Chapter Fifteen

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The Pokémon Center smelled faintly of antiseptic and hot metal from the healing machines. A low hum vibrated through the air, punctuated by the occasional beep of a Poké Ball finishing its cycle amidst the soft chatter of trainers and nurses.

I leaned back on the hard, molded plastic bench, its cool surface pressing against my fevered skin, letting the exhaustion curl through my limbs like a slow, suffocating wave. My fingers drummed lightly against my pack, the Jewel Orchid tucked safely inside. Two days in a venom-induced coma had left my muscles stiff and my mind fuzzy, but the relief of being somewhere safe was tangible.

“Chloe?” The soft voice of one of the nurses broke through my daze. “Your Pokémon have been restored. Please allow them to rest for a few days to fully recover.”

I nodded, forcing myself to sit upright. I hadn’t realized how tight my shoulders were until they finally loosened.

“Thank you,” I rasped, then coughed to clear my throat. “I appreciate it.”

The nurse gave me a small smile as I took my Poké Balls from the offered tray, then returned to helping others.

“Come on out, team,” I whispered.

I pointed my first Poké Ball at the floor, and Ace leapt out in a burst of red light, his transformation into Umbreon still catching me by surprise. His golden rings glimmered faintly even under the bright lights, while a faint, smokey aura clung to him for a moment before dissipating.

I returned Ace’s ball to my belt and pointed the second ball at the floor, releasing Arashi in a second flash of light. The electric sheep bounded out, wool bristling faintly with residual static. The little Mareep’s eyes darted around nervously, then relaxed when he saw we were no longer in danger.

I couldn’t help grinning like an idiot. Pathetic, really, but I was glad to see them. Reaching out both hands, I patted both of my Pokémon. Ace, though he was easily three feet tall now, was still the same Pokémon I’d cuddled with every night for months and he leaned into my hand eagerly, a low rumble vibrating in his chest. Arashi was more hesitant but quickly caved when she discovered how nice a scratch behind the ears felt.

My head snapped up, searching for the danger, as gasps and cries broke out through the waiting room. The soft chatter of trainers and nurses hard turned brittle and sharp, their eyes focused on us. On Ace.

Ace’s ears flicked in irritation, clearly unimpressed by the attention. He padded forward a few steps, his tail glowing faintly, ruby eyes sweeping the room like a predator surveying unfamiliar territory. One guy in a tracksuit actually swore aloud, yanking his Rattata off his lap and clutching it like Ace might leap across the room and eat it.

“Uh…” the same nurse as before said, forcing herself closer to me. The way her hands shook told me exactly how much she didn’t want to be anywhere near us. “Miss Luxford? Please, either return your Pokémon to their balls or take them outside.”

“What? Why?” My voice came out louder than I intended, bouncing off the sterile tiles. “I thought Pokémon were allowed out in Pokémon Centers?”

“They are,” she said quickly, eyes never leaving Ace. “But you’re… making the other patients uncomfortable.”

“Excuse me?” I asked coldly, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s your, um…” Her voice dropped, practically whispering as if what she was about to say was taboo. “It’s your Dark-Type.”

I barked out a laugh that earned me a fresh round of glares.

“You’ve got a Nidoking in the corner with drool dripping off its tusks, but sure, let’s all freak out because my Eevee hit puberty,” I said.

Ace tilted his head and pressed closer against my leg, ruby eyes sweeping the crowd. He looked like exactly what they thought he was: a predator sizing up prey.

And maybe he was. But so what?

“Dark-types are different,” the nurse tried to explain.

“Right,” I spat, jabbing a finger at the Rattata trainer still clutching his rat like a security blanket. “That rodent over there can gnaw my leg off in under a minute, but Dark-Type is where we draw the line.”

Nobody laughed.

“Please, Miss Luxford. We have rules for a reason,” the nurse licked her lips, voice trembling but firm.

Rules. Sure. Rules that let a fire-breathing dog snore in the corner but my Umbreon had to go.

“Whatever,” I said finally, dragging myself upright. My leg screamed but I forced the weight onto my hiking pole, the pointed end screeching as it scratched up the tiled floor, and kept my shoulders square. “Come on, team. We’re not welcome here.”

Joey scrambled after me, hugging the egg like a shield. Behind us, the whispers started up again, louder now that I was retreating.

“Filthy Dark-Type.” “Should all be shot.” “Not safe.”

I shoved the doors open and stepped outside. The midday sun was harsh after the sterile calm of the Center, the street a churn of trainers, merchants, and travelers.

People noticed us immediately.

Conversations stuttered and died. A pair of bug-catchers crossed the street, dragging their net bags with them. A woman tugged her child close, eyes flicking to Ace’s glowing rings as though he might leap across the street at them at any second. Even a couple of Pidgey scattered from the eaves, wings fluttering in panic.

