Steven and Aggron sat across from him, rapt with attention, looking horrified. Kenta swallowed with difficulty, knowing the next question would be painful to ask. Taking a deep breath, he forced it out. “Steven, please . . . seeing as to how these Magneton have all passed on, won’t you let us turn them into Master Balls if they are the right material?”
The former Hoenn champion stared at him with a look of mingled disbelief and suspicion. Kenta cringed on the inside. “I don’t like doing it,” he continued determinedly, “but it’s essential. And I swear, even if it’s not enough, I will never kill a Magneton or any other pokémon to harvest its power.”
Steven closed his eyes, and Kenta could hear a gurgle in his throat. It was clear that the other man was experiencing some inner moral struggle. “Why,” he finally asked, “should I believe you?”
“Please.”
Kenta and Steven turned and looked at Hibiki, who was kneeling before the former champ. “You saw what those policemen were doing to the Magneton,” he pleaded. “They won’t even reason with you. In today’s world, you can’t put faith in your own government anymore. Where are your other pokémon?” He pointed to the hulking Aggron, and Skarmory’s pokeball on Steven’s belt. “Or are those your only two?”
Steven said nothing for a minute. When he spoke again, it was without looking at the Nyna brothers. “They’re going back to the wild,” he muttered halfheartedly. “Cradily, Armaldo, and Claydol. They’re going to be free.”
“That may or may not be,” stated Kenta, softly. “Either way, I notice you left one out. Tell me, what about your world-renowned Metagross? I hear Brendan was one of the only two people to ever beat it in battle.”
“They say he’s in good hands,” replied Steven, refusing to make eye contact. Kenta and Hibiki exchanged glances. “Can you be sure of that?” asked Kenta, praying he wasn’t sounding pushy or paranoid. “If you saw him again, would you two even recognize each other?”
“Of course I’d recognize him!” barked Steven angrily. “He has a vertical scar down his left eye. It’s his proudest battle wound.”
“No, no. I mean, by behavior.” Kenta addressed Steven grimly. “Team Rocket and Cipher both tried- and succeeded- in making their pokémon artificially more aggressive than they could ever naturally be. Have you ever seen the movie, Jacob’s Ladder? I’m not saying our own government would do that, but think about it. Why would they suddenly decide to collect a massive amount of powerful animals, which are trained to follow orders without question? Forget what they said about trainer safety for a moment. Our pokémon trainers are safe- now what? Where is all this power going? How will it be channeled?”
“You say it like I haven’t already thought it through,” accused Steven. “I’ve been to pokémon rehabilitation before. I know it works. Every powerful pokémon released to the wild doesn’t forget its trainer. They won’t hurt any other humans. They’ll act as ambassadors between us and untamed pokémon. That is how their power will be used.”
Silence elapsed for another minute. Hibiki looked at Kenta; the latter appeared to be doing some deep thinking, by his distant expression. Steven didn’t wait long, but stood up and turned to his Aggron. “Come on,” he murmured. “Let’s go home.”
“After everything I’ve told you, is that all you have to say?” Kenta asked, sounding stunned and a little hurt at Steven’s lack of empathy. Steven recalled his Aggron into its ball, still not looking at either of them. “I will not reveal to anyone, who you are,” he declared firmly. “If you get caught and punished for treason because of me, it’ll feel like your blood is on my hands. And I don’t want that, in case you happen to be right.” Steven shook his head. “I hope you’re wrong. But after what I’ve seen and heard today, I need to be by myself to think.”
“It seems to me like you already made up your mind earlier,” said Kenta, as Skarmory reappeared out of Steven’s other pokeball. “I can only wonder how you knew that the police would be coming here today to attack the Magneton of the Henna Villa area. You were certainly prepared to oppose them then.”
“For all I know, you could’ve been there for the same reason they were,” Steven shot back, mounting his metallic bird. “I don’t know whose side to take anymore. But in any case, do what you want with the Magneton buried here. Desecrate their bodies. I can’t stop you in my present condition. Your Salamence knows Earthquake.”
“I’m not your enemy!” called Kenta insistently, as Steven and his Skarmory lifted off the ground. “I promise I have your best interests at heart. I know how you feel!”
