damn well that I’m a capable trainer.”

“Yet you've never been able to beat me before,” his older brother muses, his jaw set tightly. For a brief moment, Youichi sees an impassable mountain–the unbreakable stone that he’s spent his entire life futilely trying to chip away at. Then, he remembers the view from above, the reassuring warmth of Aerodactyl, and his reservations melt away.

“There's a first time for everything,” Youichi retorts, maintaining steady eye contact.

Tatsuya’s face remains stoic as he studies Youichi’s, searching for any cracks in his little brother’s resolve. After a few tense moments, Tatsuya uncrosses his arms and nods toward the door. “If you can beat the first challenger to come in here today with the gym’s Geodudes, I'll let you have a real battle with me.” He flashes a wicked smile–the same one he'd give right before subjecting Youichi to a particularly painful wrestling move when they were younger. “And I won't hold back.”

“Neither will I."

A few of the other gym trainers cast a curious glance over at the two brothers as they walk side-by-side through the rocky terrain of the main hall and take their respective posts.

As Youichi waits for the day's challengers to reach him, he can feel the anticipation crackle in his veins. Large slabs of stone surround Youichi's post in the gym, effectively blocking his view of what happens in the surrounding areas. He usually relishes catching the unsuspecting gym challengers by surprise from his hiding spot, but today Youichi's patience is thin.

After what feels like an eternity, Youichi finally hears the telltale crunch of approaching footsteps. His body tenses as he anticipates the person's arrival, prepared to launch himself from his hiding spot to challenge the trainer.

“If you're trying to be inconspicuous, you're doing a pretty bad job of it. Should I be reporting this to your boss?” 

A smug-looking trainer saunters right up to Youichi's hiding spot. Even though he’s wearing his white baseball cap sideways like a snotty little kid would, this person has to be closer to Youichi’s age. To Youichi’s chagrin, the smartass actually wears the sideways hat well; dark sideburns accent his powerful jaw, and arched eyebrows regard Youichi with amusement above the dark frames of his glasses. Unrepentantly, Youichi’s eyes sweep over the trainer’s broad shoulders, noting how the cherry-red sleeves of his raglan shirt hug his toned biceps. He’s tall and broad, and carries himself with such confidence that it’s almost bewitching. (Almost.) Briefly, Youichi wonders if this person is some sort of professional athlete who somehow found his way here by accident.

“Hah?” Youichi finally manages to respond, after studying this person's features for far too long.

“I thought I was pretty clear the first time, but since you seem to be slow on the uptake, I can repeat myself.” He puts his hands on his hips, clearly pleased with himself. “Your hiding spot wouldn't even fool a Wurmple,” the challenger repeats. His nasally laugh slaps Youichi in the face, awakening a competitive anger within him that he hasn't tapped into for years.

“Fuck you,” Youichi fires back, the corners of his vision turning red. “It's not like there are many places for me to hide in the first place.”

The Glasses Bastard gasps, appearing scandalized by Youichi's vulgar comment. “At least treat me to dinner first, trainer-san!” He then leans a bit closer, looking conspiratorially at Youichi as he speaks around his hand, which he has curved around the side of his mouth. His lips are full, and his rounded cupid's bow perfectly contrasts with the sharp angles of his jaw. Youichi tries to swallow, but his throat is suddenly too tight. “Though dumb as rocks isn't really my type~”

“Tch, you better shut your mouth before I shut it for you.” Youichi hisses, managing to emit an intimidating aura despite the blush heating his cheeks. “Let's just get this over with so I don't have to see your face anymore.”

The person’s smirk becomes even more sleazy as he looks at Youichi through his eyelashes. Small flecks of amber glimmer in his chestnut eyes, and Youichi’s mouth goes dry at the sight. “I guarantee you that you'll still be seeing my face even when I'm long gone,” he hums, leaning a bit closer into Youichi's personal space. His face burns even hotter from the implication of that statement, yet he can't bring himself to move away from this person. While Youichi gapes, the asshole steps backward, snickering as he gestures for his Pokémon to come forward. Youichi was so caught up in this person's everything that he hadn't even noticed that the jerk had a Pokémon following him outside of its Pokéball. “But I'll be out of your hair shortly.”

Youichi clenches his jaw, feeling the blood vessels in his temple beginning to throb. “I'm gonna make you eat your words,” he grits. As he calls forth his first Geodude, Youichi sizes up his opponent's Pokémon: the challenger's Marowak takes an offensive stance, twirling its bone club in anticipation. Pale green flames lick their way up the bone and fan further outward with each revolution, creating an ominous halo around its small ebony form. Youichi is surprised to see such a rare variant of this Pokémon, especially since Alola is so far away from Hoenn. His mind wanders to memories of long plane rides to visit his cousins in Alola–of being crammed into a small seat next to Tatsuya, who would elbow Youichi’s side with his too-long arms. Despite the painful journey, those trips are always his favorite, because of the seemingly-endless bounty of untapped nature to explore on the islands. The people are also unconditionally kind; the laid-back vibe always makes Youichi–an outsider in his own hometown–feel welcome. 

Youichi barks out an amused laugh. “Kyaha, there's no fuckin' way someone like you is from Alola.”

“For once, you're actually right!” The asshole grins. “I was born and raised in Hoenn. Not too far from here, actually.”

Youichi narrows his eyes in disbelief. Most Pokémon trainers from this area train at the Pokémon school, so Youichi definitely would have seen this insufferable person's face around at some point. “What's your name?” he asks coolly, keeping his chin tilted upward.

“Future Champion of Hoenn,” the bastard responds with a pleased grin. “Now let's start this battle.”

“Cocky bastard,” Youichi grumbles, before giving his Geodude the command to use harden. Usually, he prefers jumping right into offensive maneuvers, but he wants to ensure his victory against this dickhead. He wants to be the one to challenge Tatsuya when this encounter is over.

Despite its small stature, Marowak delivers a hit so powerful that it chips off a large hunk of Geodude’s rocky exterior. Youichi quickly changes his tactics, opting for speedy flurries of attacks between hits. The Glasses Bastard’s demeanor has completely changed; he now radiates an intense aura, both calmly calculating and fiercely competitive. Watching this person become so deeply focused further stokes the competitive fire within Youichi, too. Their Pokémon dance around each other, delivering hard jabs and charged attacks with grace and precision. Grit and dust fly in the air and stick to Youichi’s sweat-slick face, and his voice becomes hoarse from shouting his commands within the shroud of debris stirred up from their fight.

Eventually, both trainers call out their last available Pokémon. Youichi has his final Geodude, which he had trained with carefully-selected TMs to give him more options in battle. Glasses Bastard’s final Pokémon is a Shuppet. Its large, calculating eyes make Youichi feel more exposed, but he refuses to let his resolve crack.

After this switch, the battle ends quickly. Once the dust settles around them, Youichi’s met with the pleased grin on his opponent's face. The sight makes his heart flutter painfully against his ribcage.

Glasses Bastard takes off his hat and combs a hand through his hair. Youichi follows the gesture, noting how this person’s hair has the same rich brown tones as umber stone. “I'm actually kind of impressed that you managed to hold out for that long with just a few low-leveled Geodudes. I guess there may be more than just rocks in your head, after all.”

Youichi curses under his breath, suddenly much more aware of the curious audience that has gathered around them. “You may pass,” he grits, jaw clenched with restrained ire. 

“Hope you have a potion set aside for yourself as well–your pride is looking pretty battered~” the bastard hums with a cheeky wave, scurrying away before Youichi has the chance to react.

This harsh defeat tastes bitter on Youichi's tongue. Out of shame and a bit of childish anger, he refuses to watch the ensuing battle between Glasses Bastard and Tatsuya, though he can tell by the raucous cheering that Tatsuya has lost the battle. When Youichi returns home in the evening, he locks himself in his room to stew in his emotions. Even though Tatsuya also lost against this trainer, Youichi had approached his brother with such certainty that he would win, and he didn’t follow through. Pochi is curled up at the foot of Youichi’s bed, watching him curiously as he paces restlessly around the room. He can’t believe he let that Glasses Bastard get under his skin so easily–that he let his one opportunity to push ahead slip through his fingers like this!

“Youichi,” Tatsuya calls, voice muffled by the door. Youichi groans, not wanting to listen to whatever gloating or I-told-you-so his brother is going to spew.

“I already know what you’re gonna say, so you can save your breath,” he grumbles, plopping onto his bed and running a hand through Pochi’s soft fur.

Tatsuya doesn’t leave. “Stop being childish,” he chides. After a few tense moments of silence, he sighs. Pochi’s head tilts toward the door, much more interested in whatever Tatsuya is about to say than Youichi is. “I came to tell you that tomorrow you can battle me–no strings attached.”

Youchi’s hand stills in Pochi's fur. “Tomorrow?”

“Meet me at my post first thing in the morning.”

So Youichi has a chance after all? He almost can’t believe that his brother is allowing this. “I’ll be there,” he confirms, tone resolute.

When he hears Tatsuya’s heavy footsteps move down the hall, Youichi allows himself a small moment to celebrate this opportunity. This spark of hope is all Youichi needs to regain his confidence. He begins preparing for tomorrow’s battle in earnest, reviewing strategies and ensuring his backpack has a good stock of supplies. When he feels satisfied with his preparations, Youichi settles in to play his favorite video game, button-mashing until his mind becomes foggy with sleep.

When he wakes up the next day, he takes the familiar path to the Rustboro Gym with a renewed sense of determination. He’s ready to break away from this familiarity and forge a new path for himself. He swings open the doors to the gym, focused on the place at the very back where his brother awaits him. Youichi breathes deeply through his nose, finding comfort in the familiar, earthy aroma of the gym.

The moment that Youichi had been waiting so long for has finally arrived. He now stands in front of Kuramochi Tatsuya as a challenger, prepared to take on the Pokémon League.

“I wasn't kidding when I said I won't hold back,” Tatsuya warns as he unbuckles a Pokéball from his belt and tosses it into the air. Onix’s grating cry echoes through the gym as it arcs its massive body, poised to strike at a moment's notice. Youichi knows very well that despite Onix's size, it can move with deadly speed and accuracy. However, he has complete faith in his partner’s ability to outmaneuver this rocky behemoth.

"Kyaha, I wouldn't want it any other way," Youichi cackles as he tosses his own Pokéball high above them. Aerodactyl swoops gracefully onto the ground, kicking up dust and pebbles as it lands. Despite being much smaller than Tatsuya's Onix, Aerodactyl projects a primal, predatory aura that makes even Youichi shiver. Aerodactyl looks back at Youichi meaningfully, awaiting his command. He points a gloved hand toward the ceiling and twirls his index finger in a circle, and Aerodactyl snorts in understanding. Then, with one powerful flap of its wings, Aerodactyl propels itself upward. 

The battle ends much quicker than Youichi had anticipated it would.

Tatsuya's wry smile makes Youichi’s stomach flip. “Looks like this is it, then.”

“Guess so,” Youichi responds, keeping his chin up. This battle had not gone at all like he imagined it would. Youichi never would have anticipated that Tatsuya's sturdy defense would crumble so quickly against his tactics–especially since Youichi had never been able to break through them before. Tatsuya certainly did not hold back; Youichi can never mistake that competitive gleam in his brother's eyes. However, his moves were predictable and easy to exploit. Youichi's nerves caught on fire when he was battling that asshole with the glasses, but he’s surprised to realize that he didn't feel that way once against his brother. After all of the anticipation leading up to this very moment, Youichi can't help but feel dissatisfied. 

“The Stone Badge is now yours,” Tatsuya announces, grabbing Youichi's hand and firmly pressing the small, silver-plated badge into his palm. Youichi tightens his grip around it, feeling the sharp edges of the metal dig into his palm through his glove. The other gym trainers, who have been mostly silent as they watched the battle from the sidelines, now burst into uproarious cheering. Youichi presses his lips into a tight line, face heating up from all of the attention on him. “Before you head off on your adventure, I have one last thing for you,” Tatsuya explains, fishing his Pokénav out of the pocket of his cargo pants. He taps on the screen with one hand, and holds out his free hand expectantly in front of Youichi. “Graveler.”

After a moment’s pause, Youichi unhooks Graveler's Pokéball from his belt and places the device into his brother's hand. Tatsuya keys something else into his Pokénav and holds the device over Graveler's Pokéball. A cute jingle from the device confirms that whatever Tatsuya had done is now complete, so he throws the Pokéball in front of Youichi.

Graveler emerges, landing on the ground with a loud thud. Immediately, a brilliant white light swirls around it, shimmering with small flecks of color. Even though his eyes sting from the intensity of the light, Youichi can't bring himself to look away. The sound of crumbling rock and the dazzling light overwhelm Youichi's senses; they steal his breath away. When the light finally fizzles out, a different Pokémon stands before Youichi: Golem’s cobbled, stony shell appears impenetrable, and its jaw powerful enough to rip through even the toughest steel. Recognition glimmers in Golem’s scarlet eyes, and Youichi affectionately rubs his companion’s snout. “Hyaha, that’s a good look for you,” he says, eliciting a pleased snort from Golem.

After he puts away his Pokénav, Tatsuya takes a stride closer, flashing Youichi a lopsided grin. “Now go kick all of their asses,” he implores, his familiar competitive aura blazing around him. He then raises his eyebrow and flashes Youichi a meaningful look. “Especially that ghost trainer.”

Youichi meets his brother’s gaze, hazel eyes blazing with determination. His mind flashes back to that glasses dickhead’s smarmy grin, and Youichi wants nothing more than to wipe that smug look off of his face once and for all. "Thank you," he says to his brother, knowing Tatsuya will understand that Youichi means for everything–for always being there to get him out of trouble, for being a great role model, for giving him this chance. 

Tatsuya’s stony features soften, and with a light chuckle he ruffles Youichi’s hair. “I always knew you had it in you,” his brother says a little more quietly, but with just as much pride in his voice. Youichi can’t even bring himself to be annoyed at Tatsuya for ruining his hair, because, in this moment, he realizes something important: for all these years, Tatsuya must have been watching Youichi just as closely as Youichi had been watching him.

