The Ghost Specialist

The morning before a Gym Battle was important. Sam demanded that everyone needed to get a good night’s rest and take it easy, as being well-rested was important before a major fight.

For Mankey, relaxing meant getting his blood pumping, as was his nature as a Fighting Type. He practiced, going through his moves, both in-training and learned, and let his mind wander through all the things he liked to do.

Such as acting silly to get people to smile.

Or challenging Pokémon to some kind of competitive match.

Alternatively, there was eating. Personally, Mankey liked eating the most.

He actually considered himself pretty clever when it came to finding food, too. After all, when his troop first discovered their chestnut tree, it was his idea to crack the nuts with rocks. Doing so cut back on the stabbing feeling that came with trying to peel the nuts’ spiky flesh. He was smart! Smarter than the rest. Though, he still had fond memories of everyone else.

He remembered the time he spent with all the other Mankey, and something twanged in his chest. He closed his eyes, and standing on the Pokémon Center bed, he swiped a hand through the air once again. Though his fingers were hooked for a clawing attack, no Ghost Type energy came to him to complete the Shadow Claw he desired.

Annoyed, he breathed out, and Mankey looked over at everyone else here. Sam knelt on the floor, affixing a bandana to Quilava’s neck that would hold her Charcoal close to her skin. Next to a wall, Haunter floated in front of a mirror, his reflection becoming hazy as he did his best to cause his image to fade away.

But Mankey turned and stared at his own hand. No matter what he did, it felt as though using Ghost Type energy was impossible for him. The more he considered that line of thought, the more he felt as though it was true. A rush of anger flowed through him.

What annoyed him the most was that smug jerk had already been able to form sparks around a paw. It was only a matter of time before Teddiursa learned how to use Thunder Punch. Even with all of Haunter and Quilava’s advice, Shadow Claw just wasn’t happening. It was nothing like the Dark Type energy of Assurance, which came to Mankey easily. For that attack, all he had to do was think about how much he wanted to strike. To hurt. To cause someone pain and make them suffer for taking everything he’d ever done and tossing it—

Mankey roared, two hands slamming down into the bed, the mattress squeaking underneath his exerted Cross Chop attack. The quiet praise from Sam and the whispered muttering from Haunter immediately ceased. Everyone turned to look at Mankey, and Mankey blinked awkwardly before calming down and scratching the top of his head.

“...You alright, Mankey?” Sam asked.

Mankey chuffed, waving Sam off. The primate Pokémon turned away, focusing back on practicing his claw attacks in the air.

If it was Shadow Claw, that meant the attack was like some kind of modified Scratch or Fury Swipes, right? He just had to claw with his hand and allow the Ghost Type energy to pour into it.

But how to form that Ghost Type energy?

He swiped once. He swiped again. He swiped a third time, and the only sound in the room was his heavy panting as he continued his workout while everyone stared.

Quilava tried to interrupt with a squeak. She wasn’t necessarily questioning him or anything like that; she was simply expressing her worry for Mankey. The sound made Mankey pause mid-swipe. He didn’t look at her, and Sam stood up to let himself plop down on the edge of the bed, next to where Mankey practiced.

“I know back in Olivine you said you’d explain everything to me, but I am getting worried,” Sam said. “With how much we’ve been developing your anger, it’s... Well, I think it's getting easier for it to affect you.”

Mankey licked his lips, but the action was hidden by his coarse fur. His immediate thought was to brush Sam off with a snort, but he also trusted his trainer. Sam probably had a point.

So, Mankey just huffed and let himself fall back to sit on the bed. He still didn’t want to talk about it. He still wasn’t strong enough. They still hadn’t circled back around to the mountains north of Olivine, either. Between his failure to learn this attack, Teddiursa vastly outpacing him, and then with everyone else evolving, Mankey was starting to feel like the weak link.

Again.

But his trainer didn’t react the way he expected. There was no frown or admonishment or a remark to tell him to push himself harder. Sam just chuckled and patted Mankey’s head. He glanced up at the ceiling, humming as Mankey stared at him.

