One week had passed since the day Hibiki had pulled out of his dreary home life and into the under-the-radar vigilante life Kenta had offered him. On the morning of March 8, he awoke as usual in the vacant library of Earl’s Pokémon Academy, and after going through his morning routine, he shot a glance at the calendar on the wall that Kenta had bought. The first row of days were all crossed out with x’s, as was the Sunday of March 7th just below. In each of the squares were the words “rally trainers,” in Kenta’s handwriting. However, in the box of Monday, March 8, the words “get out of town” were scribbled down. Hibiki had been meaning to ask Kenta what it meant for a while, or whether he’d even read it correctly. Unfortunately, the matter kept slipping his mind as he worried about each new day that came.
From behind him, Hibiki heard Kenta strolling into the room, accompanied by the muffled and scratchy voice of someone talking over a broadcast station. He turned and looked, and sure enough, Kenta was holding a portable, battery-operated radio by the handle while brushing his teeth. He was wearing his army uniform; something Hibiki hadn’t seen him in since they’d been to Azalea Town to rescue Kurt. “Good news, Hibiki!” Kenta said cheerily, holding up the radio. “They’re calling for clear skies today, and no snow. This’ll be nice for what we’re going to do.”
“Why, what are we going to do?” questioned Hibiki, as a commercial for a chest pain reliever started up. Kenta took the toothbrush out of his mouth, ran to spit, and returned wiping his mouth. “Well, I figure after all this frantic running around we’ve been doing, we deserve some time off in a warmer climate,” he answered, pulling out his officer’s hat from his pocket. Hibiki stared at him skeptically. “So . . . what, are we going to the beach or something?” he asked slowly. Kenta gave a short laugh. “Close,” he replied. “Try a little less ocean and a little more sand.”
Before Hibiki could get any further in his guessing, the PKTV “special news bulletin” music began playing on the radio. He and Kenta both turned to the small electronic device, and Kenta raised the volume on the speakers. “-just in, a small party of men were seen earlier today by several civilians of Mahogany Town, dressed in what was believed to be Team Rocket clothing. While it is unconfirmed whether or not they have done anything suspicious up until now, the witnesses all report seeing the red ‘R’ logo on the mens’ shirts. The police are presently searching the area for these supposed neo-Rockets, but so far-”
Kenta slapped a hand to his forehead and gave a loud groan, his good humor instantly vanished. “Damn it!” he whined angrily, covering his eyes. “What are those idiots doing? They should know better than to parade themselves around like jackasses. WHY would they wear the uniforms in public?”
Hibiki shrugged. “Maybe they’re trying to distract the press from what we’re doing?”
“In other news,” the announcer continued, “a thirteen-year-old boy was arrested today for illegally carrying around pokémon against the new policies set down by G.R.I.P.. The boy possessed a Stantler and a Drowzee that he’d captured using two Great Balls, but did not resist arrest when Goldenrod’s Officer Jenny came to confiscate the pokémon. When asked why he’d broken the law, he reportedly said, quote: ‘Brendan Birch told me to do it.’ His is a similar response to those given by the three underage trainers arrested last week for the same crime. At a conference in the Indigo League today, Champion Birch himself addressed the issue personally.”
Hibiki heard Kenta mutter swear softly. Looking him in the face, he detected shame in his brother’s features. “I never meant for this to happen,” Kenta said in a choked voice. “The last thing I want to do is get the real Brendan in trouble.”
“I deny ever telling any school-age trainers to break any laws of our country,” came Brendan’s apologetic and somewhat resentful voice over the radio. “Petty rebellions like these do nothing but bring dishonor on pokémon trainers, and the name of Japan.”
A female reporter’s voice resumed speaking on the radio. “Mr. Birch went on to say that he disapproves of what the Government Restrictive Institute on Pokémon has done, but it is not his place or any other trainer’s to antagonize it. He concluded by adding that anyone using his name for the sake of rebellion is a liar.”
There was a moment’s silence, and Hibiki could hear Kenta mumbling incoherently to himself in a strangely high-pitched voice. A second later, the radio station’s two reporters were speaking to each other in a much more personable, less serious tone.
“So why do YOU think Champion Birch’s name is coming up so much among the arrested trainers?”
“Well, you know . . . he’s a celebrated idol, potentially the greatest trainer since Lance. I guess they figure if they use his name, nobody will question their actions.”
“Ha, ha! You know what I think? Maybe Birch slips out of his window at night and goes around whispering in sleeping children’s ears to fight the power.”
“Hee, hee, hee, hee . . . sleepwalking, of course.”
