The Pokémon Academy

Prologue

Fletch Kelly stood silent, his fierce eyes locked onto the chaos before him and shuttering back and forth in rapid analysis. Before him, his Jolteon was jetting desperately around the stage, narrowly dodging a succession of wicked boulder throws by Diego’s Graveler. He felt his mouth tense; victory had gotten vastly more difficult than shouting out for Jovu to summon her Thunder.

Across the stage, Diego’s face glistened with sweat and the promise of his first win. “Keep launching `em, Titan,” he yelled out with joy, “They can’t run forever.” Fletch eyed Diego and felt immense irritation; leave it to a bully to find his only bit of joy in tossing boulders at a creature on the run.

Jovu’s eyes were determined, but her legs were beginning to slow down. Diego was absolutely right; there was only so long Fletch and his Jolteon had to run. If he hoped to turn things around, Fletch realized, the time was now.

Abruptly, Fletch sucked in a deep breath, his eyes widening, and he broke his stillness, “Jovu, jump across the boulders!” A momentary flash of doubt in the Jolteon’s eyes. “DO IT – you’re fast enough!”

The Jolteon leapt suddenly into the air, her flashing legs landing precisely on the center of the boulder and springing her further upward. Fletch’s tense mouth gave the hint of a grin as he watched the Jolteon seamlessly cross the barrage of boulders hurled her way. With only a moment to go, he called out, “Now land him with a Double Kick, Jovu!”

Fletch’s eyes darted to Diego, whose demeanor had shifted from hysterical joy to desperate frustration, then darted quickly back to Jovu, who sprung like a predator toward the lumbering rock-type, knocking Titan back with a powerful one-two kick.

Fletch knew the battle was won long before Lieutenant Surge leapt onto the stage with adrenaline-fueled enthusiasm. “Nice work, men,” the military mentor called out, emphasizing each word. He stepped forward and ruffled the flashing fur under Jovu’s chin affectionately, “And nice work to you, old friend.” The Jolteon beamed under her master’s approval.

Surge glanced up at Fletch, his rugged face unable to conceal his admiration. “That was some damn quick thinking, Kelly,” he said, “you’re really shaping up to be a fine trainer.”

Diego spat, loudly, shaking his head as he administered a Potion to his ailing Graveler. “Lucky,” he muttered with disdain.

“Thanks,” Fletch said in typical Fletch fashion, yielding little evidence of the excitement running through his veins. “Jovu’s an excellent pokémon to work with.”

Surge studied Fletch for a minute, then nodded. “She is a fine pokémon,” Surge conceded, “but don’t dismiss your skills, Kelly. You’ve got something, and you’ll be fantastic with whatever pokémon you team up with.”

“As soon as your mommy says it’s okay,” Diego muttered, a bit louder this time.

Fletch bristled, but a knowing look from Lieutenant Surge settled the storm, and Fletch let out a deep exhale. Rather abruptly, the look on Surge’s face shifted from a mask of pride to the expression of someone who’s just realized he’s lost his keys.

“Master Surge?” Fletch said, glancing at the empty arena seats Surge seemed to be scouring.

Lieutenant Surge shook his head. He spoke with a frown, “Where the hell is your brother, Kelly?”

* * *

Baram Kelly was asleep, sprawled out among the grasses just outside Diglett’s Cave. A place of peace, the spot combined the warm breeze from the sea and the whisper of grass blades waving cooperatively in the wind. On his stomach, tiny murmurs emerged from a sleeping Igglybuff, nestled snugly in the cloth of Baram’s orange T-shirt.

It was exactly, Fletch thought with a jolt of irritation, where his brother would fall asleep instead of making it to his train day with Lieutenant Surge. Sighing and shaking his head, Fletch stepped decisively toward his lounging twin, entertaining all the torturous ways he might wake him up.

A kick in the side seemed too rough, Fletch decided, and Baram’s look of panic would not be satisfying enough to warrant the possibility of him screaming and attracting the attention of the people down at the dock. Looking down at his brother, Fletch’s eyes softened a bit, and – with a sigh – he knelt down and gently nudged his brother awake.

Baram’s eyelids rolled slowly upward, his warm brown eyes twisted momentarily in a sort of dreary confusion. He lifted his hand to his forehead, giving his eyes the shade they needed to discern his waker. “Fletch?”

