Henry was five minutes late. He was five minutes late and he cursed the day he was born. Maybe Forge would be late too? 

 

Pfft, yeah right. He didn’t seem like the type of guy. Anyone who left thirty minutes early to prepare for a walk–of all things–could only be the spitting image of “punctual.”

 

Sure enough, watching the rapids rush by was Forge. And he wasn’t alone. There was some manner of Pokémon nuzzled beside his left leg, merrily chomping down on a juicy-looking apple. It was orange–no, brown; some shade between the two. Its ears pointed to the sky, ending in curly tips like a Beautifly’s proboscis. Four brown stubs served as its forelegs and hindlegs. Most striking of all was the tail it wagged upon every bite; it was shaped like a lightning bolt, poised and ready to cleave the heavens.

 

“Sorry I’m late!” Henry panted, clutching his burning chest.

 

Forged scanned him from head to toe. “Where’s your partner…?”

 

Henry swallowed the dry scratch itching his throat. “Partner? Oh, you mean the guy I was with?”

 

“No. I mean your Part—ner…”

 

Saying it a second time wasn’t going to help; what in the world was he on about?

 

Henry followed Forge’s disinterested gaze down to the chunky feller stuffing the last of an apple core into his chubby cheeks. “Ooooooh, you mean a Pokémon.” He scratched at the shameful rash spreading across his scalp. “I—umm—I don’t exactly have one, hehe…”

 

For a brief moment, Forge’s bangs parted to reveal eyes wide with perplexion. “You don’t have a Pokémon…?”

 

Henry shook his head, his cheeks catching fire.

 

“But you want to be a Gladiator…? You want to join our club…?”

 

Henry nodded, his heart burning just as ferociously. He was a little surprised with himself. After having struggled to choose a Track, he didn’t expect the choice of Club to come so naturally. This must have been a star just for him, he was sure of it.

 

But it was unclear how “on the same page” Forge was–what with his blank expression and all. He stared at Henry, almost as if taking him in–like a critic to a piece of abstract art. 

 

“Alright,” he broke, “Let’s go on our walk…”

 

Henry followed Forge, sticking to his side like a two-man Magneton. Who knew the river outside the Institute went on this long? Henry recalled when it was just a simple creek down the trail from his house. Now, it was a roaring majesty of white waters and skipping Mudkips.

 

Forge’s Pokémon stopped by the bank occasionally to zap at a few Mudkip and Wooper. He pranced along with such zest in his step; it was kind of cute.

 

“I really like your little guy!” Henry complimented, feeling the need to break the ice.

 

Forge grunted, keeping his gaze straight and his steps narrow.

 

“I’ve, uh, never seen a Pokémon like him before.”

 

Forge grunted? At least this one had a bit of an inquiry to its tone. 

 

“Does he—umm—have a name?”

 

“...‘Chester’...And he’s a Raichu…”

 

Henry admired Chester as he braved the rapids, hopping from rock to rock to harass a group of lounging Slowpoke. “Chester. That’s a pretty sophisticated name for a little guy like him!”

 

Forge grunted–and just when it seemed like they were getting somewhere.

 

But where was “where” anywho? Was this walk to have a destination at its conclusion? They had been strolling for well over forty minutes; the horizon was beginning to burn.

 

Henry’s knees were screaming at him. He never did spend much of his time working on the farm, not that there was much to do, anyway. Regretful; hindsight berated him for not taking the time to get into better shape. All the more reason to join the Gladiators.

 

Eventually, the river did turn again, just as it did in front of the Institution. It was at this bend that Forge held out an arm, preventing Henry’s advance.

 

“Hmm? What’s up? Why’d we stop?”

 

“Quiet, now…” Forge raised a finger to the corner of the stream. “See that…?”

 

Henry squinted. He could make out some smudgy shape or another bobbing up and down in the water–a tuft of leaves protruding from its north pole.

 

“Catch it…”

 

“H-huh?”

 

Forge placed his hands on his hips. “Go ahead and catch that Oddish…”

 

Henry studied the shape again. It emerged from the water and was in the process of shaking itself clean. Indeed, an Oddish it was–that wasn’t the confusing part. No, what had Henry so uncertain, was what exactly Forge meant when he said “Catch it.”

 

“Oh—um—ok.” Nevertheless, he would give it full heart and vigor.

 

Henry let his boots sink into the mud, putting his full weight into every step. The moist dirt would absorb his approach. All he needed to do was avert the Oddish’s eyes, and the “catch” was his. 

 

A cluster of Sunkern watched him curiously from the tree line on his right. Why couldn’t Forge have asked him to catch one of those instead? Sunkern couldn’t flee if they were startled; an Oddish could.

