Chapter 5

  Unova… The actual Unova.

  True, I quit playing Pokémon after Diamond and Pearl, but that didn’t mean I knew nothing about the gens that came after. With the announcement of new game releases, I would be curious enough to check out the starters, legendaries, and that sort of superficial stuff.

  I wasn’t totally in the dark. But if my knowledge of Kanto up to Sinnoh was like a well-lit lightbulb, then my knowledge of Unova onwards was like a well-lit matchstick. I wasn’t even sure what the game titles for the Unova region were – my memory on that regard was a jumbled mess.

  “Burak-and-Whaitu,” Zuqimori says, next to me.

  We’re outside his laboratory cave, walking on real Unovan soil.

  What does it look like?

  Well for one, the greens of plants is really green, like every plant is ODing on chlorophyll.

  The air feels fresh, clean, and slightly humid. The plants might have something to do with that. We’re in the middle of nowhere according to Zuqimori. Zeria Ruins was an old site where a now-dead cult used for worshipping a “mighty Pokémon”.

  What were those legendaries called again? … From Black & White…

  I do have vague memories of the game covers. The legendaries on them were like ying and yang. One was fully white, bird-like, and the other was fully black, with a ridiculous-looking bulbous thing on its ass – like an airplane engine. Their names are on the tip of my tongue, but I just can’t seem to recall them.

  It’s late in the afternoon judging by the pleasant breeze and amber sun shining from across the horizon. The only way I could describe the area so far was beautiful in the only way nature can be. I had touched grass enough times back on Earth, seen pretty spots and parks, been on a few holidays with mom abroad to Europe and South America. Hell, Thunder Bay, Ontario was well known for its natural beauty, with Lake Superior in the backyard and plenty of conservation areas within walking distance. So, I knew that even Earth’s nature could be something to behold.

  I supposed the world around Zeria Ruins didn’t look particularly different from some of the natural reserves back home.

  But there was definitely something different… something below the surface of it all. Maybe it was all in my head, knowing that pokémon were real, and I was now walking in a world likely teeming with them. There was an almost prehistoric rawness to everything, like being in Jurassic Park. I felt as alive and present as I did during my first playthrough of Skyrim or Darksouls 2.

  It felt good.

  Misdreavus and Galvantula had stayed behind in the cave – Zuqimori was paranoid about leaving his “bases” unattended (apparently, this wasn’t his only home). I had gotten a little worried, remembering the lines from the games; It’s dangerous out there without your own pokémon! – but I was quickly educated.

  “I know you are Amerikan, Baruto-kun, so I am very patient, but I want you to throw all stupid knowledge from your mind.” Zuqimori taps his skull. “All stupid knowledge from Satoshi and Ken. I am your Pokémon sensei now, OK? Only me, Sugimori Tajiri.”

  “Are they family of yours…?”

  Zuqimori stops and gives me a stare behind those cracked glasses, which he was refused to take off. “What?”

  I had remembered now. I knew why Zuqimori’s actual name had sounded familiar. Ken Sugimori was the main man behind the original Pokémon art. He designed and drew the coolest pokémon and trainer concepts.

  Satoshi Tajiri was the main idea guy. Ash Ketchum’s Japanese name is Satoshi. The man came up with the original idea and invented Pokémon… officially.

  “They have the same names as you…”

  “WHAT?!”

  I jump at his sudden outburst. Oh, boy… I think I’ve done it again, but it’s too late to go back now. In the little time I’ve known this man, I just know he won’t let it go.

  “Yeah,” so I lean into it. “Satoshi’s other name is Tajiri,” I reveal, “and Ken’s other name is Sugimori… just like you…”

  Zuqimori’s body shuts down, head hanging limp on his neck and his shoulders dropping like he’s off-button has just been pressed. Quickly though, he sniggers, looks sideways with a grin, then puts his hands on his waist. The news is wreaking havoc through his system. I can tell. So I get my ears ready for another rowdy episode of ‘A day in the life of…’

  Zuqiomri is swearing all manner of obscenities in Japanese – but quietly. The venom behind his words is palpable. Spittle is flying from his lips, and I half-expect him to start puking.

  After a full 30-seconds of this Nobel Peace Prize speech (he actually maintained his cool), he beams at me and carries on walking.