Kenta didn’t wait to hear any more. As the commentators continued to laugh, he clicked off the radio, then flopped back onto the floor in spread-eagle posture. Hibiki looked at him worriedly, not knowing what to do.
“Kenta? Are you okay?”
His older brother looked slowly at him, as though processing his words. Then he shook his head and heaved a deep sigh. “Ever feel like the world’s against you?” he asked softly, in such a quiet voice that Hibiki had to strain his ears to hear. “Bro, if we fail, all my enemies, my prosecutors, will become yours also. Silhouette hates me. Steven hates me. And now my own hero has called me a liar. Everywhere we go, I’m the badguy.”
“Everyone doesn’t hate you,” reasoned Hibiki, hoping with mild panic that Kenta wasn’t going into depression. “What have we been doing for the last seven days? You’re giving people their hope back, how could they hate you for that?”
“If we fail, all my enemies will become yours,” Kenta repeated, his eyes glazed over as he stared at the ceiling. “All those fan club people we’ve been visiting, they cling to me only because I must sound like I know what I’m doing. But just watch how fast they’ll turn on us, if everyone ends up in prison. When times turn as bad as they can get, you find out who your friends are.” Kenta looked up, and he and Hibiki locked eyes. “I have you and Bolt, and the Kuchinawa family. You are the ones I trust.”
Hibiki looked away from him, feeling proud, and yet hurt at the same time. “Are we truly it?” he asked sadly. “What about Mom and Dad? What about Marina and Juni’chi? What about Bakuphoon?”
“You know I love them all dearly,” said Kenta passionately, sitting straight up. “I’d do anything for them. But they can’t help us now, and I don’t want them to.” He glared at his own tightly-closed fists. “Aren’t they suffering enough? I’d regret it if any of them got involved.”
“Kenta.”
Hibiki stared meaningfully at him. “Do you regret getting me involved?”
Kenta looked back at him, and his expression turned sorrowful. “I was selfish,” he uttered, hanging his head. “I needed you. And I need you. If I was stronger, I wouldn’t have taken you, and you would be safe.”
“Well I don’t regret it,” said Hibiki in an absolute tone, reaching out and clasping Kenta’s shoulders firmly. He looked resolutely at Kenta until the latter looked up at him. “I said it, didn’t I?” Hibiki pressed. “I’m with you to the death, Kenta. To the very end. On that day you went into the police station to rescue Kurt, you told me to act like I didn’t know you, if you got caught. I resented those instructions. I won’t follow them if you ask me to do it again.”
“Hibiki-!”
“So do me a favor!” Hibiki stood up from the floor and put out his hand, his face set. “No more regret, Kenta. I’d have gotten involved with you anyway, even knowing what I was getting myself into. I’m here for you, now do your best to be here for me!”
Kenta stared at Hibiki’s extended hand in wonder, bowed his head, and let out a shuddering sigh. He laughed weakly. “Wow.” Taking Hibiki’s hand, he allowed himself to be lifted to his feet. He gazed into his younger brother’s face; Hibiki looked more mature to him than ever before. “You know, kid,” he said, breaking into a full smile, “with a brother like you, any guy could take on the world right now.”
“That’s what I like to hear!” said Hibiki, matching Kenta’s grin. “So then, let’s get going to . . . uh . . .” He scratched the back of his head, embarrassed. “Um, where are we going again?”
Kenta faced him with an expression of new determination. “Krane Laboratories,” he replied, pulling his military hat on. “In the Orre Region.”
***
“Grandpa, would you please get that?” asked Curtis, as his tiny household’s phone began to ring from across the tool bench.
“You get it!” answered Kurt, not looking up from his work as he ignited his welding torch. “I’m old . . . and more importantly, I’m busy!”
Curtis sighed and put down the sandpaper he was holding, then removed his gloves and hurried to the phone as it completed its third ring. “Kuchinawa residence, this is Curtis,” he said into the speaker. “Oh! Hi, Kenta.” Straining to hear his associate’s voice better, Curtis held a hand over his ear to drown out the rumble of Kurt’s blowtorch. “Sorry, what? I can’t hear a darn thing you’re saying.”
“I said, how are the Master Ball duplicates coming along?” shouted Kenta from his end of the line, as he and Hibiki rose through a sea of clouds on Bolt’s back.
“Oh, those? Yeah, they’re great, we’ve got almost all of ‘em done.” Curtis pressed the phone tighter to his ear. “Kenta, it’s really hard to hear you. All I can make out is the stupid wind blowing all around you.”
“We’re two thousand feet up in the air,” Kenta replied sarcastically. “It’s going to be a little windy.”
“How are you not freezing your asses off?”
“We are. But if Bolt can hold out, so can we.”