“No, doofus,” Fletch said with an eye roll, plopping down next to Baram, “it’s Crasher freakin’ Wake.”

Baram grinned, lifting himself up carefully, so as not to wake Jupiter, and settled into a sitting position right beside his brother. To the casual passerby, the brotherhood between them was unmistakable, their hair and eyes both identical shades of brown. To those who knew them well, however, Fletch’s appearance was made distinct by his short, clean hairstyle and his fierce, focused eyes. Baram, in contrast, was shaggy-headed, his face touched with color due to his many naps in the sunshine, and his eyes always seemed lost to a daydream.

They sat there for a minute without saying a word, until Baram gasped quietly and turned to glance at Fletch. “My train day with Surge,” he said, studying his brother’s focused stare.

“Yep,” Fletch said in response, reaching forward and pulling up some of the grass around him. He glanced back at Baram. “Mom’s gonna be pissed.”

Baram looked worried for a minute, his eyes gazing into space as he thought the situation over. His face returned to its casual, content expression as he let out a sigh. “I’ve gotta quit napping here on train days.” Another silence rested between them, their soundtrack the whistle of the wind through the grass they inhabited. “Did you battle with Diego again today?”

Fletch grinned, his stern routine shattered. “Baram, I killed him.” Both brothers laughed heartily. “His Graveler almost had us beat, but I came up with last minute strategy for Juvo to jump on the rocks Titan was throwing, and it worked.”

Baram smiled widely, clapping his brother on the shoulder. “Ah, I wish I could’ve seen it,” he said. Another silence. “You’re really good, you know. At battling. I wish I could be as good as you.”

Fletch shook his head, “Maybe if you made it to your train days, Baram.” He turned his head toward his brother, who was staring contemplatively at the sleeping pokémon in his lap. “You’re gonna wish you had when Mom finally lets us go on journeys.”

“Probably,” Baram said blankly, brushing his hands over Jupiter’s silky coat. She slept soundly, a long blade of grass nestled firmly in her grip.

Fletch examined his brother for a minute. “You’re getting attached to her, Baram,” he said, his words startling his brother back into focus. Baram’s eyes looked worried again, he noticed. “You know Mom has to hand her back over to them soon.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said with a nod, lifting his gaze and losing his thoughts momentarily to the waves of the Vermilion Sea. Out there, Baram thought, there were no harsh lines of time, no disappointments, and – amidst the ever-rippling blue reflexes of the ocean – no goodbyes. He swallowed. “So are you going to tell mom?” Baram asked his brother.

Fletch sighed, the thought of his brother having to lose the pokémon he’d come to love so much having melted his resolve completely, and stabbed the ground with a twig he’d found. “No.”

* * *

Myra Kelly sat at her desk, sighing as she sifted restlessly through the piles and piles of paper that cluttered its surface. The sun, she realized, was pouring its light directly through her window now, illuminating her notes to uncomfortably harsh clarity, and yet she could make no sense of any of them, the observations she’d dutifully made about the specimen that’d been given unto her care.

Taking a breath, she decided to stop scanning for a minute and go over the details she had lined out.

The egg, she reminded herself, had been taken from the warehouse laboratory of a group of radicals who’d broken into the lab of Samuel Oak in Pallet Town. An officer doing a sweep of the warehouse had found the egg quite by accident, brushing a desk for fingerprints and hitting a button that revealed the incubator with the egg inside it. Noting the elaborate conditions of the egg’s care, the officers assumed it was significant somehow, bringing it to her – Professor Myra Kelly, the most widely known geneticist in the Kanto region – for examination.

At once, Myra lifted a sheet into the air, studying it breathlessly to confirm her success. She exhaled sharply; this was it, the summary of her written observations on the egg’s development. As an egg, she noted, it had appeared entirely normal, though she had found a few small sutures in its casing, perhaps evidence of some kind of hormone injection. As the egg sat in the incubator in her home, Myra had watched it with a kind of paranoia, expecting a three-headed Ekans or a fire-breathing Rattata to emerge from within. Instead, to both her relief and confusion, the egg hatched to reveal a perfectly healthy – albeit bafflingly normal – Igglybuff.