“You know, Shadow Claw isn’t that important. The same is true about your elemental punches. Type coverage is nice, but in the end, width doesn’t matter as much as depth. What matters is your goals and knowing exactly where you want to end up.”

Mankey looked at Sam, replying with an annoyed grunt of his name.

He ignored what Sam said at the end. Rather, if none of those moves mattered, why did he bother to learn in the first place?

And to that concern, Sam just smiled.

“I’ve talked about our strategy and all of your synergies, but how much do you actually understand about how we’ll be working together as a team?”

Mankey rolled his eyes and grunted. Strategizing was a trainer’s job. His job was to get stronger and beat up anyone that stood in their way.

And learning stronger moves would help him do exactly that. Which is why Shadow Claw was so important.

Sam seemed to get the gist of what Mankey was trying to communicate and hummed in response.

“Alright, so...” Sam took a deep breath. He took a moment to gather his words. “You know my basic plan. Overall, we’re going to fight via overwhelming our opponents with status moves to make it difficult to fight us back. Haunter’s the best example of that, with moves like Hypnosis, Spite, and Confuse Ray, and Quilava can do the same thanks to Will-O-Wisp, Leer, and Smokescreen.”

He looked down and rubbed Mankey’s head. A smile was on his face.

“However,” Sam continued, “conditions aren’t enough to win battles—which is actually the first piece of advice I ever received. Instead, we need good, solid offense to take advantage of Pokémon we weaken, and that’s where you’ll come in.”

Mankey blinked and rolled his jaw as he struggled to process everything Sam said.

“Haunter’s speed makes him a pain to pin down, and Hex can utterly destroy anyone inflicted with a status. With Quilava, Incinerate is an incredible, explosive attack, and now Swift means we can handle speedier targets, too. However, those are all special moves, and their physical attacks won’t hold up in the long run. You’re the lynchpin of all of our strategies, Mankey. I don’t want you selling yourself short.”

He looked up at Sam, but Sam was no longer looking at him. The boy was staring out at nothing at all in particular. There was a plan behind his eyes, a plan that had slowly been building all of this time. He once promised that their team would never be beat, and there was something about his gaze that told Mankey that the dreamed-for future was rapidly coming to fruition.

“Ghost Types don’t tend to be strong up close,” Sam said, his voice basically a whisper. “Most are fragile. Speedy and powerful, yeah, but only certain species can really withstand hits. So if we take you and your incredible physical strength into account...”

Sam turned back to Mankey. There was a shine to his eyes, and Mankey found himself sitting up a bit straighter.

“Rage Fist and Bulk Up. Those are the only two moves you’ll ever need. Learning them now won’t do you good, but I want you to keep them in mind for when you evolve soon enough.”

Sam then paused, running his tongue over his teeth as he seemed to silently picture that future in his mind.

“Rage Fist grows for every hit you take, fueling you with the anger of pain,” he explained. “You need to master it to evolve into Annihilape, and know that the power behind the strike can grow to outmatch even a Hyper Beam. After that, there’s Bulk Up, which is a Dewford speciality. It’ll boost you physically in every way, increasing both your offense and defense and making you a menace in melee fights. And when you combine the two—”

He laughed.

“I see a future where you’ll be able to take on even a Dragonite on your own and come out absolutely victorious!”

Mankey hadn’t ever asked about the future. He had one goal, yeah, but throwing himself in with Sam meant they both shared their goals now, too. But now, he could only look up at Sam in awe. It wasn’t that he was going to evolve into a secret, final evolution, but Sam was going to make him a monster along the way.

His trainer grinned back at him excitedly, but the moment didn’t last forever. Quilava suddenly squeaked something and broke Sam out of his excited, almost dream-like state.

