The Ghost Specialist

Sam felt like he was in a daze as he sat on his bed. His mother had been supportive—far too supportive.

What is it that she actually wants?

He didn’t want to think about that topic. It’d been years of no discussion, and out of nowhere, she was suddenly supporting this random match. Confused and honestly worried, he turned his thoughts to something else: namely, the location where his future opponent worked.

A Pokémon Gym.

Pokémon Gyms were institutions that served as challenges for the average Pokémon Trainer’s journey. At one point in almost every person’s life, they would take a break from school, work, and whatever other responsibilities they had to catch Pokémon, make friends, and explore their local region. Sam hadn’t gone on his Pokémon journey just yet, mostly because things had come up back when he was first making plans. Cyndaquil had still joined him regardless, but he hadn’t exactly trained or even gained the experience needed to take on someone strong enough to work for a Gym.

Gyms were places to be conquered, to earn Badges that marked a Pokémon Trainer’s success. Earn eight, and you could compete in that region’s yearly conference. Earn less, and all you get is a bit of bragging rights.

If Buck was a Gym Trainer, that meant he had been recognized as a trainer either strong or skilled enough to help maintain the challenges so many faced during the nine-month-long Pokémon League Season. That Makuhita was likely a veteran of many fights. Sure, it might not have been evolved, but assuming it was as much of a novice as Cyndaquil had been an awful mistake.

Those thoughts only served to increase his nerves further. Sam hopped off his bed and began to pace. As he did, Cyndaquil moved off his lap to watch him. Her head tracked him back and forth.

Sam was inside his bedroom, which was actually the building’s attic. Its entrance was located within his family’s living space behind the store. A door connected the store to their home, but only he, his mother, and their Pokémon were allowed to pass through. Downstairs was a connected living room and kitchen, and up here was his personal space and shared storage. Boxes littered one half of the room, but the other, more empty half, was very decidedly his.

Pausing, Sam scratched at his own arm nervously, terrified about the lengths he’d need to go to pull off a win. His worried moment was interrupted when Cyndaquil squeaked. Being reminded she was there, he affectionately patted her head.

“I’m sorry. I’m just... stressed.”

Cyndaquil turned towards the floor as Sam sat back down. A second later, she was in his lap, relying on puppy-therapy to help calm him down.

It worked. Kind of. Sam absent-mindedly scratched behind her head and turned his thoughts to a more productive topic.

“So a Makuhita is a Fighting Type. According to the latest Pokédex, its ability is Guts, which means trying to burn it will just give it adrenaline to fuel its attacks. We could still burn it to potentially wear it down over time, but the only moves we have at our disposal are Tackle, Leer, Smokescreen, and Ember. None of those are that strong.”

The sound that left Cyndaquil’s mouth almost sounded like an apology, but Sam immediately shook his head.

“Don’t apologize. Neither of us have gone out of our way to train. If I actually bothered to take you out to battle instead of just reading all day, maybe we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

Mainly, Sam was disappointed in himself. At the time, the challenge had seemed like such a good idea.

The man was a Pokémon Trainer! And Pokémon Trainers resolved issues via battle! If Sam wanted to be a Pokémon Trainer too, why wouldn’t he try to do the same?

Well, for starters, I don’t have any experience actually leading Pokémon in battle.

The thought made him sigh.

He then heard a series of footsteps from the lower floor before hearing his Mom shout.

“I just finished closing the store for the day! I’ll be up in a second!”

Shortly after, the trapdoor to his bedroom creaked open, and Delcatty poked her head through. She bounded over to Sam’s bed to join his side, and his mother followed.

She didn’t say anything as she finished climbing up the ladder. Silently, Sam’s mom moved to sit on the bed next to him.

Though she didn’t look upset in the slightest, she still let a few seconds of silence hang.

“Whew,” she eventually said, breathing out. “Some day, huh?”

Sam briefly thought back to everything that happened at the abandoned mansion, then to everything that happened in the store.

“Yeah, you can say that.” He chuckled a bit to himself.

“Look, Sam. I know you’re worried about the battle, but I’ve only seen one person more dedicated to Pokémon than you, and that man was your Grandfather! You practically inhale any books we get about Pokémon, and when you’re not reading those, you’re on the computer browsing... What did you call it?”

