“Miss me?” His brother shed the cloak, and Valtor noticed he was wearing peculiar clothing underneath. Normally, when Kenta wasn’t in his officer uniform, he wore long shorts along with his favorite jacket with the front-pockets. Now, however, he wore a body-hugging, half-sleeved maroon shirt and dark-blue baggy pants with black stripes. In other words, the exact clothing of Brendan Birch, the current Pokémon League champion. Valtor wouldn’t have noticed the significance otherwise, but Brendan’s clothing choice had become a recent trend, in spite of the cold weather. After all, he was an idolized trainer to many people aside from just Kenta.

“Kenta, you . . . you . . .” Valtor couldn’t bring himself to speak. Kenta walked up to him and wrapped his arms around the younger brother tightly. “If you’re not going to give me a hug,” he said with a smile, “I guess I’ll just have be the one to do it."

Valtor returned the embrace, finally getting his senses back, and Munchlax joined them, making the squeeze suddenly and uncomfortably tight. The three of them let go, and Kenta stood back and put a finger to his lips. “Mom and Dad aren’t awake, are they?” he whispered. “If they are, I need to hide in your room until they’re asleep.”

“Huh? Well . . .” Valtor checked briefly down the stairs, but heard nothing going on. “They’re out for a while. Too much sake. Kenta, it’s you!” he shouted in a burst of emotion, finally able to get out what he’d been meaning to. “Where have you been? We thought you were dead! Do you have any idea-”

“Come here.” Kenta stopped Valtor and motioned him into his room. “Sorry, but you can let it out in a second. I need your sheets first.”

Stunned, Valtor followed Kenta into his room, then nearly passed out for the second time that night. In the middle of the floor, taking up most of the room, lay an enormous blue dragon with red wings, sopping wet and breathing heavily. Valtor stood and stared down at it, unable to even move until Kenta threw a corner of his blanket at him. “Here, take that and cover him. We need to get him warm,” said Kenta urgently. “It wasn’t snowing out, thank goodness, but it was still pretty damn cold.”

Valtor did what he was told, and helped Kenta wrap the blanket around the dragon until only the head was showing. Cautiously steering clear of the reptilian beast’s mouth, Valtor inched to his bed and hauled himself onto it. Opening his own mouth wide, he closed his eyes and concentrated for a moment on simply breathing to calm himself down. Feeling the weight shift on his bed, he turned and looked up at Kenta, who was seated beside him. His brother looked down at him, his smile back on his face. “Okay, now you can say whatever you wanted to.”

“I . . . well . . .” Valtor pointed down at the dragon on the floor, which was watching the two of them while Munchlax stood nearby staring at it. “Kenta, what is that?”

“That?” Kenta followed Valtor’s finger to the dragon’s head. “That’s Bolt, of course!” he said perkily, reaching into the pocket of his brown traveler’s cloak. “He evolved into a Salamence.” Pulling out a reddish-pink cube, Kenta tossed it to Bolt, who caught it in his mouth. Valtor gaped at the creature in wonder. “That’s Bolt?! But . . . but he looks completely different!”

“I was shocked at first, too,” Kenta laughed. He stopped laughing abruptly as Munchlax stood before him and held out a demanding paw. “Oh. Hi.” Kenta held up his hands and shrugged. “Sorry, Munchlax. That was the last one.”

Munchlax looked blown away. A moment later, he clenched his fists and began turning red, a growl rippling up in his throat. Valtor jerked backwards in fearful realization of what was going on, and turned to Kenta in desperation. “Aaaah! Kenta, watch it, he’s going to use Selfdestruct!”

“Wha-?!” Kenta went rigid, then hurriedly reached into his pocket and yanked out another pink cube. “Here! Here! I lied, look, I’ve got another one!”

Immediately, Munchlax’s enraged expression subsided into glee, and he snatched the block of food from Kenta’s hand and chewed happily on it. The two brothers let out a sigh of relief, and it was Kenta’s turn to gape at Valtor’s pokémon in astonishment. “He knows Selfdestruct?! When in the hell did he learn to do that?”

