Hibiki and Marina followed him obediently, though Marina wasn’t finished with her questions. By the time they’d reached Mahogany Town, conversation had switched from training Zapdos to Kenta’s choice of disguise. “So,” Marina curiously, “you never really told me why you were Brendan Birch . . .”
“Yeah, not a whole lot of thought really went into that one,” admitted Kenta, choosing a town back-road that led around behind the upcoming houses. “Sometime after I left Henna Villa, I decided I’d need a new name. Something that would succeed in sparking a revolution. So sometime later, when I was shopping for food, I came across a Hot Topic-ish store selling Halloween costumes at half-price. And boom, there it was. Brendan’s choice clothing, all kept together in a neat little set.”
“How did you acquire the money to afford even a half-price costume set?” asked Hibiki skeptically. Kenta turned and raised an eyebrow at his brother. “Uh, excuse me?” he said sarcastically. “In case you forgot, dear brother, before the military I battled pokémon for a living. How many trainers do you think were able to beat Bolt?”
Hibiki was about to reply when Kenta’s eyes suddenly widened and he jumped backwards. The three of them, Hibiki, Kenta, and Marina, had just been about to emerge from behind a small house, but now they crouched tightly together as Kenta put a finger to his lips and shot his fellows a warning glance. Hibiki listened, and he heard two sets of footsteps slowly walking nearby. From their voices, it appeared to be two policewomen chatting with each other about something. Closing his eyes, he made out their words as they walked by the hiding spot.
“-can’t imagine where he managed to get a Master Ball from! That boy is no ordinary crook, that’s for sure.”
“Haven’t we gotten any fingerprints from him, yet?”
“Nope, not even on the fake Snag Machine. Our slippery little weasel must’ve been wearing gloves.”
“Hmm. Could he be dangerous?”
“Potentially. Rumor has it that this is the same felon who stole Takinawa’s badge and released his pokémon a week ago.”
“We can ask him later, to find out for certain.”
“Mm. Say . . . they keep going on about the Birch imposter, but personally, I’m wondering about that little guy who was with him.”
“The one with the Snorlax?”
“Yeah, the accomplice. How many pokémon did he actually have? How many are those two smuggling around?”
“I’d like to know what else those children had on them. A Snorlax . . . a Salamence . . . and Zapdos-! What’s next, another Mew clone?”
The officers’ voices faded away, and Kenta turned around with a haunted look on his face. He was as white as a pillow. “That,” he murmured, “was chilling. How many times in life do you eavesdrop on a conversation by accident, and find out it’s about you?”
“Well it is the latest news,” said Marina uncomfortably. “I’ll bet a lot of other people are talking about it, too.”
Hibiki lowered his eyes and tried to imagine just how many people could be speaking of them at the very moment. The image of a large crowd appeared in his mind’s eye, and with it, echoes of their fantasy conversations. How many approved of the news, and how many were appalled, he couldn’t tell. Certainly, he couldn’t imagine the media portraying the incident in a positive light. Two rogue trainers, one of them underage, breaking into a laboratory to steal a thieving tool, and then leaving it in ruins . . . it just didn’t strike him as something heroes would do.
“Where are we going to hide that the cops won’t find us?” Hibiki asked Kenta. His brother turned and, to his surprise, gave him a reassuring grin. He hadn’t seen one of those in a while. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ve had a particular place in mind all along. Remember what they were saying on the radio this morning?”
Hibiki thought for a moment, and it came to him. “Are you talking about those guys dressed up as Rockets?”
“Presto. Those guys skulking around here, they didn’t just come out of nowhere and disappear back into it.” Kenta crouched lower and started forward, ducking around the next building. Hibiki and Marina followed in suspenseful curiosity, and Kenta pointed around the corner for them to see. Just across the street was a little store, with a sign posted on the window that read “while visiting Mahogany Town try a Ragecandybar!” under an illustration of an angry-looking Gyarados. Kenta nodded his head. “That’s the one. Come on, let’s go get some chocolate.”
“Hold it!” hissed Marina, grabbing Kenta by the back of his officer’s jacket. She pulled him close, ignoring his look of confused bewilderment, and rapped him lightly on the nose with her finger. “Are you saying we’re about to go willy-nilly into . . . into a Rocket hideout?” she sputtered disbelievingly. Kenta looked at Hibiki, who merely glanced away, and somewhat timidly turned back to Marina. “Er . . . well, yes.”
She stared at him, flabbergasted.
“Team Rocket nearly killed our pokémon- and us- during the Crystal System incident. They hate us. And now you want to walk straight into their den?”
Kenta gave her a reproachful look. “You see, this is why I discouraged you from coming with us,” he said bluntly. “There’s no more being picky when choosing your allies, don’t you understand? We’re all in this mess together, saints and scoundrels alike, and we need to learn to work together if we’re going to emerge victorious.”
