Something was blocking air flow. Kenta couldn’t breathe properly. Struggling for oxygen, he widened his mouth and thrashed wildly, pushing something heavy off his body. He heard a human shout of surprise, followed by a loud bump, and he opened his eyes and gasped for breath, heaving his chest up and down. Taking a first look at his surroundings through blurred eyes, he beheld a crumpled blanket around his ankles and two bedposts just above them. Turning and looking down to the left, he saw a young man with green-dyed hair, younger than him, but not by much. Kenta guessed he was about Curtis’s age, a thought which calmed him a little bit, but not significantly. The two of them stared at each other, the bedroom dead silent, and the other boy spoke first, timidly.

“Uh . . . hi. Uh, sorry. My name’s, uh, Levian. Yeah. Sorry.”

“S-sure. I’m Kenta.”

Kenta noticed that Levian had fallen back and his hand was crushing a banana peel. On the floor, lying a little further away from him, was the broken-off top of the banana. Levian picked it up hurriedly, and threw it in a nearby waste bin. “Sorry,” he said again, not looking Kenta in the eye. “You’ve been out for three days, and I was worried that you’d die if you didn’t eat anything. So, uh, I kind of tried feeding you a banana.” He scratched the back of his head, looking embarrassed. “But you sorta choked on it, and almost died anyway.”

“That’s okay,” said Kenta softly, looking around the bedroom. “I’m fine, now. But what am I doing- ouch!” He clutched his left shoulder; for some reason, it was stinging. Levian put up his hands, looking concerned. “Careful, now . . . you got an electrical burn there. And . . . on most of your upper torso.”

“Burns?” Kenta looked down at his bare chest; he was bandaged from waist to shoulders in medical wrappings. Levian walked over to the end of the bed and picked a shirt off the floor. Kenta recognized it as the top of his officer’s uniform. “So . . . are you a cop?” Levian asked him, pointing at the badge on the shirt’s left breast pocket. Kenta nodded, distracted by the two bullet holes in the lower part where Arcada had shot him. They were miniscule, but they were there. Looking down at his stomach, Kenta searched for the bullet hole, but saw no sign of it except for a red patch. Against his better judgment, he poked the spot, but felt no piercing pain from it. Everywhere else on his chest, a dull burning caused him to ache, but not the gunshot wound.

“Alright . . . Sergeant Daitan,” Levian said, reading Kenta’s badge, “you’re not from around here, are you?” He looked up at Kenta, smiling slightly. “I’ve never seen you before. Were you part of the unit that got driven back by the wild electric pokémon around these parts?”

Kenta looked at him, wondering what to answer, wondering what he was talking about, when his burns took control of his senses and he allowed himself to drop backwards on his pillow in pain. Levian clicked his tongue and shook his head, crossing his arms. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. What’s with the police these days? Leaving their own man behind, when the going gets tough.”

“Excuse me, but where am I?” Kenta asked him, while trying to concentrate on his breathing and ignore the pain.

“Heh, you’re in my room of course.” Levian stopped and put a finger to his forehead. “Oh. You mean the town. This is Henna Villa! You probably haven’t heard too much about us, because we’re a recent settlement.” He pointed out the window. “You can’t see it from where you’re lying, but we’re here because of our transmission tower. There’s a power plant east of here that generates electricity, but it can’t really dish the power out that efficiently. Our tower directs the electricity throughout the Kanto region, all the way to the magnet train and beyond.”

Levian turned back to Kenta, looking apologetic. “Unfortunately, that tower has made the electric pokémon around here a little crazy, ever since its finish. You won’t be the first guy who’s been zapped silly by a wild Raichu or Electabuzz. Or those darn Magnemite and Magneton,” he said darkly. “Those ones are the worst. Being Steel- types makes them even more sensitive to the electric flow than the others.”

The pain had diminished in his body somewhat, and Kenta risked sitting up again. He felt vulnerable, and for good reason. I wonder if anybody else on the force knows I’m here, he thought nervously, as Levian watched him curiously. If Arcada or anyone else from the government finds me, I’m done for. He twitched involuntarily as another thought struck him. The Master Ball! Does this kid know I have it?

