The walk away from the underpass felt, different, somehow.

  It was the sort of trek I’d made close to a dozen times by now, from battleground to Pokémon Center. The fading winter sun, the cold, blustery breeze, the light human and Pokémon traffic. It all should have been familiar. Comfortable even. Instead, I found it anything but.

  The low sun painted long, grasping shadows, out of which a black-clad soldier might step at any moment. The cold wind felt like a breath on my neck, an accusation leveled at my law-breaking activities, and the surrounding foot traffic was no longer composed of fellow commuters and citizens, but instead of piercing glares and threatening witnesses.

  Guilt swirled in my gut, and I wasn’t even sure what had really sparked it. Was the encounter at the underpass indelibly destined for violence, or had my provocative accusation been the necessary spark? Did I have the right to leave the conflict behind, or should I have been there, trying to help as many people escape as possible?

  Was escaping even the right choice? I knew better than most that the sub-contractors did have real authority. Maybe if I stuck around, I could have waited things out, proven my innocence, gone on my way?

  The swirling what-ifs saturated one part of my brain, even as another jumped at every passing shadow and leery glance.

  When I finally made it to the Pokémon Center, I was sweating like I’d run a marathon, even though I hadn’t walked more than a few kilometers. The normally inviting lights from the red-roofed building seemed unnaturally harsh, transmuted from comforting warmth to unblinking accusations.

  I sucked in a deep breath, and stepped forwards, the automatic doors sliding apart to grant me entry. This late in the evening, the Center was relatively empty, which meant there were only six people in line ahead of me. I stepped into the queue, keeping my gaze down and trying not to nervously finger the bag I’d stowed my helmet in.

  One-by-one, people spoke with the nurse manning the front desk, handing over Poké Balls and sharing unhurried conversation.

  What was going to happen when I got to the front of that line? Did ‘Sharpedo’s Jaw’ have contacts in the Pokémon Centers? Was there a notification out right now, looking for a fugitive with a Falinks, a Yowashi, and a Maushold? Would the soldiers have even recognized my partners? None of them were particularly well-known Pokémon species in Ferrum.

  Had they been taking pictures, or videos to identify people later? The thought made me bundle the jacket I was wearing into my bag, stuffing the blue and white garment into my bag around the helmet. The Pokémon Center was warm enough that I wasn’t cold in my hoodie, but the trek back home was going to be a bit uncomfortable in the winter air.

  Then again, considering the way I was sweating, I’d probably be fine.

  Eventually, the line in front of me cleared, until it was just me facing a grinning relative. “Hello, how can we help you today?” the pink-haired Joy asked me, no recognition in her eyes.

  “It’s,” I paused, and then coughed, trying to clear my inexplicably sluggish throat. “It’s my partners. We were caught up in a battle, and I wanted to make sure that they’re okay.”

  “Of course,” the woman didn’t blink, didn’t give any indicator that anything was wrong. “Is there any particular reason you’re worried?”

  “They took some Supereffective hits from a strong Pokémon. I think they’re okay, but I’d rather be safe than sorry,” I replied, the image of a Heracross slamming into my knights playing back in my mind.

  “Well I’m glad you’re not taking any chances. Why don’t you hand them here, and we’ll take a look for you?”

  I mutely put my knights’ ball on the counter. The Joy took them without comment, handing them to a Chansey with a tray. “We’ll call you up when we’ve had a look at your Pokémon. It shouldn’t take more than twenty minutes, so we’d prefer if you stayed in the lobby until we’re done.”

  “Of course,” I said, struggling to keep my voice level. The request was normal, I had to reassure myself. She’s not trapping you here.

  Luckily, the other woman didn’t seem to notice my hesitation, flashing me a tired smile. “Next please!” she called out, as I cleared the front of the line, making for one of the couches tucked in the corner of the room. My gaze quickly found a television hanging from the ceiling, which was flipped to a news channel.

  My throat felt unaccountably dry, as I stared at the newscaster, waiting to see if tonight’s events had already made it into the news cycle.

  -

  For all my nerves, my time at the Pokémon Center passed without incident. The talking heads on the television talked about the new BattleFieldGo, about some celebrity’s holiday plans, about plans to renovate one of Techne’s stadiums, really about anything other than law and order, from what I could tell.