Ace hesitated, ears twitching, his ruby eyes tracking every movement. I could practically feel the tension rolling off him in waves, a low growl building in his throat. He didn’t like it, the way people were looking at him.

I can’t say I liked it much either.

Arashi must have felt it too. Her wool fluffed, static crackling sharp enough to raise the hairs on my arms. She stamped a hoof and let out a short bleat that made the nearest merchants flinch back.

“Easy, both of you,” I muttered, resting a hand on Ace’s shoulder. His fur was soft and warm beneath my skin.

He glanced up at me, then without a sound, his form rippled and melted into the pavement. My shadow darkened slightly, a glimmer of red eyes flashed within, and I felt a sudden warmth wrap around my shoulders like I had donned a furry mantle.

I froze, heart skipping a beat.

“Well… that’s new,” I said to myself.

“Whoa,” Joey breathed beside me, clutching the egg tighter. “That was awesome.”

“Yeah,” I whispered, still stunned. “Really awesome.”

Those in the crowd who had seen the strange event continued to keep their distance, but as we started walking again people began to forget about us, treating us as no different than any other trainers, a slightly unique Mareep at my side.

The street was warmer now than when we’d first arrived, the sun higher in the sky, the bustle of morning traffic transitioning to a slower pace as noon neared. I forced myself upright, gripping my hiking pole for balance and continued down the street towards the southern edge of town, every step a fight against my exhausted body.

Arashi trotted alongside me, wool bristling faintly with static and ears flicking nervously at every passerby. She wasn’t happy about being out in public—her narrowed eyes and occasional stamping hooves made that clear—but she tolerated it, sticking close enough to keep pace while keeping her distance from anyone who looked like trouble.

Moody little shit.

“Easy, Arashi,” I muttered, leaning heavily on my pole. “No one’s going to hurt you. Try to enjoy the sunshine.”

Joey shuffled alongside us, cradling the egg tightly, glancing at my limp with obvious concern.

“Are you sure you can do this?” he asked quietly.

“I’ll manage,” I snapped, then hissed through clenched teeth as pain shot through my leg. “I have to. But first, we need to find a ride. A merchant cart or a delivery wagon, anything headed south will work.

Reaching the edge of town, a small clearing had been set aside for Pokemon-drawn carts to load and unload.

The clearing was alive with motion—Miltank lowered as they pulled wagons stacked with crates of fruit and vegetables, while Machoke guided larger delivery carts with careful precision. Drivers shouted to one another, trying to wrangle their Pokémon and keep the wagons steady.

I leaned on my hiking pole, scanning the crowd for any wagon headed south. My leg screamed at every movement, each step a reminder of just how fragile I felt. Joey stayed close, egg pressed to his chest, eyes wide as he followed the chaos of the clearing.

“Excuse me!” I called, voice hoarse, waving a hand. “Are you headed toward Viridian City?”

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A middle-aged driver turned toward us, wiping sweat from his brow. His cart was laden with wooden cages filled with Caterpie, pulled by a pair of Duduo. He squinted at Arashi, who was stamping impatiently, wool bristling, then nodded slowly.

“I am,” the driver said.

“We need a lift, I can pay,” I said, fumbling for my Pokedex.

“I don’t usually take passengers… but you look like you’ve had a rough time of it,” he said. “Alright. I’ll give you a ride but you’ll have to return your Mareep there.”

I exhaled shakily, forcing a smile despite the stabbing pain in my leg.

“Thank you,” I said, sighing with relief. I’d half expected to spend all morning trying to find someone who’d give us a lift.

Joey clambered onto the wagon bed first, cradling the egg with exaggerated caution while I followed more slowly, each movement deliberate, leaning heavily on my hiking pole as the wagon rocked beneath me. Arashi hesitated on the ground, ears flicking and wool sparking faintly as if protesting. Turning back to her, I aimed her Pokeball and returned her in a flash of red laser light.

The man climbed up into the driver’s seat and the wagon lurched forward, each bump and jolt sending fresh pain through my leg. I gritted my teeth and focused on the road ahead. Viridian Gym awaited. Suzie awaited. And the Jewel Orchid—fragile and vital—remained tucked safely in my pack.

—

The road was long and bumpy, cutting through a sea of yellowed grass that swayed in the wind.

Pidgey flushed up in flocks as we passed, wings beating frantically against the sky, and more than once I spotted the flick of a Rattata tail vanishing into the undergrowth or an Ekans slithering off the the sun warmed road, tongue flicking, watching with beady eyes.

We weren’t the only ones out here. A bug-catcher trudged past us going north, empty cages swaying from his shoulders, muttering curses at the dust we kicked up. Two traders on Tauros-back overtook the wagon at a trot, their beasts snorting clouds of steam.