Valtor shook his head. “I dunno. He just did, during one of his temper tantrums. He gets furious if we forget to feed him for prolonged periods of time, or if he’s denied a treat he really wants. You caught a real winner that time, Kenta.”

“Heh.” Kenta smiled and closed his eyes. “Go figure. Well, he’ll have his uses yet.” His expression changed dramatically, and suddenly he was completely serious. Valtor had never seen him so grim before, and he looked away from Kenta so he wouldn’t have to match him eye-to-eye. “So . . . wh-what’s up, then, bro?”

“Well . . . I can’t stay here long, that’s what’s up.” Kenta got up from the bed and turned to look at Valtor’s window, which was still open and letting in cold air. “There’s a reason I flew in through your room, rather than just using the front door, Valtor.” He held up his brown traveler’s cloak, and pointed to the Brendan Birch garb he was wearing. “There’s a reason I dyed my hair white, and why I'm not wearing my usual clothing.” Looking warily at the door, Kenta reached into his left pocket and slowly withdrew a purple-colored pokéball with an “M” imprinted on it. “And there’s a reason . . . that I’ve got one of these on me. Do you recognize what this is, Valtor?”

Valtor shook his head, looking curiously at the ball. It didn’t appear any different than the other capture balls he’d seen before, at least not in size or shape. For all he knew, it could’ve been a creatively-decorated Great Ball. However, Kenta held the ball with utmost caution, and regarded it with a keen eye. “This is called the Master Ball,” he said quietly. “It holds the absolute power of capturing any pokémon in the world without fail. You could consider it a weapon as strong as the strongest pokémon known to man.”

Kenta’s eyes were intense, and Valtor could’ve sworn they were almost glowing. He felt afraid once more. Why was Kenta showing him this?

“Bro?” Valtor swung his legs under the bed nervously, still looking upon the Master Ball. “That’s cool, but . . . how come you have it?”

“Because nobody else other than you knows I have it,” Kenta responded, tucking the elite pokéball back in his pocket. “Otherwise, it would be taken from me.” His smile returned, and he ruffled Valtor’s hair. “But I know I can trust you. That’s what I’m doing from now on- only going to people I can trust.”

The brothers looked at each other, and a lasting silence ensued. After several long seconds, Kenta suddenly grabbed Valtor’s shoulders. “Brother,” he said meaningfully, once again matching eyes with him. “I want you to come with me.”

Valtor stared at him. “Come . . . with you? Where?”

“Out of New Bark Town. To change the world back to the way it was.” Kenta let go of Valtor’s shoulders, and instead knelt down by Bolt’s head. Pulling Valtor’s quilt over the dragon’s scaly forehead, he began carefully rubbing the Salamence dry. “Like I said,” he muttered, “I can’t stay long. If Mom and Dad get involved, it’s all over. You’ll understand later, but for now, just take my word on it.”

“So you have to go. And you want to take me with you,” Valtor repeated. “And it’s okay if I get involved, but not Mom and Dad.”

“I need you,” said Kenta, looking earnestly at Valtor, “for many different reasons. Mostly for your companionship. It gets lonely as an anonymous nobody.”

The Salamence looked at Kenta indignantly, and he grinned apologetically. “Sorry, Bolt, you’ve been a great friend.” He looked around. “Hey, uh . . . got any paper and pens?”

“In the desk. More importantly . . .” Valtor spread his arms to indicate just how lost he still was. “What do you mean, an anonymous nobody? What’s with all the secrecy, how come you’re dressed up, why can’t you just stay here and let us be a family again?”

“I can’t answer that,” replied Kenta, scribbling something down on the paper, “unless I get your cooperation. If you want to stay here, I understand. After all, I did sort of jump this on you out of nowhere. Please, just don’t tell anybody about my disguise, and especially not about the Master Ball. I don’t know when I’ll see you again.”

As Kenta pulled on his traveler’s cloak, alarm jolted through Valtor’s body. Kenta really meant it. He was going to disappear again.

“Wait!”

Kenta looked at him.