Marina’s face broke into tearful misery, and it reminded Hibiki of a little kid who’d just been yelled at by a parent. Kenta sensed it too, and softened his expression hastily. “I’m sorry,” he followed up. “I still remember our encounter with the Rockets, too. I don’t like them at all, but we’re out of options.”
“I know!” Hibiki perked up. He turned to Marina cheerily, holding a finger in the air. “There’s a resistance group forming in Goldenrod Underground. If you want, you can go train with those guys. Me n’ Kenta will be going back to see them soon anyway, to check up on their progress.”
But Marina shook her head vigorously. “I want to stay with you,” she said resolutely, looking once more to Kenta. “At least, until I know you’re safe.”
“Then hang around this spot,” answered Kenta, looking once again at the tiny convenience shop. “If Hibiki and I aren’t back in an hour, assume something’s wrong and call the police in. If they ask about me, my name is Kuichi and I went in pretending to be a cop so I could scare the Rockets. Can you do that?”
“Where do you think this stuff up?” Hibiki asked Kenta, impressed and a bit disturbed. Kenta shrugged. “Practice makes perfect.”
Marina groaned, and slid down the side of the house into sitting posture. “Fine, I’ll do it,” she said. “But I won’t like it.” She pulled out a pokeball, and in a flash of light, Mismagius was floating in their midst once more. Marina faced her pokémon sternly. “Mismagius, you’ve got a job. Go with Kenta wherever he’s headed, and stay invisible. Watch over them, in case anything bad happens.”
“Mis,” squeaked the banshee pokémon, nodding its understanding. Kenta smiled. “Thank you, Marina. We’ll be fine now.”
Hibiki poked his head around the side of the building and looked around for any more patrolling guards. When he didn’t see any, he crept cautiously out of hiding and hurried over to the shop door, with Kenta right behind him. Hibiki pushed open the door and headed in, and Kenta strode right for the counter in the near left corner of the room. An elderly-looking man sat behind it, wearing black glasses and smoking a pipe casually. He was resting his feet on the countertop, and nearby, a radio with the volume down emitted incomprehensible reports about something . . . most likely, the Krane Laboratories break-in.
“Excuse me,” said Kenta, folding his hands on top of the counter and looking at the shopkeeper. The old man looked back at him with an unreadable expression and removed his pipe, blowing out a little smoke. “What is it, Officer?” he asked casually. “Can’t find the doughnuts? Or am I under arrest for having my feet up like this?”
“Actually, I was just wondering when the old lady behind the counter got a sex change,” replied Kenta smoothly. The old man pulled down his glasses a little and looked at Kenta with a somewhat disoriented scowl; clearly he hadn’t been expecting this answer from a cop. Kenta pointed over his shoulder at Hibiki, who was busy inspecting a shelf of merchandise. “Sorry, just kidding. The real reason we’re here is to meet with somebody downstairs. The trapdoor is right about where he’s standing, correct?”
Now the shopkeeper was truly baffled. He stood straight up, pushing his black glasses up his forehead and stared at Kenta as though he’d never seen anyone like him before. “How did you-?” he began, but Kenta silently cut him off by removing his hat and wig. His hair fell around his shoulders, and the shopkeeper’s mouth opened and closed in a rapid tremble as he fought to keep up with what was happening before his eyes.
“You’re . . . you’re him, aren’t you?”
“I’m Brendan Birch, yes,” said Kenta, giving the man a polite smile. “Now if we could please go down, I’d really like to talk to some of the people in that base. I’ve been down there before already, so don’t worry. Your secret’s safe.”
Behind him, Hibiki gave a sudden yelp of shock and leaped away. Kenta turned around and watched as a head emerged from the floor, covered by a robber mask. “It’s okay, Lan,” he said to the dumbfounded shopkeeper. “We’ve been listening to everything. Let young ‘Brendan’ down, so we can give him a proper welcome.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” said Hibiki nervously, looking at Kenta with tension-filled eyes. Kenta gave him another encouraging smile. “If worst comes to worst,” he said, “I still hold living lightning in my hands. Let’s go join the party.”
Feeling not altogether reassured, Hibiki followed Kenta down through their second hidden trapdoor in two hours. An eruption of cheers greeted the brothers as they reached the bottom of the stairs, and the Rocket who’d beckoned Kenta down held out something shiny for him. “Here. Thanks for letting me borrow that.”
Hibiki, who was almost paralyzed by the number of underground Rocket members gathered in the room, nevertheless glanced over to see what Kenta could’ve possibly let a pokémon gangster borrow. The lockpick disappeared into Kenta’s pocket, and he looked at Hibiki with a guilty grin. “Yeah, I had a little something to do with this,” he muttered, so only Hibiki would hear. “Still, I never thought I’d see the day when I would actually be welcomed by these guys.”
