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Red had no chance at all in that staring contest they were doing. Hoothoot simply didn’t blink. It wasn’t a matter of rarely blinking. It didn’t blink at all.
With a sigh, he pointed at the tiny owl Pokémon perched on the berry tree and admitted defeat. “You … win.”
The brown blob of feathers – its hypnotic eyes were disproportionately big – hooted in triumph, then it flapped, or rather hopped to a tree further down. Was it baiting him to give chase?
Red decided to let it be. If Hoothoot wanted some distance from him, then he would not force himself on it. The poor thing was probably still overwhelmed after its night had gone so poorly. Not only had it been caught by him mid-flight, but he had subsequently abducted it from its home route. Despite the fact that it was past midnight, Red had pushed through Cherrygrove City without even stopping at the Poké Center. In comparison to Kanto, Johto felt so much calmer. The small critter didn’t really faze him, so he had immediately set foot on Route 30. The hiker had told him to head north, after all, until he hit Violet City. None of his Pokémon were hurt, so why bother wasting time in Cherrygrove? One stroll through the streets had told him that there was nothing worthwhile in that sleepy place anyway.
Hoothoot seemed less impressed with his choice, though. It regularly cried out for its friends and family since he had released it from the Poké Ball outside Cherrygrove. There was no answer call. Hoothoot wasn’t panicky; it would get used to the situation. That’s why he allowed it to stay outside the Poké Ball. That would help.
“Sorry,” he apologized, not that Hoothoot was paying much attention to him.
Red followed the path up north, his hands in the pockets of his jacket as he fought the tiredness behind his eyes. No need to stop for the night. He could see just fine thanks to the moon, which had risen and now illuminated Route 30. Its light reflected off the small pond to his right, revealing the sleek shadows of Magikarp that populated the body of water.
It was a pretty sight.
That’s what Daisy would call it. Blue’s sister.
Sometimes Red missed home. He hadn’t seen them in forever. Were they well?
Last he knew, Daisy had been trying to become a Pokémon breeder after she had graduated the trainer school in Viridian City. She had applied for a bank loan to open her own daycare, but it was hard to get a business started in Kanto. The economy had never really recovered after the war. Cities like Celadon were doing somewhat okay, but even there, work was hard to come by. No wonder so many of the youth hung out on Cycling Road and relied on robbing people. Others lost themselves in the dream of getting rich in the Game Corner. Everybody could find a couple of coins in their pockets to get them started on the machines. But paying rent? That was a different matter.
This was the thing Red had noticed the most about Cherrygrove City. He hadn’t spotted any homeless people sleeping on the streets. Red still remembered the elderly man who had stared at him so listlessly from the alley next to the Game Corner in Celadon. Even in Pallet Town, there had been a steady stream of poor souls camping outside the Professor’s laboratory in the hope to impress enough with their CVs to get employed.
By the time he had bought more Poké Balls to grab himself a Spinarak before heading north, the sun had already set over Johto. Once he had returned to Route 29, the grass had been crawling with these bugs. Arachnids. Whatever. Anyway, Red had been careful not to step on one of the Spinaraks that had left their treetops to roam around under the cover of the night. Soon, he had settled on an especially brave one. Red had burnt through three Poké Balls to catch it; that was the problem when you were at Champion level. Even a mere Quick Attack by Pikachu would instantly KO small critter, so he couldn’t weaken it.
That’s when he had caught Hoothoot, too. Well. It was more like the Hoothoot had managed to catch itself, really. It had tried to eat the Spinarak and thus it had accidentally gotten in the way of the second ball. Now Red had an owl and a spider at pathetic levels, but it made him incredibly giddy anyway. New friends always did. Besides, he could already hear Daisy’s scream once she noticed the newest addition to her grandfather’s laboratory. She hated spiders with a passion.
As he walked through Cherrygrove City, Red couldn’t keep himself from brushing the new Poké Balls on his belt. His Pokédex hadn’t registered the Hoothoot nor the Spinarak. He’d have to get an upgrade from Professor Oak. Red was certain that if he went into the Poké Center in Violet City and phoned home, the Professor would arrange things for him as soon as possible. Oak had always supported him in all matters, to the point that Red felt bad for Blue, who had to fight for his grandfather’s attention all the time.
