Valtor expected, as any logical person might, that the Orre region would be on top alert after yesterday’s incident in Krane Laboratories. While he was certain that this wasn’t the first time somebody had tried to steal the Snag Machine, or for that matter, anything else in Krane Laboratories, he doubted that any other thieves had overpowered the security staff with a legendary pokémon. People talked about the legendaries all the time, but it was another experience altogether to see one in person.

Kenta’s watch read about 11:30 by the time Bolt landed behind a rock by Outskirt Stand that marked the boundary of the Orre Region. As Kenta was recalling his Salamence, Valtor peeked around the corner of the boulder. As Gonzap had told them, the diner somewhat resembled a steam locomotive, with a lone gas pump sitting directly in front of it. Scattered around the place, half-buried in mounds of desert sand, sat rusted metal relics resembling school lockers and grinding gears.

How sad, thought Valtor as he and Kenta pulled their hoods over their heads, this place is a dump. And . . . do I hear music? Over the moan of the wind and the hiss of scattering sand, he detected faint melodies of a harmonica issuing from the stand. As he and Kenta approached the Stand, the music became clearer, and he noticed it was coming from a young man sitting on a ramp that led to the diner’s entrance. The musician was dressed in cowboy leather pants, and while he seemed to have dyed his hair red, it had faded into a more pinkish color. When the brothers reached the gas pump he stopped and glanced up.

“Well, howdy strangers. When did you get here?” His tone carried a hint of suspicion, but Valtor was relieved to hear an overall friendly manner in his speech. Kenta smiled politely. “We flew in by pokémon. We were just getting something to eat.”

“Pokémon, huh? Hoo-ee!” whooped the musician, hoisting himself to his feet and slapping his knee jubilantly. “I say, not a whole lot of people around here can do that. We’d have to at least’ve caught a rare Trapinch and trained it up to a Flygon!” He thrusted out his hand, smiling. “My name’s Willie. Are you folks from out of town?”

“You could say that,” said Kenta, returning the grin as he shook Willie’s hand. “To be honest, we’re here to visit someone.”

“Is it for a pokémon battle?” asked Willie excitedly, shoving his harmonica into his pants where Valtor suspected the gun would be kept. “I know a good trainer when I see one. I can tell by their eyes. Whether you’re from here or out of town, you must’ve been traveling on one big animal to carry the both of you!”

He was now jerking Valtor’s hand up and down. Valtor smiled nervously, hoping he didn’t look suspicious. On first impression, Willie seemed like a simpleton, but his trainer’s intuition was worrisome. He was relieved when Kenta pulled a folded-up piece of paper from his cloak that Gonzap had given him before their departure, which drew Willie’s attention. It was a picture of Wes when he was sixteen, back when he still served Team Snagem. Willie’s eyes widened as he viewed the picture, and Kenta’s narrowed in understanding.

“I take it you’ve seen this man before?”

“Sure have,” said Willie, looking at Kenta in astonishment. “Everyone’s heard about him! It’s been six years since he thwarted Evice Cipher’s first attempt to take over our land with his pokémon minions.”

“No, I mean . . .” Kenta turned around and waved his hand at the endless stretch of desert surrounding them. “Have you actually seen him in person? Does he come out from wherever he lives to visit this place?”

Willie’s face was blank for a moment, and then a beaming smile lit up his features. “You do mean to battle him!” he exclaimed, rubbing his hands together eagerly. “Boy, you must really be something else to track him this far. Ol’ Wes comes here to avoid the mobs of people who want his autograph!” Willie lowered his voice. “Or his head on a stake. You know. Since he got all those Cipher creeps arrested.”

“Does Wes show up often?” asked Valtor, a nagging idea occurring to him. What if we’ve already missed him?

“More and more frequently,” answered Willie, leaning lazily against the railing on the ramp. “The food here isn’t anything spectacular, but his girlfriend is the waitress. She’s had to keep her head low too, you know. They were both together in defeating Cipher.”

“Is that so?” muttered Kenta, mostly to himself, his hand on his chin. After a moment of silence, he perked up. “Well! Thank you for your help, Willie. I hope you get to see that awesome pokémon battle you crave, despite G.R.I.P.’s decrees.”

