A job well done dinner? The dog quirks his eyebrows. An eyebrow quirk soon becomes a wide-eyed grin. They say the quickest way to an animal’s heart is through its stomach. Like many before here, Naia has bribed a dog with food.[break]
“Yo, for real? Hell yeah. You’re legit, Whitey.” Names are unnecessary in his word – at least for most people. They take years to beat into his brain – if they care to stick around long enough to make a name stick. A car passes by. Just another block or two now, judging by the street name. Although he might not remember people names, streets are easy.[break]
“Y’know, it ain’t hard to just go for a walk. You get bothered on the street or somethin’? Just throw out your Pokemon, scorch some people to a crisp, they’ll leave ya alone. Then you can explore the city all you want, easy peasy. Then you’ll know all the best spots to eat! Plus, you’ll never get lost again.”[break]
Oh, to have the simple mind of a canine.

There’s a rat problem. It’s holding up the grand re-opening of the casino. Today, the black dog is a rat terrier. His master sends him down into the dark places under the casino. His mission is simple: clear them out. Anyone who knows Hitoshi knows that there is only one way this can go. These rattata are going to die.[break]

The edge of Jubei’s sword finds one of them. Starlight’s basement wall is painted red with blood. Frankly, he doesn’t know why the other guy is there. Doesn’t know his name or anything about him. All the storied history that has brought this human intruding into the dog’s life is lost on Hitoshi.[break]

Company isn’t the worst thing in the world. There’s a special rat, somewhere way down. Old employees whisper and call it the Rat King. Getting to be called the Kingkiller sounds nice. It makes a goofy smile brighten up the seasoned killer’s face.[break]

“Man.” Hitoshi grumbles. “Kinda don’t like Pokemon.” He ruminates, not knowing he’s in the presence of an authority figure. “They don’t die when you stab ‘em in the throat! It suuuucks!” He grumbles about murder the way someone might talk about a favorite item on a restaurant menu being out of stock.

They’re a motley pair. A jogger girl and a scruffy black dog with a katana. If the cops around here weren’t bribed to hell and back anyway, there’d be plenty of people who would remember these two just off of how distinct they are. They’re a study in contrast. Dark hair, light hair. Tall, short. Light eyes, dark eyes.[break]

It goes on and on. Hitoshi doesn’t care to dwell on how they’re different. Whenever they stop at a street corner, he finds he’s standing on his tip-toes. Everybody’s taller than him here. It never used to get to him, but it’s starting to creep up on the edge of his insecurities, trying to worm its way into the camp.[break]

“Huh? You askin’ me on a date?” Despite popular belief, he knows how to make a joke. He lets the inevitable mood sink in for a moment before grinning. “Nah, nah. I getcha. Just bein’ nice. You seem pretty comfortable around here. You from ‘round these parts? If you know any good spots, I wouldn’t mind tryin’ out the local cuisine. Just none of this fast food crap.”[break]

If their dirty deed for the day bothers him, he doesn’t let it show. Indeed, he seems downright comfortable with the notion of murder – enough for it to not sour the mood or ruin his appetite.

He doesn’t know how much time passes either. Below ground and the rolling waves, it has no meaning. The dog isn’t permitted to return to the casino where he works. Instead, he lounges in a room close by, busying himself with music and tea. When Elinor is brought back, he’s sipping on green tea.[break]
He senses the change in the air. Jokes form on his lips and die there. Hitoshi looks at her through the bars. Seeing someone in such distress…[break]
Well, his orders are clear. If she crosses the boundary, kill her. That and that alone was the order given to the guard dog. Whatever else happens, happens. A smarter man might wonder if this isn’t part of Rocket’s game plan for her. Hitoshi doesn’t even notice the cameras.[break]
The cell door is unlocked. He rushes to her. Holds her, pulls her clawing fists away from her skin. He feels like he’s seven again, watching his mother writhe, cry, and hurt herself. Hurting herself for the shame of her profession and having a mutt for a son.[break]
“Hey, hey! What’re ya doin?! None of that, idiot! They’re already hurting you! You can’t hurt yourself, too!”