“What if . . . I do come with you? How would I explain it to our parents? ‘Dear Mom and Dad, sorry for running away’?”

To this, Kenta smiled his usual cheerful grin. “Running away?” He held up the paper he’d just been scribbling on.

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Daitan:

I have kidnapped your only other son. The elder Daitan brother put MY son in jail a while back. Now that he’s out of the way, I demand thirty thousand yen to bail my boy out again. Simply put, it’s my son for yours. You have a month from today to get the cash. On the first of February, meet me by the Oran Berry Tree in the forest east of Cherrygrove. Be smart, and keep all of this to yourselves.

-Anonymous

Valtor stared incredulously at Kenta. “Thirty thousand yen?” he whispered loudly. “Don’t you think that’s a bit much to put on our parents?”

“The army will cover it,” said Kenta, pulling the blanket off of Bolt’s immense body and tossing it back onto the bed. “That money was supposed to go towards my college funding. Now that I’m dead, Mom and Dad have to use it some other way. Hopefully, we’ll be done with what we’re doing before then, and won't need it anyway.”

“And what exactly are we doing?” asked Valtor. Kenta chuckled. “You’re in, then? The first thing we’re doing is getting you to the place where you’re being held hostage.” He held his arm out the window and into the night. “Going this way? Or would you rather take the stairs?”

***

It was about one o’clock in the morning when Kenta and Valtor arrived in Violet City. There had been no time for Valtor to ask Kenta questions, because he’d been too busy hanging on for dear life as Bolt flew them through howling winds and low-visibility fog conditions. When they finally landed in the still and silent town, Valtor was exhausted from the adrenaline trip of flying, coupled with the fact that it was hours past his bedtime. He watched through blurry eyes as Kenta reached into his right pocket and pulled out what appeared to be a Swiss Army knife. Looking up, his mind barely registered that they were standing right in front of the door to an old Summer school called “Earl’s Pokémon Academy.” Jiggling the knife inside the lock, Kenta clicked it open, then pulled the door aside. Valtor looked down the dark hall within.

“Isn’t this breaking and entering?”

“Not if you’re here against your will, and I’m not a living person.” Kenta stood aside. “Besides, we haven’t broken anything. In you go. You too, Munchlax, Bolt.”

The two humans and pokémon made their way inside, and Valtor took a moment to marvel at Bolt’s strength. Munchlax was a heavy little furball. How the Salamence could lift him, and two other people at the same time, was beyond Valtor. Then again, he’d had more surprises thrown at him this one night than he could handle. He couldn’t even prioritize the important ones over the unimportant now. A wave of exhaustion swept over him. Now wasn’t a time for thinking. He needed sleep.

***

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead.”

“ . . . Wugh?”

Kenta watched as his younger brother slowly opened his eyes from sleep. He himself was sitting in a comfortable recliner, while Valtor lay on the floor, using his traveler’s cloak as a blanket and Munchlax’s belly for a pillow. Valtor glanced up at the ceiling for a moment, then looked at him. “Where . . . are we?”

“Good morning to you, too.” Kenta waved his hand at their surroundings. Nearly the entire room consisted of nothing but rows of bookshelves, and a few study desks at the center. “This is the Academy library,” he said breezily. “It’s a little dark and cold, but you could forget about that in an instant if you find a good book to read.” He glanced down at the pages of his own book: ‘Physics and the Pokéball: Secrets Defogged.’ “But that’s the catch- the book has to be good. I don’t understand the half of this jibber- jabber.”

Kenta noticed Valtor scrunch his eyes as he tried to read the book’s title. “You’re trying to find out how pokéballs work?” he asked. “What for?”

“Knowledge is power.” Kenta closed the book and tossed it aside, his brain fried from reading. “But it’s no good if you don’t get the material. I was hoping something with a tenth-grade reading level would be enough to get me through this.” He grinned apologetically at Valtor, but the latter only returned him a cold look to show he was not amused. Kenta sighed unhappily. “Look, Valtor,” he murmured, “I know I’ve been vague with you up until now, and I’m grateful that you’ve followed me anyway. If you want an explanation, you’ve earned one in full.”