The specimen showed absolutely no signals of abnormal abilities or behavior, its vital signs all completely on par with the typical members of its species. The only idiosyncrasy, Myra thought with a smile, was a particular fondness for Jupiter rice cakes. These were Baram’s favorite, and – when he discovered the specimen enjoyed them as much as he did – he took to calling her “Jupiter.”

Myra let out another sigh, scanning the sheet for any bit of helpful information or insight she might be able to give the forensics department when they arrived to reclaim the pokémon. There was nothing much to say, she concluded, and she certainly wasn’t going to make any breakthroughs when her mind was preoccupied with Baram and the Igglybuff. It was going to be a rough break, she thought, resting her head in her hands. After the boys’ father had left, Myra had worked very hard to keep them away from any more rough breaks.

* * *

Dinner at the Kelly household was particularly quiet that evening, all three of the Kellies too mentally preoccupied to bother too convincingly with the task of eating. Fletch, dutifully taking the occasional bite and chewing it down, wrestled with the notion that perhaps his potential was being squashed with all this waiting, and he battled harder not to tell this to his mom. Baram, his eyes lost in his characteristic gaze of deep contemplation, thought about Jupiter, how much he was going to miss her when the police took her away, and how – no matter what – he couldn’t cry when it happened. Myra, seated at the head of the table, studied both of her sons methodically, worried she was somehow failing both of them altogether.

In sharp contrast to their somber mood sat Jupiter, who was casually plopped on the tabletop, joyfully shoveling down the bits of a Jupiter cake Baram had meticulously dissected for her. Between bites, Myra noted with a smile, the pokémon murmured its contentedness; at once, Myra felt a flicker of anxiety, unable to shake the feeling she’d failed to discern the significance of this little creature.

Sighing, Myra lifted a forkful of spaghetti to her mouth, noticing for the first time since they’d all sat down just how quiet the dinner table actually was. She wiped her mouth and cleared her throat. “So…how’d train day go today, boys?”

Both Kelly brothers fidgeted for a second, Baram’s face reddening instantly and Fletch fixing his eyes firmly on the food in front of him. The sudden rise of tension among them was palpable; even Jupiter glanced up uncomfortably from her food. Suspicious, Myra stared down her sons. “Baram?”

“Hm?” Baram said in an attempt at nonchalance. A very poor attempt.

Myra set down her fork. “How was train day today, Baram?”

Baram exhaled, exerting a tremendous effort not to let his eyes meet his mother’s. “I, uh… I didn’t make it to train day today.”

“Baram!” Myra sighed, exasperated. His face turned even redder, his nervous gaze finally meeting hers; helpless, she softened a bit. “Why not?”

He hesitated. “Jupiter and I woke up early this morning, and I took her up to the spot by the cave. I know she’s le…” His voice broke for a minute. “I wanted to show her the sunrise, the way… you know, Dad liked to. And we ended up falling asleep, and the next thing I knew…” He trailed off.

Myra took a deep breath, nodding. “You didn’t mean to skip today, Baram. I know that.” He again looked toward his mother, relieved to see sympathy in her expression. “But Surge is doing all of us a big favor training you boys. If you want to go on a journey someday, you have to prove yourselves.”

Fletch kept his eyes planted firmly on his food, straining not to reveal how annoyed he was at the prospect of having to prove what was assumed to be true for the other kids their age. He didn’t pull his eyes from the plate, and he didn’t even acknowledge his awareness of his mother and brother’s voices. That, is until he heard Baram speak next.

“Mom, I think… I think Fletch is ready,” he said with sincerity. The sentiment took Myra somewhat by surprise, and she seemed poised to react with a knee-jerk no. She stopped herself, however, exhaling and asking Baram why. “Tell her, Fletch,” Baram urged, looking to his brother, “Tell her about your battle today with Diego.”

“Diego Topple?” Myra asked in disbelief. Fletch nodded, a small grin breaking his expression. “That boy is always picking a battle in town,” she said, “He and that Graveler are ruthless.”

“Titan,” Baram interjected, “And Surge made Fletch face Diego with Jovu. Which means there was a type disadvantage.”

