Joshua

Josh wished he were making landfall on the Karego Rose. More than that, he wished he were making landfall with Eve.

He'd spent the day on Cianwood Island, selling off the heavier merchandise from the container haul. He could have headed west to capture a vibrava as per his original idea. But the equation had changed. Now he wasn't going to take a team to the Silver Conference there was no reason to insist on balance. That being the case there were four Gyms he could target with his current team – Red Rock Isle, Olivine City, Ecruteak City, and Cianwood City.

Cianwood City was a last resort. The sea was in a playful mood today, lively and yet foreboding real danger, like a litleo pouncing at butterflies. Josh watched Blue Point Isle approach off the port bow. It occurred to him he'd only ever seen these isles from the deck of a ferry. Nothing is quite as it seems southwest of Olivine City. Legends girded them like sea mist – these magical islands of wreckers and smuggler's coves, shapeshifting sorcerers and storm-raising pokémon.

The southernmost of the Whirl Islands arose smoothly from the deeps like a surfacing wailord. It had the same rugged beauty as Cianwood Island, granite cliffs diaphanously veiled with sea spray. At the mouth of the largest bay the waves foamed at the startlingly blue skerry that gave the island its name. It was rumoured to be full of Water Stone. Josh disembarked at Porth Trelawne with a dozen other trainers. From the quayside, he looked up at the island. Beyond the port the interior was a patchwork of field and moor rising to the ancient caldera of a dead volcano.

The Pokémon Centre overlooked the beach from behind a line of windswept palms. There were a lot of Water-type trainers hanging around the common room. The Joy on duty smiled at him like he was an old friend.

"There's a double room available," she announced without preamble.

"No, it's just me," Josh said. "Eve stayed on Cianwood."

"Oh, you don't have to take a Centre room – you can have the guest room, it's much cosier."

"Well, only if you have space …" Josh said blandly.

"There's always room for boyfriends and partners."

Josh assumed that was supposed to be welcoming and heartwarming. He was not heartwarmed. Josh hadn't forgotten it wasn't so long ago that they were a family of suspicious ice sculptures. That hard-nosed bitch Riley was just the most blatant. Well, he didn't want to be clasped to the Joy's collective bosom.

He could have coldly insisted on a Centre room anyway. He could have sourly pointed out that a man shouldn't have to take a Shadow Ball to earn some basic trust. But somehow, being rude to nurses didn't seem important any more.

Settling into … whoever Joy's guest room didn't seem especially strange, given that Eve wasn't there anyway. Surprising how accustomed you could become to a girl's companionship in the space of a couple of months. Or not so surprising, after being used to being alone. He made do with a text: Landed on Blue Point ok. At Centre now. Hope you're ok. Which one of your relatives runs Blue Point.

Where had that 'boyfriends and partners' non-sequitur bubbled up from? None of them had seen him on the beach with Eve, surely? Besides, that kiss on the cheek had been a companionable one, obviously. Girls like Eve didn't kiss him any other way.

Actually, girls like Eve didn't kiss him at all.

For want of a better idea, Josh wandered over to the Centre bulletin board. There was some sort of weekend training fair in the next town along the coast. It was about time Megeara started training for battle. She was growing like a dandelion, growing stir crazy come to that. He checked his Pokégear – no texts.

Lizpetroc was only a couple of miles northwards. Josh took the landward route along the lane. The air smelled of warm earth and cool salt. A dry stone wall divided the lane from the mareep-strewn fields. It was almost hot to the touch in the afternoon sun. Forget-me-nots and little Stellaria holostea grew between the stones. After an hour's easy stroll the lane dropped down a hill into a fishing village, all narrow, cobbled streets and unexpected corners. The character of the village was rather different to somewhere like Porth Cian. The tourist trap elements were half-hearted and slightly sad, like a banker wearing an Alolan shirt. There was less of the pilfered and faintly inappropriate surf culture that was trying to take over Cianwood Island these days. The chain coffee shops had made it here, but on the bright side the chain pubs hadn't. There was no beach – the seaward side of the village was a long harbour wall.

Maybe I can get rid of some of those damn Absorb Bulbs, Josh thought, watching the sparring. Most of the trainers here were using Water-types, a lot of those either freshly-caught or callow juveniles. Well, fair enough, Meg was a bit callow too. Some of those callow pokémon seemed to be taking cues from their trainers. Meg's afternoon training got off to a distinctly false start. Josh quickly got in a shouting match with some idiot teenager who thought it wasn't at all irresponsible to use a hatchling horsea with Dragon Rage. The boy not only didn't care but tried to argue, till Josh was an inch from slapping the arrogant contempt right off his face. He didn't, but he did explain the impulse, at volume and at length.

Afterwards he wondered whether he'd gone too far. The commotion had attracted a sizeable crowd. A few of the looks he'd got were approving, but more trainers were giving him a wide berth. He hadn't meant to have that effect.

One of the approving trainers did challenge him. Well, he seemed to be approving. The first thing he said was: "Hey, you got a Grass-type? Cedar, from Olivine City", all in one breath. He was a somewhat chubby fellow in a fishing vest, who carried around a camp stool rather than stand during battle. It wasn't so much a battle as an extended sparring session. His krabby was a lazy tiddler, inclined to scuttling off rather than putting any effort into fighting. That habit was getting on Meg's nerves – she kept firing off Bullet Seeds in an attempt to goad him.

"Oi! Concentrate, Meg! Now, little jumps, when I shout!" Josh said. He nodded to his opponent.

"Alright, Snips, try to grab her," he said. "Vice Grip!"