“I learned from the best,” Youichi replies once he swallows the emotions that well up in his throat. With a final encouraging pat on the shoulder, Tatsuya sends Youichi home to their doting parents so he can prepare for his departure.

After enduring embarrassingly-heartfelt speeches from both of his parents and giving Pochi plenty of head scratches, Youichi finally heads out of his childhood home to begin his journey. His first destination, Dewford Town, is a small island off the shore of Route 104 that he had visited countless times as a kid. There, he will challenge Tatsuya's childhood friend, the fighting-type gym leader, Masuko Tooru. Youichi occupies his thoughts with strategies to mitigate the disadvantages that his rock and steel-type partners will face in this battle.

Once the familiar streets of Rustboro become a mere smudge in the distance, Youichi feels the weight of his journey sink into his bones. The Stone Badge feels like a boulder in his backpack. Youichi wants nothing more than to push forward and continue to prove himself–to exceed his brother's and everyone else's expectations. Even though this is the first time he will be leaving his hometown like this on his own, Youichi doesn't feel nervous. He's always felt most at-ease when exploring new and interesting things, and he has his trusted companions by his side to protect him.

After a few days of traveling by foot and exploring the trails, Youichi can finally see the outline of the seashore where the Dewford Ferry is docked not too far ahead.  When he hears footsteps approaching from behind, Youichi's skin prickles with excitement at the prospect of a battle with a fellow trainer.

“Ah, it's Kuramochi junior! You look a lot like your older brother, you know. Just a bit shorter.”

That unmistakable voice hits Youichi like a thunderbolt, leaving him both dazed and enraged. Fists clenched, he whips around to face the new bane of his existence. His stupid hat is still perched sideways on his stupid head, and Youichi hates that he subconsciously lingers on the contour of the asshole's jaw. “Call me that again and I'll shove my foot right up your ass.” The small Marowak looks up at Youichi from its spot beside its trainer, unamused by his crass language.

“Kinky,” Glasses Bastard remarks with a grin, taking a deliberate stride closer. They're now standing directly in front of one another, close enough that Youichi is now hyperaware of the several centimeters of height this trainer has over him. Youichi's hands twitch with the urge to smack the smug look right off of this infuriating jerk's face. The asshole taps his chin thoughtfully, speaking before Youichi has the chance to act upon his impulse. “But I'm curious: what's the little rock doing so far away from the gym? Are you trying to find a new hiding spot?” 

Youichi takes a deep breath through his nose, willing some sort of calmness into his disgruntled thoughts. He's not going to let Glasses Bastard continue to get under his skin like this! “I'm here for the same reason as you,” he responds, ire barely restrained in his low tone. “And my name's Youichi. Kuramochi Youichi.”

“So you're my rival now,” the smug trainer muses, his intense gaze tracing Youichi's features. 

“Rivals are also equals,” Youichi huffs, repeating the wise words that Kataoka-san had taught him long ago. “And we can't be equal if I don't know your name.”

“Miyuki Kazuya,” he responds airily. Youichi catches the faint scent of mint on his breath, which reminds him of how close they're still standing. He refuses to budge from his spot, lest he be called a coward by this asshole.

Youichi hums, thoughtful as he mulls over the familiarity of this person's family name. He's also surprised that the asshole actually gave it so quickly, when he was so cheeky about it at the gym. “Like Miyuki Steel, huh? That's quite the career change.” Youichi notices the briefest falter in Miyuki's expression. Interesting.

“Like you're one to talk,” Miyuki retorts, now fully back to his cocky demeanor. His eyes glimmer with mischievous intent. “Why don't we have a rematch then, rival?”

Determined to kick this bastard's ass once and for all, Youichi nods. “I won't hold back, rival.”

*

Despite having a general idea of Miyuki's battle style and fighting with his trusted companions, rather than those three Geodudes, Youichi loses. Badly. That Glasses Bastard makes way too many gutsy calls for Youichi's comfort, each time catching him completely by surprise. While Youichi stays behind to tend to his fainted Pokémon, that cocky bastard continues down the trail to the Dewford Ferry, his insufferable laughter echoing off of the trees.

When Youichi takes a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow, he notices a Hyper Potion bottle carefully laid on top of a tree stump a few meters ahead. It definitely wasn't there a few moments earlier. But Youichi snags it anyway and carefully administers the medicine to his companions, paying special care to Metang, who took the brunt of Marowak's unexpectedly powerful fire-based moves. The sun hangs low in the sky by the time Youichi finishes tending to his team, tinting the walking trail a warm orange-gold. He slaps his cheeks a few times, the sharp pain of  leather gloves meeting skin bringing the world back into focus. Without wasting any more time, Youichi jogs down the last stretch of Route 104.

Next time, he’s going to beat Miyuki Kazuya.

As he continues down the cobbled path to the pier where the Dewford Ferry is docked, Kazuya chuckles to himself. His blood still thrums with excitement from the battle with his newly-minted rival. He’s still shocked that the scrappy brother of the Rustboro gym leader decided to take on the Pokémon League at the same time as him, but Kazuya can’t complain. Kuramochi Youichi is undoubtedly handsome, but in a rugged and untamed way. The first time they made eye contact in battle back at the Rustboro Gym, Kazuya felt a thrilling electric shock ripple through his body, creating a warmth that pooled in his core like molten lava. Although Kazuya's flirtatious comments are usually facetious, he finds it more thrilling to watch Kuramochi squirm than anyone else he's dealt with.

Their encounter provided some reprieve from the anxieties that float around Kazuya’s mind.

Once he reaches the small patch of shoreline at the end of Route 104, Kazuya notices that the Dewford Ferry isn’t at the pier. A small sign nearby outlines the ferry schedule, and shows that the boat should be arriving soon. Satisfied with this information, Kazuya follows the call of the glittering blue ocean. He recalls the countless hours he spent as a child watching the water atop his favorite perch on the grounds of Miyuki Steel. As he stares out into the endless expanse of rippling water, Kazuya replays the last conversation he had with his father in his head. He keeps wondering what he could have done or said to leave things off better between them. The choice to start this journey was very clear-cut to Kazuya, but his father didn’t seem to think the same way. He closes his eyes and heaves a sigh, tired of constantly picking apart that moment in his mind. When he opens his eyes, he makes more of a conscious effort to admire the beautiful scenery around him.

The surf laps at Kazuya’s bare feet, rivulets of seafoam trickling between his toes at the ebb of the tide. Marowak pokes at the seashells embedded in the sand, pleased with the assortment of colors. It picks up a round, light blue shell and tugs on Kazuya’s pants leg. Insistent, it offers the pristine shell to Kazuya. With a small smile, he accepts it, running this thumb along the smooth surface and admiring the simple beauty of it. Kazuya notices flecks of gold and dark green scattered throughout the shell as well, and he can’t help but think of the blue rind of an Oran Berry.

“Ah, this was where we first met all those years ago, wasn’t it?” he muses, and Marowak chirps affirmatively in response. Back then, Kazuya had seen part of himself in a little Cubone: someone who doesn’t quite belong, being pulled along in the riptides of an unfair world.

“We’ve both grown a lot since then,” Kazuya mutters, running his thumb along the shell’s surface once more. Marowak nods, then wanders off to inspect something in the surf that caught its attention. Kazuya recalls long days in the forge, muscles aching from exertion and sweat stinging his eyes. How every day was the same: monotonous, dreary walls seeming to close in on him, making him feel like a caged bird. He then hears his father's voice echo in his mind, quietly saying 'You're all that’s left.' The sound of it makes Kazuya's chest tighten. “I don’t regret this decision,” he says to the ocean. “I just wish he would understand.”

*

Gym leader Masuko’s straightforward offensive style does not hold up for very long against Kazuya’s thoughtful and adaptive strategizing. The gym trainers are surprised to see such an unusual challenger, but Kazuya revels in how he catches them all off-guard. When he leaves, Kazuya lingers near the gym entrance, flipping the Knuckle Badge absently in his hand as the salty breeze tousles his hair. He hasn't seen Kuramochi since their battle the day before; Kazuya had expected Kuramochi to catch up and join him on the ferry to Dewford, but the gruff trainer never appeared. When Kazuya had defeated Kuramochi for the second time, he couldn't help but poke fun at his new rival for his unfortunate losing streak, among other things. Kuramochi flung a barrage of colorful curses at him in return, which Kazuya found even more amusing. However, Kuramochi’s concern for his Pokémon was also clearly written on his face, so Kazuya decided to cut their rendezvous short. As he walked toward the dock, Kazuya's thoughts kept circling back to the furrow in Kuramochi's brow when he was concentrating, to the way he bit his bottom lip after being cornered, to the way he kept his strong shoulders squared even in the face of defeat. And while Kazuya suffered from an unfortunate bout of seasickness on that terrible ferry, he tried to occupy his thoughts by replaying their battle in his head.

The loud grumbling of Kazuya's stomach breaks him out of his train of thought. It also reminds him that he has yet to eat a proper lunch, so he decides to leave. After a quick stop to the nearest Pokémon Center to care for his team, Kazuya finds a peaceful spot to eat and debrief. He spends the rest of the afternoon reviewing the day’s battles and researching the next gym leader he will face: the up-and-coming electric-type expert, Tadano Itsuki. His muscles ache from sitting in the same position for so long, but Kazuya feels relaxed like this. Even though his cup is nearly empty, the nutty aroma of his strong espresso also permeates the air. Its familiarity comforts Kazuya, who has always been a creature of habit. With a luxurious stretch, Kazuya grabs his near-empty coffee cup and leaves his peaceful spot, ready to tackle the next part of his journey. 

Even though the ferry to Slateport City is on the opposite side of the island, Kazuya decides to walk over rather than rent a bike. He takes this time to appreciate all of the natural beauty that Dewford has to offer, with Marowak following close behind. The afternoon sun pleasantly warms his skin, and the refreshing breeze carries the distant sound of Wingull cries, and the smell of sweet hibiscus and freshly-cut grass. Eventually, Kazuya reaches the dock and buys his ticket for the ferry. When he gets in line to board the boat, Kazuya reluctantly returns Marowak to its Pokéball. Now alone with his thoughts, he breaks into a cold sweat– he just knows that this ferry trip won’t end well for him.

“What're you doing here?” A familiar voice asks from behind. 

Kazuya's heart jumps into his throat from surprise, but he quickly schools his expression back into his usual smirk and turns around to face Kuramochi. He has very obviously just come from his battle with Masuko, because his dark green hair is disheveled, and long streaks of dirt and grit paint his forearms. “I could ask you the same thing,” Kazuya retorts smoothly. “I was beginning to think that you drowned in the water. Rocks sink pretty fast, after all.”

“Fuck off,” Kuramochi grumbles. “Your ego is just so big that I wanted to leave enough room for it to fit on the ferry. Looks like my luck ran out here, though.”

“You said dick wrong,” Kazuya corrects, wagging his finger in front of Kuramochi's face. “And thank you!”

“That wasn't a compliment!” Kuramochi hisses, face so red it looks like a Voltorb that's about to self-destruct. Kazuya can't help but snicker at the mental image of Kuramochi rolling around as an angry electrically-charged ball.

“Oi, what's so funny?”

“Your face,” Kazuya responds with a grin. Within milliseconds, Kuramochi has a firm grip on Kazuya's shirt collar, tugging him forward in one sharp, powerful motion. They're close enough now that Kazuya can see the flecks of forest green and dark gold in Kuramochi's hazel eyes. They remind him of his favorite mountain path–of the way the late-afternoon sun shines through the broad, wavy leaves of the trees and bathes the forest floor in resplendent shades of gold. Kazuya expects Kuramochi to say something–to do something–but they merely maintain eye contact like this, chests heaving in unison. Kuramochi may actually be part-Voltorb, because tiny electric shocks prickle across Kazuya's skin.

An unamused attendant raps on the metal frame of the staircase that leads onto the ferry. The harsh clang pulls Kazuya and Kuramochi out of their respective reveries. Kuramochi makes an annoyed 'tsk' and releases Kazuya. “Please watch your step as you board,” the attendant–Okumura, according to his name tag–says with a frown.

Kazuya places his hands on Kuramochi's shoulders and shoves him forward, so he won't be able to see Kazuya's face turn green from boarding the boat. While Kuramochi grumbles indignantly about being manhandled, Kazuya swallows his unease and follows.

“And do refrain from instigating any violence on the ferry, or we will have you both escorted off of the vessel,” the attendant warns ominously from behind.

Escorted off of the vessel? Kazuya does not want to find out what that means, so he salutes the miserable-looking attendant and forces out the most reassuring “Aye-aye” that he can muster.

When they reach the deck of the ferry, Kazuya takes a deep breath through his nose. The salty ocean air stings his nostrils, now much too oppressive. Luckily the boat hasn’t disembarked yet, so Kazuya has some time to gather his bearings before things get much worse. The last thing he wants is for Kuramochi to see him green-faced and curled up on the ground like a sad Metapod. 

“You almost got us thrown off back there, rock-brain,” Kazuya notes, pushing his glasses up with his index finger. “It’d be pretty hard to get to the Mauville Gym from here otherwise.”

Kuramochi barks out an amused laugh. “I would’ve just flown over and left your sorry ass here. It’d serve you right.”

Kazuya presses his hand against his chest and gasps dramatically. “You wound me, Mochi-kun! I can’t believe you’d leave your favorite rival stranded on an island like that!”

“Mochi-kun?” he splutters. “Why can’t you just say my name like a normal person?”

“I’m not a normal-type trainer,” Kazuya retorts with a pleased smirk. He bats his lashes and leans a bit closer, reveling in the way Kuramochi’s face turns even redder. “I’m a ghost-type trainer, remember?”