Another day, another fool that Rocket wanted dead. The details don’t matter, but they tell him anyway. Some low-level goon. Nobodies. People trying to skirt money off the top of a Rocket business. Associates, wise guys too big for their britches. Hitoshi’s dressed up in a suit, pulled away from his normal duties. Given a partner, told to find the target and eliminate them.[break]

He knows they won’t see him coming.[break]

The dog doesn’t know what to make of the girl next to her. She’s taller than him, earning her a huff of jealousy. But she seems…fresh. New to all of this. Someone who should probably be having a good life somewhere, doing another job, rather than crawling around in the gutter with him. Some part of him feels bad for her, but if there’s one thing he likes about Rocket…[break]

It’s that they make sure you know what you’re getting into. Everyone. There ain’t no such thing as a halfway crook in this outfit. Still, he can try and calm her nerves. Their targets are in an apartment building in lower Slateport. Some run-down place next to a fast food joint. Hitoshi flares his nose indignantly at the sight of the place.[break]

“You know what I hate ‘bout your country?” The dog asks, thumbing the edge of his katana. “Your food sucks.”

Two become many. Others caught in this freezing memory emerge and gather around the beacon that is Cillian Quinn . Hitoshi’s old amber eyes stay on the taller blonde. He’s grave, grim, wishing he had the words to convey the depths of his emotions.[break]

“What if Clean Wash said to put the cat over Brownie, Blondie?” He doesn’t pretend to know this man, but he knows love. Simple, unconditional love. The love that blossoms when someone accepts you for who you are. Love that comes from the hand you are meant for finally gripping you. Using you as you were always meant to be used.[break]

“I know who I’d pick.” The right blade can parry the world itself. He prays there will never come a day where the hand that holds him and the hand that holds that hand should come to clash.[break]

But there’s a world of other concerns before they reach that point. They’re blessed with a reunion. Despite the severity of his words, he smiles a boy’s smile when he sees the husbands brought back together. Love can warm anyone’s heart.[break]

Xenon Antheil ’s voice addresses him. He looks at her, eyes cool as the snow beneath them. Hand on his katana, he looks the part of an old samurai as he humors her request. Closing those eyes, he shakes his head.[break]

“No can do, Four-Eyes. You want my advice, stick with us. We’re stronger together.” Whether she chooses to listen or not doesn’t matter. The explosion draws their attention. Hitoshi runs off with the underboss’s host. Once more unto the breach. Another face in the conflict. He thinks to don his straw hat once again.[break]

Frankly, he doesn’t understand the scene before him. A frozen northern wind blows snow onto the edges of his hakama, coating his dark clothes white. Ceruledge’s flames melt the snow. Were it not for the ghostly knight, Hitoshi would be freezing.[break]

A dog stands before a king and the gathered champions of the realm. They ask questions. They beg for answers. They all chomp at the bits to be the one to end his li—[break]

Why does he care? Death is just one of those things. His trade. A business, like any other. Yet, as he sees the way six people trip over themselves to end this creature…[break]

He finds he does care. Very much so.[break]

A dog trots forward. His brief moment on the stage. A moment to yap and bark before a being far beyond him.[break]

“Oi. A king spends his life helping other people.” He states a far oversimplified version of things. “You’re wanting to help us by dying before you can hurt us. So…I just wanna ask. Besides killing you…” This place must be messing with his head, to make him want to ask this.[break]

“…is there anything I can do for you? Anything you want?”[break]

He asks before ruination and terrible energies fall upon this creature. Hitoshi turns to the woman that visits this ruination upon the creature. Elisabeth Fiorelli . He does not know this woman, but he knows she is another being far above him. If this wounded Pokemon is a king of light, then she is the queen of some dark place beyond his understanding. Wicked. Rotten.[break]

He grits the teeth at the sight of her, like a dog about to snarl at a threat. It would do about as much good as a dog barking. Hand hidden in the folds of his flowing robe, it goes for his katana. Drawing it and attacking her would do nothing but mark him as rabid. He would be killed. He would break his promise to Yumi.[break]

He backs up, hovers behind Cillian Quinn . Eying the woman with silent amber eyes, some beast caught between dog and wolf, hiding with his tail between his legs behind the leader of his pack. Observing her. Waiting for a moment of weakness so that he can take out her throat.[break]

He hates this woman. Hatred should not exist in a dog’s world. It is a decidedly human thing.