“Yeah, not a whole lot of thought really went into that one,” admitted Kenta, choosing a town back-road that led around behind the upcoming houses. “Sometime after I left Henna Villa, I decided I’d need a new name. Something that would succeed in sparking a revolution. So sometime later, when I was shopping for food, I came across a Hot Topic-ish store selling Halloween costumes at half-price. And boom, there it was. Brendan’s choice clothing, all kept together in a neat little set.”
“How did you acquire the money to afford even a half-price costume set?” asked Hibiki skeptically. Kenta turned and raised an eyebrow at his brother. “Uh, excuse me?” he said sarcastically. “In case you forgot, dear brother, before the military I battled pokémon for a living. How many trainers do you think were able to beat Bolt?”
Hibiki was about to reply when Kenta’s eyes suddenly widened and he jumped backwards. The three of them, Hibiki, Kenta, and Marina, had just been about to emerge from behind a small house, but now they crouched tightly together as Kenta put a finger to his lips and shot his fellows a warning glance. Hibiki listened, and he heard two sets of footsteps slowly walking nearby. From their voices, it appeared to be two policewomen chatting with each other about something. Closing his eyes, he made out their words as they walked by the hiding spot.
“-can’t imagine where he managed to get a Master Ball from! That boy is no ordinary crook, that’s for sure.”
“Haven’t we gotten any fingerprints from him, yet?”
“Nope, not even on the fake Snag Machine. Our slippery little weasel must’ve been wearing gloves.”
“Hmm. Could he be dangerous?”
“Potentially. Rumor has it that this is the same felon who stole Takinawa’s badge and released his pokémon a week ago.”
“We can ask him later, to find out for certain.”
“Mm. Say . . . they keep going on about the Birch imposter, but personally, I’m wondering about that little guy who was with him.”
“The one with the Snorlax?”
“Yeah, the accomplice. How many pokémon did he actually have? How many are those two smuggling around?”
“I’d like to know what else those children had on them. A Snorlax . . . a Salamence . . . and Zapdos-! What’s next, another Mew clone?”
The officers’ voices faded away, and Kenta turned around with a haunted look on his face. He was as white as a pillow. “That,” he murmured, “was chilling. How many times in life do you eavesdrop on a conversation by accident, and find out it’s about you?”
“Well it is the latest news,” said Marina uncomfortably. “I’ll bet a lot of other people are talking about it, too.”
Hibiki lowered his eyes and tried to imagine just how many people could be speaking of them at the very moment. The image of a large crowd appeared in his mind’s eye, and with it, echoes of their fantasy conversations. How many approved of the news, and how many were appalled, he couldn’t tell. Certainly, he couldn’t imagine the media portraying the incident in a positive light. Two rogue trainers, one of them underage, breaking into a laboratory to steal a thieving tool, and then leaving it in ruins . . . it just didn’t strike him as something heroes would do.
“Where are we going to hide that the cops won’t find us?” Hibiki asked Kenta. His brother turned and, to his surprise, gave him a reassuring grin. He hadn’t seen one of those in a while. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ve had a particular place in mind all along. Remember what they were saying on the radio this morning?”
Hibiki thought for a moment, and it came to him. “Are you talking about those guys dressed up as Rockets?”
“Presto. Those guys skulking around here, they didn’t just come out of nowhere and disappear back into it.” Kenta crouched lower and started forward, ducking around the next building. Hibiki and Marina followed in suspenseful curiosity, and Kenta pointed around the corner for them to see. Just across the street was a little store, with a sign posted on the window that read “while visiting Mahogany Town try a Ragecandybar!” under an illustration of an angry-looking Gyarados. Kenta nodded his head. “That’s the one. Come on, let’s go get some chocolate.”
“Hold it!” hissed Marina, grabbing Kenta by the back of his officer’s jacket. She pulled him close, ignoring his look of confused bewilderment, and rapped him lightly on the nose with her finger. “Are you saying we’re about to go willy-nilly into . . . into a Rocket hideout?” she sputtered disbelievingly. Kenta looked at Hibiki, who merely glanced away, and somewhat timidly turned back to Marina. “Er . . . well, yes.”
She stared at him, flabbergasted.
“Team Rocket nearly killed our pokémon- and us- during the Crystal System incident. They hate us. And now you want to walk straight into their den?”
Kenta gave her a reproachful look. “You see, this is why I discouraged you from coming with us,” he said bluntly. “There’s no more being picky when choosing your allies, don’t you understand? We’re all in this mess together, saints and scoundrels alike, and we need to learn to work together if we’re going to emerge victorious.”