Valtor smiled, at last. “Yes, please,” he whispered politely. “I’d like that.”

...

It took most of the morning for Kenta to reveal everything to Valtor. When he’d finished saying all that he could, and answering every last one of his younger brother’s questions, he repeated his previous request with an outstretched hand.

...

“Now you're caught up. Will you still help me?”

Valtor took his older brother’s hand and shook it firmly, reinforcing his resolve with a meaningful smile. “I’m with you to the death, Kenta. To the very end.”

Kenta laughed nervously. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Finish up your ramen noodles, and we’ll get going.”

***

From Violet City, Kenta and Valtor flew southbound for Azalea Town on Bolt’s back. Kenta sat at the forefront, holding onto the Salamence’s neck and watching the treetops below for signs of their destination. Munchlax clung to Kenta’s back, pointing down eagerly every so often at the berry tree sites and whining in disappointment when they sped right past. Behind them, Valtor took inventory of all the items in their sack, somewhat reluctantly. He didn’t want to spend a second longer on it than he had to, rooting through his backpack when he could be holding onto someone so as not to fall.

“Kenta, we already went through this stuff back at the summer academy. We know what’s in here.”

“First rule of the military, Valtor: always double-check your stock. The tiniest missing thing could put the whole mission in jeopardy.”

“All right, all right. I’ve got your old uniform here, including the hat with the wig, the brown cloak, a fresh pokéblock dispenser, three Revive potions, a small variation of berries, all 4,000 yen of my allowance savings . . . why’d we bring all of it at once?” he asked, looking up. “Should we really be putting all of our eggs in one basket?”

“It’s the only way the basket can be effective, my man,” replied Kenta merrily. “Uh, I know that didn’t make much sense, but screw it, you know what I mea-”

“Uh-oh!” Valtor pulled frantically on Kenta’s sleeve, and he turned automatically to behold an unplanned, and certainly unwelcome sight. Behind them, flying about fifty feet away, hovered a uniformed officer on a Pidgeot, holding a megaphone in his hand. “Shoot,” muttered Kenta, dropping his jolly manner at once, “bogey at five o’ clock.”

“He’s gaining on us!” cried Valtor, already panicking. “What should we do? What should we do?”

“Get that cloak on!” Kenta responded hastily, pointing to Valtor’s backpack. “I’ll do the talking. You be ready for anything.”

“Attention, trainers on the Salamence!” came the officer’s voice in an artificially- amplified voice from behind them. “This is the Johto Sky Patrol. You are in possession of an illegal uber pokémon, as defined by the Government Restrictive Institute on Pokémon. Land immediately at the nearest forest clearing for questioning. This is an order!”

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” whimpered Valtor, fumbling with the cloak and finally wrapping it around himself, “we’re so busted! We’re going to be arrested already, before we even get to do anything!”

“Pull yourself together, Valtor!” barked Kenta sternly. Valtor immediately fell silent, and Kenta pointed down at a nearby clearing of trees, indicating Bolt to land. “Don’t worry,” he said more gently over his shoulder. “It takes a cop to know a cop. I can handle this. Deal with him firmly, and don’t show fear for a second. Keep your face covered. We’re going down.”

Once both parties had landed and dismounted from their respective pokémon, the officer approached Kenta and Valtor with a hint of a smirk on his face. “Smart boys,” he said briskly, “you knew you wouldn’t be able to outrace a Pidgeot.” He held out his badge. “Now! Which one of you fellas wants to tell me how you came by a Salamence at such a time as this?”

“He’s mine, sir,” said Kenta, standing stiffly at attention. The policeman sneered at him. “Not for long, he isn’t. Don’t you watch the news, kid? Aren’t you aware that you’re breaking the law by being in possession of an overpowered pokémon? It’s been the news for almost sixty days! Even lower law enforcement officers aren’t permitted those.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir,” said Kenta loudly, adopting the same official tone as the officer. “Bolt is my friend, not my possession. At any time he wants, he can leave me and return to the wild.”