The notion of slaying does not make his face light up with joy, or any other emotion. Other than a quirk of the eyebrow, he doesn’t react at all. He listens, and certainly doesn’t protest to the name change, but there’s no enthusiasm at Selena’s suggestion. The most he can muster is a shrug.[break]

“I guess I’d go with Godkiller, if it’s my choice.” The language spoken in Hoenn is his second. Someone with a good grasp of accents can peg him as a man from Johto. Maybe it’s just one of those little quirks that come from having this language as his second. That’s an easy narrative to paint as to why he’d want something that rolls off the tongue so poorly.[break][break]

But, like many who call this language their second, he scrutinizes the deeper meaning of words. He knows exactly what he’s saying. The point dies there as he moves on, looking the other two over.[break]

“Miss, Mister, what kinda Pokemon do you two have? I’ve got…” He recalls his Ceruledge and lets out Munenori, his Gallade. It surveys the two of them and gives a polite nod.[break][break]

“This guy. Got a stone for him.” He taps the katana at his side. Ingrained into the center of the hilt is a mega stone. Afterwards, Munenori is recalled. In his place sits Tokugawa, a Kingambit that, even sitting, is taller than Hitoshi.[break][break]

“This guy, too. He’s my, er…what’s the word? Ace? Yeah. He gets stronger the more on the backfoot I am. He likes waitin’ around to show up at the coolest place.” The steel warrior rolls his eyes.[break][break]

“Think you can use me n’ the boys well, Miss?” He says, instantly acknowledging the woman as his leader. His co-worker, while not ignored outright, is not as important as getting orders. Someone has trained this dog well.

“Uhuh.” Like all the other people that tower above him in the pecking order of Rocket, Hitoshi takes this beast’s word as gospel. Acknowledged as a proper human, Mint’s words are internalized. Lower than Yumi’s words in order of importance and operation, but still there. Still present. Still a page of proverbs in this dog’s creed.[break]
“That sounds like exactly the kind of guy you’d want on your side.” The dog makes an observation many a human would be too self-conscious to serve. Hurricanes do not side with people. Tsunamis don’t care about wars. Infernos do not discriminate in who they burn.[break]
Yet still…stranger things have happened, surely.[break]
Strange things such as a red bug existing out here amid the desolation. The doublade falls. A Scizor rises and cries in its place. Hitoshi releases his Ceruledge, Jubei. Hitoshi insists, loud as a monsoon, that the creature’s namesake is the finest swordsman to ever live. A warrior from an age where pokeballs and these creatures did not make man lazy – where by and large they had to be agents in their own destiny instead of entrusting their fate to these appointed champions.[break]
Jubei is well-trained. It could be said his master and he are of the same mind. Ruthless, efficient dispatching of targets. That’s their way. Its blade flares and pierces the Scizor’s chest. Like all beasts of the wild, the bug is strong – but not strong enough. Jubei is a perfect counter.[break]
As the dog goes to trot along, he hears the strangest sound behind him.[break]
Scizor is still breathing.[break]
“Huuuh…” Instinct sends his hand into his sleeve. Instinct pulls out a pokeball. His neurons and nerves guide the throw that sends it to the Scizor. He doesn’t know why he captures the creature. Why he even cares, but he does.[break]
He picks up the ball and moves on.[break]
“The hell’s something like that doing out here?”

Ceruledge clings to Hitoshi like a shadow. Its blue eyes are calm, watching the world impassively as his trainer argues. Only when the cold robotic voice of someone far away cuts through the chatter does he stir. Alongside him, his trainer moves. The names on offer mean nothing to him. Names, as a rule, wash off his brain like water off a camel’s back. In his world of actions and their consequences, names don’t hold much meaning. He can’t even remember his own mother’s name, how is he supposed to remember the name of strangers?[break]
Naturally, their input on the team name isn’t required. Trotting forward like a small dog going to grab a treat, he snags up his bracelet. Locking it to his wrist, he looks at the screen waiting for his input.[break]
“Heh. Only one name worth taking. Sup, Team Sword?” He presses the name in before hitting enter. It becomes evident that he doesn’t know who his teammates are when he speaks to the crowd at large rather than any individuals therein.[break][break]
“Hope one of ya’s got a good brain on ya. Can’t really blame me if I don’t do good if neither of you are good at giving orders.”

All the evil of the world cascades towards them. This evil does not care about sides, loyalties, affiliations. Humanity and its civilization are powerless, now and always, against nature’s cruelty. White rage threatens to take them all.[break]

Dogs little understand or notice such grand notions. All this creature notices is that first blood goes to Rocket. Jubei’s blade finds purchase. It sinks deep into the flesh inside the flower, painting the ground and its trainer’s face crimson.[break]

“Damn it.” Rocket’s blade curses. To Genevieve Cromwell , this must seem a great tragedy. A trusted partner loves the woman enough to die for her. It’s just a setback – like aiming for the brain and only catching a hand. Professional pride spurs him to finish the job. Drawing the blade, he steps forward...[break]

…only to have Jubei grab him by the stomach. Seeing the Pokemon as but an extension of himself, the dog jerks around. Anger fills amber at the edges of his eyes. Rage at someone getting in his way.[break]

“What the hell are you—”[break]