A part of him refused to out himself, though. He’d rather keep the two deadweights on his belt than to inform the Professor of his whereabouts. It had been risky enough to go into the Poké Mart. Red had pulled his cap deep into his face, which had earned him a suspicious look by the employée. The man had seemed almost relieved once Red had left the store.
Although nobody had recognized him so far, Red didn’t want to challenge fate. Once he contacted Professor Oak, the man would nag him about talking to Lance (he had ignored the League’s calls. All of them.). Red was fine with the fighting part of being champion. Nobody had told him in advance, though, that those awful TV and radio people would hound him all the time. He hated it when their cameras flashed in his face and when they pushed a microphone under his mouth and –
“Piii?”
Pikachu’s question was disrupted by a big yawn.
Red knew what his friend meant. Pikachu wanted him to knock at the farmer’s cabin they had just passed. “No sleepy.”
Pikachu grumbled, but then it pulled up its tail and tucked it underneath the body, still nestled on Red’s shoulder. Pikachu was getting heavy. The cold on Mount Silver and the constant training had kept it fit; now it was lazing about on his head all day. Starting tomorrow, he’d push the little freeloader off his shoulder. Time to get walking on his own feet again. Not that Pikachu suspected any of Red’s malicious thoughts, the way its soft belly rose and sank with each breath.
It was incredible what a fast and deep sleeper Pikachu was. Red felt envious. He had always struggled to find rest. All those words that he had not managed to say during the day would just roam around in his head at night. Maybe that’s why he pushed past the cabin instead of knocking and asking for shelter. He wanted to avoid sleep for as long as he could.
Route 30 only had a small elevation, and large parts of it were not even covered in grass. The only trouble he faced was a fork in the road. Go left or right? The hiker hadn’t mentioned this at all in his description of the way. Had he forgotten about it? Or did it simply not matter? Would the two paths converge ahead?
Red looked up into the trees, spotting Hoothoot’s red-glowing eyes that were constantly judging and evaluating him. “Please,” he said and waved his hand towards the fork in the road. Thankfully, the owl Pokémon understood instantly what he required of it. That’s why he preferred them over people as company.
It didn’t take long until the Hoothoot returned with a chirp. It was a poor flier, but apparently, the route wasn’t long. Its head, perpetually shaking from left to right like a pendulum, lost its rhythm as it pointed to the right.
“Sure?” he asked suspiciously. They had barely met. Red simply wasn’t sure of this Pokémon’s nature yet. Was it a jokester similar to Blue’s Eevee? Or serious like his own Charizard?
The Hoothoot cried out in protest over its mistreatment, so Red shrugged his doubt off and followed the right path. It seemed more overgrown and narrower. Well. He’d be fine.
The number of bugs increased as he made his way through Route 29. No trainers in sight, nothing. Just him and the row of trees that were beginning to swallow the moonlight from above. Red kept an eye on the Hoothoot that still jumped from tree branch to tree branch. It didn’t come any closer, but it also didn’t try to flee.
“Not must come out in day,” he promised the Hoothoot, taking an educated guess at what made it so weary of him. Oh, well. He’d gain the tiny owl’s trust over time. He had enough Pokémon that he could keep his promise.
Clefairy were like that, too. They preferred the darkness of caves. Red still remembered their dance on Mount Moon. He had laid down on some rocks and spied on them all night.
Memories were an odd thing. They made you smile and then you got sad because those things? They were gone. Then they made you want to do it again. But some things, they weren’t meant to be repeated. Like becoming champion. Or catching your first Pokémon. Losing for the first time. That had been Brock for him. It had taken a lot of training to get Pikachu to beat that Onix. He had walked into that gym full of confidence after a perfect victory streak since he had left Professor Oak’s lab, only to get thrashed around hard.
Losing to Nathan felt like that, too. He had become overly confident, and in all honesty? He had lost to himself more so than to that boy.
Maybe that’s what he should make this journey about. Finding that joy again to walk those paths, discovering new things, making friends and moving on. All those hellos and goodbyes.
“Still want Woodo,” he muttered before following the Hoothoot into the darkness of the night. There was something magical about that, too.