He was still wearing his uniform pants. Thinking quickly, Kenta pulled the heavy blanket back over his body, and hastily shoved his hand into his right pocket. His fingers touched the smooth, rounded surface of a pokéball, and he relaxed. Alright, there’s that. And . . . yeah, I’ve still got my lockpick, too. He checked his other pocket. Now, where’s Bakuphoon’s pokéball? He felt the hard, semi-smooth surface of a hole-dotted item, and by touch, he recognized it as Bolt’s Everstone. No regular pokéball, and no Luxury Ball, either. Suddenly recalling the events preceding his loss of consciousness, Kenta once more rested his head against his pillow, sadly.

Levian looked over at him, with an anxious face. “Hey . . . are you okay, Officer? Should I go call someone?”

“No! No.” For a third time, Kenta jerked himself upright, and endured another wave of agony from his stinging upper body. “I’ll be okay.”

Sheesh, I can’t relax for a moment, here.

Putting his feet down on the floor, Kenta stood up from Levian’s bed and gave him a sharp look. “Listen,” he said firmly, “I appreciate you taking care of me, but you cannot tell anyone that I’m here. I have reasons for it, alright?”

The other boy gave a small nod, looking taken aback. “O . . . okay. So you’re, like, a spy or something?”

“Something like that, you could say. Yeah.” Hmm, looks like I got lucky. This guy doesn’t seem to have a clue about me. But what if he’s not the only one?

“Hey, uh, Levian. Do you live alone here?”

Levian smiled and shook his head. “I haven’t got parents, but I wouldn’t call it alone, with four hyperactive sisters in the house. Don’t worry though, they won’t come in here. I expect they’ll leave my room well enough alone, at least until they’re in middle school.”

Oh, good, the others are just children. Well, then . . . maybe Levian can help me, now that I know he’s not a threat.

Kenta returned Levian’s smile and saluted him with a bowed head. “You seem like a good, upstanding citizen,” he said brightly, trying to be as friendly to a total stranger as he knew how. “I won’t take up you room any longer, but could I trouble you to show me around this place and tell me a little more about it? I’d be most grateful.”

I have to gain back my bearings. And if possible, I need to find Bolt!

Looking flattered to have been complimented by a police officer, Levian hurried to the door and opened it. “I’d be honored to show you my humble Henna Villa,” he said happily, tossing Kenta his uniform jacket. “Just . . . put that on in case any of my sisters see you. Are you sure you’re up to this, after just regaining consciousness?”

“Sure, I’m sure.”

Five minutes later, the two of them were walking down the dust street of Henna Villa, with Kenta holding his police hat under his arm so it wouldn’t attract attention. He listened carefully as Levian explained the way of life of the mountain town.

“Over there’s the village pub, Soca’s. It’s actually a pretty family-friendly place, and all the travelers who pass through this area stop there to eat. See how there’s nothing but jeeps in the parking lot? Everyone here owns a jeep because the terrain is so rough. In these parts, you pretty much have to stick to the dirt road wherever you go, or risk getting flipped right over. It’s awful when there’s something on the path, let me tell you. Especially if it’s an electric pokémon! Those things are simply bat-crap insane because of that tower we built. But what can I say? Kanto needs that thing.”

“How come there are lightning rods on all the houses?”

“Oh, we get lots of thunderstorms. And sometimes, during the more nasty ones, some people say they see a giant flying creature of some sort hovering overhead, flapping golden spiked wings. You’re not safe with just one lightning rod, when that thing’s around. They need to be everywhere.”

Levian cringed. “Those damn Magnemite and Magneton, they come even more often than thunderstorms, though. I can’t tell you how many times a civilian was nearly zapped, when a nearby lightning rod avert the path of electricity. One time, my youngest sister was nearly hit . . .” His face darkened. “And if she had been hurt, I would’ve taken a sledgehammer to those Magneton and . . . and . . .” His shoulders drooped and he hung his head. “And gotten my brains fried by two hundred volts. Who am I kidding?”

Wow. These things really are a problem, thought Kenta worriedly. He avoided eye contact with Levian. “And . . . you say that my police force couldn’t get them to quit?”