The cop’s eyes narrowed. “Now look here, smartass,” he said more dangerously, pointing a finger at Kenta’s face, “you’re in enough trouble already. Cheeking the police doesn’t help your cause. Let’s see some identification before you go and make any more wrong moves.”

Valtor glanced at Kenta fearfully, but Kenta’s expression didn’t change. He only shrugged. “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t have it on me.”

The officer was quiet for a moment, then turned on Valtor. “And you?”

“N-no.”

“I see.” The cop removed his cap, scratched his balding head. He replaced it, wearing a mock-pitying expression on his face. “Well, I’m sorry to say this, but I’m going to have to ask you two boys to come with me to the nearest police station. But before you do that, please hand over the Salamence’s pokéball.”

At this, a smile appeared on Kenta’s face for the first time since landing. “Again, I’m sorry sir. I don’t have it on me.”

The other man’s eyes narrowed. “Where is it, then?”

“It’s actually in a lot of places, by now,” Kenta responded, picking up his foot and examining underneath. “There’s probably even a little bit still stuck in the sole of my shoe. What do you think? Can you still see a piece? Something keeps sticking my foot whenever I walk, and it’s bugging the hell out of me.”

The officer’s expression changed to one of mild bewilderment, and to Valtor, it seemed like his first show of weakness. “You smashed it?” he asked disbelievingly. Kenta nodded, and his cheerful grin was suddenly gone as swiftly as it had come. “Yes. And would you like to know why?” he asked, subtle danger now echoing in his own tone. Valtor took an involuntary step backwards; he had never seen Kenta this way before. There was anger, and then there was ferocity. Kenta balanced between the two with chilling composure, and it made Valtor shudder involuntarily.

“Because I don’t like it when my friends are stolen away from me. It’s one thing if they leave on their own will; I can accept that. But when they’re kidnapped, and I have no say in the matter . . .” Kenta’s eyes flashed, and Valtor saw the cop reaching for his utility belt. “Well, I tend to stop thinking about the consequences of my actions. Emotion trumps reason. What is law crumbles to what is right.”

“No more threatening language out of you, or I shoot,” the officer warned, holding his taser out at Kenta. Eying the weapon, Kenta let out a short laugh and turned so that he faced the cop sideways. “Ha. Big man, with his electric gun. Getting back to my little rant . . .” He pointed to the pokéballs on the policeman’s belt. “I know how the tagging system works. You’d have taken away all my pokémon if I hadn’t beaten you to the punch. No genie without a lamp, you know what I’m saying?”

Valtor heard a crackling noise and saw Kenta twitch; the officer had activated the taser. However, instead of falling to the ground in a fit of spasms, Kenta remained on his feet, a death-glare burning on his face. “But you did manage to take the friend I’d known the longest,” he hissed, clenching his hands into fists. “And God only knows where he is now, and what you people are doing to him. Give him back.”

The officer activated the taser again. Kenta didn’t even blink this time. “Give Bakuphoon back to me. He’s not your tool for control. He’s my valuable friend!”

Kenta really wants his Typhlosion back, thought Valtor, watching unblinkingly as the two officers stood off. I was never a trainer, so I can’t fully appreciate the bond they must’ve had. Still, Kenta’s serious about this. He’s like a mad mother Ursaring right now, who’s lost her cub.

“Why isn’t this working,” mumbled the officer, staring down at his taser and shaking it. Replacing the stun gun in its holster, he drew out a pokéball instead, looking at Kenta with the face of a cornered animal. “I don’t know what you are,” he snarled, “but electricity-immune or not, you’ve broken several laws and resisted arrest.” The patrolman tossed his pokéball onto the ground, and in a burst of light, an enormous brown creature with layered hide like knight’s armor appeared. Valtor recognized it immediately as a Tyranitar, and he swallowed painfully as it let out a deafening roar. “The Dragonite of the Johto Region,” Kenta had called it. At minimum, the monster was at level fifty-five, and would’ve learned some of its most devastating moves by now. The average pokémon trainer would’ve been considered tough with level thirty pokémon on his team, but this was simply overkill.