“Righty-ho!” called Willie cheerfully after them, as Valtor followed Kenta into the diner. “And I’ll be glad to take you anytime!”

Once they were inside, the brothers took a seat at the booth furthest from the door, and Valtor took his first look around. The place was a bit tight, but cozy enough, with a couple other dining tables, and a single counter near the door where a burly-looking waiter stood wiping a beer mug with a rag. A single gasoline-powered generator sat against the wall, chugging like a train engine and providing electricity for the overhead lamps. A television hung just above the waiting counter, and the screen featured a newswoman with the subtitle “OBNS” just underneath.

I hope they’re not still talking about us, thought Valtor, feeling a bit paranoid. Nobody seems to have given us a second glance, but what if they show our faces on the screen?

His view of the television was blocked a moment later by woman in black clothes, whom he didn’t acknowledge for a few seconds until he realized she was standing at his table. Was she their waitress? But she was dressed so nicely . . .

“Hello boys,” she said in a dull and faraway voice, looking as if she wasn’t paying attention to them at all. “What can I get you?”

Kenta looked down at their table, then back at the woman. “I’m not sure, uh . . . Yuki?” he said. Hearing her name, the waitress snapped back to reality, and Valtor looked at her name tag where Kenta had been looking. (“Hi! My name is YUKI.”)

“We don’t have any menus,” explained Kenta kindly. “If you have any, could we please check them out?”

“Oh, yes. Certainly. Sorry,” apologized Yuki in a soft-spoken voice. She turned around, eyes to the floor. “I’ll be right back.”

Kenta watched her as she went, pity showing in his eyes. “Something’s not right with her,” he said quietly to Valtor. “She seems upset. I wonder if something bad happened to Wes.”

Nothing ever goes as planned, thought Valtor, glancing back to see if he could spot Yuki again. But this just goes to show that there are other things happening in peoples’ lives outside of our own. He felt his own pang of pity, as Yuki came back and delivered two menus to their table without looking at either of them in the eye. Poor girl. I’m sure she’s not always this disoriented. What could have happened?

He ordered something cheap, immediately forgetting what it was. Kenta simply muttered “I’ll have what he’s having,” and with that, Yuki nodded and was gone again. But before their order was back, a rumble in the distance caught the brothers’ attention. Valtor looked out the window to see a rapidly-approaching dust cloud, and moments later, a motorbike with a bizarre- looking floating engine had pulled up to the stop. A youth in his early twenties climbed off, and Kenta issued a sharp intake of breath at the sight of him. Gray-dyed hair. Reflector glasses. Perfect resemblance to the Snagger in Gonzap’s photograph. This had to be Wes. The only difference other than age was clothing; the rider was also wearing black from head to toe.

“Alright, this is it,” said Kenta softly, looking at Valtor as the latter’s heart rate increased and his body tensed. “Let’s play it cool, and look for a good opportunity to get his attention.”

They watched Wes through the window until he had paced up the ramp and out of sight. He came through the doorway just as Yuki was returning from the back kitchen, and she gasped slightly and put aside her tray. Kenta and Valtor peeked around the corner of their booth, but Yuki’s back was turned to them. Valtor could make out Wes’s tired adult face, and as he watched, the man pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit up.

“You decided to work today after all?” he said softly, and Yuki’s head nodded in confirmation. “You shouldn’t have.”

“It keeps my mind off things,” said Yuki in a sad voice. Valtor shook his head slightly. No, it doesn’t. It’s plain as day that you’re upset.

“I thought you said you were quitting,” she continued, looking at the cigarette. Wes bobbed his head, then turned back to the door without looking at her. “I know, I’m sorry. But I need one now. It helps calm me down.” He opened the door, and cast a glance back at Yuki. “I’ll wait for you. Come out when you’re ready.”

Yuki remained where she stood for a couple of seconds after Wes was gone, then turned to the counter to say something to her supervisor. Valtor detected movement behind him, and looked up to see Kenta walking past. He glanced at the table, and saw that his brother had left some money at the center, even though they hadn’t eaten anything. Confused, he followed Kenta briskly out the door, and past Wes’s motorcycle in the opposite direction. Wes didn’t seem to see them, but stared blankly at his dashboard. Catching up so that he was walking right next to Kenta, Valtor looked him in the eye.

