Work Text:
“Mister, er—” Glasses, receptionist at Kanto’s prestigious Indigo League, trademark: thick glasses, looks down at the paper in front of him, then at the blank-faced boy on the other side of the service counter. “Red.”
The boy, Red, nods.
“Just ‘Red’?”
The boy, just Red, nods.
“Mr. Red, about this Pokémon you want to enter.” He taps on the paper. “It says here, on your application form, that you want to participate with a certain ‘Mew’.”
Red nods again.
“Alright,” Glasses says. “You see, the problem with this is”—he looks at the form again—“that’s an illegal Pokémon.”
“Illegal?” Red repeats, as if the meaning of the word eludes him.
“Yes, yes, illegal,” Glasses says. “As in ‘not legal’.”
“Why?”
“You see.” Glasses checks the form again, it really does say ‘Mew’ on there, and lets out a sigh. “We only accept Pokémon officially listed in the Pokédex. In other words, legal Pokémon.”
“No problem,” Red says, takes out his Pokédex, taps a few buttons, places the device on the counter and slides it over. “It’s legal.”
Glasses adjusts his glasses, pulls the Pokédex closer and examines the entry.
“Mew, type: psychic,” he reads. “Very nice, even got the footprint.”
Red nods.
“It’s still illegal.”
Red’s face stays blank. “Why?”
“You see.” Glasses pushes back the Pokédex and points to the corner of the entry. “It says, here, see that? Right down here.” He clears his throat and reads aloud, “It says, Author: Red.” He looks up. “I assume that’s you.”
“Yes,” Red says.
Glasses nods. “It says, Author: Red. Not reviewed.”
“Yes.”
“Do you see what the problem is, here?”
“No.”
Glasses lets out another sigh and clears his throat. His annual employee report states that his only strengths are punctuality and patience, so he explains, calmly, “Your Pokédex entry needs to be verified and officially listed for it to be legal.”
“Okay,” Red says.
“So, your, er”—Glasses checks the form again—“‘Mew’ is disqualified.”
He crosses out the first line of six. There is a certain finality to it.
“Okay,” Red says, again. His face is blank.
“Let’s see, the next one is… ‘Mewtwo’.” Glasses takes off his glasses, rubs his eyes, sighs three times, and puts them back on. Patience. “Not very creative, I must say.”
“Not my fault.”
“I beg to differ.” Glasses leans back in his chair and holds out his open hand, palm up. “Pokédex.”
Red nods and hands it over.
The entry isn’t hard to find, just one above ‘Mew’. The order is slightly irritating. “Mewtwo, type: psychic.” He looks at Red, raising a brow.
“He’s a clone,” Red says.
“Yes, of course he’s a clone.” Patience. He continues, “Author: Red. Not reviewed.” He looks up again. “What does that tell us?” he asks, feeling like a teacher. It is a great feeling.
“Illegal?”
“Correct.” Glasses nods. “And what does that mean?”
“Disqualified.”
“Correct, again!” He crosses out the second line. “What else do we have here…” His eyes skim over the next few lines and he groans. “Third: Articuno, fourth: Zapdos, fifth: Moltres.”
“Cool, huh?” Red says. His face is blank.
“No!” Glasses crosses out all three lines with gusto. “Those are legendary Pokémon!”
“Illegal?”
“YES!” Glasses shrieks, despite himself.
“Okay,” Red says.
“What comes next?” He’s tired. “Another psychic? A ‘Mewthree’, to go with the theme?”
Red doesn’t nod.
“Let’s see. Sixth…” Glasses blinks. “Pikachu.” He reads it again, “Pikachu.” He turns the form over and holds it against the light. “Pi-ka-chu.”
“Gesundheit.”
“Thank you.” Glasses rubs his nose. “You got that right, boy?”
“Yes,” Red says.
Glasses eyes him. “Really? Just a plain old Pikachu? No ‘Pikachuno’ or ‘Pikatwo’?”
Red nods.
“Alright. That’s legal.”
Red’s face is blank. Glasses had expected at least a little cheer.
“Let’s see, for the attacks…” Glasses pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Tail Whip, Double Team, oh, I like that one, Thunderbolt, Surf—” He double-checks that, then looks up again. “You made a Pikachu learn Surf?”
Red nods. “He likes surfing. Got his own board.”
Glasses massages his temple.
“Illegal?”
“Huh? Oh, no, no.” Glasses waves a dismissive hand. “It’s perfectly fine. Just…” He looks up, at the clock on the wall, it’s 4:56 p.m. Patience. “A long day.”
“Sorry.”
Glasses lets out an airy laugh, grabs his stamp, presses it into the ink pad a few times and slams it down on the bottom of the form, where it says ‘stamp here’.
“Here you go,” he says, pushing the form across the table. “Good luck with your Pikachu,” he says, knowing full well that the boy won’t make it past a single one of the Elite Four.
“Thanks,” Red says, turns and stomps over to bag check.
Glasses watches as he opens his bag and the security guard pulls out a giant… rock.
“Fossil,” he hears Red say. When the guard continues to stare, he adds, “Illegal?”
Glasses’ eyes wander back to the wall clock. Exactly 5 p.m.
Time to clock out.
Glasses clocks in at exactly 8 a.m., as he does every day. Except on rainy days, on those he clocks in five minutes later. It’s not raining this day.
Ribbon wishes him a “Good morning, Glasses!”, it always lifts Glasses’ spirits. She wears a pink one, it matches her dress.
“Have you heard?” She looks at him with bright eyes. “We have a new Champion!”
That’s certainly something. He makes a sound that indicates he’s surprised.
“And he beat the entire League with a single Pikachu!” Ribbon claps her hands. “Isn’t that incredible?”
Glasses looks at the board, which displays the face of the new Champion. The face is blank. Above it, it says ‘Red’, underneath it is the image of a single Pikachu. The other five boxes are crossed out in, well, red.
“Hey, isn’t that the one you stamped yesterday?”
Glasses nods. He thinks.
Suddenly, there’s this one thing he really, really needs to see now.
“Did they use Surf?”