Later, we passed a Ranger patrol, three of them in matching jackets by the side of the road, a Pidgeot wheeling overhead, searching for something. Their eyes flicked over me and lingered, too long, but they didn’t stop us. Just another reminder that I wasn’t invisible in this world, no matter how much I wanted to be.

Beside me Joey shifted, cradling the egg as though the damned thing might shatter if he blinked too hard. He’d been quiet for a while, but that didn’t last.

“So… uh,” he started, voice low. “Is Ace gonna stay like that now? All black and scary?”

“He’s not scary,” I said flatly.

“Well, maybe not to you,” Joey hedged. “But the rings! And the shadow thing! That was awesome. Do all Umbreon do that?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care.”

He wilted a little at that but bounced back quick enough.

“So, um, what happens once we get to the Gym anyway? Do we just, like walk in and battle Suzie?”

I turned my head and gave him a look. He shut his mouth, hugging the egg tighter.

“We don’t do anything,” I said. “I am going to deliver this flower to the Gym.”

The monotony stretched on, wagon wheels crunching over gravel and dirt. I should have been resting, but instead I just felt trapped with my thoughts.

I’d wanted this once.

A Pokémon journey. Badges, adventures, the whole stupid fantasy. I’d sat in front of a flickering TV every Saturday morning, wide-eyed as ten-year-olds saved the world with nothing but plucky determination and a yellow rat.

I’d played the games until my thumbs blistered, running pixelated avatars through sanitized forests that were never really dangerous, where the worst that could happen was blacking out and waking up in a safe little Pokemon Center.

The reality?

Poison in my veins, scars across my skin, Rangers eyeing me like I was a wild beast, and the Dark-type hiding in my shadow that apparently made people recoil like I’d brought a bomb into the room.

This wasn’t a dream. It was a nightmare. One that never ended.

The city walls finally clawed their way up from the horizon, sun-bleached sandstone rising higher with every jolt of the wagon. Watchtowers punctuated the ramparts, Militamen pacing with crossbows slung at their sides. From this distance they looked like ants, but I could already feel their eyes, sharp and judging, ready to skewer me the second I limped through.

Viridian City.

The place I’d walked out of with both middle fingers in the air, daring their Gym Leader to come after me. The place where half a room full of would-be trainers had seen me labeled a deviant, a thug, a problem that needed culling. If it weren’t for Suzie’s little “challenge,” I wouldn’t be crawling back now.

And yet here I was, clutching a flower like some twisted proof of loyalty to the whole fucked up system

Ace’s warmth pulsed against me from the shadows, steady and grounding, as he sensed my emotions. I straightened as much as my leg would allow, jaw tight.

The wagon clattered to a halt in the shadow of Viridian’s gates, the sandstone towers blotting out half the sky. The driver gave me a look that said end of the line and jerked his thumb at the ground.

“Yeah, cheers,” I said, forcing the word out past clenched teeth, hauling myself upright with my hiking pole. Every muscle in my leg screamed at me, but I forced it down, moving towards the checkpoint line.

Ace’s warmth lingered, the subtle weight of him pressed against me, like a fur-lined cloak draped over my shoulders even as he remained coiled within my shadow. Hidden from sight, but always there.

I adjusted my pack, the Jewel Orchid nestled safely inside, and limped toward the gates. The line shuffled forward, guards checking IDs with bored efficiency. The sandstone walls loomed higher overhead with every step, swallowing the sunlight until all that was left was shadow and the heavy certainty of what waited inside.

By the time we cleared the gates and pushed into the city proper, the sun had climbed high enough to bake the cobblestones. My leg throbbed with every step, sweat sticking my shirt to my back, but I wasn’t about to limp straight into a Pokémon Center again and hand the gossips more fuel. Not when every second set of eyes already lingered on my face, my filthy clothes, my bandaged leg.

We drifted into one of the busier market streets, stalls and shopfronts spilling color into the air, bolts of Caterpie silk, jars of dried Berries, the tang of grilled Tauros meat mixing with incense smoke. Joey kept close, still hugging that egg like someone was going to mug him for it. His clothes—torn, stained, and more mud than fabric—didn’t help. People stared at him then turned judging eyes on me.

I stopped at a tailor’s shop where a pair of Spinarak clicked and stitched behind the counter, silk hissing from their spinnerets as they worked. The shelves sagged with bolts of cloth in pale greens and golds, Caterpie silk polished until it gleamed. A Bellossom dozed lazily in a corner pot, its flowers perfuming the whole place.

The tailor gave me a once-over, lips pursing at my ripped shirt and hiking pole, but when I jerked my chin at Joey and said, “Kid needs clothes,” she softened.