  “Satoshi and Ken… They take my names… I’m sure they even sex my wife…”

  “Oh… hey, you can’t know that…”

  “Amerikan cannot know the mind of Japanese!”

  I shut my mouth.

  “Their children… I’m sure they romance my daughter.”

  …

  …

  “But they’re rich, if that’s true, they must be well looked after-” I regret it the moment it comes out of my mouth.

  Zuqimori’s reaction isn’t so bad. He’s just grinning as we walk.

  “When we get back, Baruto-kun, you and me will romance and sex both mothers of Ken and Satoshi, OK?”

  Zuqimori… you sick fuck. He is holding out a fist bump. I spot a thick vein on his neck, and a few smaller ones on his temple. It’s taking everything he has to hold it down.

  We bump fists.

  “Okay…”

  “Oh-Khey! Let us catch your pokémon!”

  In Unova, there is a minimum age requirement to legally own a pokémon. Eight.

  There is also a minimum age requirement to officially become a trainer. Twelve.

  Apparently, it’s like that in many of the regions Zuqimori has lived in (and he has lived in a few). The idea that preschoolers could officially engage in pokémon battles tickled him, who thought that Ken and Satoshi had deliberately lowered the age to appeal to as many kids as possible.

  “That’s still pretty low,” I muttured, and it got me thinking… Ash Ketchum was 10 years old in the show when he started his adventure. Red, Blue, Yellow, Green – all of them were young kids too in the manga.

  My eyes light up. “Is Ash Ketchum a real guy?”

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  Zuqimori was chewing something he had pinched from a small metal tin in his lab coat’s breast pocket.

  “Ash – Ketcha??? Ketchup? Tomato-”

  “Ketchum,” I correct.

  He repeats the name a few times.

  “He is person from Pokémon game?”

  “He is the main character of the anime show.”

  He nodded slowly, watching the path ahead. “Describe.”

  I give him the full description – Pikachu, red hat, spiky black hair… Champion of the Indigo League-”

  He says an “ah!” at that last one.

  “Champion of Indigo is very hard title to earn,” he says pensively. “…And there is only one Champion of Indigo who has succeeded with such weak pokémon as Pikachu. Say name again?” He cocks an ear towards me.

  “Ash Ketchum…”

  He shakes his head. “No. The one we know here is called Buraduri…”

  “Bradley?!” I start. Ash Ketchum’s actual name was Bradley???

  Zuqimori holds up a finger. “Remember Baruto-kun, we are speaking language from our warld – not this one. If you say this ‘Ash Katcham’ in Pokémon-warld language, I will have understanded immediately.”

  The logic is impossible to comprehend, and maybe that’s why it cramps my brain.

  “- That is why I say you must practice language for this warld.”

  I chuckle to myself. “Bradley…”

  We walk in silence for the next few minutes. We’ve yet to see another pokémon, but I can hear them. I didn’t think it’d be so nerve-wracking. I’m now glancing at every gap in the trees, flinching at every shadow or falling leaf, and sticking as close to Zuqimori as possible.

  “You are big pussy, Baruto-kun,” he comments snidely. “Japanese always thinking Amerikan is brave and strong, but they not meet with you.”

  “I’m new here!” I huff. “Don’t you realize how crazy this is?”

  “Shh!” he suddenly hushes. “Shh, shh… look, look!”

  My heart is thumping hard as I follow where he is pointing with my eyes. It’s right ahead of us, off by the path, a creature like a warthog, humped over the ground, sniffing around. It’s about twenty meters away.

  Zuqimori licks his lips and slowly puts a hand inside the fold of his lab coat.

  “This is Dirirubura, Baruto-kun. It is like mole – you like mole?”

  I stay statue-still and blink a few times. “Diriru-what?”

  Zuqimori sighs. “DrellBarR…”

  I still don’t get it, so he clicks his tongue in annoyance.

  “Drilbur!” he hisses in poké-world language.

  I wince as my brain begins tightening, but thankfully, he does not continue.

  “Drilbur?”

  “Yes.”

  I jog my memory, but nothing. “Never heard of it.”

  He mutters something in Japanese and turns to me, exasperated.