“But, uh, that’s for the future,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’m not sure if that strategy will actually work until we try it, and we still have to actually train to get there. Big developments for when you’re a Primeape, but we’re sticking to general training for now. Practicing new moves is a good way to train your strength and control of Type energy, so don’t worry about Shadow Claw. You’ll probably figure it out within the next few weeks.”

At this point, Mankey no longer cared. He saw Sam’s dream, and he saw that it was beautiful. More than anything, he wanted that power. He wanted that strength so, so much.

He hopped out of his seated position to stand on the bed with his fists clenched tight. Staring right at Quilava, Mankey started to speak. He knew that with how long she’d been with Sam, Sam understood her the best, so he did his best to explain his wishes to her in hopes she could share them with Sam—

“You want a chance to prove yourself?” Sam interrupted, understanding his wish regardless. Mankey looked away from the Fire Type to meet Sam in the eye and furiously nod.

His trainer had understood him perfectly; Mankey wanted a chance to prove that he wasn’t a weak link on the team.

Once again, Sam hummed. Doubt briefly flashed through his expression, and Mankey wasn’t sure if it was sourced from doubt about Mankey’s strength or the viability of his wish. Still, Sam’s small smile didn’t fade. Instead, it seemed to grow by the second.

“Alright,” he said. “If you want to prove yourself, I can work with that. We’ll need a minor adjustment to our strategy today, but nothing too bad. To keep it simple, I’ll have you fight the Gym’s ace Pokémon all on your own. You can do that, right?”

Excitement shot down Mankey’s spine. His hair stood on its ends as he pictured the impossible battle before him.

Sam had mentioned it before; Gym Leaders always saved their toughest Pokémon for last. If Sam planned to save him, an unevolved Pokémon, to take on whoever was their final opponent?

Mankey sniffed.

The room started to look as blurry as Haunter’s body in the mirror.

“Wait, wait, wait! Hold on, don’t cry—!”

Too late.

Mankey threw himself into Sam, sobbing and thanking him and sobbing even more. Sam looked to be doing his best to continue smiling, awkwardly chuckling and patting the Fighting Type’s head.

“I didn’t think you’d want that so much. I mean, we’re just gonna have you do something you’d be able to do anyway.”

Mankey sobbed harder.

As Sam turned to the rest of the team to talk about specifics for the day, Mankey promised himself that he'd win. He promised he’d crush whoever he fought in a one-on-one match. Not just that, but he also remembered. He remembered a certain Pokémon that looked far too much like him, and he remembered his promise he made to meet that Pokémon once again.

He would win here, and that would be proof. Mankey was in no way the weak link, and when he returned, he’d do more than just destroy that Pokémon in revenge.

Sam wasn’t always a fool. He understood that there were only so many Bug Types the Azalea Gym could train. Recognizing how Johto otherwise limited Gym Trainers to Pokémon found in the region, he knew there were only twelve-or-so Bug Type lines he needed to learn about to be prepared.

It didn’t take much to create a counter strategy for each one, as his team was well-equipped to handle most foes. Sure, he could have Quilava rely on her Type advantage, or he could use Haunter’s incredible resistance against Bug Type attacks, but what would they gain from that? What would they gain from practicing what they already had?

A win, of course, but then they’d be relying on advantages they wouldn’t have in every battle. Doing so would be the equivalent of begging to pick up bad habits.

Mankey’s request would benefit the entire team, to tell the truth. For Gym Battles against Azalea Gym, one of three species were almost always saved for the end: Scyther, Heracross, or Pinsir. He’d only need to worry about facing one of those three, and each was a physical attacker that would perfectly push Mankey while letting everyone else fight without worry. The remaining three Pokémon would firmly be on Quilava and Haunter’s shoulders, but Sam trusted them and knew they’d be able to win without fainting.

“And you’re sure that you don’t want any advice?” Sam asked Redi as they trudged over a dirt path, heading towards the Gym’s territory just outside of town.

“I’m sure,” she replied. “I don’t need anything from your book right now. Some trainers are all about making plans. Other trainers are all about adapting. Me? I want to challenge myself. What’s the point of taking on a Gym if you already know what they’re going to do?”