Then, the ferry lurches forward, and Kazuya suddenly becomes all too aware of where he is once again. His legs turn to jelly from the unsettling rocking motion of the ship. Before he can stop himself, Kazuya’s legs buckle. With an undignified noise, he falls into Kuramochi, who catches him without hesitation. Kuramochi's toned arms wrap around Kazuya’s waist, supporting his weight and keeping him upright. Despite being smaller than Kazuya, Kuramochi supports his weight with practiced ease; he really is like rock, all solid muscle and unwavering balance. But, he’s also warm–a reassuring, solid presence for poor Kazuya, who feels like everything around him has suddenly turned into quicksand. This close contact, coupled with Kazuya's general unease with the boat, creates a terrible storm within him. Angry black specks swirl tauntingly at the corners of his vision, and Kazuya realizes with horror that he might actually pass out.

“You alright?” Kuramochi asks, his concerned voice muffled by Kazuya’s shoulder. 

Not trusting himself to respond just yet, Kazuya takes a few deep breaths. He notes that Kuramochi smells like pine and dirt, and Kazuya isn't sure if the saltiness is from Kuramochi's sweat or the ocean air. “Just lost my balance,” he finally mumbles, a bit shaky. Even though it pains Kazuya to do so, he extricates himself from Kuramochi’s hold and finds a railing to lean on, carefully angling his face away from Kuramochi’s line of vision. The ferry rocks through choppy waves, and nausea bubbles up Kazuya’s throat with relentless persistence. He closes his eyes in the vain hope that if he doesn’t see the water, he won’t feel so sick. Unfortunately, this only makes him feel worse–like the ground might open up and swallow him whole.

“You’re full of shit,” Kuramochi sighs. Kazuya hears the sharp noise of a zipper opening, and the shuffling of objects. He opens his eyes, and Kuramochi now stands directly in front of him, holding out a handful of colorfully-wrapped candies. “They're made with Persim Berries. It’ll help you feel better.”  

Kazuya gapes at the candies, unsure of what to say at this unexpected gesture of kindness. Part of him wonders if this may be too good to be true. “Why would you give me all these?” When I've been such a jerk to you? hangs in the air, unspoken.

“You didn’t have to leave that Hyper Potion for me after our last battle either, but you did.” Kazuya recalls the twisting feeling he felt in his chest when he saw the concerned look on Kuramochi’s face when his Metang sustained a critical hit from Marowak. “You’re a dickhead and you annoy the hell outta me, but you’re not a completely terrible person.”

Kuramochi’s expression softens just a little, and Kazuya's insides flip-flop.

“Thanks,” Kazuya mutters weakly, feeling another unpleasant wave of nausea wash over him. He takes the Persim Berry candies from Kuramochi and, after what feels like an eternity of fumbling with the wrapper, he tentatively places the hard candy on his tongue. It's slightly bitter, but has a hint of sweetness, like Kazuya's favorite coffee. He doesn't see how something like this will actually help him feel better, but he supposes he prefers the taste of this candy to bile.

Kuramochi leans backward on the other side of the railing, resting his elbows on the metal surface. He remains silent–thoughtful–as Kazuya suffers. They spend the rest of the ferry ride like this, leaning side-by-side against the railing with just the sound of the roiling waves between them. 

Those candies may have helped a little after all, Kazuya thinks.

When the ferry finally arrives at the Slateport Harbor, Kazuya breathes a sigh of relief. After these terrible ferry experiences, Kazuya vows to never set foot on a boat again for as long as he lives. The thought of flying also makes Kazuya feel squeamish, but he’ll take that over seasickness any day.

Ahead of him, Kuramochi ambles along the pier, his hands shoved into the pockets of his bomber jacket. With only a few long strides, Kazuya catches up to the other. He falls into step with Kuramochi, brushing shoulders casually. “You weren’t thinking of leaving your rival without a battle, were you?”

Kuramochi angles his head to study Kazuya’s face. “Didn’t think you’d feel up to it,” he says earnestly. “You really looked like you were on the verge of death.”

“I’d never give up the opportunity to beat you, even if I’m on my deathbed.” Kazuya leans into Kuramochi’s personal space once again, blowing his Persim-sweet breath over the other’s face. Kuramochi's pupils widen, now black dots framed by a thin halo of hazel. “Besides, the candy helped quite a bit.”

“Oh,” Kuramochi breathes, quiet enough that the bustle of the pier all but drowns it out. He blinks slowly, and when his eyes open, his demeanor changes. Kuramochi’s eyes blaze with that familiar competitive drive, sending more electric shocks down Kazuya’s spine. “I’m gonna kick your ass, Miyuki.”

“Sure you will~” Kazuya hums, unhooking Shuppet’s Pokéball from his backpack holster and tossing it into the air.

Just as Kazuya had predicted, he wins once again. 

However, Kuramochi Youichi is proving to be quite the difficult adversary. Even though Kazuya remained outwardly calm throughout their battle, his thoughts were quite chaotic. Kuramochi had cornered him quite a few times; his fighting style has adapted to Kazuya’s with alarming speed, becoming more deadly and precise. If Kazuya were a little less skilled, he most certainly would have lost. He vows to train even harder, to sharpen his skills even further, so the next time they meet in battle Kuramochi will really have to work hard to gain the upper hand. Kazuya has to admit that it’s thrilling to have such a strong opponent on his heels like this, pushing toward the same goal of reaching Takigawa Chris.

Once they’ve cleaned up from their battle, Kuramochi shoves his hands into his pockets. He’s even more disheveled after this battle, and strands of his hair stick to his sweat-slick forehead. Kazuya feels more electric shocks skitter across his skin at the sight. “Not sure if I’ll catch up to you at Mauville. I’m meeting up with a friend here for a few days.”

“A friend, huh?” Kazuya teases, despite the sudden ache in his chest. 

“Don’t be disgusting!” Kuramochi seethes. “Shirasu’s just one of my buddies from trainer school. We were close as kids, before he left to take on the Pokémon League. Now he works in the Battle Tower.”

“I see.” Kazuya adjusts his glasses again. There's a large smudge on the lens, which is distracting. “Well, have fun, Mochi-kun! Maybe you’ll pick up a thing or two about how to battle from him!” he snickers.

“You're the worst!” Kuramochi hisses.

“Thanks!”

As Kazuya scuttles away in the other direction, he can't help but chuckle when he hears Kuramochi's frustrated groan.

*

The feeling of solid, unmovable ground beneath Kazuya’s feet has never been so welcoming. As he ambles through the busy streets of Slateport, he can’t help but feel extremely grateful to be on dry land once again. His cheeks heat up at the memory of Kuramochi seeing him in such a humiliating state on the boat, but he is grateful for Kuramochi’s steady presence during that terrible experience. Kazuya’s competitive hunger drives him to continue on to Mauville City, where the next gym challenge awaits him, but that taxing experience on the boat has left him completely exhausted. Despite his weariness, Kazuya takes the time to admire his new surroundings, with Marowak following faithfully by his side. Slateport is one of the bigger cities in Hoenn, boasting countless markets, shops, theaters, and museums. All of this activity is so foreign to Kazuya, who has only experienced bits and pieces of Hoenn’s tourist spots on the rare family vacation as a young child. The savory aroma of fried food permeates the air, mingling with the salty breeze that comes from the ocean. Even though Marowak stays close to Kazuya's leg in the busy street, the different sights and smells fully capture its attention. When Kazuya looks down to make sure Marowak is doing okay, he smiles at the wonder-filled gleam in his companion's eyes. He follows Marowak's gaze, and sees an intricate display of marine artifacts behind the glass front of a large museum. Excited, he pulls out his Pokénav to send a picture of the display to his dad, who loves historical things. Just as Kazuya snaps the picture, he falters, chest tightening painfully as he recalls their argument once more. Many times, Kazuya finds himself wanting to tell his dad about little bits and pieces of his journey like this. He can't help but think back to those evenings they spent together at their dining room table with mugs of chamomile tea. Kazuya would usually do most of the talking, but his father would often interject with memories of his own, or share relevant idioms that would offer Kazuya a new perspective. Now that Kazuya has been away for a little while, he realizes just how much each of these little memories mean to him. He also hasn’t been able to shake the nagging guilt over how he left. The lingering anger from their argument has faded, and now Kazuya feels that he can understand his father's perspective a bit more, though he still doesn't agree with all of his reasons.

'You're all that’s left,' has haunted Kazuya's thoughts since that night, and he's turned those words around in his brain enough that he finally understands what his dad really meant: in the end, Kazuya is all that his father has left. And all that Kazuya has left is his father. Their bond is precious and irreplaceable, and Kazuya would be a damn fool if he were to cut his father out of his life just because they don’t meet eye-to-eye about something. With a heavy sigh, Kazuya shoves his Pokénav back into his pocket and continues walking. 

Now feeling the beginning of a tension headache in his temple, Kazuya searches the busy streets for some form of lodging. It doesn't take him long to find a wooden sign with SLATEPORT BED & BREAKFAST carved in neat block letters hanging above a doorway. Despite being in the heart of the city, delicate flowers dapple the entryway to this inn, and majestic vines of speckled ivy crawl up the whitewashed brick walls. This place intertwines with nature so effortlessly, and Kazuya finds himself walking through the entryway before his brain makes the conscious decision to do so. All kinds of Pokémon and their trainers lounge around in the lobby. An excited Electrike scurries between Kazuya’s legs to fetch a ball, which makes him crack a small smile.

His room has a balcony that overlooks the city, with the ocean’s gentle waves just beyond. Wingull and Pelipper swoop through the air, small dots in the distance that weave through the swaying palm trees with grace. What Kazuya loves the most about this scene, however, is the sunset: soft oranges, purples, and pinks bleed into each other in the sky, casting an ethereal glow onto the cityscape. It doesn’t look much different than the vibrant sunset that Kazuya can see fall over the ocean from his favorite spot by the iron furnaces at the mill. His thoughts once again circle back to his dad. Is he eating well? Is he resting enough? Does he still sit down with a cup of tea every evening? Has he forgiven Kazuya, or has he moved on?

“I don't regret this decision,” he repeats aloud, clenching his Pokénav in his hand. After a moment of contemplation, Kazuya flips open his device and pulls up the picture he took earlier today of the museum display. Marowak stands in front of the window, its paws pressed against the glass to get a better look at the intricate scene recreated within. 

> We should visit here together some time.

[museum.jpg]

Once he hears the small jingle that confirms the message has been sent, Kazuya snaps his Pokénav shut and leaves the balcony. Before he can overthink why he sent that message to his father, he decides to take a hot shower in the hotel’s quaint bathroom. When Kazuya returns to the main room, now smelling like whatever fancy herbal soap was left for him to use, he welcomes the peaceful silence. Marowak has long been asleep on the plush Pokébed beside the door to the balcony, and looking at its sleeping form makes Kazuya long for sleep as well. With a large yawn, he towels off the stray droplets of water from the ends of his hair. Kazuya haphazardly throws the towel on the floor and climbs into bed, sighing contentedly when his weary bones sink into the cushy mattress. He slips his sleeping mask down his face and allows the peaceful silence of the room to wash over him.

Just as the wispy tendrils of sleep are about to drag Kazuya under, his Pokénav vibrates obnoxiously on the nightstand beside him. Disoriented and a bit annoyed, Kazuya rolls over and reaches for the device, nearly knocking over everything else on the nightstand in the process. His bleary eyes can barely make out the notification on his device, but it nonetheless makes his heart stop. He throws the Pokénav onto the comforter beside him and scrubs the sleep out of his eyes, putting on his glasses with record speed. When Kazuya looks at the pixelated screen of his Pokénav, he sees two new messages from his dad. 

> I would like that.

[umbreon.jpg]

Kazuya digs his thumbnail into the select key to open the attached photo, nearly dizzy from the relief that sweeps over him. When the image loads, he sees Umbreon sprawled on his dad's lap, sleeping peacefully on the couch. Kazuya's favorite blanket–an old, but cozy fleece with cartoon Plusle and Minun faces printed on it–is gently draped over Umbreon's back. Just beyond his dad's blurry thumb, Kazuya sees a half-drunk mug of tea on the coffee table. A pleasant warmth radiates through his chest, almost as if he too just had a cup of chamomile tea. Kazuya rests his Pokénav over his heart and squeezes his eyes shut. 

When he wakes up in the morning, he doesn’t even care that he has to take extra time to clean the tear stains from his glasses.

*

Even though Kazuya had originally wanted to get out of Slateport as soon as possible, he stays in the city for a few more days to train, review trainer stats, and explore the markets. He finds a few interesting items and accessories that his teammates seem to like, as well as some useful tools that will be helpful for the rest of his journey across the region. He also wonders if he will run into Kuramochi once again in this town, or if his rival has already started toward Mauville. After seeing just how big the city is, Kazuya wonders just how likely it is that they will cross paths again. After all, he has dedicated much of his life to analyzing statistics and probabilities–and the numbers that Kazuya sees now lead him to believe that they won’t see each other again, at least for a while. Kazuya is used to being alone, but he actually likes Kuramochi’s company. It’s entertaining to see Kuramochi’s exaggerated reactions to Kazuya’s teasing, but Kazuya also feels like he can be more like himself around his rival. It’s liberating, how Kuramochi doesn’t look at him with pity, or hold him to some expectation of what he should be.

After spending most of the morning training on the outskirts of Slateport, Kazuya finally makes it to Mauville City. This energetic metropolis has so many winding streets and dazzling neon signs, that Kazuya almost doesn’t know where to look. He spends an embarrassing amount of time aimlessly wandering the streets before he happens upon a Pokémon Center. While his team rests, Kazuya grabs a can of hot coffee from the vending machine and sends his dad another message–just a simple text saying that he made it to Mauville safely. Kazuya knows his dad won’t see it until later in the evening, but he hopes that his dad will appreciate the update.

Kazuya takes his time in the Pokémon Center to prepare for the next gym challenge, reviewing stats and strategies at a small table tucked away in the corner. As he sips his coffee, the bitter taste reminds Kazuya of the candies that Kuramochi gave him a few days ago. Once again, he finds himself assessing the probability that he will run into Kuramochi here, and feeling disappointed that he most likely will not. Maybe Kazuya should ask him for his contact information so they can keep in touch? Kazuya shakes this lame train of thought from his head and heads out, immediately missing the air conditioned facility when the humid mid-afternoon heat slaps him in the face. Undeterred, he pushes forward and blazes his way through the Mauville Gym to challenge Tadano Itsuki. The electric-type trainer keeps Kazuya on his toes throughout the battle, but his team ultimately emerges victorious. Kazuya leaves the supercharged gym clutching the Dynamo Badge in his hand, its cool metal a balm against the intense summer heat. He scans the entrance for spiky green hair one last time, but doesn’t find the person he’s looking for. Wiping the sweat from his brow, Kazuya wills his weary body to move forward and find a place to rest. 

