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“Are you done with your breakfast?”
Jon looked up from where he had been pushing the last of his cereal around the bowl. “I guess . . . ”
“No sulking. If you’re done take your bowl to the sink and then get your books.”
The instruction from his gran only made Jon sulk while walking. He put his bowl in the sink and then headed to his bedroom to get the books he’d been reading. He didn’t want to sit and read all day. Jon wanted to go to the beach and see what he could find in the sand, and maybe get an ice cream. What he didn’t want to do was sit and watch his grandmothers students try to learn how to battle.
But his grandmother said it was ‘dangerous’ right now, even if he’d spent most of the summer at the beach, finding shed krabby claws and bits of chipped cloyster shells or watching wingull swipe food from unaware tourists. Whatever she’d seen on the news the night before, Jon had been restricted to reading in the yard until further notice.
At least he could read with Pers and Ian. His gran didn’t usually use them in her training and if she wanted to . . . well, too bad. If Jon was going to be stuck in the yard, it would be with the best persians in the region.
Sitting down under the tree, he smiled as Pers immediately strolled over, curling around Jon and letting him lean back to rest on her. “I got a pretty okay looking book today.” He said as he picked the first book off the pile. “Tales from Lavender Town. It’s supposed to be scary, but how scary could it possibly be? I’m not a baby.”
The art on the cover was a little creepy, but that was fine. How scary could it be?
By the time he had finished the first story in the book, Jon had decided he was never going to own a ghost pokémon, and Ian had come over, stretching out in front of Jon and using his foot as a pillow. Jon took a break from the book—not because he was scared—to see how the training was going.
It was interesting to watch. His grandmother had once been a master trainer, winning several pokémon leagues. That was long before Jon’s parents had even met—by the time Jon was born his gran had been a gym leader. There were a few faint memories of visiting her in her gym, but when Jon’s parents had died she retired.
Now she made her living off private lessons, teaching trainers strategies and how to bring out their pokémon’s potential. Some people were talented, and Jon wouldn’t be surprised if they became champions eventually.
Others were . . .
Well, others were James.
James was Jon’s least favorite of his gran’s students. In part because he wasn’t very smart, so his lessons were always his gran talking about the very basics of type matching and move sets. Things Jon had long since memorized even though he didn’t even have his own pokémon yet. How hard was it to remember that fire was weak to water, not ice? Or to realize that bug and grass pokémon had different strengths. Because no James, a victreebel doesn’t have a type advantage against dark pokémon, that’s bug types. No they aren’t the same just because both are weak to fire and flying types.
The other reason was that James was a jerk, who liked to make fun of Jon or, if he caught him in town without Pers and Ian, would sometimes shove him around, steal his books or money, or even threaten him with his pokémon. It never happened when someone would see, and Jon didn’t think he would be believed over an adult (especially since he was always being told to listen to adults Jon, and they know better Jon, and don’t mouth off even if they’re wrong Jon).
“He could at least teach it a bug move if he was going to try using it against a dark type,” Jon muttered to Pers, finally moving to the next story in the book. “But that would make too much sense.” Even the chilling story of a trainer and his charmeleon being possessed by gastly while still alive couldn’t distract from how obnoxiously bad James was at learning.
And when they took a break, well, Jon glanced over the edge of his book to see James withdrawing his pokémon. “He’d be better off just giving up,” Jon muttered behind his book, and Pers gave a purrroow in what Jon could only assume was agreement. “He’s not even good. Even if he can pay for lessons forever he’s never going to be competitive.”
He hadn’t expected to have the book yanked out of his hands, or James to be glaring down at him. “Oooh, what’s little Einstein reading now? Sure this isn’t too scary for you? Not going to wet the bed?!”
Jon was on his feet, trying to get his book back. “I’m not scared of any of those stories!” he lied, because he wasn’t going to admit they were scary to James of all people. “Don’t you have battles to lose?!”
James tossed the book behind him into the dirt and scoffed. “Your grandma had to go do something, so we’re on break. And it’s not like a little twerp like you could do any better!”
“Oh yeah? I so could!” Jon looked to where Pers and Ian were now standing on either side, tails straight in the air, tensing and ready to fight. “I challenge you to a battle! I’ll use Pers and Ian!”
James rolled his eyes but pulled out his poke balls. “This will be easy. And show you not to mouth off.”
Jon might never have battled before, but he was sure he could bat James of all people. “Pers! I chose you!” The persian let out the same sound it made when ready to attack Pidgey in the garden and leaps forward, red jewel shining in the sunlight.
“This will be easy! Growlie, I chose you!” James flung his pokéball and a growlithe appeared. Jon knew it was Jame’s best pokémon—he also didn’t think that meant much.