“Practice?” Sam offered.

Redi snorted.

“Psh. It’s not the same when you’re expecting it. And, I mean, they’ll only be tossing three Pokémon at me anyway. It’s not like they’re willing to give me that greater challenge I asked for, or anything like that...”

She frowned and brought her gaze down to the path.

This upcoming match would have been a different story for her if she had three Gym Badges instead of just two. The fourth battle to earn a Gym Badge was always a drastic increase in challenge over the third and earlier. Most trainers taking on Gym Leaders ended their journeys after struggling to earn their fourth. The fifth was an even higher wall, and the sixth was even higher. That didn’t even include how Gyms had no trials for anything past a fifth Gym Badge. Only battles followed that point, which were impossible to face for trainers that only took on Gym Trials.

This mattered because Redi skipped Morty’s Gym and was one badge behind Sam. Sam might have been at the point where battles became truly difficult, but Redi was “still in easy territory,” as she claimed.

Annoyed, Redi kicked a rock. Sam winced as it bounced away.

“Not knowing gives us a greater challenge,” she mumbled, talking about not wanting to know what was in Sam’s book.

The Azalea Gym had two main plots that belonged to it: a building in town and several greenhouses at the edge of the forest. The building in town was more about having a connection to Azalea proper and a center for administrative duties. Meanwhile, these greenhouses were where the Gym’s trainers practiced, battled, and protected young Bug Types.

The Gym was filled with both trainers and Pokémon that worked for it, so there wasn’t a long wait here as compared to other cities. While Sam and Redi had a day’s delay for their Gym Trial, the actual Gym Battle was different, as Redi had to specifically ask for a later date when registering. They needed that extra time to train.

The consequence of having so many Gym Trainers ready to take on challengers was that Sam and Redi would be fighting at the same time. Neither would be able to watch one another’s match. Yet, that fact was almost comforting in a way, as by splitting up to take on the Gym alone, it was almost like a promise to meet back up one Gym Badge stronger.

So, as they kept walking, the trees started to become more frequent as they neared the forest. The path split in several directions with a sign’s wooden arrows pointing to numbered greenhouses. Glass glinted behind several trunks, hints of green half-obscured within.

“I gotta go left,” Redi said.

“My challenge is in a greenhouse to the right,” Sam replied.

They looked at one another for only a second before clasping arms.

“Good luck,” Sam said.

“Psh. Like I’ll need it,” Redi said with her usual casual confidence.

After shaking, they split, marching to their respective battles as Sam smiled, excited for the match to come.

The greenhouses were laid out in rows, and Sam could see others surrounding the one he approached. Metal supports held up huge panes of glass, and an enormous tree was visible within.

It was unlocked, so he stepped inside. Right away, several Weedle hurriedly scurried away from the door to hide inside nearby bushes. There was an entire biome in here, with a painted dirt battlefield taking up the center of the room. Thick branches of that massive tree hung over the field, where many Caterpie and Pineco sat to watch this upcoming match.

The stares he received from so many Bug Type Pokémon should have been unnerving, but Sam was too excited for this match to be bothered by them. Instead, these Bug Types would be an audience for his impending victory, and as he turned to face the Gym Trainer that would be his opponent—

“Um, where’s my opponent?”

There was a kid standing across from him.

A young boy stood opposite to him on the field. The boy wore a white tank top and had on a straw hat that protected his head from the sun. He couldn’t have been more than twelve, which made Sam unsure why the kid was here at all. Yet, despite his young age, he stood with a confidence Sam usually only ever saw in experienced trainers.

“I’m your opponent!” The kid pointed at himself with his thumb. “Bug Catcher Josh! Remember the name!”

He held up a Net Ball—a latticed, blue Pokéball great at catching Bug and Water Type Pokémon—as he smirked at Sam.

...Really?