“The Ghost Type forum, Mom,” he said.

“The Ghost Type forum, right!” she said. “But please, listen to me and know that you can do this.”

If I ask about going on my journey now, would she approve?

He turned to his mother. She was smiling at him. He remembered the last time he had asked and the grim look that overtook her face.

“Alright, so what do I do?” he asked. He chose not to bring up the subject right now.

“Rely on our secret weapon,” his mother easily replied.

“...What?”

“What, yourself, mister. Did you not realize we have a secret weapon in the room right with us?”

Sam stared at his mom blankly, and she chuckled. Delcatty released a few amused meows herself, as well. Silently, his mom waved her hand to gesture to the boxes that filled the other half of the attic.

“Your father was a Pokémon Ranger when he passed, and my dad—your Grandfather—was a powerful trainer before he retired,” she started. “We never really unpacked their stuff after moving, but I bet if we search, we could find something that they wrote down to help you in your preparations, hm?”

Sam looked at the pile with a new perspective. Before, it was just junk that took up space. Now, it could actually contain something worthwhile. Though daunted by the sheer amount of work ahead of him, Sam was willing to do it if it meant he would win.

“Let’s do it,” he said.

His mother’s smile was as bright as the sun.

“That’s the spirit! The best time to start is right now! You get that side, and I’ll get the other! I’m sure we’ll find something by the end of the night!”

And just like that, Sam and his mother began to dig through piles of junk to hopefully find anything that would mean a victory against Buck.

Cyndaquil was quick to help, using her snout to sniff out items of interest and going out of her way to organize items set aside. Delcatty seemed as though she just wanted to relax on the bed, but Sam’s mom informed the feline that wouldn’t be the case. With a reluctant “Mrow,” Delcatty hopped off and unhappily assisted by pushing a few spare boxes towards Sam and his mother. It meant they only needed to search, and with everyone involved, the group made slow but consistent progress.

Piles of shirts, old blankets and towels, and sets of uninteresting knick-knacks were pulled out, looked over, and placed on the floor. There was a brief break to look through a yellowed photo-album, but Sam and his mom determinedly parsed through box after box, searching every inch of the attic they could.

An hour passed, and it felt like they had hardly put even a dent into the pile. Sam at least took some comfort in the fact that this was technically training his and Cyndaquil’s strength, but unless they dedicated themselves to more serious practice, it wouldn’t be enough.

Still, Cyndaquil had come to Sam solely because of his Grandfather. The man had trained a wild Cyndaquil himself, eventually battling alongside a powerful Typhlosion. The idea of some kind of trick being hidden within these boxes wasn’t actually that ridiculous. Likely, Sam’s Grandfather had written down insights about Cyndaquil’s species that Sam could use to shape the way his friend trained.

Though, he never found any. Soon enough, shadows from outside began to stretch into the room, and the only light they had was that of a lamp Sam had near his bed. Dust lingered in the air, having been disturbed from all of the shifting of boxes. Sam had thought he was tired before, but after all of this searching, he was utterly exhausted. He ended up slumping back into his desk chair as his mom swiped her hands together, trying to get some of that dust off.

“Well, I think I’ll get started on dinner. This is enough for today, hm?”

“Sounds good,” Sam replied. A hearty meal sounded absolutely delicious right now.

His mom replied with a supportive smile and a wave of her hand before she disappeared back down the ladder. Delcatty joined her, leaving just Sam and Cyndaquil alone in this room.

“...One more box,” he said.

Cyndaquil groaned, but she still went along with the work.

Sam moved forward, grabbed the edge of one of the cardboard containers, and he pulled it back to give himself room to look through it. Just like so many others, this contained many sheets and towels—leftovers from the variety of beds his Grandfather had purchased for his Pokémon in his old age. Most of those individuals had either passed away shortly after or had been sent to caretakers who could better afford to take care of them. Cyndaquil’s own grandfather was still around, and that Typhlosion lived with a specialized breeder over in Johto.

Despite just being miscellaneous sheets, Sam knew they were likely filled with memories. He didn’t toss them aside, but he did make sure to treat them carefully. Looking around the room, he took in how one man’s entire life was essentially reduced down to miscellaneous items stored into boxes.

It was a heavy thought to consider, so he pushed it out of his mind.