“If you say so. Anyway, uh . . . these Master Balls are amazing.” Curtis glanced over at Kurt, who had his blowtorch off and his welding mask up on his forehead. “Did I tell you I caught a Lapras last Friday, during the test? It was in an underground lake in the East Azalea Cave. Captured in one go.”
“Yes, Curtis, you’ve told me every day since then,” sighed Kenta.
From behind him, Hibiki heard Kenta strolling into the room, accompanied by the muffled and scratchy voice of someone talking over a broadcast station. He turned and looked, and sure enough, Kenta was holding a portable, battery-operated radio by the handle while brushing his teeth. He was wearing his army uniform; something Hibiki hadn’t seen him in since they’d been to Azalea Town to rescue Kurt. “Good news, Hibiki!” Kenta said cheerily, holding up the radio. “They’re calling for clear skies today, and no snow. This’ll be nice for what we’re going to do.”
“Why, what are we going to do?” questioned Hibiki, as a commercial for a chest pain reliever started up. Kenta took the toothbrush out of his mouth, ran to spit, and returned wiping his mouth. “Well, I figure after all this frantic running around we’ve been doing, we deserve some time off in a warmer climate,” he answered, pulling out his officer’s hat from his pocket. Hibiki stared at him skeptically. “So . . . what, are we going to the beach or something?” he asked slowly. Kenta gave a short laugh. “Close,” he replied. “Try a little less ocean and a little more sand.”
Before Hibiki could get any further in his guessing, the PKTV “special news bulletin” music began playing on the radio. He and Kenta both turned to the small electronic device, and Kenta raised the volume on the speakers. “-just in, a small party of men were seen earlier today by several civilians of Mahogany Town, dressed in what was believed to be Team Rocket clothing. While it is unconfirmed whether or not they have done anything suspicious up until now, the witnesses all report seeing the red ‘R’ logo on the mens’ shirts. The police are presently searching the area for these supposed neo-Rockets, but so far-”
Kenta slapped a hand to his forehead and gave a loud groan, his good humor instantly vanished. “Damn it!” he whined angrily, covering his eyes. “What are those idiots doing? They should know better than to parade themselves around like jackasses. WHY would they wear the uniforms in public?”
Hibiki shrugged. “Maybe they’re trying to distract the press from what we’re doing?”
“In other news,” the announcer continued, “a thirteen-year-old boy was arrested today for illegally carrying around pokémon against the new policies set down by G.R.I.P.. The boy possessed a Stantler and a Drowzee that he’d captured using two Great Balls, but did not resist arrest when Goldenrod’s Officer Jenny came to confiscate the pokémon. When asked why he’d broken the law, he reportedly said, quote: ‘Brendan Birch told me to do it.’ His is a similar response to those given by the three underage trainers arrested last week for the same crime. At a conference in the Indigo League today, Champion Birch himself addressed the issue personally.”
Hibiki heard Kenta mutter swear softly. Looking him in the face, he detected shame in his brother’s features. “I never meant for this to happen,” Kenta said in a choked voice. “The last thing I want to do is get the real Brendan in trouble.”
“I deny ever telling any school-age trainers to break any laws of our country,” came Brendan’s apologetic and somewhat resentful voice over the radio. “Petty rebellions like these do nothing but bring dishonor on pokémon trainers, and the name of Japan.”
A female reporter’s voice resumed speaking on the radio. “Mr. Birch went on to say that he disapproves of what the Government Restrictive Institute on Pokémon has done, but it is not his place or any other trainer’s to antagonize it. He concluded by adding that anyone using his name for the sake of rebellion is a liar.”
There was a moment’s silence, and Hibiki could hear Kenta mumbling incoherently to himself in a strangely high-pitched voice. A second later, the radio station’s two reporters were speaking to each other in a much more personable, less serious tone.
“So why do YOU think Champion Birch’s name is coming up so much among the arrested trainers?”
“Well, you know . . . he’s a celebrated idol, potentially the greatest trainer since Lance. I guess they figure if they use his name, nobody will question their actions.”
“Ha, ha! You know what I think? Maybe Birch slips out of his window at night and goes around whispering in sleeping children’s ears to fight the power.”
“Hee, hee, hee, hee . . . sleepwalking, of course.”
Kenta didn’t wait to hear any more. As the commentators continued to laugh, he clicked off the radio, then flopped back onto the floor in spread-eagle posture. Hibiki looked at him worriedly, not knowing what to do.
“Kenta? Are you okay?”