“Is this part of a Trial? Were you told to come here, too? I thought I’d be facing a Gym Trainer or even a Gym Leader-equivalent today,” Sam said.

“I am a Gym Trainer!” Josh’s face went red as he stomped on the ground. “Don’t look down on me because of my age!”

“But you’re, like, nine?”

“I’m eleven!” he huffed “What about you? You can’t be older than thirteen.”

“I’m almost fifteen,” Sam said indignantly.

From the side of the room, someone cleared their throat. A young man, sitting at what looked to be a lawn table, stood up and walked over, glaring at both Sam and that kid.

He adjusted the sleeves of his tan turtleneck, the most memorable part of the uniform that generally denoted a League-approved referee.

“I can confirm Josh will be your opponent today,” the man said. “Rather than one trainer facing many different tiers of opponents, we do it a bit differently in Azalea. Our trainers are trained to fight at specific tiers of strength to make arranging matches easier.”

“...Huh,” Sam said.

“But I will also state that you should not underestimate Josh, either,” the referee continued. “He may be young, but he’s personally fought over forty trainers on behalf of Azalea Gym.”

“And I won most of those battles, too!” the kid added in.

Sam glanced over to Josh, who cheekily smiled back at him. Somehow, the young boy looked as smug as Redi did at times.

“So how many four-star teams have you beaten?” Josh then asked innocently.

Sam tried to ignore that comment, but he couldn’t stop a scowl.

“I don’t need to answer your question,” Sam said. He ended that line of discussion by tossing forward a Pokéball and sending out his first Pokémon—Haunter.

Haunter appeared as a mist that seemed to coalesce from the shadows of the overhanging tree. A cruel grin stretched across his face in an attempt to intimidate the young boy, but Josh just swiped a thumb under his nose and sniffed. He looked unimpressed.

“This will be a four-on-four match between Challenger Samuel and Gym Trainer Josh!” the referee called out. “Each trainer will be granted four switches, and the battle will conclude once one side is out of usable Pokémon!”

He continued to go over the rules, but there were no changes from the standard rules of a Gym Battle.

“Please, send out your Pokémon!” the referee said to finish off his speech.

As the kid clutched his Net Ball, Haunter was already excitedly bouncing in the air, ready to take on whatever Bug Type was sent his way. Sam silently went over all of his plans and strategies in his head, preparing himself to absolutely crush whatever was sent his way.

However, the first Pokémon sent out wasn’t anything Sam planned for. Yes, it was a species found in Johto, but Sam never bothered to plan for it because he didn’t think he’d need to.

It was yellow, immobile, and protected by a hardened cocoon. Two tiny claws scratched at the air as Josh’s Kakuna let out a threatening—but pathetic—hiss.

“...Are you kidding me right now?” Sam asked.

The words left his mouth without him even realizing it.

This is a joke, right? Why is he using a Kakuna, of all things?

“Man, you’re pretty unoriginal,” Josh taunted. “You’re saying the same most of my opponents say. You know, the losers.”

“Josh!”

The kid winced when the referee scolded him.

“He started it!” Josh whined.

The referee glared at the boy, and then he glared at Sam as well. After clearing his throat again, the referee brought up two arms before bringing them down in a snap.

“Begin!” he shouted.

While Sam was wholly unimpressed by the mid-stage Bug Type in front of him, he also absolutely refused to underestimate his opponent. Against a Bug Type specialist, there was no counting the number of tricks the kid had up his sleeves. Or, lack of sleeves. Sam needed to be careful if the kid had fought in dozens of battles like the referee had said, but he also didn’t plan on letting up on his attitude. Josh was already annoyed, and if it meant causing his opponent to make a mistake, he was willing to push that even farther.

“Hypnosis!” he shouted, giving no time to delay. “This’ll be easy!”

“String Shot!” Josh quickly yelled to counter.

Haunter went completely and utterly still, his body blurring and forcing observers to squint to make out his basic form. The lack of movement from him let a sticky String Shot connect to his body, and the white gunk spiraled around him before being pulled tight in an effort to restrict his movements.