Kenta observed his foe’s pokémon coolly as dirt rose out of the ground around the Tyranitar and burst apart into sand-sized pieces. “Special ability: Sand Stream,” he muttered. “So then, these are the kinds of pokémon they’re letting you guys have today. You get your own climate and everything.”

“This is your last chance,” the officer demanded over the rushing din of the sandstorm. “Stand down, or I’ll order him to attack!”

Valtor looked from Tyranitar to Kenta, and stared in surprise at his expression. It had changed again; now Kenta had a glint in his eye and a determined grin on his face. There was something nostalgic about the expression, and as he watched, Valtor suddenly had a burst of vision from the past, as if he were looking at the sixteen-year-old version of Kenta again.

“Now that’s more like it,” beamed Kenta, taking a few steps back. “It sounds like you’ve just challenged me to a pokémon battle. I accept . . . and Bolt is my choice for this match!”

The cop pointed furiously at Kenta’s Salamence, as the enormous dragon pokémon flapped heavily forward and confronted Tyranitar. “Resisting arrest, you leave me no choice. Tyranitar, Rock Slide!”

“Bolt, Protect! Evade the stones!”

Never in his life had Valtor seen a high-level pokémon match, at least not live. It reminded him of the old Godzilla cartoons he used to watch on television as a little kid. The Tyranitar’s enormous tail buried itself in the ground and lifted out rocks the size of watermelons as if they weighed nothing. Yet in spite of his size, Bolt wheeled skillfully around each and every stone as it was catapulted at him.

“Alright, time for the counterattack!” barked Kenta, pointing at the Tyranitar’s neck. “Strike below the chin! Aerial Ace!”

Immediately, Bolt disintegrated into thin air and reappeared directly in front of Tyranitar, speeding into him with the force of a small truck. The foe pokémon wheeled, but knelt and regained its balance a moment later. Kenta gritted his teeth in disappointment. “Darn it! We still missed.”

“Is that the best you’ve got?” roared the officer from the other side of the battlefield. In contrast to his stiff and formal attitude a moment ago, being in the heat of the fight was drawing out all of his human emotions that came with instinct. He, too, was alive with battle fury. “I see you’ve taught your Salamence a couple of TM moves. You’re not the only one, though. Tyranitar, slow them down with Thunder Wave!”

The great tank of an enemy pokémon raised its paws, and a shockwave of electricity pounded through the air towards Bolt’s side of the field. For a third time, Kenta withstood the electrical energy as if nothing had happened, but Bolt shuddered and flapped painfully to the ground, obviously stunned.

“Speed is our edge, and we’re not losing it!” barked Kenta. “Eat the berry, Bolt!”

“It’s too late, I have you now!” shouted the officer victoriously. “Tyranitar, take it down with Stone Edge!”

“Too slow!” Kenta retaliated, as Tyranitar lifted its great tail to full height to smash his Salamence. “Bolt, Brick Break!”

In a second’s time, Bolt skull-rammed Tyranitar in its diamond-shaped gut, twisting the foe’s body in a forced awkward angle. Then Tyranitar flew backwards with all the force of a falling meteor, slamming heavily into a pine tree with a resounding crack. With its back-spikes holding it fast to the wood, the great tank of a pokémon hung uselessly, unable to do anything but drop its head limply as consciousness left its body. To the three humans looking upon the defeated creature, it looked as though it had been crucified.

A spooky silence followed in the forest clearing as the sandstorm wore down, having nothing to keep it going. The defeated police officer gaped disbelievingly at his beaten Tyranitar, then with apparent effort, looked back at Kenta. Valtor, who was too busy staring in shock at Bolt, also turned his attention to Kenta. Incredible, he thought, as Kenta walked up to his Salamence and rubbed its head with a jubilant smile. Between Bolt and Kenta, there’s an unfathomable amount of force on our side. We may really be able to pull this off, after all!

