Chapter Text
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It doesn’t make sense.
Is all that spineless affection trainers do keeping me from winning?
Silver brooded over his loss to Lyra. Usually, he’d throw his bag down in frustration, causing his pokéballs to spill onto the ground. But he didn’t. The only things spilling were the cold droplets of water from stalactites. He thought that the aggressiveness towards his weak Pokémon would brew into their strength. After all, Silver would win battles against weaklings caught on the hop. He was too stubborn to listen to what every adult told him about being nice to his Pokémon.
Adults just say shit.
Silver wanted to be strong on his own, building his own wisdom — if you could call a twelve-year-old’s cynicism that. But since he’d seen it for himself with his recent losses . . .
He couldn’t keep acting this way if he wanted to be the strongest trainer.
The boy knew damn well he didn’t want to change himself to please other people he saw as beneath him. But a change in attitude could be for his own strength, not other people’s satisfaction.
Silver ran a weary hand down his face, his other hand tightening on his bag straps. He sauntered through the wide cave of Mt. Moon until he found his escape rope dangling from the ceiling. Wrapping his limbs around it, he hoisted himself onto the rope. His legs brushed against the harsh twine as he slithered up toward the exit. His clothes shielded him from rope burns. A flash of warmth hit Silver when his skin made contact with the evening air that contrasted with the coolness of the cave.
He took a breath, his overworked shoulders fighting gravity. Muscles he didn’t even know that he had felt sore from the climb. Though Silver enjoyed the challenge in it. Just the act of using the escape rope made him feel supercilious, to do something that most people were too “wimpy” to do.
He strolled along a short route, the setting sun gleaming on his overgrown red hair. He instinctively reached for Golbat’s pokéball in his bag, before remembering that Golbat had fainted. Silver liked walking around with Golbat flying over his shoulder to intimidate weak wild Pokémon. The company made him feel a certain way, and it saved money on repels too. Disappointed, he arrived in Cerulean City alone.
Silver let the nurse at the Center heal his Pokémon, acting standoffish of course.
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The boy stalked around Saffron City. Now that it was night, dim streetlights shone over his greasy hair. The city was typically crowded. Silver could snake by, doing whatever while still blending in. Golbat flew nearby and intimidated the citizens in the shuffling crowd. People felt wary whenever one was on the streets. The usual Pokémon walking around were docile, like Eevee. Silver enjoyed this fact, as it made him feel superior to the “wimps” meandering about.
He beckoned Golbat to come over. Its large wings flapped chilling air onto people's backs. He leaned in to whisper to the huge bat, its acute hearing filtering out the voices of the crowd.
Suddenly, Golbat swiped two chicken skewers from a street vendor across the street with its feet. It tried to be stealthy, but a human-sized bat could only do so much. The vendor yelled and shooed it away, but Golbat had already returned to Silver. He laughed at the vendor’s reaction.
Wuss.
The monster let go and dropped the skewers into Silver's open hand, landing on the shuffling target. He bit into one, tossing the other one behind him into Golbat’s large, open mouth. The skewers had a savory glaze to it, and neither Silver nor Golbat could get enough of the tender chicken.
Stealing food was something he had taught his Golbat. He’d realized that his Pokémon had uses outside of battle. He felt a little remorse for being so harsh. There were moments where he felt like he could really understand them. It created an uncomfortable pit in his stomach. Was Lance . . . right?
Get out of my head!
Silver pushed the thoughts away. Golbat spat the wooden stick on some stranger’s head, earning a snort from Silver. The monster knew how to draw out some amusement from the usually serious boy.
Shoving past people, he descended into the subway and withdrew Golbat. Silver went to kick the vending machine before settling down. He had figured out the exact spot to make it deposit water for free. The water washed down his dinner well, earning a satisfied breath.
He dropped his bag onto the ground, grimacing when he heard the pokéballs collide in there. The boy rummaged in his bag to set up camp, but paused when he realized the benches had new armrests installed on them. Unsleepable. Silver paused in surprise before smacking at an armrest in frustration.
“Humph!”
As he reluctantly dropped his blankets on the concrete, passing strangers gave him looks of pity. He glared at them in return, jutting his head forward threateningly. Silver didn’t want some pokédollar handouts, believing they were for weak people who needed to rely on others.
They’re probably the same people who put those handles on the bench anyway, he mused.
Silver also refused to let himself into the system, since he was “perfectly capable” of doing things all by himself.
He sat down on the blankets and pressed his back to the wall. The boy wasn’t tired and passed the time with Java games on his flip phone. It was something Giovanni got for him when he was younger. The device wasn’t as fancy as the Pokégear phones that he’d seen around lately. Though Silver would say it sufficed, it didn’t have service.
When fatigue washed over him and weighed on his eyelids, he took Meganium out of the pokeball. It looked at him without any animosity. He’d stolen it back when it was a Chikorita, and it turned out to be pretty girly when it evolved. It fared well against Kanto gyms, though, so Silver could excuse it. Meganium was calming to be around, for some reason, and it helped him sleep in a noisy subway. He felt less antsy around it. Meganium also smelled nice, and masked the scents of newsprint, smoke, and Silver himself. Twelve-year-old boys do not smell good.
Meganium leaned against Silver as he drifted off to sleep. He used his bag as a makeshift pillow, the items inside pressing hard lumps against his head.