“Nope. They came with their K-9 Growlithe force and tried burning them back, but the Magneton just pushed right through the flames and electrocuted them all. We even tried training this area’s Rock-type pokémon to drive them away. Nothing works. I’m beginning to think they’re immortal.”

They were standing on the eastern outskirts of Henna Villa, overlooking a steep hill which sloped down into a valley of tall grass. Much of the grass was blackened, probably from the harsh battle that had taken place in the valley not long ago. Kenta looked at Levian, and noticed a hint of fear in his eyes. “That’s where they live,” he said softly, pointing with his finger. “And I’ll tell you now, there is no sight in the world more terrifying than Magnemite and Magneton suddenly materializing out of the grass, and flying right at you in a massive swarm of electric death.”

The last word, “death,” gurgled and faded in his throat, but Kenta could tell what he meant. In his stomach, he felt queasy for Bolt’s safety. Just knowing his dragon friend was somewhere amongst a swarm of insane Electric-type pokémon unnerved him nearly to panic state. Kenta turned to Levian and pointed up the mountainside, at the dirt road leading to the highest part of the mountain. “Thank you for everything,” he said with a quick smile, trying not to sound hasty. “For taking care of me, for the tour, and for that warning. I want to see your tower up close, before I return to where I came from. If I ever get a chance, I’ll come back and repay you for your kindness.”

“Wait!” Levian put out his hand as Kenta turned away from him. “Look- you’re still hurt. At least come back to Soca’s pub for one last meal later. An hour, okay?”

Well . . . after all he’s done for me, I can’t say no. Hopefully an hour will be long enough to find Bolt.

“ . . . Alright. Don’t worry, Levian, I’ll return in one piece.”

***

Levian checked his watch. It had been an hour and five minutes since he’d let Kenta go off by himself, and he already felt foolish for doing it. Cop or no cop, he wouldn’t stand a chance if the local electric pokémon did decide to attack him. How much longer could he, Levian, sit in Soca’s and wait like this? Looking up from his watch, he nearly leaped out of his skin when he saw that Kenta was standing next to him, leaning on the table. The latter grinned cheekily.

“Sorry I’m late.”

“It’s fine. Glad to see you’re not dead.”

“I anticipate hearing that a lot.”

“What?”

“Oh, nothing.” Kenta slid into the seat opposite from Levian, and looked around the inside of the pub. It seemed like a typical restaurant for the most part, with families of four and five chatting busily away at their own tables, but there was a rowdy din coming from further in the back. Leaning to the side a little, Kenta spotted the source- a giant of a man was sitting on his stool in front of a bar, laughing uproariously and waving around a great mug of beer in his right hand. Kenta’s police impulses immediately kicked in, and he wondered if he’d have to step in if the man happened to be an angry drunk. But he stopped himself, realizing with some regret that he wasn’t really an officer anymore. Instead, he turned his attention back to Levian, pointing subtly at the big man.

“He seems to be having a swell time.”

“Oh, that guy.” Levian rolled his eyes. “That man’s name is Boris. He’s a hiker who lumbered in here about five days ago. Apparently, the guy goes from town to town, challenging people to pokémon battles and spending his winnings on booze. Kind of depressing, if you ask me.”

Kenta looked back at Boris, feeling less annoyance and more pity for the man now. On the move all day, and hitting the bottle all night, huh? It’s . . . almost as if he’s trying to escape from something. I wonder if a bad memory haunts that guy . . .

“So he collects money for winning battles, you say? What about if he loses?”

Levian made an ugly face. “Boris happens to be a TM move tutor. He doesn’t pay money for losing, he agrees to teach the victor a special move. We happen to need that very move, and badly, because of its usefulness against the Magnemite and Magneton. But the trainers of Henna Villa aren’t seasoned enough, and he’s beaten all of his challengers so far.”

Kenta raised an eyebrow, interested. “Is that so? What move is it?”

***

“Hey. Boris!”

“Hmmmm?”

The enormous hiker swiveled slowly around in his chair, holding his mug carefully so that nothing would spill, and stared somewhat blearily down at Kenta. He leaned himself lower so that he was almost face level with Kenta. “What can I do for you, b- *urp!*- buddy?” he belched, swaying slightly with a silly grin on his face.