“People . . . people like you,” the policeman breathed, looking at Kenta with wide eyes, “you’re the reason we had to let G.R.I.P. take over trainers’ pokémon. It’s because of you rogue trainers, who defy authority with your power.”

“Not me,” said Kenta softly, scratching underneath Bolt’s neck while he looked at his fallen opponent. “It’s because of what G.R.I.P. has done, that I fight you. But I am not a criminal, and I can’t have you identifying me as one.” He glanced behind him, at Valtor. “Come on over here.”

Valtor began to move forward at the summon, but Munchlax waddled past him, and only then did he realize that Kenta had been calling the pokémon. However, Kenta’s eyes met his a moment later. “You too, Cloaked Assistant. I’ve got something to tell you.”

Kenta looked down at Munchlax, who was now standing beside him. He pointed at the officer, who was motioning to his Pidgeot and not looking at them. “Yawn.”

Munchlax’s mouth opened wide, and Valtor saw a strange mist leave the fat little pokémon’s jaws. It blew over to the police officer and his Pidgeot, just as they were standing side-by-side. In an instant, both slumped to the ground, and the cop looked up at Kenta through half-closed eyes. “What . . . did you . . . do to me?”

“You’re going to sleep for a while,” Kenta responded cheerily, his usual smile back on his face. “No hard feelings, but you have to stay here for now. I don’t want you calling for backup as long as I’m still anywhere nearby.”

The patrol Pidgeot flapped its wings feebly, and Valtor wondered if it was attempting a last-minute Whirlwind attack to keep out of danger. The officer’s eyelids drooped, yet he remained focused on Kenta with what little he had left of his consciousness.

“Who . . . are you?”

Kenta took a dramatic half-bow. “Why, I’m Brendan Birch of course.”

The officer could make no response. His body went limp, and he began to snore heavily. Beside him, his Pidgeot lay with its wings spread wide, looking as though it had just been shot down from the sky. Kenta patted Munchlax’s head with a smile, murmured “good work,” and knelt down beside the sleeping officer.

“Just a little business to take care of, and then we’ll be off,” he announced to Valtor, handing him the policeman’s I.D. information. “Here, find someplace to drop Officer Takinawa’s badge where he won’t find it. Maybe hold onto it until we’re back in the air, then let it fall wherever.” He pointed towards Tyranitar’s pokéball, which was lying on the ground where “Officer Takinawa” had tossed it. “Crush it to dust, Bolt,” he ordered his dragon pokémon. “I’ll give you the Pidgeot’s ball in a second. Looks like this guy only had two pokémon on him. I guess even higher-up law enforcement has to follow that new ‘two pokémon only’ regulation set down by the government. Let’s hope so, it’ll make things a little easier on us . . .”

“What’re you looking for?” asked Valtor, standing over Kenta to see more clearly what was going on. Kenta rolled Officer Takinawa’s body over so that he was lying on his other side, then shook his head. “Weird. He hasn’t got a pistol. Do you see one, Valtor?”

“No, but I can tell you why.” Valtor held up a finger, happy to know something that Kenta didn’t, for once. “They said on the news that, in exchange for police officers being allowed uber pokémon, lethal arms would no longer be used for law enforcement.”

“. . . Oh.”

Valtor looked at Kenta, trying to glimpse his face, but Kenta had turned away. “That means less people will die each year,” he said quietly, with the smallest hint of shame in his voice. “The whole of Japan is switching from guns to pokémon, because of G.R.I.P.’s actions. Maybe . . . maybe they’re not all bad in what they’re trying to do.”

“Kenta . . .” Valtor put a consoling arm around his brother’s shoulder, despite being nearly six inches shorter than him. “It’s like you said. We’re not criminals. Let’s keep to opposing what’s bad, and hanging on to the good.”

“Yeah.” Kenta looked down at him and smiled faintly. “G.R.I.P. has some of its priorities right. We’ll do what we can to make them all right, okay?”

“Okay!” Valtor climbed onto Bolt’s back, as the Salamence was tramping busily on the broken fragments of Pidgeot’s pokéball. “Munchlax, it’s time to go!”

***