  I was sort of surprised, it seemed like the ongoing incidents would have made for great television. I was pretty sure, for example, that the serial killer plaguing Techne hadn’t been caught yet, and yet there was no mention of it, when it felt like that’d been all the news had been able to focus on for weeks.

  Before I could really puzzle out what to make of that, however, my name rang out, over the center’s loudspeaker. “Fione, please come collect your Pokémon.”

  I extracted myself from the couch, heading over to the pickup station. Another nurse was there, though this one didn’t look like Joy. “Fione, right?” She confirmed, as she placed a tray with a single Poké Ball in it on the counter.

  “That’s me,” I confirmed, reaching out for the ball. “Everything okay?”

  The nurse nodded. “Your Falinks were fine, just normal syn exhaustion. They’re all good to go.”

  I let out a relieved breath. “Glad to hear it. Thank you.”

  “Of course. Have a good day. We hope to see you again!” The familiar refrain chased me out of the center, somehow sounding less comforting than I remember it.

  -

  By the time I made it home, the last dregs of sunlight had long since faded. The door to our apartment opened, and pitch-black emptiness greeted me, my parents still out, working even on a Saturday night.

  I quite literally hadn’t seen dad at all this week. Not since his announcement at the Dojo Challenge. Mom I’d run into only once in that same time, on Wednesday, her and Chansey’s mandatory day off.

  But that was okay. I was never without family nowadays. My partners were always with me.

  I released all ten of them, giving them the run of the apartment while I prepared dinner. I considered doing a debriefing first, but I knew my partners would be hungry. My concerns and anxieties would have to wait. My partners needed me to take care of them, and nothing would get in the way of that, especially not myself.

  Dinner nowadays was a pretty in-depth affair. Each of my partners had different dietary necessities, and preparing the right thing for all of them took some time. My knights were pretty content with a dry kibble, but I had to slice up a few Berries to fortify it, and mix in a healthy dose of spicy seasoning. And that wasn’t to mention the complicated blend of vitamins and minerals I had to measure out and add into their food with each meal.

  At least they were all content to still eat out of a single bowl, though I might have to consider getting more if (when) I actually managed to convince multiple brasses to stay in the formation.

  Mana was very much not a fan of dry food. For her, I had to rehydrate some kelp via boiling, and accompany that with a mix of insect meal. And of course, additional vitamins and minerals. Unfortunately, the resulting ‘salad’ didn’t hold together all that well once placed in Mana’s bowl, so I’d taken to bundling the meal into the kelp in order to form a sort of ‘wrap.’

  I’d also begun picking up different varieties of kelp and insect meal, and experimenting with different mixes and matches. Certain combinations had proven a hit, while others had been… less popular. Red kelp especially she refused to pallet, for whatever reason.

  Maushold had the most complicated diet. It wasn’t that they were picky, it was that they strongly preferred to prepare their own food. I had to invest in separate containers for their ingredients, and an ever-growing collection of miniaturized cooking equipment to support their culinary endeavors. A set of tiny cooking utensils? Sure. Miniaturized knives for slicing food? Donna was happy to prep them in an afternoon along with her partner's help, for a small fee.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  A miniaturized convection stove-top? That was a bit trickier, but a mail-order catalogue had come to the rescue, giving us access to the goods of a specialty store, based in Neos. I wasn’t sure how they did enough business to stay open, but the gleeful looks on Maushold’s normally impassive faces made me not want to question it.

  I wasn’t sure where they were getting their recipes, is what I would have said if I hadn’t caught the littlest one watching some late-night cooking shows, between the dramas.

  The complicated part came when I had to ensure that they mixed in the exact vitamin mixes they needed. My plans for their care didn’t always align perfectly with what they intended to eat for dinner, which is when we had to find a way to compromise.

  At least tonight, that wouldn’t be a problem. The trio of Normal-types had decided on a sort of nut pie, perfect for stashing the healthy add-ons I insisted on. They took care of it themselves, for the most part, though they did ask for my help when it came time to put it into and retrieve it from our oven.