Marina’s face broke into tearful misery, and it reminded Hibiki of a little kid who’d just been yelled at by a parent. Kenta sensed it too, and softened his expression hastily. “I’m sorry,” he followed up. “I still remember our encounter with the Rockets, too. I don’t like them at all, but we’re out of options.”
“I know!” Hibiki perked up. He turned to Marina cheerily, holding a finger in the air. “There’s a resistance group forming in Goldenrod Underground. If you want, you can go train with those guys. Me n’ Kenta will be going back to see them soon anyway, to check up on their progress.”
But Marina shook her head vigorously. “I want to stay with you,” she said resolutely, looking once more to Kenta. “At least, until I know you’re safe.”
“Then hang around this spot,” answered Kenta, looking once again at the tiny convenience shop. “If Hibiki and I aren’t back in an hour, assume something’s wrong and call the police in. If they ask about me, my name is Kuichi and I went in pretending to be a cop so I could scare the Rockets. Can you do that?”
“Where do you think this stuff up?” Hibiki asked Kenta, impressed and a bit disturbed. Kenta shrugged. “Practice makes perfect.”
Marina groaned, and slid down the side of the house into sitting posture. “Fine, I’ll do it,” she said. “But I won’t like it.” She pulled out a pokeball, and in a flash of light, Mismagius was floating in their midst once more. Marina faced her pokémon sternly. “Mismagius, you’ve got a job. Go with Kenta wherever he’s headed, and stay invisible. Watch over them, in case anything bad happens.”
“Mis,” squeaked the banshee pokémon, nodding its understanding. Kenta smiled. “Thank you, Marina. We’ll be fine now.”
Hibiki poked his head around the side of the building and looked around for any more patrolling guards. When he didn’t see any, he crept cautiously out of hiding and hurried over to the shop door, with Kenta right behind him. Hibiki pushed open the door and headed in, and Kenta strode right for the counter in the near left corner of the room. An elderly-looking man sat behind it, wearing black glasses and smoking a pipe casually. He was resting his feet on the countertop, and nearby, a radio with the volume down emitted incomprehensible reports about something . . . most likely, the Krane Laboratories break-in.
“Excuse me,” said Kenta, folding his hands on top of the counter and looking at the shopkeeper. The old man looked back at him with an unreadable expression and removed his pipe, blowing out a little smoke. “What is it, Officer?” he asked casually. “Can’t find the doughnuts? Or am I under arrest for having my feet up like this?”
“Actually, I was just wondering when the old lady behind the counter got a sex change,” replied Kenta smoothly. The old man pulled down his glasses a little and looked at Kenta with a somewhat disoriented scowl; clearly he hadn’t been expecting this answer from a cop. Kenta pointed over his shoulder at Hibiki, who was busy inspecting a shelf of merchandise. “Sorry, just kidding. The real reason we’re here is to meet with somebody downstairs. The trapdoor is right about where he’s standing, correct?”
Now the shopkeeper was truly baffled. He stood straight up, pushing his black glasses up his forehead and stared at Kenta as though he’d never seen anyone like him before. “How did you-?” he began, but Kenta silently cut him off by removing his hat and wig. His hair fell around his shoulders, and the shopkeeper’s mouth opened and closed in a rapid tremble as he fought to keep up with what was happening before his eyes.
“You’re . . . you’re him, aren’t you?”
“I’m Brendan Birch, yes,” said Kenta, giving the man a polite smile. “Now if we could please go down, I’d really like to talk to some of the people in that base. I’ve been down there before already, so don’t worry. Your secret’s safe.”
Behind him, Hibiki gave a sudden yelp of shock and leaped away. Kenta turned around and watched as a head emerged from the floor, covered by a robber mask. “It’s okay, Lan,” he said to the dumbfounded shopkeeper. “We’ve been listening to everything. Let young ‘Brendan’ down, so we can give him a proper welcome.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” said Hibiki nervously, looking at Kenta with tension-filled eyes. Kenta gave him another encouraging smile. “If worst comes to worst,” he said, “I still hold living lightning in my hands. Let’s go join the party.”
Feeling not altogether reassured, Hibiki followed Kenta down through their second hidden trapdoor in two hours. An eruption of cheers greeted the brothers as they reached the bottom of the stairs, and the Rocket who’d beckoned Kenta down held out something shiny for him. “Here. Thanks for letting me borrow that.”
Hibiki, who was almost paralyzed by the number of underground Rocket members gathered in the room, nevertheless glanced over to see what Kenta could’ve possibly let a pokémon gangster borrow. The lockpick disappeared into Kenta’s pocket, and he looked at Hibiki with a guilty grin. “Yeah, I had a little something to do with this,” he muttered, so only Hibiki would hear. “Still, I never thought I’d see the day when I would actually be welcomed by these guys.”