Fletch eyed his mom for a moment, unsure of how to start, then his voice crept out with a grin. “Titan was using his Rock Throw attack,” he said, “so Diego really had Jovu on the run with all those boulders. I thought they had us beat, but then an idea hit me – I thought maybe he’d be fast enough, so I told him to use the boulders as steppingstones, so that he could – you know – land a killer Double Kick.” Fletch’s eyes glimmered at the memory, though his voice remained remarkably calm. “It worked.”

“That’s amazing, Fletcher,” Myra said, her eyes beaming, “It really is. If you keep working hard, you’ll be every bit the trainer your father ever was. That’s why it’s so good that Surge is getting you so ready to be out there.” Fletch’s joy faded a bit, and he returned his eyes to his plate.

The family returned to eating in eerie silence for a moment, broken when Jupiter – finished with her snack – stood up and shrieked as she jumped into Baram’s lap. He laughed, hugging the small pokémon gently, and he glanced up at Myra. His smile faded. “Mom, when are they coming back?”

Myra’s heart wrenched a bit. She glanced down at her food in an effort to make it easier. “They’re coming tomorrow, Baram,” she said. There was silence.

After a moment, she gathered the courage to look up, and her eyes rested on both her sons, both of them heartbroken by the words she’d spoken to them. She hated their father for leaving her to handle the rough parts of parenting alone, she hated the world for not making things easy, but – most of all – in that moment, Myra Kelly hated herself.

* * *

Jupiter hobbled energetically along the dirt path, joyfully chirping as she and Baram made their way up to Diglett’s Cave to witness the sunrise over the Vermilion Sea.

Their last sunrise, Baram reminded himself, battling a lump in his throat. He fixed his dreamy eyes momentarily on the sweet little pokémon in front of him. She skittered merrily along, none the wiser, her tiny feet kicking up miniscule clods of dirt which rose and fell with little event. He sucked in a deep breath, tasting the early breeze off the salty blue sea, and shoved all those pesky thoughts away.

When at last they reached their spot in the grasses next to Diglett’s Cave, Baram plopped down with unintentional force, his legs apparently more tired than he’d thought. He glanced at Jupiter, who was currently fulfilling her ritual of sizing up all the tall blades of grass in search of the perfect one. Her watery red eyes surveyed the collection with comic scrutiny, darting from grass blade to grass blade with thoughtful precision. At last, her face softened from inspection to delight, and she happily uprooted a particularly lengthy, durable spear. Even in the absence of sunlight, Baram noted, it seemed to glow its vibrant green.

Jupiter rolled on her back, catching purposefully against Baram’s leg, and she cooed softly as she examined the grass blade, twisting it and pulling it with utmost attention. Baram grinned, suddenly immensely aware of how grateful he was to have made such an adventurous and sweet-natured friend. He gazed out at the sea again, tiny waves beginning to catch the earliest rays of the sun, and he thought of the nature of time and of friendship. The ocean seemed to know the joys and sorrows of both all too well, waves rising and falling with unerring devotion. The boy and his pokémon friend lay there pensively for some time, watching the sun’s brilliant arrival into the sky and tasting the morning stretch of their final day together.

“Aw, that’s awfully cute, Kelly.” Baram felt his attention snapped from the yellows and pinks stretching over the skies, his eyes darting to the source of the mocking words: Diego. The stocky trainer glanced down at him smugly, his eyes beaming with a sickening arrogance.

Baram rolled his eyes, pulling himself up and wrapping his arms around his legs. “Thanks, Diego. That’s real sweet of you to say.”

“I’m being sarcastic, nerd,” Diego said with a laugh. He continued walking along the path, adding, “I don’t know too many boys who like spending their time with girly little pokémon like that one.”

At once, Jupiter jumped to her feet, inflating a bit as she stepped after Diego and vocalized her protest. Wide-eyed, Baram scraped to his feet, too, chasing after the pokémon.

Diego turned, sizing up the pokémon yelling so angrily after him, and he doubled over in laughter. Baram clenched his fists, feeling that rare flicker within himself that urged him to confrontation. “Shut your fat face, Diego,” he said sharply. Diego’s joyful face twisted into an aggressive glare. Baram continued, “I bet you weren’t laughing like that when my brother stomped all over Titan yesterday.”

“That was a fluke,” Diego roared, raising his fist in the air and taking a step toward Baram. “Your brother was using a gym leader’s pokémon, and he got lucky!” Spit flung from the angry trainer’s mouth; Baram sensed he’d struck a tender spot.