*

The heatwave that rolls through central Hoenn makes it impossible for Kazuya and his team to get very far. Even though he’s spent years working long hours against an open flame, his teammates do not fare well training under the sweltering sun for too long. He’s been closely monitoring his Pokémon’s condition and motivation as they slowly make their way towards Jagged Pass; this perilous stretch of volcanic terrain requires constant vigilance to avoid both dangerous Pokémon and environmental hazards. These past few days have been quiet, but Kazuya has filled in some of the time by sending small updates to his dad. The mouth of Jagged Pass looms in the distance, calling Kazuya to the Heat Badge. Tomorrow, he will finally traverse that treacherous path. He retires to a cozy hostel on Route 112 that an elderly couple runs specifically for those who want to travel through Jagged Pass. The grandma nods for him to follow her through the narrow hallway to his room.

“I hope you don’t mind that you’ll be sharing the room with another traveler, dearie. It’s actually quite lucky for you both that you’re here at the same time. It’s better to not go alone,” she explains with a gentle smile as she shuffles forward.

“Lucky, huh?” 

Before Kazuya can ruminate over the identity of his lodging companion, they reach the door to his room. She raps on the door gently. Kazuya hears shuffling on the other side, and then the door cracks open.

“Hello, You-chan. I hope you don’t mind, but there’s another traveler here who will be sharing the room with you.”

She moves aside and gestures for Kazuya to introduce himself to his roommate. Kazuya comes face-to-face with the last person he expects to see in this place.

“It’s you–" Kuramochi hisses, snapping his mouth shut as soon as he remembers there is a sweet old lady in their presence.

Kazuya hides his own surprise with a smug grin. “Nice to meet you, You-chan,” he greets pleasantly, brushing past Kuramochi to enter the room. He snickers when he hears the string of curses that his rival mutters, and takes a stride into the middle of the room. Random bits of Kuramochi’s stuff is strewn about, and small droplets of water dot the floor. Kuramochi must’ve showered not too long ago, Kazuya notes idly. In the far corner, there’s a carefully-folded futon right beneath the room’s only window–Kazuya’s bed for the night. At some point, the door closes, and now Kazuya and Kuramochi are alone in this small space. Kazuya had prepared for the likelihood of not seeing Kuramochi for a long time, especially with how irregular Kazuya's own travels have been recently.

“I’m not sure if I should be disgusted or impressed that you managed to make a mess out of this room so quickly,” Kazuya muses, setting down his bag. He pointedly kicks a granola bar wrapper toward Kuramochi’s side with a socked foot and starts to unfold his futon.

“Shut up,” Kuramochi grumbles, kicking the granola bar wrapper back over to Kazuya. “I’ve had a lot to take care of, is all.” He crosses his arms and shoots Kazuya a sharp, accusing glare. “You don’t seem like the kind of person who can keep a room clean for long, either.”

“Oh? That’s quite the bold accusation, You-chan.”

“It’s not an accusation, it’s a fact. You can barely keep your fuckin’ backpack from bursting at the seams, and every time I’ve seen you you’re a walking fashion disaster.” He glowers, pointing a finger in Kazuya’s direction. “And for the last time, it’s Kuramochi to you. Ku-ra-mo-chi.”

“Fashion disaster?” Kazuya scoffs with fake-hurt, choosing to ignore Kuramochi's phonetics lesson. He has never really thought about his clothes before, because at the steel mill whatever he wore ended up covered in grease, soot, and sweat by the end of the day. Is what he wears really that bad?

“Dude, I probably wore that kind of shirt when I was like, seven,” Kuramochi laughs, gesturing with a tilt of his head to Kazuya's torso.

The shirt in question is one of Kazuya’s favorites– a purple tee with a graphic star scribbled in the center. It’s soft and breathable, and the color reminds him of the rich violet cloth that adorns the arms of his father’s Aegislash. This majestic Pokémon presides over the steel mill operations from the shadows, ensuring the safety and wellbeing of all of the workers. Kazuya had only caught a few glimpses of this Pokémon at work throughout his life, but whenever he did, he was starstruck by its grace and power. It made him feel safe, protected. “That was only a few years ago for you,” Kazuya hums, abandoning his futon and taking a stride over to his roommate. He grins down at Kuramochi, squaring his shoulders to emphasize their height difference even further. “You'll hit your growth-spurt soon, buddy,” he consoles with a hard pat on Kuramochi’s shoulder, barely containing his laughter.

“I'm average height for a twenty-two-year-old, you colossal asshole!” Kuramochi seethes. He still smells like pine, and that cheap apple shampoo that every Pokémart pushes for budget-conscious travelers. “At least I act and dress my age, unlike you.”

“You handle defeat with such grace and honor! I do have to admit that's impressive.”

They spend most of the evening bickering like this, with Kazuya toeing the line of Kuramochi’s patience until Kazuya steps out to wash the day's grime off in the hostel's small but functional shower. When he returns to the room, Kuramochi is lying on his futon with his arm thrown over his eyes. Kazuya's gaze lingers on the even rise and fall of Kuramochi's chest; he's most likely asleep, or close to it–which blows Kazuya's mind, because the light's still on in the room and Kazuya wasn't exactly quiet when he walked back in. There's noticeably less clutter on the floor, and Kazuya spots the familiar green wrapper of a granola bar in the middle of his own neatly-made futon.

Kazuya pads over to his futon, his bare feet making soft noises against the tatami. He picks up the granola bar, expecting it to be the same empty wrapper they kicked around before. It isn’t.

“We have a long day tomorrow, and I'm not gonna carry your ass to Lavaridge if you pass out on the trail from low blood sugar.”

Kuramochi doesn't move when he speaks. Because his rival-turned-roommate still has his eyes covered with his arm, Kazuya doesn't try hard to mask his surprise.

“Thanks, mom,” Kazuya replies airily, despite the rapid uptick in his heart rate from the simple, yet thoughtful gesture. He throws the granola bar on top of his bag and flicks the room’s lightswitch down. The soft moonlight filtering into the room from the window guides Kazuya back to his futon, which he gratefully slides into. Since there isn’t enough room in this small space, Kazuya decides to keep Marowak in its Pokéball, where it will be more comfortable. It feels odd, not having his companion in the room, but Kazuya feels reassured knowing that he is here with someone familiar. Kazuya slips his eye mask on and relaxes a bit more. “Night, Mochi-kun.”

“G’night, dickhead.”

Youichi awakens with a string of curses flying from his lips, displeased that the sun’s rays shine directly into his poor, unsuspecting eyes from the window. In his haste to get out of the direct path of the hell-light, Youichi manages to roll right off of his futon and onto the tatami floor, dragging all of his bedding with him. 

“Good morning, sunshine!” Glasses Bastard greets cheerfully, despite the grogginess from sleep crackling in his voice. Youichi scowls at Miyuki, who is lying on his stomach and smirking up at Youichi with his hands resting under his chin. His hair is slightly disheveled, but it only serves to highlight the masculine angles of his face even more. Youichi wasn’t able to see in the dim lamplight last night, but with the sun shining into the room, he can now see the light smattering of freckles that run over Miyuki’s nose, as well as the way the Hoenn summer sun has given his skin a radiant caramel glow. Even though the room is well air-conditioned, Youichi suddenly feels much hotter. 

With a groan, Youichi disentangles himself from his blanket cocoon and remakes his futon, trying his hardest to ignore the weight of Miyuki’s gaze on him. “You’re too cheerful for it being so early. It’s disgusting.” 

“The only disgusting thing here is your bed-head!” Miyuki snickers as he remakes his own futon.

“Fucker,” Youichi mutters under his breath as he prepares for the very, very long journey ahead of him with this asshole.

They somehow manage to make it out of the hostel doors without a violent incident, and wave goodbye to the cheerful elderly couple before heading down the path that leads to the mouth of Jagged Pass. The clumps of rust-brown grass on the edges of the walking path eventually taper away, leaving nothing but patches of dirt, shards of pumice, and the dark gray soot that blows over from Mt. Chimney. The humid air makes the volcanic ash stick to Youichi’s exposed skin, creating a gritty, unpleasant film. Miyuki is shockingly silent as they walk, and his Marowak isn’t out of its Pokéball following him like it usually does. Youichi occasionally sneaks a glance at the other from the corner of his eye, but Miyuki doesn’t appear to be distressed–he’s solemn, determined. 

A few meters before the entrance to Jagged Pass stands a small Pokémart. Youichi nods his head towards it. “Let’s stock up on supplies. At the very least, a bottle of cold water’ll make a hell of a difference.”

Miyuki’s eyes glitter with that familiar and infuriating mischievousness. “You’re encouraging me to buy more junk after roasting me for having too much in my bag?”

“Shut it,” Youichi huffs. “My threat to leave you behind still stands.”

“You’re stone-cold, Mochi-kun!” Miyuki sighs, before skipping ahead into the shop with that shitty grin plastered to his face.

Upon hearing the pun, coupled with the nickname, Youchi feels the blood vessels in his temple throb. He takes in a sharp breath, instantly regretting it as volcanic ash clogs his nostrils. Muttering colorful curses under his breath once more, Youichi follows Miyuki into the Pokémart. The attendant’s face immediately lights up with recognition as they enter. “Are you Miyuki-san?” 

When he hears his name, Miyuki nods. “That would be me. Is everything okay?” he asks carefully.

The attendant, a nervous, but kind-looking girl with auburn hair nods enthusiastically. “I have a parcel for you, actually! Just give me one moment to get it!” She spins around, almost knocking over the display of goods at the cash register in the process. Undeterred, she shuffles through the shelves of items behind the counter until she finds the designated parcel. As she stands up with the package, she hits her head on the shelf with a loud thud, causing stacks of inventory paper to spill onto the floor. “Ahaha, sorry about that!” the girl apologizes with a sheepish smile, her face turning pink. 

Concerned for this clumsy attendant’s wellbeing, Youichi quickly moves to assess the situation. “Are you okay?” he asks in unison with a slightly flustered Miyuki.

The girl nods, and the honest softness in her eyes reassures Youichi. “Things like this happen all the time. It’s not a big deal!” She then turns to Miyuki, holding the small package out for him to take. “Here is your parcel. We have a PC by the entrance if you need to access any online services.”

Youichi watches Miyuki carefully accept the parcel, confusion and curiosity apparent in the scrunch of his eyebrows. He decides to give the bastard some space, even though he really doesn't deserve that courtesy. While Miyuki opens his mysterious package, Youichi idly peruses the small aisles in the shop. He grabs a can of Max Repel and a couple Full Restores, recalling that he used the last of his stock during his battle against Tadano. However, the building is small enough that Youichi doesn't miss the small, hopeful 'oh' that escapes from Miyuki's lips when he finally opens the package. Now unable to contain his curiosity, Youichi peers over the shelf to get a better look at whatever it is that made Miyuki so shocked.

It's a simple, medium-sized box, devoid of any fancy designs or frills. Miyuki holds a hand-written note in front of his face, which mostly obscures his expression. However, Youichi can clearly see how much this gift has moved Miyuki by the way his shoulders loosen. When Miyuki lowers the note, his features are softer, more genuine. There's not as much of a tightness in the pull of his lips, and his chestnut eyes sparkle with a warmer kind of light. It's nice, Youichi thinks, seeing that this asshole actually has something that resembles a heart.

“So, what is it, Miyuki-san?” the attendant asks innocently, her eyes shimmering with wonder as she leans precariously over the cashier's table.

Miyuki shoves the note in his pocket, the spell cast over him all but broken. He carefully removes the contents of the box and holds it out to show the attendant in yet another surprising gesture of non-assholery. He cradles a beautiful violet stone in his hands, which the attendant fawns over with an awed gasp. Youichi edges even closer. Now, he can see the fine details in the breathtaking stone. The center of the gem appears black as night, which fans out into rich hues of dark purple. The hard-cut edges reflect the fluorescent lights from above, casting a mauve glow around it.

“A Dusk Stone,” Youichi muses aloud, awestruck by the simple beauty of it. He's only ever seen this rare gem a handful of times, and never this close. There are only a handful of Pokémon that can harness this stone's mysterious energy, and none of Miyuki's party have that capability. ”You have any Pokémon in storage that you've been hiding from me?”

“Like I'd tell you anyway,” Miyuki responds with an asinine smile. “I have to keep you on your toes as my rival.” He winks, and it makes Youichi's stomach flip. 

“Tch,” Youichi tuts, shaking his head. He grabs two bottles of fresh water from the small refrigerator beside the register and places his items on the counter. The attendant fumbles with his items, but manages to ring everything up without any further catastrophic occurrences. As she hands him his bag, Youichi finally sees her name tag, which her hair had covered before. “Thanks for your help, Haruno.”

Haruno smiles back at Youichi, and before she has the chance to say anything back, Miyuki sets a can of coffee onto the counter with a loud clang. Haruno scurries back over to the other side of the counter to ring up Miyuki's dumb purchase, and Youichi decides to walk toward the door. Haruno sees them out with a cheerful goodbye moments later.

Once they're back in the humid, sulfur-tinged air, Miyuki cracks open his coffee and takes a long gulp. Youichi decides to drink some of his water as well, and the frosty liquid feels refreshing against the oppressive heat. They walk in silence for a little while, until they spot an unusual group ahead of them, loitering just in front of the entrance to Jagged Pass. There are quite a few middle school-aged kids among them, accompanied by adults. They're all wearing name tags and similar uniforms, so they have to be from a school.

“Wonder what that's all about,” Youichi ponders, pointing his bottle in the group's direction. Miyuki shrugs and takes another sip of his coffee.