Joey’s eyes went wide as the tailor circled him with a tape measure, Spinarak skittering across the floor to tug at hems and pinch seams with sticky thread. He flinched every time one of the spiders crawled near, then tried to cover it with a nervous grin.

“This is so cool,” he whispered, standing stiff while pins flashed around his ankles.

“Yeah, nothing screams cool like arachnid sweatshops,” I muttered, leaning on my pole.

An hour later we left the store, Joey carrying a paper wrapped package and bouncing with excitement. We avoided the main drag where the closest Pokémon Center sat, heading instead into the side streets until I found what I was looking for: a small hotel with shutters drawn and no questions asked.

Perfect.

The room reeked of mothballs and cheap cigarettes, but two beds and a private bath made it practically a five-star suite by my current standards.

Joey vanished into the shower first, the sound of running water and muffled humming leaking through the door before reappearing in a clean shirt and trousers and a pair of boots that didn’t look like they were about one puddle away from dissolving.

He looked about ten pounds lighter just from the filth he’d washed off and I didn’t miss the way he kept staring at himself in the mirror, either.

When it was my turn, I stripped down carefully, easing the bandages from my leg just far enough to check the wound. Still raw, still ugly, but no worse for the rough ride. By the time I emerged, Joey was perched on the bed in his new clothes, grinning like he’d won the lottery.

“Lunch,” I said simply.

The diner two doors down was more grease pit than restaurant, windows fogged with steam and the smell of frying oil hitting like a punch. A chalkboard listed the specials: Tauros burgers, Farfetch’d stew, Oddish salad. Funny how no one blinked at eating half the species that hauled their wagons or planted their crops.

I slid into a booth, let Joey order enough food to make his eyes water, and sat back. He tore into his plate like a starving Mankey, noodles hanging from his mouth, while I picked half-heartedly at my own meal, occasionally dropping a piece of meat to disappear into the shadows under the table.

The Jewel Orchid flower weighed heavy in my pack, a reminder that even greasy noodles couldn’t distract me from what I was about to do..

—

By late afternoon, the streets had cooled into long shadows, but every step still burned up my leg like fire licking at the bone. I shoved the pain down where no one could see it. If Suzie was going to watch me walk back into her arena, she wasn’t going to see me crawl.

The Viridian Gym loomed ahead, glass and steel gleaming in the late afternoon sun. The wide street outside was already alive with camera crews and reporters eager to capture the moment of my return, no doubt camped out here for days.

I didn’t slow, pushing past them even as they recognised me and began calling out my name. My boots rang dully on the steps as I reached into my pack, yanked out the Jewel Orchid flower, and hurled it down at the double doors. The white petals burst apart on impact, scattering like shattered teeth across the stone. Gasps rippled through the onlookers.

I turned to the cameras, to the blinking red eyes fixed on me.

“I came to this city for one reason,” I said, voice carrying sharp over the sudden hush. “To become a Pokémon trainer. I was told Viridian Gym trained the best—that its trainers could teach me how to survive beyond the walls. Instead, I found incompetence, gross unprofessionalism, and outright hostile discrimination because of how I look.”

I yanked up the sleeves of my shirt, showing the ink spiraling up my arms.

“I was judged because of these! Because of pictures drawn on my skin,” I went on. I pointed to a tattoo of a flower. “Does this look like a gang mark to you? This is the flower from the garden of my childhood home. And this, this is the spider that built its web in the window of my first apartment.”

I twisted my left arm around to show the colourful image on my bicep.

“This is a Squirtle playing a saxophone because I thought it was fun!” I shouted. “These tattoos? They don’t make me dangerous. They don’t make me less than anyone else in this city. Out there, in the wilds, Pokémon don’t give a damn about tattoos or piercings. Out there, only strength matters.”

The crowd had gone stone still. I held their silence, let it stretch.

The Gym doors creaked. From the shadowed threshold, Suzie emerged, composed as if she’d been waiting all along. Her gaze swept over me, then the flower at her feet, before fixing on my face.

“I accept,” she said.

I blinked.

“Excuse me?” I said.

“You told me,” Suzie continued, her voice hard and sharp like polished glass. “That you would take my badge from me in battle. I accept. My personal team against yours. Two on two. Right here, in one week’s time.”

Gasps broke from the crowd. Even her own Gym trainers looked rattled.

I felt my lips curl into a slow, feral grin.

“Finally,” I said. “Just me and you.”

Suzie’s eyes narrowed.

“Be ready. If you lose, there won’t be a second chance.”

“Good,” I spat back. “I don’t need one.”

The Rotom-cameras caught everything—the shattered petals at our feet, the fire in my eyes, the steel in hers. Viridian had its spectacle now.

And in a week’s time, it would have its reckoning.