“Whatever helps you sleep, Diego,” Baram said with a smile, glancing down at Jupiter, who still had her eyes fixed firmly – and indignantly – on Diego.

“Even if he was good enough to beat me,” Diego said, his voice still almost at a yell, “that doesn’t say anything for you. Your brother got all the man genes, Kelly. You’re nothing but a sniffling little pansy.”

Baram bristled, digging his fingernails into the palms of his hands, and Jupiter set off on another vocal tirade, her speech so animated it seemed almost human. “We could murder you guys,” Baram felt himself say, immediately regretting his words.

Diego didn’t need a second offer; within a span of three seconds, he wrenched loose the pokéball from his belt and rocketed it at the ground, his monstrous Graveler towering over the still-ranting Jupiter. Baram swallowed another sea breeze, suddenly unaware of how this scene had come to be. A war between Titan and Jupiter was about to play out, and – Baram suddenly realized – that was a lot less even a war than it sounded.

“All right, Titan,” Diego yelled, his voice at the razor edge of a laugh, “these pipsqueaks think they have what it takes to take us down.” The Graveler clenched its mighty fists, glaring down menacingly at the Igglybuff before it. “So why don’t we show `em what we’re capable of? Magnitude!”

Lifting a boulder foot, the pokémon crashed it down with mighty force, shaking the ground and knocking lightweight Jupiter into the air. Baram gasped, feeling the tremors in his own feet and ducking from a few stray bits of rock rolling down Diglett Cave. Jupiter landed shakily, glancing back desperately at Baram. His mouth opened to speak.

“Another one, Titan. Bigger this time!” Diego laugh-yelled, his eyes glimmering with a destructive joy. The Graveler repeated its mighty stomp, this time creating a wave in the nearby ocean that crashed bitterly into one of its brethren. Jupiter flew backwards, clinging to her blade of grass and rolling back helplessly.

Baram’s hands shook, his heart sank, and his mind raced. Diego was laughing now, his hands tightly clasped over his stomach, and the Graveler grinned on menacingly. Another wave was coming. Jupiter looked again to Baram, her eyes watery with desperation, the grass blade still tucked dutifully in her small hands. Baram gasped.

“Jupiter, use your grass blade. Pull Titan to the ground with a Grass Knot technique!” he yelled at her.

Her eyes lighting up, the pokémon turned and hobbled faster than ever toward the mighty Graveler. Diego laughed even harder, “Yeah, Kelly, bring her closer. Magnitude again, Titan!”

The pokémon lifted its foot, ready to stomp Jupiter into the face of the Earth, but Jupiter didn’t shy back. Instead, she leapt deftly into the air, wrapping the lengthy grass blade around its suspended pillar-like foot. Baram stood rooted to the ground, watching his tiny friend with petrified wonder. Light as a feather, she quickly floated throughout the Graveler’s quaking legs, narrowly missing the mighty impacts it sank into the ground. The grass blade, ever vibrant and durable, constricted Titan’s movement more and more, and the Graveler’s eyes grew desperate. Behind him, Diego stood mystified, his mouth open.

Baram found the words, “Now pull, Jupiter! Pull him down!” Jupiter chirped, her eyes twisted in joy, and she tugged forward, pulling the now-helpless Graveler face-down to the Earth in his mightiest impact yet. Dust billowed up into the air, obscuring the wild scene for a moment in a cloud of brown-gray.

As it cleared gradually, Baram made out the shape of the sunken Graveler, but Jupiter was nowhere to be seen. Stepping forward, he strained his eyes to see through the smog, locating the tiny pokémon. Then he heard her familiar chirp, growing closer and closer. Jupiter leapt up from the ground, shrieking with excitement as she hurled herself into Baram’s arms, and Baram could only laugh and squeeze the pokémon back. Across the dust cloud, Diego swore loudly.

“That was something, kid,” a voice rang out behind them. Baram turned, spotting Lt. Surge and his brother Fletch, both marked by an expression of hard-won admiration. A moment of stillness passed between all of them, the dust cloud continuing to settle behind Baram and his heart floating ever higher into the orange-blue skies above.