But Steven was off, soaring away from the roadside scene at forty miles an hour. Kenta and Hibiki stood in silence and watched him go, until they could no longer see him. Heaving a sigh, Kenta reached into his pocket and drew out his green cell phone. “Well, in spite of all that, this still turned out better than I dared hope,” he said sadly, dialing Kurt’s number.
“How?” asked Hibiki, watching him press the buttons.
“How? Hibiki, we now know those police were shipping dead Magneton. It might not be proof to anyone else, but it’s proof to us that they’re using these creatures for their bodies. If all goes well, this might completely vindicate us later . . . hello, my friend.”
As Kenta spoke to the old apricorn craftsman over the phone, Hibiki pulled out his Heavy Ball and recalled his new Snorlax. Kenta’s Salamence knew how to hide, but if anyone saw Snorlax hanging out with him, Hibiki feared getting busted. They were in up to their necks as it was.
“Yeah,” Kenta was saying, “I’ll take a picture and send it to you now. You’ll have to come here to get them, so be sure to bring plenty of apricorn balls with you.” He stopped. “I think about a hundred. Yes, I know it’s insane . . . do you even have that many balls made? . . . Oh, I see. Well, I don’t like to burst your confidence, but you’ll still have nothing left over after the tide of trainers that’ll be coming through your door. Never mind though, we’ll worry about that later. For now, can Curtis come and get them? . . . Good, he’ll need to bring a shovel. And another thing, you should hurry. We’ve only got so long before those cops realize their luggage is gone. I hope you’ve got a darn good flying pokémon ready . . . okay, yeah, that works.”
A minute later, Kenta snapped his phone shut and looked at Hibiki. “Curtis coming on his Fearow,” he explained, “but we won’t be around to greet him when he gets here. We have to hurry up and get to our next destination.” At the sound of the news, Hibiki’s shoulders slumped in exhaustion. Kenta walked up and put a concerned arm around him, sensing it was time to be a responsible big brother. “I know you’re tired of being on the go all the time,” he said in as soothing a voice as he knew how. “But we can’t wait to do this. Every hour counts, and the outrage diminishes. Nothing but a strong willpower can win us this fight.”
Hibiki nodded slowly. Kenta returned the nod, looking him in the eyes. “We’ll take a vacation after this. A long one. But for now, we have to get some soldiers on our side.”
“ . . . Where will we find them?”
“First, we go to the nearest pokémon fan club.” Kenta pointed in the direction of the sun, which was slowly beginning its descent. “We’re heading southwest. To Vermilion City.”
***
Not long after Bolt had risen into the clouds, Hibiki seized the opportunity to ask about Steven. He’d seen how Kenta’s face had lit up in recognition at what he, Hibiki, had perceived as an ordinary-looking young man. However, what really shook Hibiki was how Kenta trusted Steven enough to reveal his true self to the practical stranger. Was he really that great of a potential ally?
“Steven Stone,” Kenta answered in response to Hibiki’s question, “is an honorable man. He proved that when he fought for the lives of those Magneton earlier, even though it very well might have gotten him in trouble with the law. I was certain he would sympathize for us, after that.
“But Steven’s worth doesn’t stop at being an honorable man. He’s also held the title of Hoenn Champion for longer than Brendan, to-date. As you’ve heard, only two people ever overcome his Metagross, and only Birch himself defeated his whole team.” Kenta smiled grimly. “Stone is a masterful pokémon trainer. But I expect he had an edge that most of us aren’t privelaged to . . . financial backing from his father.”
“Huh?” Hibiki looked at Kenta curiously. “Who’s his dad, then?”
“Mr. Devon Stone. The president of Devon Corporation.”
Kenta didn’t need to say any more. Realization rushed over Hibiki immediately, like a tide. Of course . . . between his daytime television programs, he’d always used to see commercials advertising Devon’s latest pokémon products, such as the Timer Ball and the recently-made Ressurection Machine. President Stone was a multi-billionaire, and his son, a pokémon force to be reckoned with. Now Hibiki understood why Kenta had tried so hard to win Steven’s trust. The former champion would’ve been an indispensible ally; a resource that might’ve made their impossible task mercifully easier. But with or without him, they had to press on, and gather whatever other friends they could.