  For myself, I reheated the leftovers from a stir fry made sometime in the last week.

  Meals made, we convened at the kitchen table. The first few minutes of dinner were quiet, as we tucked in, but I could feel the tension between all of us bubble and fester, as we ate. The peace couldn’t last, and eventually, one of us broke it.

  “Washi, wash-shiwa?” My faithful little fish asked, head perched on the edge of her feeding tank/bowl. Her soulful eyes looked at me, concern writ large across her features.

  The question was easy to understand: ‘Are you okay?’

  The answer wasn’t nearly so forthcoming.

  “I’m fine,” I replied eventually, succumbing to my first instinct. I felt a need to deflect, to reassure her that I was well. Even if that wasn’t true. Especially if it wasn’t true.

  I didn’t want to worry my partners, didn’t want them to see me as weak.

  “A little stressed, but we all made it out safe, right?” I forced a grin, which earned me a couple of positive sounds and affirmative head bobs. “I know it wasn’t exactly the sort of situation we’ve been training for, but you all handled yourselves really well.”

  That got a bit of grumbling from my knights, which I tried to nip in the bud. “I mean it, seriously. Those thugs weren’t fighting fair, otherwise I think we could have taken that Heracross.” I reassured them. “And you jumped in at just the right time, thank you.” That was directed at Maushold, who preened under the praise.

  “I’m sorry I missed your warning Mana,” I turned to my piscine partner next. “Maybe we can workshop a better way for you to notify me when something is coming. It can be a bit challenging to hear you when the environment is really loud and chaotic.”

  She let out a despondent little cry, and I reached out a hand to rub her head. “And don’t think I missed how you protected me from that scary man, when he was thinking of making a move on me. You made him back off, and no one else. Don’t forget that.”

  My words seemed to draw her a bit out of her funk, and brought some cheer back to her expression.

  All my partners seemed to be feeling a bit better after our debrief, though I knew my knights would be sulking for a while yet.

  Now, if only my own worries and concerns were so easily assuaged.

  -

  ‘It’s not paranoia if they’re really out to get you.’

  I think that was a quote from a tv show. Or maybe a book.

  I felt slightly ridiculous, out in our apartment complex’s darkened backyard, watching Maushold work, but I wasn’t taking any risks.

  The hole quickly took shape, a small depression in the earth where something could be deposited, and then forgotten. In went the metal helmet, still stuffed inside the bag I’d worn to the underpass.

  My accomplices quickly filled the hole, and patted the earth down. A bit of snowfall, and there’d be no evidence of our activities left at all.

  “Thanks for helping me out with this Maushold. I know we worked hard on the helmet, but if those creeps come looking, I’d rather they not have anything to find.”

  The trio of Normal-types made understanding sounds as I scooped them up, bringing them in and out of the cold. “I need to ask one last favor, too.” I stopped them in the doorway, as I took off the blue and white jacket I’d been wearing all day. “Can you dispose of this? It’s getting too small anyway, and it’s another thing linking us to the underpass. Feel free to tear it up, and use it for bedding, or whatever else you want to do with it.”

  My partners studied the proffered garment, their beady eyes roaming all over it, before one of the bigger ones let out an affirming squeak, and the trio took the hanging jacket by the sleeves. They dragged it off into my room, and the less I knew about what they did with it, the better.

  Some part of my brain acknowledged that I was probably being crazy about this. The chances that ‘Sharpedo’s Jaw’ or public security in general would care to hunt down one lone battler, even one who had resisted arrest, seemed ludicrous. Surely the fiasco at the underpass had produced other, far more interesting leads to pursue, and that wasn't even mentioning the ongoing serial killer problem.

  And yet, and yet I couldn’t shake the sense, the feeling that I had better do my due diligence. Maybe it was because I’d never broken the law before. Nothing more than jaywalking anyway. How bad was what I’d done?

  I thought back, to the words I’d shouted, the actions I’d taken. In the most generous interpretation, I’d resisted arrest, with the qualifying factor that I’d never actually been accused of any criminal activity. Worst case, there was a very real chance they could claim that I’d incited a riot, if anyone connected my appearance with the questions I’d asked.