* * *

The day had been a beautiful one, Baram realized in retrospect; the peaceful sunrise, the David-and-Goliath victory, Fletch’s bragging over him at lunchtime, and the rare look of contentment on their mom’s face all stood out to him as tremendous elements. For brief moments, he had felt the joy and positive motion of things might last forever, the hours passing with what felt like reasonable slowness. As the police car appeared out the front window, however, Baram felt suddenly cheated by time. Sighing, he braced for what might be the most difficult goodbye in his entire life, including perhaps the short one he’d shared with his father.

Jupiter slept soundly in his lap, exhausted from a busy morning and an afternoon of bountiful rice cakes, the grass blade held firmly in her tiny grip. For a moment, he considered running away with her, but he quickly realized that made no sense whatsoever. She needed to be observed because she might be significant, somehow special. He felt his eyes cloud with warm tears; she was special. He entertained handing her over without waking her, but he hated to imagine her waking to find he’d handed her over without saying goodbye. Sitting there, he ignored the sound of the car-door shutting.

“Baram,” Myra spoke, her tone stern though empathetic. The time was here. She glanced in at her son, sighing, and said, “I’ll talk to them before. You have a minute or two to say goodbye, okay?”

Baram nodded, suddenly aware Fletch had disappeared. He knew his brother couldn’t bear to see him lose his friend, would rather hide out from all of it than witness Baram’s heartbreak. Myra stepped out of the house, the sound of her conversation with the policemen serving as muffled background to the otherwise unbearably silent room.

Baram shook Jupiter awake, a tear streaming down his face before he had a chance even to utter a word. Red eyes opening, the pokémon glanced up at him with immediate concern. “Jupiter,” he stammered, “before I say anything, I want to promise you –” His voice broke. He continued, “This isn’t goodbye.”

She reached a short arm to his chest, a tiny dot of compassion brushing against him. Baram stared into her eyes, feeling her mix of confusion and concern. This was going to hurt, no matter how he said it. “You’re special, Jupiter,” he said with a stammer, “So special that more professors like Mom need to get to know you, and what you’re capable of.” Jupiter started shaking her head, began murmuring a protest.

Baram pressed on, “So that means you’ve got to go away for awhile.” The room was silent, save for her rising cries of refusal and his shaking breaths. The orange light of sunset poured in somberly, almost empathetic to the tragedy of the situation, but neither of them could really see it at the moment. “We’ve got to say… we’ve got to say goodbye for now.”

He could help it no longer; his eyes squeezed shut, releasing two hot streams of tears, and he pulled the weeping pokémon into a hug. Her shrieks of protest subsided, and she wept softly, her tiny body convulsing in short, honest cries. Baram set her back in his lap, wiping first his own eyes and then hers, and he looked at her, “But I promise it isn’t goodbye forever.” Her eyes twisted in sadness, she nodded.

After a moment, he realized the conversation outside had gone quite silent, and he picked up his tiny friend, stepping out into the orange-bathed yard and greeting the police officer briefly. Myra ruffled a hand through her son’s hair, her eyes welling up at his tear-stained face, and she held her breath as he handed the specimen – no, his friend – over to the gentle hands of the policeman. As he stepped away, Baram fell again into tears, unable to banish them for good, and Myra could only pat his back in agreement.

At once, the policeman halted. Jupiter cried out, breaking loose from the police officer’s hands and hobbling back toward them. She glanced up at Baram, who knelt down to her level, still weeping bitterly, and she extended the grass blade. He laughed once, breaking his tears for a moment, and accepted her gift. “Goodbye for now, my friend,” he stammered, and she rubbed his knee in agreement.

Myra watched her son pull the pokémon again into a final hug, both of them closing their eyes in honest sorrow for their friendship, both bathed in a brilliantly warm orange light. To Myra’s surprise, the light grew suddenly warmer and lighter, soon shining a blinding white. Baram gasped, the Igglybuff in his arms transforming right in front of his eyes.

He stood there for a moment in disbelief, the tiny friend he’d known for weeks now looking stronger, readier to stand on her own. “See you soon, Jupiter,” he said. The Jigglypuff glanced up at him in admiration for a few moments more, then turned reluctantly away, greeting the police officer, jumping into the car window, and driving out of the orange-bathed scene, out of Vermilion City, and out of sight.