  “Oeee, you like mole or no!” He’s raised his voice and quickly glances back at the wild pokémon. The thing called Drilbur jerks up, letting out a badger-like growl.

  “Do not be afraid, sweetie!” Zuqimori calls out in Pokénglish. “We wish to be your friends!”

  Drilbur looks nothing like a warthog. Its head looks like a squirrel’s or a rat’s… or yeah, I guess a mole’s. Long pointed snout and – Oh fuck… Are those really its claws? They’re almost as big as the rest of it!

  “You like or no, Amerikan?!” Zuqimori whispers violently from the side of his mouth. He’s still got his hand inside his lab coat, for what I assume has got to be a Poké-Ball.

  “Uhhmm… I don’t know! Is it any good?!” I whisper back.

  Zuqimori swears. “It can dig graves really fast!”

  I frown hard. Is that some kind of threat? Japanese humor? “Fine, I like it!”

  Zuqimori nods and turns back on his sweet, somewhat ugly smile. “We’re lost out here, ya’see, and we really need some help finding our way back home. Will you help us, cute friend?”

  His Pokénglish is still disorienting to listen to, but I breathe deeply through my nose and do my best to tough it out.

  Drilbur raises one of its hefty-clawed paws and murmurs like some kind of lemur.

  “Yes, sweetie,” Zuqimori continues. “You are so, so cute and good-looking. And look at those claws you have! Dear! You must be the strongest little warrior in the bush…”

  He’s taking slow, careful steps towards Drilbur, who doesn’t immediately run away, but it does not look at ease either, judging by the way it’s fully trained on us, watching our every move.

  Wild pokémon might attack in the wild!

  It’s too dangerous out there without a pokémon!

  Thank God you had your pokémon with you!

  Old lines from the games scroll through my mind, and I take nervous step closer to Zuqimori.

  Drilbur doesn’t like it and growls again, this time, a whiny, prolonged growl.

  “No no no, sweetie! We’re really just lost – my fat son here just decided to come visit me, and he’s just never seen such a mighty little warrior as yourself…”

  “What are you doing?” I whisper, trying to ignore the knot in brain, “you’re making no sense…”

  “Shut up, Baruto-kun,” Zuqimori utters in low, gravelly Japanglish, then turns on the smile again, and switches back to Pokénglish “Well? What do you say, cutie? Will you -”

  Drilbur’s had enough. With a small shriek, it turns from us and begins scooting away.

  Zuqimori roars and pulls out the Poké – … gun?!

  …

  He pulls out a gun from his lab coat. A fucking gun with a silencer!!!

  “JOIN US, YOU BRAT!”

  *pew* *pew*

  The gun fires, but the sound is suppressed.

  I’m horrified and shocked… and gutted. Any respect I had for Zuqimori crumbles. How could he? I realize that he must genuinely be insane. All those 20+ years trying to escape must have damaged him more than he let on. Right now, I don’t know him at all, all I know is that he is unhinged and dangerous.

  Fight or flight.

  Fight.

  With a sharp inhale, I rush at Zuqimori, who has his back turned as he takes aim on the poor wild pokémon. He manages to fire twice more before I tackle him to the ground.

  I’m roaring and feel tears welling up in my eyes from the fear, repulsion, and most of all anger at the brutality. I guess I just hate seeing a little guy getting picked on.

  I grasp his gun-holding hand with my own and with the other, I grab at the collar of his lab coat, sitting on his belly to pin him down. His cracked glasses are halfway across his face, and his eyes are saucers of pure bewilderment.

  “WHY!” I scream. “WHY DID YOU DO THAT!”

  It takes a few moments, but Zuqimori gradually realizes what’s happened.

  “Baruto-kun?” he says incredulously, then lets out a huff of a chuckle.

  “Why did you shoot it…” I say in a calmer voice, but I’m still horrified, and my hands are clamping down on him with all my strength.

  “Baruto-kun!” he cries out with a smile. “You are so crazy!”

  I’m breathing heavily and pull at his collar lightly. “Why did you shoot?”

  He begins wheezing. “Cannot breathe! Can-nnn-nohht!” … I'm not a light guy, but he's definitely exaggerating.

  I ease up and he gasps in relief.