“Doesn’t seem like the most kid-friendly field trip,” Miyuki says coolly. He crushes his now-empty coffee can, which draws Youichi’s gaze to Miyuki’s hand. He’s wearing fingerless gloves today, the rich black leather contrasting well with his sun-kissed skin.

When they finally catch up with the random group, one of the adults explains to Youichi and Miyuki that they’re heading to Lavaridge to learn about the history of Mt. Chimney as a part of their earth sciences class. The wonder and curiosity in the students' eyes makes Youichi smile fondly, as he recalls feeling similar awe upon exploring new and interesting places. The teachers let Youichi and Miyuki move ahead of them, explaining that they're going to be moving slowly along the trail to observe rocks. Youichi and his snarky partner gratefully pass ahead on the narrow path, drawing the attention of a few of the kids, who eye their gear with intrigue. 

It doesn’t quite hit Youichi that they’re actually on Jagged Pass until the ground rumbles beneath his feet, ominous and unsettling. If he turns his head to the left, the path suddenly drops off into a steep cliff. Smaller, more treacherous pathways are carved into the face of the rock below, but they’re not accessible to the public. A fence made of thick rope cordons off the cliff edge, and there are copious amounts of red-lettered signs warning travelers to keep a safe distance and not climb below. Youichi breathes in slowly through his nose. He knows rock; it has been his livelihood for as long as he can remember. There is nothing to fear. Feeling empowered now, he takes another step forward on the rugged path. He somehow ends up on the side closer to the cliff, while Miyuki keeps close to the rough mountain face that walls off the other side of the pathway. 

They continue along for some time, Miyuki’s footsteps landing heavily beside him. Ever since the day started, the bastard has been unusually silent. Youichi wonders if it’s because Miyuki is scared of the dangers here, or if there’s something else bothering him. Youichi doesn’t see fear as something in the vocabulary of a shameless bastard like Miyuki, so he concludes that the gift Miyuki received must be weighing on his mind.

“That was quite the gift you got back there,” Youichi starts, casually shoving his hands into the pockets of his cargo pants. “It’s not every day that someone’s gifted a precious stone like that. Was it from a secret lover or something?” he prods with a wry smile. For some reason, the words taste bitter in his mouth, or maybe it’s just the ash landing on his tongue.

It doesn’t seem like Miyuki wants to answer Youichi’s question, if his body language is any indication. He remains silent for a few more steps, and Youichi contemplates kicking up rocks to get the bastard to at least acknowledge him.

“My dad sent it to me,” Miyuki finally responds. “Along with a Doublade.”

“Doublade? That’s an interesting gift.” The sword Pokémon isn’t common in Hoenn; Youichi has only seen foreign trainers with them. He’s read stories when he was younger about brave knights and warriors of old teaming up with Honedge and Doublade to protect their land and loved ones.

“It's kind of a symbolic gesture, if your rock-brain is capable of comprehending such an advanced concept,” Miyuki ribs, bumping into Youichi’s shoulder playfully.

“Fuck you!” Youichi grits, pushing Miyuki back with more force.

Miyuki wags his finger in front of Youichi’s nose, just close enough that Youichi could reach out and crush it, if he really wanted to. “Now now, Mochi-kun, you might want to watch your language when there are young kids around.”

“You’re the worst,” Youichi hisses.

“Why, thank yo–”

Before Miyuki can finish his response, the sickening sound of crumbling rock reverberates through the narrow passageway. Moments later, a shower of ash and debris falls over their heads, making it nearly impossible to see. The ground begins to quake with even more force than before, making it difficult to stay upright.Is something happening to Mt. Chimney?

Youichi hears panicked yelling from the group behind them, and his stomach drops. Ahead, large cracks run down the mountain face, sending massive, jagged boulders tumbling through the gaping fissures.

Now, rock is their enemy. It is not a constant, steady force, like it has always been in Youichi’s life. It is dangerous, fickle, and all-consuming. He grabs onto Miyuki’s arm, reassuring both himself and Miyuki that they’re both okay. They meet each other’s gaze, eyes blazing with determination, understanding, and something else that he doesn’t want to name. 

“Let’s go.”

They make their way back to the group of schoolchildren, avoiding the falling debris and flaming ash. Youichi unhooks Metagross’s Pokéball from his belt and tosses it into the air. It immediately understands the peril of their situation and tucks its legs beneath its massive body, levitating steadily above and protecting them from falling debris. The spooked group grows even more frantic with each rumble of the mountain. Youichi notes with relief that no one appears to be injured, aside from a few small scratches from the falling rubble. He finds one of the teachers and calls Metagross down to the cliff edge with a wave of his hand.

“I'm going to have Metagross start to take your group over to Lavaridge, but only two or three of you can fit at a time. It knows Protect, so you don't need to worry about the falling rocks. It'll listen to your command if anything happens.” The teacher nods in understanding, frantic, but hopeful. “You will be safe with it,” Youichi affirms, unwavering in his certainty. Aerodactyl is too small to be effective here, and it will probably scare the already-frightened children. Metagross is his only option to get them out.

In perfect unison, Youichi and Miyuki work towards shuttling the group to safety. While waiting for Metagross to return, they secure the area to the best of their ability, working with their Pokémon to keep the falling rock from causing harm. They work well together, complementing each other's strengths and filling in the gaps for their weaknesses. (Miyuki, unsurprisingly, has no fucking clue how to talk to young kids. So, Youichi handles talking to them and keeping the group as calm as possible.)

The mountain continues to groan and quake, and the constant shower of smoldering debris makes the air thick and difficult to breathe. But somehow, they manage to get most of the group carried off to Lavaridge. Only two children and one teacher remain now.

When Metagross returns, Youichi helps the group get aboard. He helps a young girl climb onto Metagross, and tells her how brave she is for holding out this long. 

“Watch out!” Miyuki shouts, just as a terrible crash reverberates through the pass.

Youichi turns around, his heart leaping into his throat. Miyuki pushes the schoolboy out of the path of a falling boulder. He isn’t able to move himself out of the rock’s path in time, so the rough stone glances off of Miyuki's side. The impact sends him skittering towards the edge of the cliff, kicking up even more dust in his wake. Before Youichi can even move, Miyuki falls out of sight. 

“Miyuki!” he yells, voice cracking on the last syllable. When some of the dust settles on the ground, Youichi's sharp vision detects a black glove on the cliff edge. “Shit, Miyuki. I'm coming!”

“Get– get the others first!”

Youichi can't ignore the serious, commanding tone of Miyuki's voice, or the way that the mountain continues to quake. He hesitates for a brief moment, torn between his desire to save Miyuki, and his duty to take care of these kids. Then, he’s running over to the boy that Miyuki saved and helping him board Metagross. Each painful thump of Youichi's heart against his ribcage marks another second–time that Miyuki doesn't have. 

“Mister, will he be okay?” The boy blubbers as Youichi secures him onto the Pokémon, fat tears running down his cheeks. 

“I’ll make sure of it,” Youichi responds, resolute. 

Just before Metagross takes off, Youichi lunges over to the cliff, flinging Aerodactyl’s Pokéball over the edge. When he catches sight of Miyuki's gloves, still somehow grasping the rough rock, Youichi's throat tightens. “You stubborn bastard,” he croaks, crouching down to wrap his hands around Miyuki’s forearms. Once he gets a good grip, Youichi calls upon the rest of his strength to hoist Miyuki back up. His muscles burn from the effort, already nearly exhausted from his earlier work. Yet slowly, he manages to bring Miyuki closer to safety. With a guttural roar, Youichi pulls Miyuki over the edge. Miyuki’s feet scrabble against the rough cliff face, propelling himself upward to meet Youichi’s efforts. They tumble backward, and the back of Youichi’s head hits the ground hard enough to make his vision go blurry for a moment. Miyuki lands on top of him, completely boneless, with a muffled groan. 

“You’re heavy,” Youichi huffs, using what little energy he has left to sit them up. He studies Miyuki's face, almost unable to believe that he's actually okay. “Can you stand on your own?”

Miyuki nods, eyes glowing with determination behind his soot-stained glasses, despite his clear fatigue. Just as he begins to push himself off the ground, another violent quake rips through the mountain pass. Larger chunks of flaming rock tumble down the face of the mountain, taking out everything in their path. The sickening sound of cracking rock reverberates around them, and Youichi realizes with a start that if they don't get out of here right now, they probably never will. He scrambles up, pulling Miyuki with him back toward the cliff edge. He wraps his arm securely around Miyuki's waist, and Miyuki instinctively drapes his arm over Youichi’s shoulders, hand finding purchase in the sweat-soaked cotton of Youichi's shirt. “Hold on tight,” Youichi shouts over the sound of the world crumbling around them, before launching them over the cliff edge. 

They fall fast, the mountain edge and falling rock blending into muddy stripes. Miyuki begins to yell out of alarm, but it comes out as a choked gasp instead, which makes Youichi worry just how badly he's injured. Then, Aerodactyl swoops beneath, catching them with ease. Youichi shifts so that Miyuki sits in front of him, resting between Aerodactyl's powerful shoulders. Miyuki slumps forward, fighting to remain conscious.

“I won't let you go,” Youichi whispers into Miyuki's ear, wrapping both of his arms around Miyuki's midsection. “You're safe with me.”

Using his legs to direct Aerodactyl, they fly toward Lavaridge, dodging flying debris along the way. When they finally make it out of Jagged Pass, Youichi spots the familiar silhouettes of the kids they rescued standing by his Metagross, as well as the unmistakable uniforms of the Hoenn Pokémon Rangers. They land beside the large gathering of frantic bystanders, and Youichi carefully guides Miyuki off of Aerodactyl. He leans heavily onto Youichi, chest heaving, yet somehow still awake.

A small group of Pokémon Rangers toting various medical supplies runs up to them. “Was he hit on the head at all?” one of them asks.

“No,” Miyuki responds, but he doesn’t sound very convincing. Everything happened so quickly that Youichi can’t recall exactly where Miyuki was hit by the falling rock, which kind of unsettles him.

A goateed Pokémon Ranger with an intense gaze sets down a medical kit and begins pulling out supplies, while the other rangers set up a gurney. Stethoscope in hand, he gestures for Youichi to have Miyuki sit down. Youichi manages to set Miyuki gently on the patchy grass with the help of the Ranger.

“The name’s Isashiki Jun. I'm gonna take your vitals real quick, then we're gonna get you outta here.”

Right after the Ranger introduces himself, Miyuki gasps, barely audible over the bustle around them. “You're...”

They all fall into silence as Isashiki wraps the blood pressure cuff around Miyuki's arm and inflates it, Youichi keeping Miyuki propped up all the while.

“BP’s 143 over 82, pulse 110,” the Ranger mumbles, before ripping the blood pressure cuff off of Miyuki's arm. He then points an accusatory finger into Miyuki's face, his brows scrunching with concern. “You sure have a knack for getting into trouble, don't ya?”

Miyuki shrugs, then winces from the pain of the motion. Youichi can see the recognition in both of their eyes; his mind flashes back to the way Miyuki's face fell ever-so-slightly the day he properly introduced himself, then to the way he smiled so genuinely after receiving that package from his father–a symbol of protection. However, Youichi knows how to respect boundaries. There's a time and place for everything, and Miyuki doesn't owe any sort of explanation to Youichi, as long as it doesn't interfere with their battles.

“Let’s get you to the hospital, kid,” Isashiki huffs, but his eyes are soft. The other Rangers come over with the assembled gurney and carefully get Miyuki onto the bed. Youichi watches in a haze as they load Miyuki into an ambulance. When the vehicle takes off, Youichi heaves a weary sigh. His hands are still trembling from the adrenaline, and his eyes are dry and irritated from flying through the ash and smoke. He returns Metagross and Aerodactyl to their Pokéballs after feeding them a handful of berries and thanking them for their hard work, then begins to wander toward the nearest Pokémon Center.

“Oi, don’t think we’re letting you go without a checkup either,” a familiar gruff voice calls out. The goateed Ranger–Isashiki–waves the bell of his stethoscope in Youichi’s face. “From what those kids have told me, you were also quite the hero.”

“I only did what was right in that situation. Wasn’t about to stand by and do nothing,” Youichi explains, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Isashiki gives Youichi a look, his lips pressed into a tight line. After a moment, he waves Youichi over to a bench a few meters away from the main bustle of the crowd. When they settle down, Isashiki proceeds to ask basic questions and check Youichi’s vitals. When he’s satisfied with what he sees, he claps Youichi on the shoulder. “Your quick thinking saved lives. It takes a lot of guts to do what you did. You should think about joining the Rangers.”

Those words hit Youichi like a thunderbolt. He blinks, stricken into silence by the profundity of that suggestion.

Before Youichi has the chance to properly respond, Isashiki barks out an amused laugh. “Think about it some more and give me a call. I’ll whip you into shape and get you out in the field in no time.” He holds his hand out expectantly, and Youichi opens up his contact list and places his Pokénav into Isashiki’s hand. 

His device feels heavier in his pocket when he returns it, now with this Pokémon Ranger’s contact information. He wonders if it’s possible for hope to be as heavy as the fear of failure.

*

After dealing with a flurry of reporters and frantic calls from his parents, Youichi is finally free to see Miyuki at the hospital. His thoughts have been clouded with worry over the glasses bastard, and, even though his body wants nothing more than to rest, Youichi knows he won't be able to sleep until he knows what Miyuki's condition is. The journey to the medical center is the first moment of peace that Youichi had all day. Somewhere between the news interviews and heartfelt moments with the grateful schoolkids, Youichi made an important realization: he doesn’t want to face the Champion of Hoenn anymore. Youichi wants to be a protector, to be the one who can bring hope in a difficult situation. Isashiki’s invitation to join the Hoenn Rangers has finally answered the question that Youichi had been mulling over for all this time–what his true calling is. However, Kuramochi Youichi is not a quitter, so he’s going to see the Pokémon League Challenge through, up to the last gym. He needs to prove to his brother–and to his childhood self–that he is strong enough to make it that far.