* * *

Dinner that evening was quieter even than the night before, this time not remedied by the joyful noises of chewed-up rice cakes, and the evening that followed carried the silence through dutifully. Baram retreated to his room, unable to stand the concerned looks of his brother or mother anymore, and Fletch retreated to his, angry at himself for not having been there, for having let his brother down. Unable to find the words to console her sons, Myra went to her bedroom herself, her mind racing only with words chastising her own shortcomings. The house resonated with tense silence, only occasionally met by the noise of the Vermilion Sea crashing softly outside.

Baram lay in his bed, unable to process the momentous day freshly fading behind him. There’d been the battle with Diego, the cloud of dust, the sunrise and sunset, Jupiter’s transformation from Igglybuff to Jigglypuff to gone, the blade of grass … the part of it that seemed to win out in Baram’s mind was the cloud of dust, freshly stirred, reluctant to settle. He sighed a painful sigh, turning off the light and closing his eyes, but could still only see – could only taste – the brown-gray of being unsettled.

Fletch had woken up that morning an hour earlier than anyone else, waiting in nervous anticipation of a painful day for his twin brother. He’d heard Baram tiptoe out of the house, watched him head toward Diglett’s Cave, and he’d hedged for a good thirty minutes before deciding to go try and console him. When he’d arrived, he’d discovered Surge and the end of a momentous battle, and he realized his brother could stand well on his own. Twice that day, Fletch could’ve consoled his brother the way Baram would’ve consoled him, and twice that day he’d failed. He felt at once selfish for ever worrying about his own ambitions, selfish for being too weak to support his brother, and selfish for pretending he ever had the power to do anything at all about any of it.

Finally, Myra sat in the corner of her bedroom, poring again over her papers for any hint of a clue as to the pokémon’s significance. Maybe if she figured it out, she thought, her son could have his friend back. Maybe she could rule out any significance altogether. In her gut, however, she knew she’d missed something; in some way, Jupiter was strikingly important. Eyes itching with fatigue, she continued to glance over the papers.

The restless Kellies were all startled, then, to hear the crash of the front door and the yell that echoed suddenly through the house: “Where the hell is the pokémon?” The six words pierced every nook and cranny of the house, striking fear immediately into all three hearts. Cautiously, Myra cracked open the door to her bedroom, peering out, and she tiptoed to the edge of her corridor. She heard the lamp crash into the ground, the rustling of papers, the swing of the broken front door in the late-night breeze.

At once, she felt a brute hand wrap tightly around her arm, pulling her into a tall, brutish body, an arm soon wrapping around her neck. “Professor Kelly,” the rough voice identified its prey, “I’ve always loved your work.”

There was the sound of a door blown open, and Fletch billowed down the stairs, a baseball bat in his arms. Baram flung behind him, eyes twisted in fear, and placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. Myra’s eyes widened; she was living a nightmare. The voice behind her laughed, and a figure appeared to her left. There were two men.

“Let her go,” Fletch said loudly, his focused eyes glimmering with protective instinct, “or I’ll bash your skull in.”

“Points for bravado, kid,” the man holding Myra said, his voice remarkably clear through the face-obscuring mask. He wrenched his arm tighter around Myra’s throat, her scream of fright quickly cut into a gasp. “Drop the bat.”

Sneering, Fletch did so, and Baram watched it clap like a disjointed limb down the stairs with detached fear. “You heard the question,” the other one spoke, his voice nasally, “Where’s the pokémon?”

“The Jigglypuff?” Fletch asked with disgust, shaking his head, “What the hell could make a Jigglypuff worth all this?”

“Nice try, kid.” The rough voice again. “Where is she?”

Myra and Fletch both looked at Baram, trembling amidst the shock of the abrupt violence. Neither would betray the safety of his beloved friend. A strange, tense, horrifying stillness rested again in the Kelly household, broken finally by Baram’s voice.

“She’s gone,” he said. “The police took her today. We couldn’t figure out what made her special at all.”

The two men, both of them obscured completely by their masks, seemed to exchange glances, and – after another eternity of frightening silence – one tossed Myra Kelly to the floor, both of them disappearing into the night as quickly as they’d come. Myra Kelly wept, her sons rushing to her side, and Baram reached for the phone, calling the police. He told them the whole story.