  “I thought we were going to catch it – not kill it…”

  “Kill?” he replies, raising his voice. “Kill?! … Oe, Baruto, don’t press my patience so far – get off!”

  I stare at him. “No.”

  He looks surprised, like he can’t quite wrap his head around it.

  “Give me the gun.”

  “The gun?!” he yells. “But this is for catch, baka! Sleep-gun!”

  My eyes quickly glance over where I last saw the Drilbur, but I can’t spot it. Zuqimori shifts under me.

  “Bartholomew,” he says in Pokénglish, and a pang of panic shoots through me. My brain begins to tighten. “Hello, hello, hello, hello, hello, hellooooo Bartholomew! Hello, hello, hello, hi!”

  I clench my jaws and wince in discomfort. “You…”

  “Bartholomew the dumbass, ignorantly attacking his seniors. His aptitude – zero! His attitude – zero! His gratitude – zero!”

  I force a smile on my face, powering through the cramp forming in my brain.

  “He thinks I murdered a poor Drilbur…” Zuqimori begins to sit up, my own body slowly losing strength. “He doesn’t know how the world here works, because he’s grown up on the bullshit fed to him by my mortal enemies, Satoshi and Ken!” He finally shoves me off and I fall, clutching at my face at the dull but deep discomfort in my head.

  “Baruto-kun,” Zuqimori switches, standing up. “I tell you before; forget Pokémon stories you see back home. I will teach about true Pokémon knowledge. I will be your sensei – me!”

  Several minutes later, I’m sat on the ground, feeling ashamed and depressed. Every rare occasion I try to act brave always seems to blow in my face.

  The Drilbur we saw is sleeping peacefully a few feet away, tranquilized by Zuqimori’s ‘Wilder Gun’. He explained everything to me. In the real Pokémon world, humans aren’t helpless against wild pokémon. There is special equipment they can use to keep themselves relatively safe. The Wilder Gun is one such thing. It looks more like a flare gun, but Zuqimori’s is upgraded with an accuracy nozzle (not a silencer). It’s still advised to have your own pokémon whilst venturing out, but Zuqimori knew the area well, and preferred to keep his own on housekeeping duty.

  Saying that I feel like an idiot would be putting it lightly. Damn it, my ears are burning from the embarrassment, but Zuqimori does not seem at all bothered. In fact, he tries to cheer me up.

  “Do not worry, Baruto-kun, you are stupid, yes, but you have shown me something else. Something good.” He puts a hand on my shaggy locks of hair. “Now I can know that you are of very pure heart – like my dog, or my hamtaro.”

  I shift on the spot and tilt my head up at him with a defeated expression.

  “Now I can know that you are worthy of my trust.”

  I nod, hoping he leaves it on that note.

  He flaps open his lab coat and lifts the fold of his tucked-in shirt, revealing a golf-sized Poké-Ball. He unclips it from his waist and presses its center-button. It grows to fit his palm.

  “Now you catch this Dirirubura.” He hands me the Poké-Ball, and immediately, my mood begins lifting.

  “Okay… Thanks.” I’m smiling. This will be the first pokémon I ever catch. The only let down is that nobody back home will ever know about it. Me, Bartholomew Raileigh, a bullied good-for-nothing, becomes the second person from my world to ever to ever catch the real thing. The dream of the entire Pokémon Go fanbase and more.

  “Press top, throw, and wait…”

  “Yes, okay!”

  I press the top button, an amber ring of light lights up around the center button, and I gently toss the ball underhand. It bounces once on the sleeping Drilbur before snapping open. Drilbur’s body shimmers momentarily, then shines bright, with a blue, instead of pinkish, hue. The light swirls into the ball, and it begins rocking on the ground, red ring of light flashing round the center-button. My eyes are completely peeled open. The feeling is even better than getting your first console.

  Soon enough, the red blinks white, then a steady green.

  “Green means catch. Press center button to secure into Pokémon-Ball…”

  Zuqimori is standing a few paces away, arms crossed and watching intently as he guides me through this. It is the most serious he’s been, and I like it.

  *click*

  The lights switch off and Drilbur lies asleep, inside a Poké Ball, on my palm.

  “Woaaa…” I gush.

  It’s such a rush!

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