Kenta pointed a thumb at himself. “I hear you’re a pokémon trainer. Well, I’m one too!” he declared, pumping his chest up. “If you’re up to it, I challenge you to a battle!”

I hope I sound childish enough, he thought, clenching his fist. I need this guy to say yes.

Boris gave a guffawing laugh, then raised his mug and drained the rest of the beer in one drink. Banging it down on the counter and breathing an “aaah!” of satisfaction, he dropped onto his feet from the stool and stood towering over Kenta. “Got any money, kid?” he asked with a smile. “I could always use some more of that!”

“No, I don’t have any money . . .” Kenta reached into his pocket and pulled out his grayish-blue rock. “But I will stake this.”

“What’s that?”

“An Everstone.” Kenta tossed the stone between his hands. “Did you see the news? Soon they’ll be banning every pokémon that’s considered too powerful for ordinary trainers. You may want to hold on to this, just in case one of your pokémon is about to evolve into something overly-strong.”

At this, Boris laughed even harder and louder, causing a few heads at some tables to turn. The hiker paid them no heed. “All of my pokémon are already overly-strong, evolved or not!” he bellowed gleefully. “But if you really want to battle, I suppose I could just sell your stone later. Consider this one on me!”

It doesn’t sell for much, but now’s not the time to be saying that.

“Okay, then.” Kenta leaned closer to Boris’s bearded face, so that only he would hear. “Meet me on the eastern outskirts of the town. I’ll take you, there.”

In less than ten minutes, the two trainers were out of Soca’s and standing apart, facing one another with the mountain atmosphere looming around them. Boris widened one of his pokéballs and gave it a hefty throw, wearing the same silly smile from when Kenta had met him. “Alrighty! Go get them, Machoke!”

A gray, humanoid pokémon with the face of a stubby-snouted alligator appeared in a burst of light, arms outstretched as though ready to tussle. Kenta put his fingers to his mouth and blew, sending a shrill whistle echoing through the mountains. From behind a colossal rock formation to his right, a bolt of red and blue shot up into the sky. A moment later, it thudded to the ground in front of Kenta, causing a slight tremor in the earth which shook his balance. From the opposite side of the battlefield, Boris gave a low whistle and scratched his beard excitedly.

“Well now, that’s a pretty big animal, isn’t it?” he called to Kenta. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one of those before. How’s its battling ability?”

“You’ll see,” muttered Kenta, his mind flashing to Levian. This isn’t just for you, but for everyone in your village. You gave, and now you’ll get back. “Bolt! Use Dragonbreath!”

“Crush! Dash straight through it!” roared Boris in response.

Bolt opened his mouth wide and blasted out a firestorm of green flames. The Machoke rushed straight into the pillar of fire, holding up its arms in a cross to protect its face. “Now!” came Boris’s shout, “Cross Chop!”

“Hold strong!” barked Kenta, his entire body tense and alive, no longer feeling the pain of the burns.

Machoke pulled its arms tight in a scissor-chop, and smashed both sides of Bolt’s face with the incredible power of two Karate Chop attacks. An impulse commanded Kenta to cringe, but he resisted bitterly. He’d long since learned from Bakuphoon that to falter even for a moment from empathized pain was dangerous to the pokémon’s health. The trainer had to take mental blows and bear them quietly, no matter how horrifying. To the ignorant onlooker, it might appear that the trainer was cold and indifferent to his pokémon’s pain. Those within the relationship, however, knew the real truth. And it was about to pay off.

“We’ve got you now!” cheered Boris heartily. He stopped short as Bolt’s great jaws slammed together on his Machoke’s arms, causing it to roar in pain. “On the contrary,” called Kenta, “we’ve got you. Bolt, time for Fly!”

The enormous Salamence wings billowed out, and a moment later, the two pokémon combatants were gone in a storm of scattering dust. Kenta watched Bolt rise at a vertical angle, then twist and corkscrew in a spinning arc, the Machoke still hanging helplessly from his mouth. As they dove back towards the ground at a furious speed, Bolt let go of Machoke’s arms and curved his flight at level with the ground. Machoke slammed onto the dirt road with the force of a falling comet, still spinning, and slowed to a stop at an awkward body angle. The swirls in its eyes proved that it would not be getting back up.

