"Team Rocket." Reika ground the name between her teeth. "Those absolute—"
"Yeah," Akiyama said. He wasn't going to argue.
In the anime he remembered from his old life, Team Rocket had been three idiots and a talking Meowth. This world's Team Rocket was something else entirely.
That Hydro Pump from Wailord had been aimed to kill, and it would have.
If his cousin hadn't shown up, if Nurse Joy hadn't been there, if Gardevoir hadn't evolved when she did, that would have been the end of him.
And dying would have been fine. It wasn't him he'd been afraid for.
He turned his head and looked at Gardevoir, who was still bristling beside him.
"So where are you from, anyway?" Reika asked, steering the mood somewhere lighter.
"Greenleaf Town. Tiny place. You've probably never heard of it."
Reika frowned at the grass, thinking. "Greenleaf Town. I feel like I have, though."
"Maybe it came up while you were chasing Larvesta leads." He said it casually, watching the green glow on the horizon.
Kadabra glanced at him. He'd heard the lie plainly.
What purpose does deception serve? he wondered.
Reika didn't question it. "I'm from Twin City. You've definitely heard of that one."
"The city with the two bridges running north to south. Steel-type Gym." Akiyama pulled the details up out of memory. Twin City was famous.
"Ohhh, the Steel Gym! Listen. Listen. It's insane."
Reika sat straight up, suddenly animated.
"Pika-pika!" Pikachu shot upright too, gesturing wildly with both paws.
"Mr. Raika's Duraludon took Pikachu out in one shot," Reika said.
Pikachu drew a huge circle in the air, apparently trying to communicate the sheer scale of the thing.
"Raika. That's the old man who turned down a seat as the Steel-type Elite."
Akiyama had actually heard of him.
"He'll battle you even if you don't have six Pokémon?"
"Mm-hm! Mr. Raika's super easygoing. He'll indulge any rookie who's curious. There are little kids walking out of that Gym crying literally every day."
She snorted, remembering something, and started laughing.
Akiyama tried to picture it and found the image genuinely funny.
They kept talking like that, in bursts, with long comfortable gaps in between. Meanwhile Gardevoir and Pikachu had warmed up to each other and were tossing a pebble back and forth.
Then Kadabra joined the battlefield with psychic backup.
"Pika?" Pikachu's face went blank.
Both of them stopped. Kadabra stopped too, then asked, Have I done something wrong?
Gardevoir shook her head—not at all.
"Garde, garde." An idea had landed. She explained it to Kadabra, and Pikachu leaned in, riveted.
"Garde!"
She swept a hand and Grass Knot shot the weeds at her feet up long and green.
Kadabra hit them with Confusion, snapping several loose and coiling them in midair into a row of floating hoops.
"Garde!" Gardevoir looked at Pikachu.
Pikachu nodded and launched himself through the first hoop, then jumped to the next one before he touched down. Every so often Gardevoir flicked out a Grass Knot, trying to snare him in the air. Every so often Kadabra shifted a hoop out from under him.
They were having the time of their lives.
"They get along great," Reika said.
"Yeah. And it's good training. Sharpens Pikachu's agility and his read on a live situation."
"Wait—that counts as training?"
"Sure it does."
Akiyama was already reaching into his backpack. He pulled out a book.
Every Pokémon Can Be Its Own Trainer.
"This is yours. It's got a ton of training methods in it—mostly focused on raising a Pokémon's six stats and teaching them to make their own calls. In a battle, sometimes their judgment beats your commands."
Reika took it on reflex, flipped it open, skimmed one page, and immediately shoved it back at him.
"No. No way. This is way too valuable." Her head shook so hard it blurred.
The thing was a brick, and it wasn't organized by type. It was organized by Pokémon—individually, nearly all of them, minus a few obscure outliers.
There were even QR codes printed in the margins that linked to detailed video demonstrations.
QR codes were another one of Akiyama's contributions, and by now they were load-bearing infrastructure for the Miki Group.
"Keep it," he said, grinning. "I'm looking forward to seeing how much you've grown next time we run into each other."
She was still shaking her head, so he tried a different angle. "Don't you want Pikachu and Larvesta to get stronger?"
That landed. Slowly, the book came back into her arms.
"Thank you so much!"
She stood up and bent ninety degrees, like she was apologizing for a crime.
"Keep doing that and Pikachu's going to think I'm bullying you."
Off in the grass, Pikachu caught the bow out of the corner of his eye and froze mid-jump.
Which is how Grass Knot got him. He hit the dirt in a tangle.
Gardevoir covered her mouth and laughed at him.
Pikachu kicked his way free of the grass around his ankles and ran over to Reika.
"Pika-pika?" He stopped at her feet, looking up, worried.
"I'm fine, I'm fine." She crouched and rubbed his head, sending him back to play.
He went, but he stopped and looked back three times on the way, and kept glancing over after that.
"Seriously. Thank you," Reika said again.
"Don't worry about it. I've got the whole thing memorized. It was dead weight in my bag." Akiyama laced his fingers behind his head and looked off at the greener part of the horizon.
"I don't even know how to repay you."
Reika sat cross-legged, settled the book carefully on her lap, and started reading the table of contents.
"See me at the Silver Crown League and give me everything you've got. That's how."
A Pikachu, huh.
"I hear my idol's entering the Silver Crown League too." Reika lifted her head, and her face was completely serious. "I'm not losing to anybody before I reach him. So don't worry—I'll make it worth your while."
"Did you pick Pikachu because of your idol?" Akiyama asked, out of nowhere.
"I did!"
And with that confirmation, Akiyama knew exactly who the mystery Trainer his cousin had mentioned was.
He just didn't know which one.
Oh, hell. Maybe I should go home and take over the family business after all.
Yikes.
That was the thought. The look on his face was something else—the corners of his mouth kept climbing.
He was more excited than he wanted to admit.
It meant he'd finally get to meet an old friend he'd never once laid eyes on.
After that Reika went quiet, nose down in the book, having her horizons forcibly widened.
The sky in the distance kept getting greener. At the stroke of midnight, it stopped being green and became something else.
An ocean of auroras.
Reika looked up from the page and forgot to look back down.
Kadabra forgot Confusion entirely, and Pikachu hit the ground face-first.
"Pika?"
Then he followed everyone's eyes, and forgot what he'd been doing too.