The more distressing precipitation from this realization is that Youichi actually wants an excuse to see Miyuki Kazuya more. Without the common goal of facing the Pokémon League Challenge together, Youichi will have no reason to be around Miyuki anymore. Youichi is finally beginning to admit to himself that what he feels towards Miyuki isn’t just annoyance mixed with a bit of physical attraction–he may actually like him. Youichi has felt a sort of camaraderie with Miyuki from the very beginning, because they’re both outsiders–two older trainers, loners going against what is expected of them to pursue a different dream. But now, he has seen bits of Miyuki’s heart–in the kind way he treats his Pokémon, in a Hyper Potion left on a tree stump, in the way his face shone when he received a message from his dad, in risking his life for a stranger–and Youichi can’t help but feel something more. 

He walks through the automatic doors to the clinic, scrunching his nose at the smell of antiseptic. The energetic nurse at the triage station greets Youichi with a reassuring smile. As she leads Youichi through the maze of hallways, she explains that Miyuki has a few bruised ribs and suffered mild heat exhaustion. He’ll be okay repeats in Youichi’s head until they reach a small, private room. The walls in this wing of the medical center are painted powder blue–the color of the open sky on a mild spring day. It gives Youichi the reassurance he needs to crack open the door and enter the dim room. Miyuki’s asleep, so Youichi takes care to walk up to the bed as quietly as possible. He looks peaceful, like this. Even in the low light, Youichi can make out the softer features of Miyuki's face–the ones that his glasses usually cover. Entranced, Youichi reaches his hand out and gently pushes back the stray wisps of hair from Miyuki's forehead. “Don't you ever scare me like that again, you asshole,” he mutters. When he leaves the room a few minutes later, Youichi nearly bumps into a man who is carrying a hot beverage. He has the same unmistakable, handsome features as Miyuki: strong jaw, thick eyebrows, broad shoulders. This man, however, has an even more profound sadness tugging at the corners of his lips, and his dark gray eyes lack that energetic spark held in the deep umber of Miyuki’s. This man is wearing a faded purple t-shirt with the Miyuki Steel logo on the breast pocket, and Youichi thinks about the violet hues of a Dusk Stone, and stories of old-time heroes and their Doublades. Youichi offers a shallow bow. “Your son is strong,” he states. 

Miyuki’s father studies Youichi’s face, the worry in his eyes fading just a little. “He really is incredible.”

They nod in understanding, and part ways. That night, Youichi dreams of flying in clear blue skies.

This is the worst headache that Kazuya has ever experienced in his life. 

He wakes up in the scratchy sheets of a hospital bed with nothing to cover his eyes from the harsh fluorescent lights. His temple throbs, his eyes burn, and he's really fucking thirsty. When Kazuya tries to sit up, a sharp pain shoots through his side. The hazy memory of a doctor showing Kazuya an x-ray and explaining that he's lucky to not have broken any ribs flashes into his mind.

He flops onto his back with a groan, now focused on breathing shallowly to prevent further irritation to his bruised side. An IV line is taped over the top of his left hand, and there’s some sort of plastic thing on his finger that’s connected to a machine beside his bed. In all honesty, Kazuya is too tired to care about the whys or hows of all of these things that are connected to his body.

“You should take care to not sit up so fast,” the nurse who had apparently turned on the lights tuts. He's tall, with a closely-shaved head and stern eyes. However, any intimidation that this nurse could possibly exude is immediately nullified by his scrubs, which are covered with cute cartoons of Togepi and Togekiss. For some reason, they remind Kazuya of his favorite blanket with the Plusle and Minun, and he feels a bit more comfortable here. “How are you feeling this morning, Miyuki?”

“Wonderful,” he wheezes. The nurse frowns, unamused by Kazuya's sarcasm. After a moment of awkward silence, the nurse introduces himself as Tanba and begins to tend to him with surprising gentleness and dexterity. Out of the corner of his eye, Kazuya sees his dad standing in the entryway, clutching a plastic bag. Kazuya’s stomach grumbles when he catches the unmistakable spicy smell of his favorite kind of meat bun.

After drinking an entire pitcher of water, inhaling the breakfast his dad brought, and getting pain medication into his system, Kazuya feels a bit less miserable. The doctor wants to keep him in observation for a while longer, and Kazuya pouts at the thought of having to suffer in this uncomfortable hospital bed for even longer. His dad returns to the room shortly after speaking with the doctor, and Kazuya is still in shock that Toku is actually here and not at the mill. Among the vague fragments of memories from yesterday, Kazuya recalls one of his father sitting quietly beside him, coupled with the comforting aroma of chamomile. It relieves Kazuya to see with certainty that no ill feelings remain between them. 

While waiting for the doctor’s final clearance, Kazuya and his dad spend the day talking just like they did before he left home. When Tanba comes in to check on Kazuya, Toku heads to the cafeteria to get them big cups of chamomile tea. They pass more time catching up on what is new in each others’ lives, and Kazuya doesn’t even mind that the thin styrofoam cup lets a bit too much of the heat bleed through to his hands. They avoid speaking about what happened at Jagged Pass, until their conversation lulls into silence. His dad’s lips are pressed into a tight line, restraining himself from asking the question that he surely wants to voice.

Kazuya recalls those tense moments on Jagged Pass: how the ash and dust caught in his throat and made it difficult to breathe, how the oppressive heat from the volcanic discharge sapped his energy much faster than the white-hot flames of the forges in Miyuki Steel, and how helpless he felt when he saw the fear in those little kids’ faces and didn’t know how to reassure them. How he saw himself in a young boy, faced with his own mortality despite having so much potential and life ahead of him, and thought back to his mom’s kind smile, and Isashiki’s reassuring embrace as he pulled young Kazuya out of the pile of rubble.

“I understand now,” Kazuya starts. He fidgets with the almost-empty cup of tea in his hands, but maintains his father’s gaze. “Why mom did what she did.”

“You do,” his dad states, voice hoarse.

Kazuya inhales slowly, stopping when his ribs begin to throb. He recalls how that pain felt as he hung at the edge of the cliff, how his muscles burned from the strain of holding up his entire body, how he felt his nails splintering from digging into the rock. With a chill, he recalls seeing a familiar red glow looming ominously in his periphery, as if it were waiting for his endurance to give out. ‘You’re all that’s left’ had echoed loudly in his mind, and he kept repeating it like a mantra, giving him the strength to wait for Kuramochi to come pull him back up. “It was scary being in that situation, but that fear wouldn’t have gotten us anywhere. When I was hanging on the edge of the cliff, I thought of you. And I held on.” 

Toku’s slate-gray eyes shimmer with unshed tears. Kazuya has never seen his father cry, not even at his mother’s funeral. “I'm glad you're okay, Kazuya. I... I've never doubted your strength.”

“I know,” Kazuya replies, and his dad reaches out and grabs his non-wired hand. His calluses are rougher than Kazuya's, but the gesture is reassuring. Kazuya squeezes his dad's hand. “I also realized that being a Pokémon Champion isn't just about being strong, or being the best. It’s about being able to share that strength to pull others up.”

The silence that follows is comfortable.

“There was another boy about your age here last night to see you. I ran into him on my way in.”

Kazuya's breath hitches. “I see.” He thought he was dreaming when he felt a rough hand brush against his forehead, and the hushed ‘Don't you ever scare me like that again’ hot against his skin. His memory takes him back a bit further, to the feeling of Kuramochi's solid body pressed against his, and his strong arms wrapped tightly around Kazuya's waist. Though he will never tell Kuramochi this, Kazuya thought his rival looked very cool as he shuttled the group to safety. If it weren’t for Kuramochi’s level-headedness and quick thinking, yesterday would have turned out a lot differently. Kazuya thinks back to the kind old lady who ran the hostel, and how she had mentioned that he was lucky for ending up at that place with another person, and he feels goosebumps rise on his skin.

“Is he a friend of yours?”

What exactly is Kuramochi to Kazuya, at this point? It’s not like he’s ever really had any friends before, but that title doesn’t seem to fit quite what he feels towards the other. “You could say that,” Kazuya chooses to respond.

His dad’s expression softens, and he gives Kazuya’s hand another gentle squeeze. “I’m glad that you have people who care about you like that.”

“Me too,” Kazuya mumbles, trying desperately to fight back the blush that blooms on his cheeks.

*

Now that Kazuya can actually appreciate it, he finds that he really likes the quiet town of Lavaridge. The people are kind, the food is good, and the scenery is breathtaking. Despite being so close to the unpredictable dangers of Mt. Chimney, Lavaridge has a peaceful aura. Marowak, finally released from the confines of its Pokéball, skips happily behind Kazuya and Kuramochi as they amble around the town. Kuramochi had actually accosted Kazuya right before he left the hospital earlier today, and has been accompanying him since. The look on Toku’s face when Kuramochi walked up to them, concern thinly-veiled behind his usual annoyed countenance, was unlike anything Kazuya had seen on his dad before. Kuramochi and Kazuya’s dad had actually exchanged a meaningful glance with one another right before his dad departed for the steel mill. Even though this was hours ago, Kazuya can’t shake the image from his mind.

Kazuya shoves his hands into the pockets of his track pants. Even though it’s still hot out, there’s a refreshing breeze that swishes through the trees. “I’m surprised you haven’t tried to challenge the gym leader, yet.”

“Been busy,” Kuramochi responds without missing a beat. “Besides, it’s not a bad thing to take a breather every once in a while.”

“Yeah.” They continue walking in thoughtful silence, each step accompanied by the crunch of the cobblestone path and the distant chirping of Pidgey and Swellow perched in the town’s majestic maple trees. 

“I’m surprised that you haven’t already gotten yourself into more trouble, Miyuki.”

Kazuya gasps and looks at Kuramochi over the rims of his glasses. “I am very well-behaved!”

“Kyahaha, and the sky is green! You’re the kind of guy who bends the rules to his whims. Though that’s not always a bad thing. Makes you a damn good trainer.”

“Thank you,” Kazuya manages with his usual airy tone. His ribs hurt from the air he sucked in upon hearing this genuine praise.

“This time it was a compliment.”

Kazuya gets a room at the same quaint inn that Kuramochi has been staying at. After wandering the town and doing some light training with their Pokémon, they retire for the day. A natural hot spring is connected to the building, which Kazuya is eager to try. He’s always wanted to experience an onsen like this. His room is minimalist and quiet, which Kazuya appreciates. It gives him more space to spread out his thoughts and unwind. Marowak plops on a puffy plum-colored cushion on the floor and dozes, its soft snores becoming ambient noise. Kazuya takes his time setting out his clothes and preparing for the bath.

When he finally leaves the room, donning the inn’s soft navy blue yukata, he walks with purpose to the area that leads to the bath. He approaches the simple sliding doors that lead to the outdoor area, and wisps of tumeric and other relaxing, earthy spices surround him.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

Kuramochi approaches from behind, wearing the same yukata as Kazuya, except he has his fashioned in such a way that his entire chest is exposed. It takes all of Kazuya’s willpower to keep his gaze from immediately going to Kuramochi’s chest when he turns around. 

“You always give me shit, but right now you’re the biggest rock brain on the planet.”

“Says the guy who can’t even put on a yukata properly,” Kazuya retorts, finally allowing his eyes to skate over the toned muscle of Kuramochi’s bare chest. He has a dark freckle right beneath his collarbone, which Kazuya’s eyes linger on.

Kuramochi scoffs. “Don’t deflect.” He circles around Kazuya, who does nothing to stop him, thanks to the distraction of bare skin. “You shouldn’t be here,” he scolds, his body now blocking the entrance to the onsen.

“You watched me pay for my room. I can be anywhere I want in this building,” Kazuya explains, running a hand through his hair to distract himself from his other thoughts. He immediately regrets this, because the motion sends a sharp pain up his side.

“As you just reminded yourself,” Kuramochi begins, tone cold as he gestures to Miyuki’s ribs, “You just came out of the fucking hospital.”

“I did,” Kazuya deadpans, while trying to reach around Kuramochi for the door handle.

“I can’t believe I have to spell this out for you,” he grits, grabbing Kazuya's wrist before he can make it any further. His thumb rests right over Kazuya's pulse point, which has suddenly become much more erratic. “You shouldn’t be hopping into a hot bath after you just barely recovered from heat exhaustion.”

“But the Lavaridge Inn’s onsen is a national treasure!” Kazuya pouts, ripping his wrist from Kuramochi's strong grasp before his irregular heart rate betrays him. “I can handle the heat just fine.” He tries to sidestep Kuramochi, but to no avail.

“I’m not budging,” Kuramochi declares with finality, crossing his arms over his chest. 

They have an intense staring contest for what feels like hours. When Kazuya feels his eyes starting to water, he decides to try one last time to sneak past Kuramochi’s defense. He tilts his head to the left, feigning interest in something in that general direction. When Kuramochi’s gaze follows his own, Kazuya lunges in the opposite direction. Unfortunately, Kuramochi’s reflexes are quicker, and Kazuya ends up crashing into solid muscle.

“Why are you going through all this effort to stop me?” Kazuya huffs as Kuramochi pushes him away from the door.

The flecks of brown-gold in Kuramochi’s eyes seem even warmer when he looks at Kazuya with such bare sincerity. “Why shouldn't I?” 

“Aw, you're making it sound like you might actually care for me, Mochi-kun!” Kazuya teases, despite his heart threatening to crawl into his throat from the implication of such a thing.

“Get used to it, asshole,” he says earnestly, and Kazuya can only blink dumbly in response. “Now go take a normal shower and get some rest. I’ll be sure to wake you up bright and early tomorrow.”

The warmth from Kuramochi’s hands, which are now placed firmly on Kazuya’s shoulders, bleeds through the thin cotton of his yukata. “Okay,” Kazuya mutters, taking a short step backwards. Kuramochi releases his arms with a pleased nod.

As he walks back to his room, Kazuya realizes that this is the first time that he has ceded defeat to Kuramochi. That thought doesn’t really bother him as much as it probably should.