“Come here as fast as you can,” he said, breathless, “and make sure Jupiter is safe.”

* * *

The week that followed the Kelly boys’ victories over Titan, the departure of Jupiter, and the horrifying break-in was busy and frantic, and not one of the Kellies managed to get a decent night’s sleep. Unable to stand the thought of her sons being placed at risk again, Myra toiled endlessly with the police to create a solution, and she sensed that would mean another painful goodbye.

Upon learning of the break-in, officials decided to transport Jupiter to a secure location. Not even Myra was privy to knowing where the pokémon was held, but she did receive word that no other professors had made any ground in determining any abnormalities in the pokémon. Part of this, Myra also heard, was because the Jigglypuff refused to cooperate, indicating daily she had no interest in anything other than returning to Baram. The thought brought a smile to Myra’s fatigued face, but – after some thought – she opted not to share it with her son.

Fletch and Baram had resided with Lt. Surge, who’d kindly offered to look after them for awhile. They were comforted by the steady presence of Jovu and by the kindness of their mentor, rough though he may seem, but it had largely felt like a week of unrest. Neither of them could find words; neither could sit still.

When it came to providing a solution for the boys’ security, the police found a difficult woman to please in Myra Kelly. She refused to accept any of their typical forms of protocol, demanding that her sons not be restricted to some air-tight security bubble, demanding that they be free to pursue their interests. Above all, she demanded that they not be separated from one another. After days of brainstorming and searching out creative possibilities, they presented her with a plan she could accept: The boys would be placed in the new class of the Pokémon Academy in Ecruteak City. Their age (almost 13) aligned perfectly with the incoming class, and they would continue to grow in whatever areas interested them. The boys would have to adopt fake surnames, in order to escape discovery, identifying not as brothers in the Academy setting. Feeling instinctually that the solution was right, Myra consented, and the plan was set in motion.

In the days following, the boys were trained to adopt their new identities. Fletch Kelly became Fletch Newcastle, hailing from Snowpoint City in the Sinnoh region. His short brown hair was dyed a convincingly deep red, which Myra thought brought out hues in his focused amber eyes she’d never seen before. Baram Kelly became Baram Anderson, from the beach community of Slateport City in Hoenn, and his shaggy brown hair was lightened to a sun-kissed blonde, somewhat matching his pervasive optimism. They were tirelessly made to memorize their new hometowns, their stories of having found the Academy, and even new fictional families. When Myra glanced at the two of them next to each other, she flinched a little at how different they’d been made to look. She couldn’t help but cry.

What felt like a few sweet seconds later, a white boat stoof docked in Vermilion City, the orange sunset sky again stretching forth to provide comfort to the former Kelly family – now Myra Kelly, Fletch Newcastle, and Baram Anderson – as they bade one another farewell. Overwhelmed by her sadness, Myra found she’d developed eyes of stone, her tears strangely refusing to emerge. Instead, she observed her sons with a meticulous scientist’s eye, her mind scribbling copious notes; she could not bear to forget a detail.

Her two sons stood staring at her, and she could only stare back. Fletch was so driven to succeed, the fire behind his eyes evidence of his fight for the approval his father had refused him; Baram’s eyes, on the other hand, were warm with sensitivity and prone to wandering with his thoughts, going hand-in-hand with his aimless nature and troubling doubt of his own strengths. Saying nothing, she pulled them both into a tight, loving hug, and whispered this: “I love you both so, so much. I could not be more proud.”

She didn’t examine their eyes when she felt them leave her arms; she couldn’t bear to see Fletch’s focused evasion or Baram’s desperately fought tears. Instead, she cast her eyes up to the orange, empathetic sky, a Fearow flying across it majestically, and she encouraged her sons to do the same. “No matter where you are, my sons,” she spoke softly, “Our eyes will be fixed on the same sun. Don’t forget that.”

Moments later, Baram Anderson of Slateport City and Fletch Newcastle of Snowpoint City boarded the S.S. Maria, their ship slicing through the Vermilion Sea, first bouncing orange then deep blue. Unable to sleep, Baram walked above-ship, looking out at the white trails of bubbles left behind by the clean white ship. So much left in the wake, he thought to himself. He had been wrong earlier; in the ocean, there were goodbyes. There were goodbyes, and goodbyes, and goodbyes.