“Pers, fake out!”
“Growlie, don’t let him do that, use quick attack!”
Too bad for him that Pers was faster, dodging and slapping growlithe in a way that made the pokémon flinch. “Good job Pers!” Jon was trying to focus on James and ignore how his stomach twisted a bit, feeling bad for Growlie. “Follow it up with double team!”
“Grr. Get it with a bite attack Growlie!”
Pers darted quickly, its speed seeming to confuse Growlie and making it attack air. Jon grinned and then pointed at the growlithe. “Use power gem!”
The red gem shone and then a blast of light hit growlithe, making it yelp. “Don’t let that stop you Growlie! Chomp!”
Even though he’d seen countless battles in this very yard, some even including Pers and Ian, he hadn’t been prepared for seeing a pokémon under his command injured. When growlithe managed to connect and bite onto Pers, Jon felt his heart stop. Even if Pers didn’t seem too bothered when Growlie jumped back, Jon couldn’t take it anymore.
“Stop! Stop, I give up!” He ran to stand between the two pokémon. Pers let out an inquisitive ‘murr?’ but Growlie seemed more than happy to sit down and start scratching, tongue lolling out of his mouth.
“HA! What a baby, giving up!” James strode over and grabbed Jon by the collar of his shirt, hoisting him into the air. “Looks like you’re the one who will have, uh, battles to lose!” James laughed and then swung a fist, hitting Jon in the stomach. Instantly the pain was deep and nauseating, stealing his breath and making Jon worried he might throw up. Over the pain, he could hear a low growl that came from Pers, or Ian or maybe both. James didn’t seem to notice and pulled back his fist again . . .
And then froze as razor sharp leaves were pressed to his throat.
“Release my grandson and leave,” Gran’s voice commanded, cold like Jon had never heard. James instantly let go, and Jon braced to fall on the ground but instead landed on familiar soft fur, Ian right below him.
“But I, this isn’t, it’s not what it looks like!” James stumbled over his words but Gran seemed to lack her normal patience she had for students. Lord Tengu, his grandmother’s shiftry, seemed to be of similar impatience as his leaves began to glow, absorbing sunlight.
“Get off my property and never bother my grandson again.” Gran’s voice was firm but James still wasn’t going. Jon couldn’t feel bad for him when his body ached and he felt nauseated, but he still looked away as his gran snapped her finger and Lord Tengu hit James directly with a solar blade attack, sending him flying. By the time that he looked back, there was no sign of James and Jon couldn’t help but feel relieved.
Lord Tengu looked at him and his gran was frowning and Jon realized with a flare of embarrassment he was crying. He rubbed at his face but it was too late, his Gran was kneeling down in front of him, wiping away his tears with calloused fingers. “Oh Jon . . . ” He hoped she wasn’t mad at him. She got so frustrated at times, but he hadn’t meant to cause all this.
Gently her hand moved to pull up his shirt, inspecting his stomach. “No bruising yet . . . ” shaking her head, Gran pushed herself up to her feet. “Just ride on Ian back into the house. I’ll be there in a moment.” Jon had no problem doing just that, wrapping his arms around Ian’s neck and hiding his face in Ian’s gray coat. The persian walked silently to the house, pushing the door open with a paw and carrying Jon right to the living room. Only then did Jon let go of Ian’s neck and gingerly move to sit on the couch.
Almost before he was sitting, Pers was pressing her face into his hands, purring and making soft murrs. Ian climbed onto the couch beside Jon, though his back half dangled off, and rubbed his round face into Jon’s side gently. It helped, but at the same time just made the tears well up again.
The door closed and he looked up to see his Gran, his books in hand. She set them down on the counter and pulled her chair over to sit in front of him. “What happened Jon?”
He tried to keep quiet, because no one liked a tattle, but with a few more nuzzles from Pers and Ian the whole thing tumbled out. James’ bullying habit, his book being grabbed, the challenge.
Finally, rubbing his eyes and sniffling, he told her the most shameful thing of all. “I just, I don’t want to battle pokémon. I, I know you were a good trainer, and dad was, but, but seeing Pers get hurt, I—!”
“Shh. It’s okay, babu. If you don’t want to be a trainer, you don’t have to. You’re a smart young man, maybe you’ll be become a researcher, or a professor. You’d be better a better one than that idiot Oak.”
Despite how upset he was still, hearing his gran complain about Oak always made him laugh a little. He didn’t know why she didn’t like him, but his name was basically an insult.
“Its really okay?” he asked, rubbing at his tears again, glad they were finally stopping.
“Of course. Now why don’t we get you washed up and you can tell me all about the book you’re reading while I make us some samosas, since my afternoon is free now.”