As he turned back to this last box, shuffling sounds came from inside. Cyndaquil had climbed in, and now she was repeating her name rather excitedly.

“What is it? Found something?”

He pulled one last blanket back.

Standing proud, Cyndaquil balanced on her back feet with her front paws pressed into her sides. Underneath her was a wooden chest just big enough to hold in two hands.

“Woah,” Sam breathed.

The chest had tarnished bronze handles on each side, and it was made up of some kind of dark wood. Carvings decorated its surface, displaying myths and legends commonly known in Kanto, such as the region’s legendary birds. It was finely made and definitely impressive. Cyndaquil jumped out, and Sam lifted it up.

“This is...”

He really hoped the chest would contain exactly what they were looking for.

Sam brought it over to his desk. It was both lighter and heavier than he expected. The wood was dense, and items made a few faint noises inside. There was definitely worthwhile “stuff” contained within.

No lock, only a single latch held it closed. It was easy enough to unclick to allow the top to open up. He sat up to better peer in, and Cyndaquil joined him on the table to search, too.

There were only a handful of items in here, but each one carried obvious sentimental value to the long-passed, old man.

The first item Sam pulled out was a set of postcards from cities across Kanto and Johto. None were filled out, but they showed pictures of famous locations and attractions, most of them having been taken decades ago.

Next was one half of a Pokéball, but specifically one half of an old-fashioned version of one. It was metallic—unpainted—and a knob on its top served as the sealing mechanism instead of the commonly-used button Pokéballs used now. Unfortunately, the other half of the Pokéball didn’t seem to be present. Altogether, it was nothing more than a long-lost memory.

After the Pokéball, Sam pulled out a few different items one-by-one. A rock with a strange, domed bulge to it. A feather divided between red, white, and green that seemed to sparkle rainbow in the light. A framed photo showing off a trio of young adults, with only one of which having the dark hair that would signify him as Sam’s grandfather. The other boy in the picture was nervously holding some kind of sketchbook and had weirdly long, hanging sideburns, and next to them was a smirking young woman with bright, blonde hair.

Sam stared at the photograph for a while. He had never seen his grandfather so young. Still, he moved on to the next item shortly after. This one was an old case, which he opened up and immediately took in a breath.

“Woah. If Grandpa had all of these, he probably took on the Gym Challenge right when it started getting popular.”

The case contained a badge from every Gym in Johto and Kanto. In total, there were sixteen, somehow still polished, pins.

Finally, there was only a single item left, located at the very bottom of this chest. Sam had to stand up to get the leverage to reach in, and he held it up once it was firmly in his hands.

“A package? Well, it says ‘To: Richard,’ so it was definitely sent to my Grandpa. I wonder why he never opened it up. It doesn’t say who it’s from.”

Sam looked to Cyndaquil. She was looking right back. Shrugging, Sam went ahead and removed the string that kept the canvas paper on it. A single pull, and practically most of it fell away.

When he had first picked it up, it had almost felt familiar. Now that he had gone ahead to reveal what it was, he figured out why.

“It’s a book!”

He forced himself to calm down. Sam silently admitted he was acting a bit too excited for just one item.

“No title. Weird. Maybe it has what we’re looking for? Let’s see what’s inside.”

The book was more like a journal, though it was both old and thick enough that the word “tome” was probably a better descriptor. Its front cover had been stamped with an indent of a Pokéball, but it was the first interior page that stated what it was.

“The New Pokédex.” The text was proudly printed just past the front cover. Curiously, no author was written, but Sam found it interesting for something so old to make such a bold declaration with its name.

Then, intrigued, Sam flipped past a foreword to reach the table of contents, which seemed to go on for a while. He began to read through, flipped the page, continued to read through, flipped the page, read through—

“This... What? This can’t be real.”

Each entry listed in the table was numbered by the classical entry in the Pokédex. It started with Bulbasaur, simply enough, and it continued on to include all of the Pokémon from Kanto, too. Then, from there, the species of Johto were listed, then Hoenn, then Sinnoh, and Unova and Kalos and Alola and Galar and it had so many more species that Sam hadn’t even heard of.

He had to put it down just to process what he had been holding in his hands.

To state it bluntly, where modern Pokédexes had only a few hundred entries, this book boasted over a thousand. The table of contents presented the potential of impossible information, yet the book was at least several decades old.