The next day, Kuramochi follows up on his promise and wakes Kazuya up at an ungodly early time. After consuming almost the entirety of the Lavaridge Inn’s supply of coffee, Kazuya feels better prepared to review battle statistics and strategy. Over breakfast, he and Kuramochi study as much as they can about their next opponent: fire-type expert Amahisa Kousei.

Later that day, they leave the Lavaridge Gym, both clutching their hard-earned Heat Badges. Amahisa was a challenging opponent with a strong understanding of battle dynamics, but Kazuya and Kuramochi were able to best him. Ash from Mt. Chimney blows with the gentle summer breeze, making Kazuya feel the need to sneeze. The rivals only make it a few steps outside of the gym before Kazuya abruptly stops. 

He swears he just saw a flash of that familiar ominous red glow peek out from behind the maple tree that's closest to him. He doesn't have to wait long for the thing to reveal itself: a Dusknoir slides out from the tree's shadows, looming imposingly in the space in front of Kazuya.

The Pokémon quietly observes Kazuya, not showing any malicious intent. Marowak bristles as his feet, brandishing its bone-club cautiously.

“Holy fucking shit,” Kuramochi wheezes. “Miyuki, you either gotta fight this thing or leave before it takes us straight to the asscrack of hell.”

Kazuya pats Marowak on the head, a placating gesture that somewhat relaxes his companion's unease. “You've heard the old wives' tale, right? That Duskull follow kids who are scolded by their mothers to take their souls away.”

“What does that have to do with this?” Kuramochi asks, his voice almost cracking with hysteria as he gestures to the Dusknoir.

“I think, a long time ago, this guy wanted to take me away.”

Kuramochi gapes at Kazuya, stuck somewhere between fear, awe, and disbelief.

“Before my tenth birthday, my mother and I got caught in the Rusturf Tunnel when it started to collapse.” He pauses, absently kicking the cobblestone path with the toe of his scuffed tennis shoe. “I thought I was alone outside in the rubble, until I was face-to-face with that Duskull. It stopped following me after that day, probably because there was no longer a reason for it to take my soul.” Kazuya laughs dryly. “Can't get in trouble if there's no one around to scold me.”

“That's…” Kuramochi rubs the back of his neck as he tries to find the right words to say. “I'm sorry you had to go through that.”

Kazuya shrugs. “It is what it is.” He then digs an empty Pokéball out of his bag and holds it in front of him, a silent invitation.

The Dusknoir makes a garbled noise of understanding, the gaping mouth on its belly leaving a chill in the air when it yawns open. Kazuya throws the Pokéball at Dusknoir, a strange mix of emotions churning in his gut as the Pokémon gets pulled into the device in a staticky red haze.

The Pokéball rolls once, twice, three times. Then, it clicks and goes dim. Kazuya picks up the Pokéball and puts it in the holster with the rest of his teammates. Kuramochi's gentle touch on his shoulder helps calm Kazuya's racing thoughts.

They leave Lavaridge on the back of Aerodactyl, since cleanup crews are still working on Jagged Pass. Kazuya thought he would be more terrified of flying, but Kuramochi's reassuring presence, solid and warm against his back, makes Kazuya feel invincible. It's exhilarating, watching the world from above like this. They pass over the bright lights and winding streets of Mauville City–which look even more impressive from this vantage point–and eventually touch down at the end of Route 103, just outside of Oldale Town. Time passes much more pleasantly with a companion to constantly banter with, and, to Kazuya's delight, Marowak also takes to joking around with Kuramochi. It will often distract the unsuspecting trainer while he is eating and steal a piece of his food–always making sure to grab a piece for Kazuya, as well. Kazuya laughs as he eats his stolen french fries, but he doesn't miss how Kuramochi starts to set aside some food on his plate for Marowak. At each new step of their journey, Kazuya learns more about Kuramochi Youichi as a person. Over time, he realizes just how much they really have in common, like their shared experiences in childhood and their love of nature. In the quiet moments that they share over meals or simply enjoying the scenery, Kuramochi shares pieces of his childhood with Kazuya. He hears stories about his mentor, Kataoka Tesshin, and what it was like growing up in a big city like Rustboro. 

They continue moving forward, challenging each other to crazy competitions on the road to sate their competitive drives. In Fortree City, they spend an entire day playing laser tag in the winding underground passages of the secret bases left behind by other trainers. Kazuya pulls out all of his sneakiest maneuvers to best Kuramochi, who loudly complains about how much of a sneaky bastard Kazuya is. Even though he gripes a lot, Kuramochi overtakes Kazuya often thanks to his sheer speed and athleticism. They end the day on a tie, though Kazuya has the special bragging rights for securing the first round’s win. Even though his ribs had long since healed by this point, his sides throb for days after this laser tag adventure, simply because he had laughed so hard. 

Even though they have many competitions amongst themselves, Kazuya and Kuramochi also team up often on the road. Many times they run into eager trainers who want to test their skills in a double battle, and Kazuya and Kuramochi are happy to oblige. Battling alongside Kuramochi is a completely different experience, but Kazuya enjoys it nonetheless. They're able to communicate without words, and seamlessly execute complex strategies together while maintaining solid support.

Kazuya also learns through their travels that Kuramochi has uncanny perceptive abilities. In their running tally to see who can spot the most Kecleon in the wild, Kuramochi far outshines Kazuya–a fact he doesn't let Kazuya forget easily. Through sharing living spaces together along the road, Kazuya also notices many more little things about Kuramochi: he’s an extremely good listener, and remembers details and people well. They’ve encountered many trainers in their travels, and Kuramochi has no problem matching names to faces. He has a natural charisma that draws people in, and many times Kazuya finds himself silently focused on Kuramochi's features while the other speaks to fellow travelers. Kazuya's rival is also surprisingly neat, despite what Kazuya had seen in their shared room at the hostel outside of Jagged Pass. While perusing the goods in a Pokémart, Kuramochi will pick up items that were knocked over on the shelves. He’ll also tidy their living spaces while Kazuya is cooking, or even go so far as to absently pat the wrinkles out of Kazuya’s clothes after a battle. Each time this happens, Kazuya’s body practically catches on fire from the simple touch. Kazuya's self-aware enough to know that he's always felt a physical pull towards Kuramochi, but as more time passes, he begins to feel that familiar heat in his chest from even the most mundane things. He thinks back to the conversation he had with his father in the hospital, and how even then friend didn't seem to encompass the entirety of Kazuya's confusing feelings. Rival doesn't quite fit, either, because Kazuya doesn't see Kuramochi as an enemy, or someone that he merely wants to beat. He is just as invested in Kuramochi's growth as his own, and lately his thoughts have begun to wander to the future–to a future where they will still be together after they complete the Pokémon League Challenge.

Red-flecked leaves begin to fall from the trees, and Kuramochi Youichi and Miyuki Kazuya only have a few more challenges in their way before they can face the Elite Four–before their shared journey comes to an end.

*

Despite the emergence of fall colors over the rest of Hoenn, Ever Grande City boasts lush green grass and an abundance of vibrant flowers in bloom. The entire island hums with a serene vitality; ivy crawls up the jagged crags of rock that line the area, and Beautifly and Masquerain dance around the open fields of wildflowers. Climbing the vast waterfall that leads up to the main part of the island on Aerodactyl’s back was also an exhilarating experience for Kazuya, who couldn’t help but reach a hand out to touch the spray of fresh water. Kuramochi's firm grip on his waist reassured Kazuya, and their excited yells blended together over the roaring water. Even now, as they walk along the path that leads to Victory Road, Kazuya’s hand tingles from the cool water that buffeted against his palm.

“We're almost there,” he breathes, when he takes in the sight of the majestic mountain that Victory Road runs through. 

“We are,” Kuramochi echoes, pride evident in his tone.

The challenges of Victory Road keep Kazuya and Kuramochi on their toes. At one point, Kazuya ends up tripping over a rock and landing on his butt... right in the middle of a puddle of mud. (Even with the help of Flash, it's still dark in the cave, so it could've happened to anyone.) Kuramochi cackles so loudly at Kazuya's misfortune that it sends an angry swarm of Zubats after them. So the duo actually crashes out of Victory Road, tumbling into the grass when the Zubats finally give up their pursuit thanks to the jarring brightness of the mid-afternoon sun.

“That was awful,” Kazuya huffs, sitting himself upright so he can punch Kuramochi's arm.

“And that was unnecessary!” Kuramochi retorts, shoving Kazuya with enough force that he flops onto his back with a graceful ‘ oof.’

The spongy grass feels nice against Kazuya's tense muscles, so he stays like this as he catches his breath. Pristine, puffy white clouds float through the cerulean sky, and Kazuya can just barely make out the silhouettes of Swablu and Spearow swooping in the air. Somehow, most of the mud on his ass dried during their frantic running, but he can still feel a slight damp chill on his skin. Kuramochi flops down beside him, close enough that Kazuya can feel his body heat radiating onto his own skin. Then, in perfect sync, they both burst into a fit of laughter.

When their boisterous chuckles finally start to dissolve into giggles, Kazuya pushes up his glasses to wipe the tears from his eyes. “You’re going to have to carry me into the Pokémon League, O Great Zubat Whisperer. My legs are jelly.”

“That's a great first impression for the future champion, being scared by a couple of Zubats.”

Even though Kazuya's back is firmly against the ground, it suddenly feels like he's falling. “What about you? Finally accepted defeat once and for all?” he asks, trying his best to inject his usual snark into his tone.

Kuramochi takes a deep breath. “I'm not going to challenge the Elite Four.” He turns on his side to face Kazuya, leaning his head on his hand. “I realized somewhere along the way that this isn't what I'm meant to do.” And Kazuya had already known this, deep down, after seeing the way Kuramochi handled himself when they were stuck on Jagged Pass. Something changed in his aura after that day. The way he’s looking at Kazuya right now, with admiration and conviction blazing in his eyes, sends a shiver down Kazuya's spine. “But you, Miyuki, you're meant to reach the top.”

“What are you going to do instead?” Kazuya asks rather than voicing the more difficult and confounding question: Why did you stay with me?

“After this, I'm going to start training to become a Pokémon Ranger.”

Kazuya recalls how it felt to have Kuramochi's strong arms wrapped around his waist, whispering reassurances in his ear as they flew to safety. He also remembers how he felt being pulled out of a pile of rubble by Isashiki Jun many years before: safe. It's a beautiful thing, Kazuya thinks, that someone as caring and dedicated as Kuramochi has found his true calling like this–and that he will be that pillar of strength for another young Kazuya when their world is crumbling around them. “You'll be good at it,” Kazuya affirms with a small smile. He doesn't want to move from this spot, to end this moment between them. He knows that once he goes beyond the grand doors of the Pokémon League Castle, he may not see Kuramochi again.

“I think so, too.”

The only sound between them for the next few moments is the gentle swishing of the sweet breeze running through the maple leaves, and the distant chirping of birds. When Kuramochi finally moves to stand up, Kazuya’s stomach ties itself into knots.

“C’mon, you have some asses to kick, Future Champion of Hoenn. You’re representing me there, too,” Kuramochi explains with a crooked grin, offering a hand to Kazuya.

He only hesitates for a fraction of a second before reaching out to clasp Kuramochi’s hand. Kuramochi pulls him up with ease, and Kazuya now finds himself standing toe-to-toe with his not-rival. Their height difference is more pronounced like this, but Kuramochi’s strength and pride give him an air of being taller than he actually is. Kazuya likes that. “I wasn’t joking when I said you should carry me in. You need to take responsibility for your actions~” Kazuya teases with a smirk, batting his lashes.

“You’re a big baby,” Kuramochi grumbles, brows knitting with agitation. However, the incandescent shades of green-brown in his eyes darken with mischievous intent. Kuramochi turns around, squatting low enough to allow Kazuya to climb onto his back. 

“Don’t drop me now, Ranger,” Kazuya tuts, going against his better judgement and climbing onto Kuramochi’s back. He loops his arms around Kuramochi’s neck and hopes that his pounding heartbeat can’t be felt through the thin material of Kuramochi’s muscle shirt. Without hesitation, Kuramochi hoists Kazuya up a bit higher after hooking his arms underneath Kazuya’s thighs. Then, with a pleased 'kyahaha' he’s full-on sprinting to the main entrance of the grand Pokémon League Castle. Marowak trails a bit behind with a pleased chirp. Kazuya laughs as well, equal parts exhilarated and surprised by the gesture. When Kuramochi gently slides Kazuya off of his back, Kazuya immediately misses the warmth of his companion’s body.

“Go get ‘em.”

Kazuya takes a deep breath through his nose, and Marowak returns to his side. Together, they walk through the doors of the Pokémon League.

The gatekeeper of the Elite Four, fire-type expert Yuuki Tetsuya, treats Kazuya to a difficult battle. By the end of their white-hot clash, Kazuya’s shirt is soaked through with sweat.

“You may continue,” Yuuki asserts, his fierce aura still blazing brightly despite his defeat. “Jun was right about you. I look forward to a rematch with you soon, challenger.”

“Likewise,” Kazuya breathes, wiping the sweat from his brow with the neck of his shirt. He assesses his party’s condition and his current stock of supplies, carefully doling out medicine to his companions and thanking them for their hard work. With Yuuki’s encouragement, Kazuya continues further into the castle’s courtyard and comes face-to-face with his next opponent: You Shunshin.

The psychic-type master fights with breathtaking accuracy and precision–just like clockwork. However, Kazuya’s ghost-type teammates quickly take down Shunshin’s team, thanks to their super-effective moves. Kazuya has learned a lot from observing Shunshin’s famous fighting style up-close like this, and he’s excited to apply these skills to future battles. He bows politely to Shunshin when the dust from their battle settles. “It was a good battle,” Kazuya says, and he means it. “Thank you.”

The rays of the sun that shine into this space of the courtyard glint off Shunshin’s glasses. He bows in return, his serious countenance softening just a little. “Your Pokémon are very attuned to your style. You all fought well.” When he straightens up, he gestures to the grand wooden doors that lead to the next chamber. “I can now allow you to pass.”

Mima Souichirou, just like his predecessors, greets Kazuya with a severe expression. Kazuya and his team make it through most of the battle without any major issues, but Mima’s final Pokémon, a sturdy Mudsdale, proves difficult to defeat. However, Kazuya thrives when he’s pushed against the wall, and manages to pull off another win. 