His older brother looked slowly at him, as though processing his words. Then he shook his head and heaved a deep sigh. “Ever feel like the world’s against you?” he asked softly, in such a quiet voice that Hibiki had to strain his ears to hear. “Bro, if we fail, all my enemies, my prosecutors, will become yours also. Silhouette hates me. Steven hates me. And now my own hero has called me a liar. Everywhere we go, I’m the badguy.”
“Everyone doesn’t hate you,” reasoned Hibiki, hoping with mild panic that Kenta wasn’t going into depression. “What have we been doing for the last seven days? You’re giving people their hope back, how could they hate you for that?”
“If we fail, all my enemies will become yours,” Kenta repeated, his eyes glazed over as he stared at the ceiling. “All those fan club people we’ve been visiting, they cling to me only because I must sound like I know what I’m doing. But just watch how fast they’ll turn on us, if everyone ends up in prison. When times turn as bad as they can get, you find out who your friends are.” Kenta looked up, and he and Hibiki locked eyes. “I have you and Bolt, and the Kuchinawa family. You are the ones I trust.”
Hibiki looked away from him, feeling proud, and yet hurt at the same time. “Are we truly it?” he asked sadly. “What about Mom and Dad? What about Marina and Juni’chi? What about Bakuphoon?”
“You know I love them all dearly,” said Kenta passionately, sitting straight up. “I’d do anything for them. But they can’t help us now, and I don’t want them to.” He glared at his own tightly-closed fists. “Aren’t they suffering enough? I’d regret it if any of them got involved.”
“Kenta.”
Hibiki stared meaningfully at him. “Do you regret getting me involved?”
Kenta looked back at him, and his expression turned sorrowful. “I was selfish,” he uttered, hanging his head. “I needed you. And I need you. If I was stronger, I wouldn’t have taken you, and you would be safe.”
“Well I don’t regret it,” said Hibiki in an absolute tone, reaching out and clasping Kenta’s shoulders firmly. He looked resolutely at Kenta until the latter looked up at him. “I said it, didn’t I?” Hibiki pressed. “I’m with you to the death, Kenta. To the very end. On that day you went into the police station to rescue Kurt, you told me to act like I didn’t know you, if you got caught. I resented those instructions. I won’t follow them if you ask me to do it again.”
“Hibiki-!”
“So do me a favor!” Hibiki stood up from the floor and put out his hand, his face set. “No more regret, Kenta. I’d have gotten involved with you anyway, even knowing what I was getting myself into. I’m here for you, now do your best to be here for me!”
Kenta stared at Hibiki’s extended hand in wonder, bowed his head, and let out a shuddering sigh. He laughed weakly. “Wow.” Taking Hibiki’s hand, he allowed himself to be lifted to his feet. He gazed into his younger brother’s face; Hibiki looked more mature to him than ever before. “You know, kid,” he said, breaking into a full smile, “with a brother like you, any guy could take on the world right now.”
“That’s what I like to hear!” said Hibiki, matching Kenta’s grin. “So then, let’s get going to . . . uh . . .” He scratched the back of his head, embarrassed. “Um, where are we going again?”
Kenta faced him with an expression of new determination. “Krane Laboratories,” he replied, pulling his military hat on. “In the Orre Region.”
***
“Grandpa, would you please get that?” asked Curtis, as his tiny household’s phone began to ring from across the tool bench.
“You get it!” answered Kurt, not looking up from his work as he ignited his welding torch. “I’m old . . . and more importantly, I’m busy!”
Curtis sighed and put down the sandpaper he was holding, then removed his gloves and hurried to the phone as it completed its third ring. “Kuchinawa residence, this is Curtis,” he said into the speaker. “Oh! Hi, Kenta.” Straining to hear his associate’s voice better, Curtis held a hand over his ear to drown out the rumble of Kurt’s blowtorch. “Sorry, what? I can’t hear a darn thing you’re saying.”
“I said, how are the Master Ball duplicates coming along?” shouted Kenta from his end of the line, as he and Hibiki rose through a sea of clouds on Bolt’s back.
“Oh, those? Yeah, they’re great, we’ve got almost all of ‘em done.” Curtis pressed the phone tighter to his ear. “Kenta, it’s really hard to hear you. All I can make out is the stupid wind blowing all around you.”
“We’re two thousand feet up in the air,” Kenta replied sarcastically. “It’s going to be a little windy.”
“How are you not freezing your asses off?”
“We are. But if Bolt can hold out, so can we.”
“If you say so. Anyway, uh . . . these Master Balls are amazing.” Curtis glanced over at Kurt, who had his blowtorch off and his welding mask up on his forehead. “Did I tell you I caught a Lapras last Friday, during the test? It was in an underground lake in the East Azalea Cave. Captured in one go.”
“Yes, Curtis, you’ve told me every day since then,” sighed Kenta.