Sam said nothing; the String Shot didn’t matter. Haunter had already unleashed a perfect Hypnosis.

“Wait, don't look! Close your eyes!”

The panic in Josh's voice made Sam smirk.

Haunter was plenty speedy enough to lock eyes with Kakuna before the String Shot had ever been called for. The blurring of his body was just an added effect; Haunter purposefully let himself become hazy just to add to the image of his act. Kakuna, already stuck in one place, locked up even more than before. The two claws at the front of its shell went slack, and there was a mighty—but underwhelming—thunk as the cocoon Pokémon fell on its side, utterly unconscious.

Some battles would end there, as sleep generally meant a Pokémon had no way to react. But, against Haunter, and in a Gym Battle too, there was a sense that Haunter’s physical, Ghost Type attacks wouldn’t be enough to take it out. One strike, and Kakuna would wake in response. Unfortunately, for them, neither Josh nor the referee had read the New Pokédex.

“Hex!” Sam ordered. If Kakuna was going to sleep on the job, he was going to take advantage of it.

Josh sputtered at Sam’s order—after all, someone had just shouted for an unknown move—and purple flames seared into the sleeping Kakuna’s yellow form. The spiritual fire dug in and turned its restful slumber into one filled with nightmares while its carapace became scorched black.

It quickly became apparent that Kakuna had no way to resist. Given that its sole form of protection came from its inherent defense and the move Harden, it had no way to reduce the damage of the special attack. A forced doze turned to true unconsciousness within seconds, and the remaining flames from Hex pulled back and fizzled out under Haunter’s command.

No longer in a state of pure focus, Haunter blinked. One of his hands slipped free of his String Shot binds to grab the sticky thread only to fail and get gunked up. He turned to look at Sam with a whine.

“Think of it this way: at least they’ll think you’re too tied up to act fast enough?” Sam offered.

A mischievous smirk flashed across Haunter’s face.

Kakuna disappeared back into its Pokéball as Josh looked at Sam with a huff. The boy glanced down, staring at the Net Ball containing his first Pokémon, before angrily shoving it into his pocket.

“So what’s next? A Metapod? A Pineco? Maybe you'll throw a Caterpie at me, too?” Sam said.

Okay, sure, he might have been taunting a kid, but mind games were proven to work! Maybe not academically, but he'd seen them work on matches shown on television, and Redi had used them to great effect in the past.

However, Josh didn't look anywhere as furious as Sam expected. Instead, after a few more seconds of feigned anger, a smile rejoined the kid’s expression.

“Thanks for that,” Josh said. “Glad to know you're as predictable as everyone else.”

“Excuse me?” Sam asked.

A different Net Ball was tossed forward.

“Come on out, Beedrill! Those bullies beat up Kakuna and didn't even let her fight!”

Appearing on the field was a massive wasp with two sharp stingers for hands. Two sets of wings furiously flapped behind it, moving at such a fast rate that they caused a loud buzz. The Beedrill, its initial movements slow and analytic, looked between Sam, the String Shot covering Haunter’s body, and the subtle indent in the grass that had once been filled by Kakuna’s unconscious body.

Haunter nervously chuckled, floating back an inch in the air.

The Beedrill’s already red eyes turned redder than before.

There was a moment of tension so thick it could be cut with a knife. The buzz from Beedrill’s wings felt as if it were deafening.

“Resume!” the referee yelled.

Haunter yelped as Beedrill zipped directly towards him. To Sam, the sacrifice of Kakuna was questionable, but he couldn't argue against the result. The strategy almost reminded him of two moves he had read about—Memento and Healing Wish—which caused the user to faint in exchange for a powerful effect.

Here, with this kid's—no, with this Gym Trainer's—familiarity with a species so dedicated to protecting its young, Sam had been set up—tricked in the way he wanted to trick his opponent. Beedrill was enraged, and it would fight with a power that it otherwise wouldn’t have had.