“I had heard of your talent, but was skeptical. You’re different from any other trainer I’ve faced here,” Mima explains. He nods toward the door that leads to the final member of the Elite Four. “The next time we battle, I won’t lose.”

This last battle has taken a large dent out of Kazuya’s stash of Full Restores and Max Revives, but he has no choice other than to push forward.

The final courtyard is much cooler than the other areas in the castle, and Kazuya suppresses a shiver. “Look who made it all the way here!” Narumiya Mei, Hoenn’s ice-type specialist exclaims with a deceivingly jovial smile. “I wonder how Mima-kun’s feeling… He doesn’t really like to lose. I’ll have to rub it in his face later that I was the one to stop you,” Narumiya hums, his frigid gaze piercing through Kazuya.

“I have a secret to share with you,” Kazuya says as he takes a step closer. He flashes Narumiya a wicked grin, his insides alight with competitive fire. “I don’t like to lose, either.” 

Narumiya Mei certainly lives up to his extensive reputation as a cutthroat trainer, but Kazuya and his teammates come out victorious.

“Tch,” Narumiya huffs, crossing his arms over his chest petulantly. He doesn’t say anything else to Kazuya, who bites back the overwhelming urge to poke fun at the mopey trainer. Instead, he steels himself to face what lies beyond the final door: the battle that he has waited for so long to face.

Kazuya pushes open the door that leads into Champion’s chamber. Unlike the other battles, this area is within the castle, and not in an outdoor area. The intricate traditional artwork that adorns the walls emphasize the importance of this chamber. It humbles Kazuya to see the simple beauty of this sacred place.

“I’m proud of you for making it this far, Miyuki Kazuya,” Chris announces, his deep voice echoing off of the walls of the vast room.

“It’s an honor to be able to challenge you like this, Chris-san.”

“Likewise,” he responds. His eyes gleam knowingly as he pulls out his first Pokéball. “From what I understand, you come from a long line of steel workers.”

“That’s correct.” Kazuya calls out Gengar first. It looks back at him, its mischievous grin giving Kazuya the reassurance he needs that his teammates are still in good condition. “It’s funny how things work out. My whole life, it seemed like my career was set in stone. But here I am, ready to cut through steel once again to reach my goal.”

“Best of luck to you, then,” Chris says with a challenging lilt to his voice. He then throws his Pokéball into the air. Skarmory looms over the battlefield, its predatory gaze searching for an opening to strike.

The final battle begins.

It feels like Youichi has been waiting for centuries for Miyuki to return. He's been pacing around the lobby of the Pokémon League so much that he's surprised he hasn't carved a track into the floor.

“Oi, I remember you!”

Youichi stops in his tracks when he hears that familiar gruff voice call out to him. He was planning on reaching out to Isashiki Jun after this was all over, but he never expected to meet the Ranger in passing at the League Castle of all places.

“It's good to see you again, Isashiki-san,” Youichi greets with a small bow.

Isashiki's hearty laugh echoes through the lobby as he claps Youichi good-naturedly on the shoulder. “And in much better circumstances, yeah? What're you doing just standing around the lobby for, anyway?”

“Waiting for a friend.” Youichi shoves his hands into the pockets of his pants, using the motion to distract himself from his complicated thoughts on Miyuki. “Do the Pokémon Rangers come up here often for work?”

“Sometimes. I'm not here for work, though. I'm here to bring my lazy oaf of a boyfriend something to eat.” Isashiki holds up a plastic bag with a cute Lickitung logo on the front that Youichi recognizes as belonging to a popular restaurant in Mossdeep City.

“He’s lucky to have you around,” Youichi rasps, his throat suddenly feeling tight. Something hopeful blooms in his chest at this–the possibility of a Ranger’s busy and unpredictable lifestyle melding with the schedule of an elite trainer in the Pokémon League. “I've actually been meaning to talk to you. About your offer to join the Rangers.”

Isashiki's eyes light up. “I knew you'd come around to it. You were a real natural out there. Our headquarters is in Lilycove City, which ya probably didn't get to see if you were just traveling to get badges.” 

“We only flew past it,” Youichi confirms, mind wandering back to their journey to the island just off the shore of Lilycove, where they found the Mossdeep Gym. The shrewd Kominato brothers–leaders of the gym–seemed to possess the same psychic abilities as their Pokémon. As the older brother, Ryosuke, handed over the Mind Badge, he smiled at Youichi and said “ I’d wish you luck with facing the Elite Four, but you’re not going to be making it that far, are you? ” Haruichi had then interjected softly, red-faced and earnest, “ What you two have is cute .” It had taken all of Youichi’s willpower to suppress his own blush when he rejoined Miyuki at the gym’s entrance. It was that moment that really made Youichi reflect on his relationship with Miyuki, what he feels toward him, and what he wants for their future. 

Isashiki claps Youichi on the shoulder, bringing him back to the present. “I can't wait to get you on the team. There are two younger recruits who could use a tough guy like you to whip 'em into shape. They both have a lotta potential, but I think having a mentor will do them good–especially that Sawamura. He’s got a shitton of energy, but doesn’t know what to do with it. And Asada's real shy, but he's reliable in a pinch.” He continues to ramble excitedly about the Pokémon Rangers, and Youichi drinks it all in.  

Youichi is so engaged in his conversation with Isashiki that he almost doesn’t notice the main door to the inner courtyard opening. His breath catches in his throat as he watches Miyuki’s silhouette emerge. The light from the room reflects off of his glasses, making it impossible for Youichi to distinguish Miyuki’s expression. His lips are set into a tight line, and his hands are balled into fists at his sides. Youichi’s stomach flips. He’s frozen in place, helpless as Miyuki slowly walks forward. They finally make eye contact, and Miyuki holds up his fist with a small, but dazzlingly sincere smile. Then, Youichi’s closing the distance between them, tackle-hugging the new Champion of Hoenn with a pleased laugh. Miyuki stumbles backward from the impact. “You’re still here,” Miyuki mutters into Youichi’s ear, wonder apparent in his tone.

“Of course I am, dumbass. I wouldn’t miss this for anything.”

Miyuki hugs Youichi back just as tightly. 

When the other members of the Elite Four file into the lobby, Youichi and Miyuki finally break apart. They each congratulate Miyuki once again, though the two lighter-haired trainers don’t seem too pleased to be in such a position. Isashiki joins the tall, dark-haired member of the Elite Four, whom Youichi recognizes as Yuuki Tetsuya. When the Ranger hands off the takeout bag to Yuuki, Youichi smiles.

“You’ll make a good leader,” Youichi hears Takigawa Chris say to Miyuki. “I’m excited to watch you continue to grow.”

The unguarded delight in Miyuki’s eyes upon hearing this praise etches itself into Youichi’s memory, where it will stay forever. His heart flutters even more, overwhelmed by the affection and pride that he feels. The lobby bustles with activity, and, shortly after this moment, a flurry of reporters whisk Miyuki away for interviews. In the meantime, Youichi decides to call home.

*

Youichi should have expected that the phone call to his family would have lasted long enough to completely drain his Pokénav’s battery, but he's still surprised when the call suddenly cuts off. He shrugs and shoves the device into his pocket, making a mental note to send ma a message later explaining what happened so she doesn’t scold him.

He had found a small area just outside of the castle's main grounds, closed off by towering maples and willow trees. A creek winds through this space, where it probably continues to meet with Ever Grande’s colossal waterfall. Small Barboach and Corphish splash along the water’s surface, sending a light spray into the air. Youichi walks alongside the sandy bank, kicking at the rounded pebbles with the toe of his boot. Youichi picks up a pebble, thoughtful as he replays the conversation with his family in his head. With a flick of the wrist, the stone skips over the water, barely touching the surface before it tumbles onto the other side of the creek. Tatsuya was surprised that Youichi didn't challenge the Elite Four, but he seemed proud of Youichi's accomplishments nonetheless. When Youichi brought up starting training to become a Pokémon Ranger, his entire family had cheered. Apparently, ever since the news stories of his heroism at Jagged Pass had aired, Youichi had become somewhat of a hometown hero. He recalls his surprise upon receiving a message from Kataoka-san not long after that incident, commending him for his bravery. When things settle down, Youichi wants to visit his old mentor to thank him for all that he has taught Youichi–and to thank Kataoka-san for entrusting him with Aerodactyl.

He picks up another stone and flips it over in his hand. It’s smooth, save for a single chip near the center, and its muddy gray surface is reminiscent of the stony hues in Tatsuya’s eyes. Even though he had been able to defeat Tatsuya, Youichi had not been able to completely escape his shadow while going through the gym challenges. Youichi was still compared to his brother by the trainers who knew of Tatsuya’s reputation. Now, Youichi has finally cut through stone and made his own path–his own identity, completely separate from his brother’s. He spins the stone around in his hand one more time, and then sends it flying across the water’s glittering surface.

“I guess not all rocks sink.”

Miyuki stops and picks up a stone of his own, before making his way to Youichi’s side. Despite looking significantly more drained from dealing with the slew of reporters and whatever other formalities he was thrown into, his cheeks are flushed with pride. Youichi smiles and bumps Miyuki’s shoulder with his own. “That’s right, asshole.”

“That's no way to talk to the Champion of Hoenn,” he pouts.

“You could be Arceus incarnate for all I care. I'll still call you an asshole if you deserve it.” Youichi pauses and strokes his chin, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Though I guess you're a bit less of an asshole now than when we first met.”

“Thank you,” Miyuki breathes, and Youichi has to suppress the reflex to punch Miyuki that he had developed over the course of their journey whenever he hears those words. This time, those words are special, genuine. “I realized a lot of important things on this journey. I’m grateful that you gave me a chance, and that you shared this experience with me.” 

Shocked by the outpouring of sincerity by Miyuki, Youichi can only gape. The pink flush on Miyuki’s cheeks has now darkened into a deep red, and has spread to his neck and ears. 

“You’ve shown me a lot of things about myself and others that I never really understood before. I always thought that I’d be fine on my own, but I think I would’ve been a lot more miserable on the road to this place if you hadn’t joined me.”

Now that Youichi has had a few moments to recover from his initial shock, he can better appreciate Miyuki like this. He can tell by the way he’s rambling on about these things just how happy he is. Youichi remains silent, allowing Miyuki to freely say what's on his mind.

“I can’t imagine how things will be without you around, now that this is all over.” Youichi’s heart squeezes in his chest. He opens his mouth, ready to say something–to say he can stay in Miyuki's life, that he can make whatever this is work for them –but Miyuki continues speaking, instead. “I still can’t believe how stubborn you are, to have followed me all the way here. Despite all of those times I was a jerk to you, you waited for me here. I don’t understand...but I want to understand.” He looks at Youichi, his amber eyes smoldering, reflecting the warm hues of the sunset.

Miyuki Kazuya is breathtaking like this. The wind begins to pick up, blowing stray strands of Miyuki's hair over his glasses. Youichi, always acting on instinct, reaches his hand out and tucks that loose wisp of hair behind Miyuki’s ear. He lets his hand linger, tracing the angle of Miyuki’s jaw with the pad of his thumb. As his thumb travels down to Miyuki’s chin, Youichi feels the trail of sparks crackling beneath his touch. He can’t hear it over the bubbling water, but Youichi can see the way Miyuki’s breath hitches by the bob of his throat. 

Their eyes meet, and the world around them stills.

Miyuki’s pupils blow wide as they both lean forward to close the distance between them. Youichi faintly registers the sound of the stone that was in Miyuki’s hand clattering onto the ground. Then, they’re kissing. The first time their lips touch, it’s a little off-center, and Youichi’s nose bumps against the frame of Miyuki’s glasses. He craves more. Youichi’s hand tangles into Miyuki’s silky hair, relishing the way it feels between his fingers. He uses his hand to angle Miyuki’s head better, and the second time their lips meet, it’s perfect. Miyuki’s slightly-trembling hand rests on Youichi’s shoulder, its warmth sending pleasant sparks down Youichi's spine. They melt into each other, their movements in perfect sync. Youichi’s fingernails scrape Miyuki’s scalp, which draws a delighted gasp from the other. Youichi uses this opening to trace his tongue along Miyuki’s lower lip, asking permission to go further. The low moan Youichi receives in response sets his blood on fire. Miyuki tastes like the sweet floral notes of chamomile tea, and Youichi can't get enough of it. Miyuki leans further onto Youichi as their kissing becomes more feverish. He loses his footing on the uneven surface of the riverbank and ends up tumbling backward, Miyuki crashing down with him.

“How many times are we gonna end up like this?” Youichi asks with a breathless, but amused chuckle. 

Miyuki laughs too, his breath puffing over Youichi's nose. Then, he's looking at Youichi through his eyelashes, his kiss-swollen lips curling into a smug grin. “I happen to like the view from here quite a bit.”

“It's not too bad from here, either,” he remarks, running a hand up the small of Miyuki's back. Youichi smirks when he feels Miyuki shudder from his touch. He likes having this effect on him. He surges forward, capturing Miyuki's lips once again. They exchange lazy kisses on the sandy riverbank until the sun sets and their private bubble on the island becomes shrouded in early-evening darkness. 

*

Every day is a new and exciting adventure for Pokémon Ranger Kuramochi Youichi. He travels across Hoenn with his two eclectic partners, Sawamura Eijun and Asada Hirofumi, taking calls that vary from corralling groups of stray Spinda away from research camps outside of Fallarbor Town, rescuing swimmers that get stuck in whirlpools made by angry Tentacool, and securing areas that have been hit by natural disasters.

Despite his busy schedule, Youichi carves out the time to visit his boyfriend at Ever Grande during the day whenever he can. They eat lunch by the creek in the spot where they first kissed, joking around and skipping stones over the water. Then, when their busy days are over, Youichi and Miyuki return to their cozy apartment nestled in the outskirts of Mossdeep City, where they spend their evenings talking about the day's adventures over hot cups of chamomile tea until they fall asleep in each other's arms.