Red sample

He couldn’t remember just how long it had been since he felt warmth that wasn’t twinged by the iciness of a mountain. Sure, the fires helped, but only marginally. It had to have been a few years, though- three, right? That was what the kid from Johto said. It was hard to gauge the passage of time, sometimes, when your only dips into civilization were to the Pokemon Center at the base of the mountain every few months. In the same breath, it also wasn’t like it ultimately mattered.

Well- Alright, that wasn’t totally true. It mattered to some people. His mother, for sure- she had to care. He got letters from her when he went to the Pokemon Center, short things that just probed as to how he was. He didn’t usually answer them, mostly because he didn’t usually have the time. There was always a lot to do up there, so writing could get lost in the narrative.

It had been a while since his mother wrote to him. Maybe she thought he was dead. He made a mental note to write her back once he hit real ground.

And he would hit real ground! Soon, that is. All that he needed to do was leave the summit. All of his personal belongings- clothes, tent, berries- were safely packed away, and the fire was out. It even had snow on it to choke out the embers. He just had to take off into the unknown. His Charizard watched him impatiently, a ring of melted snow beginning to grow around him. Pika, on the other hand, sat pretty from his spot on Red’s shoulder, shifting just to nudge him in the face. Red felt pressed for something- words, possibly, or even a smile, but he couldn’t feel anything rise in his chest. Even when nobody was around, he couldn’t quite make the words go.

He looked over at Charizard with an apologetic gaze. Pika made a disappointed noise and bapped Red on the head with a single paw. Ultimately, it didn’t actually matter if he was ready or not. Everybody else was ready, and if he relied solely on his own judgment, noting would ever get done because he’d gotten attached to his hovel in the mountains. He couldn’t let himself get hung up on the details. Still, even as Charizard huffed, Red gave his campsite a hundred yard stare.

He knew what was waiting for him in the real world. Once he left this mountain, a target would settle on his back. He had been a ghost for three years- the minute that one person knew that he had returned to the world of the living, all of Kanto would know. He wouldn’t be able to go anywhere without some reporter trying to follow him, trying to meet him where he wanted to be, or trying to shove a microphone in his face and ask for his life story. He wouldn’t be able to go to the bathroom without someone shoving a marker under the stall and asking him for an autograph.

It sounded scarier and scarier the more that he considered. He had spent so long on this mountain that he didn’t know what to do when he was confronted with people again.

Even so, he couldn’t stay here. He had plateaued. He had to get better somehow, and this was the only way to do it.

Numbly, Red climbed onto Charizard. The warmth was a comfort, and Pika shifting into his lap was a blessing. Softly, he pushed with his legs- Charizard would know where to go.

They touched down in a city donned with cherry trees. As Red recalled Charizard, he remembered what it felt like to walk on pavement. Nobody spared him a glance, not really. Trainers landed here all the time, so he wasn’t out of the ordinary. Still, Red pulled his cap down over his eyes and walked a short distance from the Pokemon Center, just to edge his way to the PokeMart. It wasn’t Kanto, sure, but he was pretty sure it was owned by the same company. The setup should be the same. He shuffled his way into the, grabbing a basket by the door. It was, mercifully, empty, save for an older looking gentleman at the cash register. The clerk hardly spared Red a glance as he entered, only offering him a small wave before he went back to counting stock. Pika hopped off of Red’s shoulder to wander the aisles, leaving Red alone to let his memory guide him- and to to ignore the fact that his heart had taken residence in his throat.

There was nobody here. This was fine. He would be fine. There was nobody here.

The shop was, comparatively, pretty small. Aside from foodstuffs, there were only really potions and PokeBalls (the average kind, not those fancy ones with the improved catch rate). Red supposed that it was reasonable- it was the starting line. Who would need anything more than the average potion here? Red swept handfuls of potion into his basket, only looking up when he heard his Pikachu call for him.