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The boy sat on a hard train seat. He put his bag beside him to discourage people from sitting next to him. After all, people from all walks of life take public transit, and one never knows who they are going to meet. Silver had a portable CD player on his lap, but his music would skip every time the train thumped. He had a bit of an edgy music taste.
Anti-skip technology, my ass.
He was still tired, being awake for only half an hour at this point. Meganium was a little too effective at inducing sleep, because it was really difficult to get up that morning despite sleeping on concrete. He still managed to board a morning ride.
The train went above ground, so everybody had to adjust to the sudden sunlight streaming through the windows covered in fingerprints. But the train was moving rapidly, so every sight was smeared. But there really wasn't much else to do.
As the train came to a screeching halt to stop at Johto, Silver got up from his seat. He was quick to exit, wanting to beat the crowds. Honestly, he didn't even know where he was going. It was just too boring to stay still. Silver put his hood up. He had to keep his head down in case someone recognized him as the kid who stole a Chikorita.
The boy meandered about the city. There were no weak trainers to beat at this time, just mallrats. Whatever, he could just indulge at that underground mall. The fluorescent overhead lights beamed. The place smelled like herbs and plastic. Most shops weren’t open yet. That’s why some Pokémon salon caught his eye.
“Pokémon Salon! I can make your Pokémon beautiful for just 500 pokédollars!” a man in an apron boomed out to the small crowd of people at a mall this early.
He really had nothing else to do and a strange impulse to spend his money there . . .
That’s why Golbat was currently soaking in warm soapy water, eyes closed in relaxation. Being active at night, it was already sleepy, and the spa treatment sealed its eyes shut. Gleaming scissors snipped away excess fur. A cooling mask made of berries adorned its goofy face. In the first thirty seconds of the treatment, it kept trying to nip at the hairstylist, before the satisfaction quickly washed over its body. Golbat’s mouth was even closed for a change. This was pretty boring for Silver, and he wasn't interested in self-care or anything like that. But the satisfaction on the monster’s face redeemed leaning against a wall, watching a bat take a bath, and wondering what else that 500 pokédollars could be spent on.
The stylist asked if Silver wanted a haircut too, but Silver was content with himself and his hygiene. Or lack thereof.
After a few minutes, Golbat was sprayed with water and dried off with a soft towel. It tried to nip at the hairstylist again for ruining its pleasure, but Silver pulled it back before its fangs could make contact.
The human-sized bat nestled into Silver, who loosely wrapped his arms around it in return.
Is this what a bond is? His previous beliefs about Pokémon were being challenged. He preferred to witness things firsthand instead of blindly following other people who were probably weak themselves.
It did feel good to be with Golbat like this, but it felt wrong at the same time. If someone treated him like how he used to treat his Pokémon, he would've held a grudge. Why is it in my arms and not biting me? He wondered if this was proof of his capability to be a strong trainer, or a moment of weakness. So many conflicting feelings, just from taking a monster to a spa. Eventually, the good won the battle over the guilt. Confusion still lingered.
Suddenly, Silver had to squint as Golbat was submersed in a bright light and small orbs of energy swirled around it. The light was even more overwhelming than those buzzing fluorescents. A second pair of wings sprouted from its body and its hue slowly shifted to a purple. It even increased in size by a few inches. The boy felt a buzz against his leg from his Pokédex. He took it out of his pocket, to see a small description of a new entry.
Crobat (Mystacina crotus): A chiropteran Pokémon known for its fast yet silent flight with four wings.
“Huh? I wasn't even training with you . . .” he mumbled. “Crobat.”
The evolution happening in the middle of the mall caught the eyes of passerbys, including a tall man buying capes. People stared at him admiringly yet the man seemed humble about it. There was just a “cool” atmosphere surrounding . . . Lance?
Lance saw evolution as a fascinating process. Humans and Pokémon growing and improving themselves, it was one of his favorite aspects to being a trainer. Silver didn't look happy to see him. Lance had always beaten him in battles and lectured him about kindness afterward. He looks away to discourage Lance from approaching him.
“Hey!” The man seemed friendly, his cape swaying as he approached Silver. But Silver was a bad person, was he not? Why would Lance of all people act like this toward him? It must be for another humiliating rematch. Yes, Silver vowed to defeat him, but he wasn't ready to battle just yet!
“Why are you here? I'm not in the mood for a battle,” Silver mumbled. If the mall had any more people, Lance wouldn't even be able to hear him.
“That’s not why I’m here. I was just going to buy a cape, but—”
“Egghead,” Silver fake-coughed. He tried to look cool, but had really just been doing a “fake it until you make it” sort of thing with his self-esteem.
Lance considered just walking away. Even after the boy showed he could be nice to Pokémon, his disrespect towards people went unchanged. But he was still young, and perhaps a few words could guide him further down the right path. “You’ve improved.”
“Are you talking down to me?”
“No. I can tell you’ve grown. Golbat can only evolve when it has developed a strong bond with its trainer. I’m proud of you.”
It felt weird to hear someone say they're proud of him. Like, kind of nice, but also confusing. Unfamiliar, too. Silver couldn't remember the last time he’d received positive attention. It wasn't even contrived.
“Thanks . . . ?”
Lance saw the potential of the boy. He could tell Silver was going through a rough time. He was still a child; his wings hadn't sprouted yet. If Lance wouldn't coax him out of his hard shell, nobody would. This would be just like nurturing a dragon . . . right?
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