 

Henry waited until the little leafhead turned its back to the river. He hastened his march. Once he was a solid meter from the blue feller–no more, no less–he pounced. 

 

He caught a faceful of mud, and a bit of grass for his teeth. The Oddish sprang towards the trees, but it wasn’t looking to flee. No, this was to be a battle. The blue ball of fury spit a thin stream of purple toxin from his mouth. It caught on Henry's coat, which was thick enough to tank the attack without him feeling a thing.

 

He jumped to his feet and turned to Forge for guidance, but found none. Forge was watching him get attacked, but he didn’t seem the least bit concerned. He just stood there with his arms crossed; observing. His Raichu rolled in the dirt beside him, seemingly Oblivious to everything going on.

 

The Oddish yelped. It hopped a thirty-degree angle around Henry and cornered him against the river. 

 

Henry blocked his face, always ready to sacrifice his arms. Better them as opposed to his eyes.

 

Much like the assault from the Professor’s Politoed, the finishing blow from the Oddish never came. What did come, was a surge of electricity strong enough to stand every hair on Henry’s body.

 

Chester leered the Oddish into submission, sneering at it on all fours. In the blink of an eye, this cuddly creature no longer seemed so friendly, but oh did it maintain its jovial demeanor. The Raichu seemed nothing short of elated to be engaged in a fight, as if it weren’t just rolling through fallen berries and flowers a moment ago.

 

Sparks spazzed from the yellow circles on its cheek. Then they emanated from the fur of his legs. Then his body. 

 

In a flash–quite literally–his entire being was engulfed in a radiant dance of electrons. From his front right stub, an all-engulfing inferno flickered to life. A Fire Punch? Raichu didn’t strike Henry as the type of Pokémon capable of Fire moves. He supposed he still had a lot to learn, but the last thing he would do was question it when it was in his favor.

 

Chester brushed his belly against the earth, preparing to lunge. His tail raised to the sky–standing stiff as if expecting a bolt of lightning on a cloudless day.

 

With a predator’s speed, he pounced. The Fire Punch landed on the Oddish before the poor thing could even turn to flee. It skipped across the mud and went unconscious after colliding with a sleeping stone.

 

Chester ran circles around his own tail, before plunging the ecstatic thing into the soil and letting free a dazzling light show of stray bolts and unbridled power. Once his fit concluded, he scratched his ear with a filthy foot and pranced back to Forge’s side.

 

Henry finally released the breath he held captive. “Thanks.”

 

Forge grunted. He walked right past Henry–the Oddish was to be his target.

 

He pulled a Bronze Ball from his coat pocket. He turned the crank three times clockwise, dug his heels into the mud, bent his knees outward, wound his entire shoulder girdle, and hurled the ball as hard as he could.

 

The spin was perfect–paragon if paragon took material form. It sliced through the wind like an Air Slash.

 

No sooner than it thwonked the slumped form of the Oddish–the sore creature vanished, gone in a small sphere of light. The Bronze Ball gave one shake; two shakes; three. Then, it dinged, like a timer reached zero.

 

Forge retrieved his catch. He brought it back to Henry.

 

Did he catch it for him? He didn’t seem the type to do such courtesies for someone else, but you can’t judge a book by its cover–that’s what Ms.Marianna always said. 

 

Henry reached out to receive his gift.

 

His palms grasped cold air, and nothing more. 

 

Forge scowled at him. “This isn’t yours.”

 

“O—oh…Sorry, I—just assumed—”

 

“You’re not joining.”

 

“C—come again?”

 

“I don’t think I will.” 

 

Forge slipped the ball into his pocket. “Let’s see: you don’t have a Pokémon; you don’t know how to catch one; you couldn’t even handle an Oddish; and, most frustrating of all, you expect handouts. You’re not in, that’s final.”

 

Who…who was this? Where did all the grunting go–the indifference? Henry felt like he was being scolded by his old hometown school teacher. “Well, I—uh—I thought I could, you know—learn, and—”

 

“The Gladiators Club isn’t for people like you.”

 

What? “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“Exactly what you think.”

 

Forge tapped Chester on the head to grab his attention. “We’re out of here…Sorry for wasting your time…”

 

Henry could have sworn the little guy gave him a sly smirk–a gesture of smug superiority. Surely he was just projecting.

 

Regardless, Forge and his Raichu began on their way—without Henry.

 

They were leaving him, just like that, but not without making one last insulting thing clear.

“Guys like you really make my skin crawl…Wandering aimlessly; no drive, no purpose…Without even the strength to forge your own path…Stay clear of me; stay out of my way; never waste my time again…and start taking life more seriously.”