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[attr="class","kazu2"]As a child, Kazuya had enjoyed his visits to Fall Arbor town. It brought up memories of his grandmother. A scarred woman whose entire lie had been dedicated to holding a volcano in check. An enemy whose reflection was plain in her spitfire temper and tendency toward privacy. She had died while he was in prison. Buried in a ceremony that he had not been allowed to see.
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Today, he intended to visit her grave. A single flower—her favorite—was laid on top of her tombstone. A plate-sized hand planted on cool stone as he murmured a prayer to some unseen god. He did wis unto her peace. For such a thing would bore her to tears. Instead, he bid her happiness in whatever existence continued. But this task seemed hollow.
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To honor his memory, Kazuya knew he would have to assist the town she called home.
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The ash coated everything like a worn-out blanket. One of the itchy, scratchy ones you find buried at the bottom of your grandmother’s closet. The town’s beauty was all but invisible. Even his grandmother’s house, a lovely little cottage, was lost beneath a layer of soot. “Misa.” The Wooper stopped its races around a mud puddle. Its bright eyes lifted to Kazuya’s inscrutable ones. “Per?” Its head tilted.
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He swept his arm in an arc toward the town itself. The drab, grey wash covered every visible surface. “Let’s lend these people a hand.” His mouth did not move, but his voice was clear. “I will buy mochi on the way home.” With a delighted chirp, the Axolotl blasted a burst of water at a nearby storefront. Yellow peeked through as the thin layer of ash congealed and rolled down the storefront.
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Then, the Wooper turned to unleash another Water Gun. But this time, its target had a face.

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[attr="class","kazu2"]The back of his hand swiped across his nose. It came back coated in red, but this didn’t seem to bother the mercenary. In act, he seemed to enjoy it. His tongue darted out to sample the metallic liquid dotting his list. His mouth opened in a silent, booming laugh. Instead of his deep baritone, a strange squeaking sound emerged. “Nice hit, Natsu!” The same booming voice called. His mouth didn’t move. His chest heaved with heavy, tired breaths.[break][break]


Across from him, the hulking Bewear’s tail wagged. Though they had been at this some time, the bear Pokemon looked no worse for the wear. Its mitten paws curled into fists as his trainer straightened into a fighting pose. With a grin, the two met in the middle of the clearing. Muscles bunched in the human’s back and leg as they collided. Ground was given on both sides as they pushed against the edges of an invisible ring.[break][break]


Then they broke apart. The bear roared in amusement as it lunged forward again, moving to lift its hefty trainer over its head.

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[attr="class","kazu2"]On this morning, Kazuya awoke to a distant plume of smoke. The occasional shift of wind would tickle his nose with a famliar scent. It was the smell of hundreds of years of growth vanishing in an instant. The rings shriveled up like sun-beaten onions. Left behind were the hardiest of shrubs and seeds intended for new growth. [break][break]

Reaching into his closet, he pulled out an old, dusty uniform. It was emblazoned with the symbol of a kindler. He pulled it on, frustrated to find it fit too tightly in the shoulders. A fact that left the giant feeling constrained. Still, it would serve its intended purpose. It would keep his skin from sloughing onto the forest floor. Grabbing his bag, Kazuya set out for the site of the fire.
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The fire ran like an unbroken Rapidash. Its greedy, countless tongues dissolved the forest in a wave of heat and ash. Around them, Pokemon joined in strange pairings—predators and prey setting aside millions of years of evolution in favor of survival. With surprising deftness for his side, Kazuya dodged a group of panicked Tandemaus. At his side, his Wooper prepared another burst of super-powered water.
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Minutes blurred into hours as the fire found itself on the retreat. Dripping sweat and streaked with ash, “Thanks! Everybody take five.” The supervisor’s voice boomed across the area. A few fresh faces billowed in. Kazuya welcomed the call for break. Tiredness fell upon him at the very word. An ashen log held his weight as he settled upon it. His Wooper soon dropped into a doze at his feet.
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A small notebook wormed its way into his large fingers. The mechanical pencil clutched between his fingers looking almost comically small. Tired, satisfied eyes lifted to face a temporary comrade. His mouth did not move. “Is this your first time?” For him, it was the hundredth.

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[attr="class","kazu2"]Kazuya did not believe in Rocket’s vision of the future. In truth, it differed little from the current world. The biggest change was the size and holder of the boot against their neck. Still his debts to the organization needed to be repaid. Fortunately, he found today’s target repugnant. The man reminded him of a bug—eyes made larger by his thick bifocals. His body quivered like a woman’s purse Yamper as he backed away from Kazuya. [break][break]

“You—you’re with them, right? Rocket?” The snitch licked fretfully at dry lips. The guilt had already been eating away at him.
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The mercenary did not speak. His head merely tilted to one side. His gargantuan form’s shadow eclipsed the quivering man. As people often did on missions like this—trying to pad the silence—he began to yell. “Now, look! The League wasn’t going to let me not tell them. Either way I’m a dead Ducklett! Please.”The begging then turned to chatter about his wife and daughter. Using children like shields—even figuratively—was distasteful. If you chose to make a deal with the devil, you had best uphold your end of the argument.
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Kazuya’s expression did not change. Behind him, his Bewear towered with both fists balled into dangerous projectiles. Its obsidian eyes were narrowed to slits. At its foot, the man’s Kecleon lay in a crumpled heap. Though its eye was bruised, it would be allowed to live. It was not responsible for its trainer’s dishonor. As to the man himself, Kazu had not yet decided his fate.
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A heavy boot thudded as the mercenary took a step forward. His head tilted back to its original position. The traitor backed up until he was pressed against the door. “Mercy! Please!” For a moment he looked hopeful. Kazuya paused as if considering the request. His hand came to rest somewhere on his waist. Then, he spoke for the first time. “No.” Two hands reached up to grab the man by his collar and leg.
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With a grunt, the man tossed him through his picteresque bay window. The curtains rippled with his exit. Glass showered the ground as Kazuya stepped over the sill and into the street beyond. Golden eyes lifted to a pedestrian. Those metallic eyes said many things, but most importantly: ‘This is none of your concern.’ A heavy boot landed on the man’s chest with a thumo.
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Panicked mossy eyes turned toward the approaching trainer. “HELP ME! Please!” Kazuya sighed. “This—this lunatic just attacked me!”

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[attr="class","kazu2"]Some part of him wondered if he had been a sailor in a past life. As he stared out over the ocean, he felt a strange connection to it. As if a siren beckoned him toward it. Unfortunately, its calls could not be heeded. With the loss of his dear friends, sea travel remained an impossibility. Even his arms could only tread water so long. [break][break]


And, unless he wished to crush his Wooper’s spine, it would be of no real use on Hoenn’s warm currents. She will grow. Be patient. So, with a fishing pole in hand, the man approached the waterfront. Ignoring the tourist-covered sands in favor of something craggier, he took a seat at the water’s edge. From a pouch at his side, dark hands scattered bait in the water.[break][break]


With a happy noise, his Wooper dove in to sample it. "Wooop!" A soft smile crossed the giant man’s face. A salty breeze gently stirred his hair, the scarf out of place with his shorts and sleeveless top. Looking like a child’s rod in his hands, his pole bobbed gently with the waves.[break][break]


“Take a seat, friend.” A voice emerged from somewhere near the ground. Kazuya’s mouth did not move. It rarely did. Golden eyes shifted to face the presence he felt behind him. “I do not own the shore.”

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