The former Hoenn champion stared at him with a look of mingled disbelief and suspicion. Kenta cringed on the inside. “I don’t like doing it,” he continued determinedly, “but it’s essential. And I swear, even if it’s not enough, I will never kill a Magneton or any other pokémon to harvest its power.”
Steven closed his eyes, and Kenta could hear a gurgle in his throat. It was clear that the other man was experiencing some inner moral struggle. “Why,” he finally asked, “should I believe you?”
“Please.”
Kenta and Steven turned and looked at Hibiki, who was kneeling before the former champ. “You saw what those policemen were doing to the Magneton,” he pleaded. “They won’t even reason with you. In today’s world, you can’t put faith in your own government anymore. Where are your other pokémon?” He pointed to the hulking Aggron, and Skarmory’s pokeball on Steven’s belt. “Or are those your only two?”
Steven said nothing for a minute. When he spoke again, it was without looking at the Nyna brothers. “They’re going back to the wild,” he muttered halfheartedly. “Cradily, Armaldo, and Claydol. They’re going to be free.”
“That may or may not be,” stated Kenta, softly. “Either way, I notice you left one out. Tell me, what about your world-renowned Metagross? I hear Brendan was one of the only two people to ever beat it in battle.”
“They say he’s in good hands,” replied Steven, refusing to make eye contact. Kenta and Hibiki exchanged glances. “Can you be sure of that?” asked Kenta, praying he wasn’t sounding pushy or paranoid. “If you saw him again, would you two even recognize each other?”
“Of course I’d recognize him!” barked Steven angrily. “He has a vertical scar down his left eye. It’s his proudest battle wound.”
“No, no. I mean, by behavior.” Kenta addressed Steven grimly. “Team Rocket and Cipher both tried- and succeeded- in making their pokémon artificially more aggressive than they could ever naturally be. Have you ever seen the movie, Jacob’s Ladder? I’m not saying our own government would do that, but think about it. Why would they suddenly decide to collect a massive amount of powerful animals, which are trained to follow orders without question? Forget what they said about trainer safety for a moment. Our pokémon trainers are safe- now what? Where is all this power going? How will it be channeled?”
“You say it like I haven’t already thought it through,” accused Steven. “I’ve been to pokémon rehabilitation before. I know it works. Every powerful pokémon released to the wild doesn’t forget its trainer. They won’t hurt any other humans. They’ll act as ambassadors between us and untamed pokémon. That is how their power will be used.”
Silence elapsed for another minute. Hibiki looked at Kenta; the latter appeared to be doing some deep thinking, by his distant expression. Steven didn’t wait long, but stood up and turned to his Aggron. “Come on,” he murmured. “Let’s go home.”
“After everything I’ve told you, is that all you have to say?” Kenta asked, sounding stunned and a little hurt at Steven’s lack of empathy. Steven recalled his Aggron into its ball, still not looking at either of them. “I will not reveal to anyone, who you are,” he declared firmly. “If you get caught and punished for treason because of me, it’ll feel like your blood is on my hands. And I don’t want that, in case you happen to be right.” Steven shook his head. “I hope you’re wrong. But after what I’ve seen and heard today, I need to be by myself to think.”
“It seems to me like you already made up your mind earlier,” said Kenta, as Skarmory reappeared out of Steven’s other pokeball. “I can only wonder how you knew that the police would be coming here today to attack the Magneton of the Henna Villa area. You were certainly prepared to oppose them then.”
“For all I know, you could’ve been there for the same reason they were,” Steven shot back, mounting his metallic bird. “I don’t know whose side to take anymore. But in any case, do what you want with the Magneton buried here. Desecrate their bodies. I can’t stop you in my present condition. Your Salamence knows Earthquake.”
“I’m not your enemy!” called Kenta insistently, as Steven and his Skarmory lifted off the ground. “I promise I have your best interests at heart. I know how you feel!”