“Wait . . . what’s going on? What are we doing now?”

“Hiding,” Kenta muttered back to him, heading for the rock where they had started. “It’s clear that Wes doesn’t want to talk right now. He has somewhere to be.”

“So we’re just letting him go?” Valtor asked, dumbfounded, as they ducked behind their boulder. “What did we fly all morning for?”

“Don’t be silly,” said Kenta, watching beside Valtor as Yuki came out of the Outskirt Stand, still in her black clothing. “If we had gone out just after her, it might have looked suspicious to someone. But if we waited, the sand might have covered that motorbike’s tracks. That, or the bike would out-speed Bolt. It looks darn fast.”

“So we’re going to tail them?” asked Valtor, as the sound of Wes’s bike roared to life in the background. In a flash of light, Bolt was beside him. Kenta helped Valtor onto the Salamence’s back. “We’ll follow them at a distance,” he said, “but let’s keep an eye on our shadow. If Wes detects something this big chasing him, he’ll assume we’re enemies. I’d rather keep things simple.”

***

Moving westward gave Valtor a chance to see the land transform beneath him. What had started as a desert steadily became more green as time passed. Oasis became more and more commonplace, and trees became larger as water continued to frequent the area. By the time they had arrived in a place called “Agate Village,” the trees were so large that Valtor was astonished to see doors and windows in them. He would never have suspected that people could live inside of trees. Kenta had told him of a place in Hoenn called Fortree City, but the citizens there resided in treehouses. This is dangerous, really, Valtor thought. Here, the houses are the trees themselves . . . but wouldn’t hollowing them out increase the rate of rotting? Knock on wood.

Wes parked his motorbike near a bridge leading into the village, and helped Yuki out of the passenger cab on the side. Further back, Kenta, Valtor, and Bolt dropped into a thicket. One minute after Wes and Yuki had crossed the bridge, the two brothers snuck out of their hiding place and headed in the same direction. Lowering their hoods, they approached the tree where Yuki and Wes had entered, which Valtor noticed was the tallest tree at the highest point in the village. A scattering of elderly people were also making their way towards the tree, all of whom were wearing the same black clothing that Yuki and Wes had worn.

Kenta stopped and looked briefly at Valtor, then motioned for him to change direction. A Pokémon Mart happened to be only a short hill climb away, and as they headed for this building instead, Valtor noticed older folks coming out from there, too. As they entered through the door, the faint smell of incense greeted their nostrils. Two old women were in line at the register, and Kenta casually slid in behind them. Valtor followed suit, once again wishing Kenta would communicate with him more, but now understanding what was going on. Kenta confirmed it for him.

“There’s a funeral for someone today,” he muttered in undertone, “and I think I know who it’s for. Check out that picture frame.”

On the counter, there was indeed a picture of a smiling old man with flowing white hair and wrinkly blue robes. He reminded Valtor of a sorceror, minus the hat, and even the name above the picture sounded wizardly. “Rest in peace, Mithos Eagun,” it read.

“The face isn’t familiar, but I recognize that name,” whispered Kenta so that only Valtor could hear. “Eagun was once known as the ‘myth trainer,’ because it was rumored that every time he battled, there would be a lightning storm overhead. He had an affinity with electric-type pokémon, you see. Back when pokémon battling was just becoming a sport, he had a rousing battle with Wataru Lance’s grandfather, Wataru Rod. They inspired many people to become pokémon trainers on that day.”

Wow, so this guy was really something, thought Valtor. It’s too bad he lived in such an out-of-the-way place like this. He might have had more people come to his funeral.

“I’m going to buy some incense for Eagun,” said Kenta, still in his quiet voice. Valtor detected genuine emotion behind it. “I didn’t think I’d be paying respects today, but I’m going to make an exception, and then some.” Kenta turned to look Valtor in the face, his expression unusually soft. “You’ll see what I mean later. Then we’ll get back to doing what we came to do.”