Pika was in apparel. There still wasn’t anybody nearby, but Red felt awkward as he ducked into the aisle. Pika didn’t seem to care as he looked insistently at a baseball cap. It was simple, red and white, and it reminded Red of his own. Except, his own was much older, and a little worse for wear. It had spent far too many days in the sun, and the red on it had faded. The one before him did have the right white front, and it was still a stark color, but the PokeBall design on the front panel reminded him a little more of the boy he met on the mountain.

He looked at Pika, who looked up at him. Really, Red had no idea how he could talk him out of this. With a sigh, Red crouched, letting Pika crawl up onto his shoulder as he picked up the cap. A little change never hurt anyone.

He dropped the new cap into his basket, only waiting a moment before braving the journey to the clerk. Nobody had come in during his deliberations, so there weren’t many people to judge him too harshly. Still, he couldn’t help the fear that rose in his chest as he set his basket down and offered the clerk a polite smile. The clerk seemed accustomed to this brand of nonsense, since he simply smiled back and began to scan each potion.

“Really stockin’ up, huh?” the clerk asked. His voice was pleasant enough, a faint twinge on familiar words. While it provided some comfort, the fear of conversation immediately overwhelmed any joy. Red licked his lips and tilted his cap down to hide the rush of shame that made its way to his face.

An agonizing moment passed, filled with beeps of the scanner. Finally, Red spoke. “Yes.” Hopefully, it was brief enough to reject inducing any more conversation.

“Mm. Nice Pikachu. Bet he likes the care you’ve got goin’ in here.”

If only he was so lucky.

Red glanced down at Pika with another twitch of an awkward smile. On the bright side, most of it had centered around his Pokemon. If he could keep the conversation off of himself, he’d be able to manage most of the panic and the fear of recognition. His voice shook, sure, but at least he could breathe easier. “Thank you.”

This was fine. It was easy and totally fine.

The beeping paused. “You’re not a very chatty one, are you?”

This was not fine.

“No,” Red immediately said. It was too quick to be casual, so he hesitated and spoke again. “Sorry.”

“Mm, don’t you worry about that too much,” the clerk said. When Red glanced up, he could see pretty obviously that the clerk didn’t even spare a glance in his direction. “Just different. Most kids I get your age are easy to talk about what they’ve got planned, their new friends. But you’re different, huh?”

Different… “Different how?” He blurted it mostly without thinking, and as soon as he realized what he’d said, he flushed. He knew just what sort of different the clerk meant- quiet, and composed, like he’d done this before.

“Like you’re too anxious mention it. Are you lost?” The clerk laughed, and Red managed a sharp one in response before the clerk spoke again. “You’re from Kanto, aren’t you?”

Red nodded.

“I figured. The accent’s a little different, you don’t sound like you’re from around here. It’s not too different, since we’re neighbors, but different’s different. It’s strange that you’re takin’ it from here instead of Kanto, though… Ah- Here. That’ll be 14,300. Best to overbuy than underbuy, I suppose.”

That was nothing. Red fished out a handful of bills and offering it to the man. Once the money was passed over, Red took his new cap out of the bag, offering his old one to Pika. In the meantime, the clerk whistled.

“Set that down like it was nothing- Exact change, too! Your family’s gotta be sponsoring this pretty hard, huh?”

“No,” Red shook his head, “I worked for it.”

The clerk looked amused as he passed the bag of potions to Red. “Mhm? Wonderful. Good to see kids these days, getting around and making something of themselves.”

If only he knew.

The clerk laughed slightly and tore a receipt off of the cash register. “What are you going to do now that you have all of those potions that you earned for yourself?”

With a little hum of contemplation, Red stuck the plastic bag into his backpack. He pulled his cap on (it fit like a glove) and straightened, noting some recognition in the clerk’s eyes. Quietly, before he could attract much more attention, Red spoke. “I think I’m going to call my mom.” Without another word, he turned and left the store.