But Steven was off, soaring away from the roadside scene at forty miles an hour. Kenta and Hibiki stood in silence and watched him go, until they could no longer see him. Heaving a sigh, Kenta reached into his pocket and drew out his green cell phone. “Well, in spite of all that, this still turned out better than I dared hope,” he said sadly, dialing Kurt’s number.
“How?” asked Hibiki, watching him press the buttons.
“How? Hibiki, we now know those police were shipping dead Magneton. It might not be proof to anyone else, but it’s proof to us that they’re using these creatures for their bodies. If all goes well, this might completely vindicate us later . . . hello, my friend.”
As Kenta spoke to the old apricorn craftsman over the phone, Hibiki pulled out his Heavy Ball and recalled his new Snorlax. Kenta’s Salamence knew how to hide, but if anyone saw Snorlax hanging out with him, Hibiki feared getting busted. They were in up to their necks as it was.
“Yeah,” Kenta was saying, “I’ll take a picture and send it to you now. You’ll have to come here to get them, so be sure to bring plenty of apricorn balls with you.” He stopped. “I think about a hundred. Yes, I know it’s insane . . . do you even have that many balls made? . . . Oh, I see. Well, I don’t like to burst your confidence, but you’ll still have nothing left over after the tide of trainers that’ll be coming through your door. Never mind though, we’ll worry about that later. For now, can Curtis come and get them? . . . Good, he’ll need to bring a shovel. And another thing, you should hurry. We’ve only got so long before those cops realize their luggage is gone. I hope you’ve got a darn good flying pokémon ready . . . okay, yeah, that works.”
A minute later, Kenta snapped his phone shut and looked at Hibiki. “Curtis coming on his Fearow,” he explained, “but we won’t be around to greet him when he gets here. We have to hurry up and get to our next destination.” At the sound of the news, Hibiki’s shoulders slumped in exhaustion. Kenta walked up and put a concerned arm around him, sensing it was time to be a responsible big brother. “I know you’re tired of being on the go all the time,” he said in as soothing a voice as he knew how. “But we can’t wait to do this. Every hour counts, and the outrage diminishes. Nothing but a strong willpower can win us this fight.”
Hibiki nodded slowly. Kenta returned the nod, looking him in the eyes. “We’ll take a vacation after this. A long one. But for now, we have to get some soldiers on our side.”
“ . . . Where will we find them?”
“First, we go to the nearest pokémon fan club.” Kenta pointed in the direction of the sun, which was slowly beginning its descent. “We’re heading southwest. To Vermilion City.”
***
Not long after Bolt had risen into the clouds, Hibiki seized the opportunity to ask about Steven. He’d seen how Kenta’s face had lit up in recognition at what he, Hibiki, had perceived as an ordinary-looking young man. However, what really shook Hibiki was how Kenta trusted Steven enough to reveal his true self to the practical stranger. Was he really that great of a potential ally?
“Steven Stone,” Kenta answered in response to Hibiki’s question, “is an honorable man. He proved that when he fought for the lives of those Magneton earlier, even though it very well might have gotten him in trouble with the law. I was certain he would sympathize for us, after that.
“But Steven’s worth doesn’t stop at being an honorable man. He’s also held the title of Hoenn Champion for longer than Brendan, to-date. As you’ve heard, only two people ever overcome his Metagross, and only Birch himself defeated his whole team.” Kenta smiled grimly. “Stone is a masterful pokémon trainer. But I expect he had an edge that most of us aren’t privelaged to . . . financial backing from his father.”
“Huh?” Hibiki looked at Kenta curiously. “Who’s his dad, then?”
“Mr. Devon Stone. The president of Devon Corporation.”
Kenta didn’t need to say any more. Realization rushed over Hibiki immediately, like a tide. Of course . . . between his daytime television programs, he’d always used to see commercials advertising Devon’s latest pokémon products, such as the Timer Ball and the recently-made Ressurection Machine. President Stone was a multi-billionaire, and his son, a pokémon force to be reckoned with. Now Hibiki understood why Kenta had tried so hard to win Steven’s trust. The former champion would’ve been an indispensible ally; a resource that might’ve made their impossible task mercifully easier. But with or without him, they had to press on, and gather whatever other friends they could.