“Crush!” cried Boris, looking absolutely stunned at the result of Bolt’s deadly work. “Are you okay? Speak to me!”

“Ma . . . . . choke . . .”

Bolt landed beside Kenta, giving him a look that seemed to ask “how did I do?” Kenta beamed at his hardworking Salamence and patted Bolt’s neck. “For someone who only recently gained his wings, you’re one hell of a flier already,” he said approvingly. “But how’s your jaw? That was quite a hit you took.”

Bolt’s lips parted into an intimidating smile that showed all his gleaming teeth, and Kenta nodded, understanding. “Ah, I get it. You’ve got a new special ability now, don’t you? Just in time, too.”

Both of them looked over at Boris, who’d just recalled his beaten Machoke into its pokéball. He looked distinctly more serious, now. “That’s quite a tough ‘un you’ve got there,” he boomed, holding up a second pokéball. “Is that supposed to be one of them illegal pokémon you were talking about?”

“Bolt’s not illegal yet,” said Kenta, smiling humorlessly. And when he is, they’re not getting him like they took Baku. I swear to that.

“Whatever you call him, he’s still just practice!” bellowed Boris, tossing his next pokéball. “Show ‘em what you got, Spike!”

In a flash of white light, Boris’s next pokémon appeared; a Pupitar. Something occurred to Kenta, and he held up his hands in a “t” sign. “Woah, hold on a second! Time out.” He pointed to his Salamence. “Bolt’s the only pokémon I use, now. I thought this was a one-on-one battle!”

“You should’ve said something beforehand, then,” Boris replied, crossing his arms resolutely. “The winner is whoever’s still got a pokémon left to use. That’ll be me!”

Bolt gave a deep-throated growl, and Kenta’s eyes narrowed. “We’ll see about that. How’re you feeling, Bolt?”

Any noise the Salamence might’ve made was drowned out by a sudden shrill siren sounding to the west. Both trainers and pokémon turned in alarm at the sound, and Kenta noticed a familiar figure running from the distant town of Henna Villa straight at them. “Hey!” came Levian’s voice faintly over the siren. “What are you guys doing out here?! It’s dangerous now! The magnet pokémon are coming back out!”

Kenta turned and looked behind him, down into the grassy valley. Out in the field’s distance, a massive rustling of tall grass signified a large-scale movement in his direction. Remembering his last encounter with a Magneton from a few days back, Kenta hurriedly returned his attention to Boris. “We’re out of time!” he said forcefully. “This match’ll have to be called a draw. Here’s your Everstone-” He pulled the rock from his pocket once more and strode to the giant hiker’s side, thrusting it into his hand. “Now do the right thing and teach my Salamence that move!”

Boris looked away stubbornly. “Not happening,” he said gruffly. “You haven’t beaten us, so you don’t get nothin’.”

“ . . . Fine.” Kenta turned to Bolt. “Keep yourself safe.” He rushed towards Levian, who was bidding him to hurry with a furiously waving hand. “We’ll do this another time. For now, we need to get to safety!”

Kenta waited impatiently as his bearded opponent jogged a couple yards to catch up with him, then stumbled and fell over. He and Levian rushed to Boris’s sides and hauled him to his feet, and the hiker gave a whine of frustration. “Dagnabbit! This ground’s too unsteady, even for me. What’s with this place?”

Kenta and Levian looked at each other, and Kenta shook his head. “Lost his footing. You know what? I think he’s had too much to drink.” The two of them turned and glanced down at the field in the distance, and Kenta gasped softly as the first few Magneton burst out of the tall grass before his eyes. Levian gritted his teeth. “Tch! They’re coming too fast. How’re we going to get this boozer back to town before they’re on us?”

“All right. All right.” Boris looked wearily at Kenta, a defeated look in his eyes. “You win, laddie. I’ll teach your dragon my special move. It’s the only thing that can contest pokémon of those types at this point.”

Now dozens of Magnemite and Magneton were approaching, and a yellow aura surrounded the swarm as electricity sparked and zapped around them. Kenta felt his heart pound faster; it was easily possible that he and his companions could be electrocuted to death in mere moments.

This guy had better know what he’s doing.