And then, he sees it – in all its terror. A dog with its dull understanding of esoteric civilization sees the white death coming for them all. He thinks he knows red rage. Watching the white, he understands…[break]

He doesn’t even know pink. What he feels in that avalanche is every shade of red. Scarlet, crimson, maroon, the little colors that dot the line between red and its neighbors on the color wheel. Whatever this creature is, it hates them. It hates them with such malice that Hitoshi’s first instinct is to abandon the mission, grab Yumi Hasegawa , drop this pretense of climbing the underworld, and run far far away.[break]

…there are things out there far more dangerous than both the League and Team Rocket combined…[break]

Elinor Anderson ’s words, the words of a nameless prisoner in this dog’s world, run through his head. He trembles. When faced with the choice to fight or fly, he stands stock still. Watches what’s coming, slack-jawed.[break]

Jubei is his salvation. Using his capacity to produce fire, he launches them both into the air in a gout of flame. It’s hot, burning the edge of his getup. The dog doesn’t yap. He’s too busy gawking at the cat.[break]

He wants to kill it.[break]

For once in his life, he wishes something dead. He understands a truth the accumulated grudges, fear, envy, and rage of the humans will prevent many of them from seeing. For all the poisoned promises of power it could offer them, this monster is an existential threat. It will ruin them. They will all die. Yumi will die.[break]

He will die, and by so doing, he will break his promise.[break]

So, the dog resolves he will kill this monster. [break]

Before he can act on this newfound resolve, he is pulled far, far away. Down into the darkness of the shield. Hitoshi screams but finds his air has no lungs. He thinks death has come for him.[break]

His last thought is of her, all alone. Her tears when she thought he died. He can’t die here. He must simply live.[break]

So, he simply lives.[break]

He pulls himself out of the snow and finds he is somewhere else entirely. Coughing, he pushes snow the heat of his body has melted into water out of his lungs. Throwing off his ridiculous hat, he sees his breath in the air.[break]

It is so…[break]

So, so, so…[break]

Cold.[break]

Struggling to his feet, he calls out. He finds he doesn’t know anyone’s names.[break]

“Heeeey! Is anybody out there?!” There is nothing on his comm network. It has been broken. He is on his own. The cold starts to seep into him. All he can do is sheath his sword, keep Jubei close, and get to moving through this new snowy land.[break]

He can’t shake the feeling he is in this creature’s domain now. It hates them all so much. It wants to kill them. He feels like he is being hunted. A lone wolf will die. He has to find others.[break][break]

Only adrenaline and the heat of his body as he runs staves off the cold. He doesn’t notice Jubei by his side. He’s only focused on running forward. Finding someone. Anyone.[break]

Up above him, he sees a familiar creature fly. Dark wings that might strike terror into the hearts of many make the dog’s heart soar.[break]

“Blondie?” He asks to no one. “BLONDIIIIIIIIIIIIIIE!” Running through the landscape, he finally sees him, Cillian Quinn .[break]

…without his own loved one.[break]

“Oi, Blondie!” Hitoshi waves, trotting through the snow in his clogs. They soak the socks he’s wearing. His feet are freezing.[break]

“Blondie. Where’s Brownie? Is he alright?” His tone is caked with concern for Tempest Quinn ’s well-being. “Blondie, we gotta kill that cat. It’s gonna kill everybody. Yumi, Brownie, everybody.” Such banal things as how the cold is freezing his blood, or how frost will soon start biting at his limbs, or even where they are, doesn’t matter.[break]

What matters is that he play a role, that he be a sword, that he kill the monster.

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“Yeah.” The dog nods. “That’s right. If you’re gonna hurt her, I have to kill you. If you don’t, we’re fine. Simple as that.” He lives in a world of blacks, whites, 1s, and 0s. Hitoshi is a very binary person. Complicated human nuance is beyond him. Life and death is just another duality between which there is no middle ground. He talks about murder with a priest’s purity. A tool is not impure if it is used. Such implications lay at the feet of the one wielding the blade.[break]
“Her folks picked me for the job of keeping her safe ‘cause I’m the best at killing people. Well, until Pokemon get in the way.” He pouts like a child whose toys have been taken away from him. It’s hard to have professional pride concerning what you do when a monster can beat you at your own game simply by existing.[break]
“And now she doesn’t have anybody except me.” He sounds somber when he says that. His hand grips his blade. He wishes he could carve for her a path to happiness free of her family. That’s not something swords can do on their own.[break]
“So I gotta be double, triple sure nobody hurts her. Especially since this region’s full of psychos and whackjobs.” Says the psychotic whackjob.