  On further reflection, maybe my concerns weren’t so unfounded after all.

  The worst thing was, if they really wanted to track me down, it wouldn’t be hard. How many people were there in the region that trained Falinks? It couldn’t be more than a handful. And if you added a Maushold along with that?

  No, it seemed likely that if they really wanted to, they’d find me. Which meant the most important thing was plausible deniability. Without any proof, there was no way to say for sure that the person at the underpass had been me.

  With those thoughts going through my mind, I also offered the pants and boots I’d been wearing to Maushold. After all, better safe than sorry.

  -

  My knights and Mana were mostly unaware of my concerns, and I was quite happy to keep them that way. The latter was napping in her tank, exhausted after the stressful day, and the former were doing some formation training, working out their frustration at their loss through their usual method: drilling.

  They’d be practicing moves too, if doing so in the apartment hadn’t been long-forbidden.

  So instead, they ran through various formations, and used the flashcards I’d made to help them memorize our battle strategies.

  Idly, I stared at the six of them, running through the other, and more pressing, problem pushing at my mind.

  How to keep my knights from splintering apart.

  My initial plot at the underpass had involved getting an accomplice to focus on weakening Lance in a battle, to give Tristan a chance to pick up some slack and demonstrate to the former that he could get further by working with the latter.

  It’d been a bit half-baked, maybe, but it was the best I’d come up with so far. I needed to prove to Lance that his formation would be stronger with Tristan as additional brass, and that they’d still be able to work together.

  And now, the option of demonstrating that through a battle was off the table. I wasn’t going to risk going to another underpass, or the Battle Warehouse, and while I could ask Donna or Alyssa for help, I had no doubts that Lance would quickly pick up on any collusion between us, ruining the plan’s artifice.

  They were still options, if I couldn’t think of anything else, but for now, and with still no word from Abigail, I was back to the drawing board.

  The alarm I had set on my Pokégear went off. I was finally using the device Drake had sent, along with the rest of the supplies the former champion had provided. The big pile of stuff in the hall closet was much diminished, the TMs investigated, the vitamins and minerals stored in cabinets, and the three high-tech electronics all opened and activated.

  The Pokédex had been extremely helpful in identifying any Pokémon I didn’t recognize. Any time I ran into an unfamiliar face, I’d make sure to lock the details in my head so I could run a search when I arrived at home. So far, the crimson device hadn’t let me down yet.

  The Pokégear was equally useful, giving me a way to snap pictures, track my general position on a rough map, make calls, and even access the limited FerreNet in a few capacities.

  The one I’d found the least use for was the PokéNav. The device’s map function didn’t extend to Ferrum, and didn’t get any signal for calling. It did give me some very limited, very slow access to Hoenn’s BattleNet, but the connection was spotty and inconsistent.

  It really made me wonder just what Mark had done to the Macross Gear he’d given me, to make it work when Galar was almost twice the distance from us that Hoenn was.

  I’d considered taking the device to him to jailbreak, but I hadn’t taken that step yet.

  I stood up from the couch, heading over to my knights. “Alright, training time is over. Leisure activities or bedtime, trainer’s orders.” I told them, injecting as much sternness into my voice as I could. They predictably complained, though they eventually complied, after I broke out their chess sets for them.

  Three sets meant that each of my knights could, in theory, be playing, one against the other, but not all of them had the head for it. None of them were nearly as skilled as Lance, though Tristan was improving rapidly, and Bers was still struggling at times with the more complicated rules.

  At this point, Lance had even odds of beating me in a head-to-head, and better than when he had the others brainstorming with him.

  That thought stopped me cold. I thought back, replaying our games in my mind, but the conclusion I’d drawn remained the same. When Lance played against me alone, he played worse than when he had his brothers advising him.

  As I sat down across from the biggest Falinks, his eyes eagerly scanning the board in front of him, a new plan began to form in my mind. It might be a bit tricky alone, but if I could recruit some help, I might just have the resources I needed.

  I just hoped I could get this done soon. A week had passed, and Tristan was getting bigger every day. I was pretty sure Lance was starting to notice, though he hadn’t said anything yet. Either way, we were running out of time.