The Green One

The man’s screaming for his life. Fine. I throw the ball to the ground. I hear the familiar burst of electrical energy as it erupts from the ball and transforms back into the creature it was before it was stored.

A little green guy steps out of the light. It turns around and faces me, seemingly unfazed by the attack. It kind of reminds of a sneasel, except it looks more like a grass-type and less like it’s going to try to kill you the moment it sees you.

It stares at me with that familiar look of expectation.

Brendan: Well… you know, hit it or something.

The little guy shrugs and jumps on the back of the other Pokémon, grabbing on to its fur, and pummelling it with his free fist.

The other Pokémon — think it’s a zigzagoon, maybe? — growls, and tries to get my guy off his back, twisting and turning its back violently, but his attacker just keeps going.

The zigzagoon drops down, exhausted, or maybe because the weight of my guy is too much for him. His attacker lets go of it and turns back to me, but it jumps up and tries to get the jump on him. I guess it was playing dead.

Somehow my guy catches on quickly, as he whips around and slams his tail into the side of the zigzagoon’s head, knocking it out cold.

Brendan: Holy shit.

Birch laughs.

Birch: Impressed huh? Treecko are rare, but they are—

He drops from the tree.

Brendan: Fuck, are you okay?

I help him to his feet, but he’s just laughing.

Birch: I’m fine, son. Just perfect. I was gonna say; those treecko are quick as a gust of wind, but you know, I might as well say they’re as quick as a middle-aged biologist dropping from a tree!

He laughs again. I give a polite smile.

Birch: Anyway, thanks for helping me out son, what’s your name?

I tell him.

Birch: Bre— wait a minute, you’re Norman’s boy aren’t you? Now I see it! Good to see you, son.

Brendan: You too. Are you sure you’re alright?

I point at his knee. It’s blue as a poliwag.

Birch: Yes, I’m fine, I’m fine… not new to fieldwork you know?

He takes a step, and almost drops to the floor again.

Birch: You know— no. Not fine. Not fine at all.

He throws me a pained smile.

Birch: Might need a hand, if you don’t mind.

I nod, and gather his bag and pokéballs. he throws an arm around my shoulder. The treecko is close behind as we make our way to his lab.

Birch: You really look like him, your dad. Same look in your eyes when you’re battling.

Brendan: I don’t know about that.

Birch: I’m telling you! Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

Brendan: Neither do you.

He guffaws.

Birch: Same sense of humour too. But really, I’ve never seen that treecko follow anyone’s orders, let alone someone he just met.

The treecko is still following us. I’ve no idea what goes on behind those yellow eyes.

Birch: You know, if you’re interested—

He steps into a hole and yelps in pain.

Brendan: Are you sure we shouldn’t go to your house?

Birch: Don’t want to worry the missus. Besides, I can still work sitting down, right?

I guess. We arrive at the lab, and I help the professor get into his office chair.

Birch: Brendan. I was trying to say it earlier, but… that treecko really seems to like you.

All I see is a Pokémon that’s staring at my like I’m a tv or something.

Birch: How about you take it?

I snicker.

Birch: Why not? It’s a good Pokémon.

Brendan: It’s not that… I’m not a big Pokémon guy, is all.

He starts laughing again.

Birch: No Pokémon guy— kid, you’re a natural! I saw you connect with that Pokémon back there. You didn’t even need to tell him what to do.

Brendan: I told him to go hit that Pokémon. Not so hard to fill in the rest.

Birch: Listen, son. That Pokémon hasn’t been in a single fight in its entire life, and I’ve never seen it put its trust in a human. Then you come around, tell him to go hit something, and it knocks out a zigzagoon with a perfect pound from its tail. You gotta understand, kid. This little guy never does anything unless it wants to. It wants to fight for you.

Brendan: And what if I don’t want him to?

He shrugs.

Birch: Then you don’t tell it too. Simple as that. When you connect to a Pokémon, man, that’s one of the most loyal friends you can get. You don’t throw that away, son.

He offers me the empty pokéball. I sigh. I’ve heard all that shit before, from my dad. To me, it’s always been hem explaining how his little pets were more important than me.

Fine.

Brendan: Okay.

I accept the pokéball, and stuff it in my pocket. Birch looks surprised.

Birch: You’re not calling it back?

Brendan: Nah, if it wants to stay with me, it’ll follow me, right? I’m not gonna make that decision for him.

A large smile appears on his bearded face.

Birch: Now that’s something I haven’t heard before. Good! Great, actually. Show him trust, to help him deal with his own trust issues. I get it! Genius.

Maybe, I just can’t imagine anyone enjoying being stuffed into something the size of an apricorn.

Brendan: Okay… uh, I guess I’ll go now.

Birch: Yes, of course, don’t let me keep you from doing… whatever you youngsters are up to these days.

Brendan: Not much.

I smile, and get ready to leave. The treecko hesitates for a while, and then silently follows me to the door.

Birch: Actually… Brendan, could you do me another favour? If you’re not too busy doing ‘not much.’

Brendan: What do you need?

Birch: Could you go find May for me? You remember May right? She said you spoke yesterday.

Brendan: Yeah… yeah, we did. She at home?

Birch: She’s up in Oldale. It’s quite the trek, but I’d be really grateful if you could get her back here. I was gonna go to her myself, but you know…

Brendan: No problem. It’s not like I got anything better to do, anyway.

I also wouldn’t mind seeing May again.

Birch: Fantastic! Thanks a bunch. See you in a few hours.

Brendan: I don’t suppose there’s a train or something?

He laughs.

Birch: No trains in Hoenn son. Who would want to go by train here anyway? You’d miss all the adventure.

Right, adventure.

I say goodbye, and head back north of town. The treecko trails behind me.