Snips reluctantly advanced and started snapping at Meg, while she gamely hopped about more or less in time with Josh's shouts. She'd got the idea in principle, he thought. The clumsiness would likely pass with practice. Her randomised enthusiasm, though, would be harder to focus.

"Switch?"

"Yeah. Meg, Bullet Seed this time. I want to see accuracy!"

Accuracy was still far from Meg's strong suit. She often somehow managed to fire off sprays of Bullet Seeds like buckshot. After half an hour of that both of their pokémon were tired and rebellious and refusing to cooperate.

"What do you think?" Cedar said.

Josh considered the question for a moment. "He keeps trying to scuttle behind something. He still thinks he's in a rockpool somewhere." He picked up Meg. "What do you think? I've got a spare Solar Beam TM knocking about."

"Solar Beam," he said. "She'll have trouble picking it up – spare TM?"

"Ah. Got some Expert Belts, Ultra Balls, few other things. You want one?"

"I'll have a look at some of them Ultra Balls, yeah. You know there's a move tutor on Yellow Rock Isle who teaches Synthesis. Your roselia might pick up Solar Beam better with that."

Josh couldn't help but sell off some more of the Silph merchandise. It was a distraction, but carpe diem. There wasn't a lot of it left now, anyway. With twilight approaching the fair was theoretically winding down. All the pep and overconfidence from the trainers was getting a bit much. They seemed to be taking turns to shout things like "I'm so totally psyched!" into each other's faces. He decided to wander along the narrow lanes near the quayside while the light faded.

The cottages were built almost up to the water's edge, so the sea capriciously appeared and disappeared from view. Josh stopped at the edge of the harbour wall, and wondered what it must be like here in the winter, with the storms rolling in from the Great Western Ocean. The guard rail was rusted out of the stonework – but it was a short six foot drop down to the waves. Screwball stared over his shoulder. Screwball was a great companion for times like this, since it rarely said anything.

"That way! After her, quick!" a male voice blared. Josh glanced around, irritated at the interrupted peace. White hair streaming behind her like a silvery banner, a girl ran past and disappeared down an alley. A moment later three or four men followed in pursuit.

Well. Wasn't that odd, now. They were dressed for the beach, but any idiot could see there was no beach here. And if it were flirtatious larks, then why no flirtatious giggling? Four men giving chase to one girl. Not odd, suspicious.

Something black-furred tackled the ghost in a smear of luminous yellow, snarling as it swiftly and thoroughly savaged her.

'Someone should do something' was all too easy to simply say.

He followed the pursuit at stalking distance, back the way he'd walked. The sound of opening Poké Balls popped from around a corner. They were in a courtyard, dead space between houses – Josh could see a slice of the eastern side, where its fourth edge was the harbour wall. One of the men was shuffling closer to it, almost as if he were trying to cut off an escape route. The red rage bubbled up again. Not so urgent as last time, nor so vicious, but colder, clearer. He unsnapped Ivysaur's Poké Ball from his belt and moved it to a jacket pocket. The battlefield was essentially blank. They didn't yet know they were fighting. Hm. How serendipitous. There was a bundle of brand-new steel poles lying in arm's reach. Railing repairs. Quarterstaves, in a better light.

"Screwball," he said quietly. "Target left. Eliminate the pokémon. Thunder Wave the men if they draw a Ball."

"Quit stalling! Bloody well grab her!" someone demanded. Josh's hand closed around an impromptu staff.

Screwball at his shoulder, he stepped into the courtyard. No-one noticed. The girl was backed up against a wall opposite. She looked hunted, almost panicked.

[Aggressor(s) identified. Discharging capacitors!]

Electricity flared off at his left as Screwball lasered through the opposition. Something canine yelped, the men were shouting, the one by the harbour wall was turning. Josh hefted his borrowed stave into two hands and swung it like a bat. The rail caught him hard in the stomach – he staggered away a few paces, lost his footing, and tumbled into the sea.

A wave of cold prickled at his left arm. He spun round, came face-to-face with a leering Ghost-type spilling Will o' Wisp from its red eyes like burning tears. The girl looked up at him with a flawlessly symmetrical, too perfect face. He brought the rail down hard. The banette fell cursing through the flagstones and disappeared.

"Take it out!" one of them demanded.

"With what?" another yelled in exasperation.

[Four hostiles,] Screwball intoned. He felled a mightyena with a contemptuous Magnet Bomb. [Three hostiles.]

Two men, and a shiftry. There were more Poké Balls at their belts. Josh's hand hovered over his jacket pocket while Screwball slowly rotated in place. Your move.

The girl whimpered in a strange sing-song fashion. She leapt into the air and hung there, hunched and fierce as a hungry dragon. Her eyes blazed with witchfire. She swept her arms forward – a sudden gale caught one man and blasted him screaming down an alley. His shiftry slammed back into the wall and cracked the brickwork. Josh felt the sharp pain of psychic power unleashed. The last man was backing away in horror.

Alien sensations poured into his mind. The dull boom of waves breaking overhead – the taste of fresh-killed squid – fish shoaling in silver millions – anoxic ocean desert, the triumph of the medusae – endless blue gloom – stares of nightmare pokémon sleepless under deep, the crushing black -

He remembered where he was, or maybe he stopped remembering the world under wave. The girl was gone. He was on his knees, trembling in the sunlit world. He ran his hand through his feathers, gazing about to regain his bearings. Three unconscious pokémon – the shiftry, a mightyena, a crawdaunt. The banette seemed to be hiding, and wisely so. Josh was prepared to hit it again if it hadn't given up, assuming Screwball didn't hit it first. How long had that delirium of psychic power lasted? Well, it had driven off the last of them. One man fled, another splashing and clawing vainly at the harbour wall. Josh ignored him.

"Screwball. With me. We've finished here."