The Ghost Specialist

A familiar roar shocked Sam awake, and he rushed to search his surroundings. The bed he laid on was thinner than he was used to, and its position meant rays from the late morning sun were shining onto his eye from between the wooden slats of a high window.

This room was a strange mix of modern and antique, with its furniture matching modern amenities while also being styled like something straight out of an older Johto. The place was set up like a Pokémon Center’s hotel-like accommodations, but it was still clearly someone’s guest room.

Blearily, Sam came to remember that he was inside Mr. Pokémon’s compound. The memories of last night pulsed through his head, and he could picture them like a scarily clear dream.

He forced those thoughts away. Petrel was handled and didn’t deserve any further attention.

As Sam tried to sit up, the pressure on his chest lifted her head, and Quilava rolled over to land at his side with a yawn. Primeape and Haunter weren’t present, but Misdreavus cheerfully greeted him from where she was half-phased through the wall and peering outside.

He heard the roar again. It wasn’t anything aggressive. If anything, it sounded like Ursaring was going for a...

A taunt?

The roar reminded him of the roars given during spars with Primeape. This one was significantly less ferocious than any thrown out in a real battle.

Still waking up, Quilava groomed the bedhead out of her fur as Sam quickly got dressed. He picked her up to position her like a scarf across the back of his neck, and Misdreavus moved to follow him out at his side.

His room’s door connected to a wooden hallway that led into a courtyard. Guest rooms were set up off to its side, and there was an extra, open door to a kitchen that let out the strong scent of spice.

Sam walked along a cobblestone pathway that took him to a gate built into this compound’s walls. He made sure to send a polite nod to an older teen practicing with a Pidgeotto. Outside, Sam saw the source of the roars—a battle taking place over the surrounding grass field.

However, as Sam looked closer, it quickly became clear that it was less of a battle and more of a sort of practice game.

Three boys, two with a Rattata and one with a Sentret, furiously shouted commands to their Pokémon. The pair of purple rats raced across the grass, and the Sentret climbed back to its feet after bouncing away with a Tackle.

They faced two Pokémon, Primeape and Ursaring, who were trying to appear as intimidating as possible. They were failing to do so in Sam’s opinion, as he could see amusement peeking through their “playful” scowls.

“Get ‘em with your Quick Attack again!” one of the boys shouted.

His Rattata lunged toward Ursaring, but the heavy Pokémon raised an arm for a casual swing. Even with hardly any effort behind it, the swipe easily knocked the Rattata away and sent it sliding over the grass. However, that swing carried no real power behind it, so the rodent easily hopped back to its feet, completely uninjured.

“You really think that’s going to be enough? Hah! Route 31 is ours! You’ll never be able to win!”

Redi cackled, holding out her arms. The three boys looked more determined to beat her after that taunt.

The Sentret leaped at Primeape, but a slow-motion jab was enough to force it back. The other Rattata used that as an opening to circle around and jump, where it gnawed on the top of his head. Annoyance flashed across Primeape’s face, and he yanked it off of him and chucked it away. While his throw was more forceful than Ursaring’s swing, the Rattata still scrambled to its feet, uninjured just the same.

Sam knew he could join in and help with the Pokémon “fight,” but he honestly didn’t want to. There was something to say about his team’s current display of power. He was content with just watching; he felt nothing but pride.

At the start of their journey, Primeape wouldn’t have been able to dominate a fight so overwhelmingly. The sheer strength and control he was displaying right now let Sam truly understand they were on the right path.

So, Sam instead sat down on the short stone steps that led to the compound’s front gate. He maneuvered Quilava into his lap and began to run his hands through her fur. He tried to smooth out the places in which her hair still seemed a bit wild.

When Misdreavus saw that, she made a noise and hurried back inside.

Quickly, she came back out wearing her small satchel, the same one Sam had bought her as a gift. She opened it with a careful application of telekinesis and brought over a brush for Sam.

“Oh. Thank you,” he said. “Where did you get this?”

She said her name excitedly and glanced behind Sam. The only reason he didn’t jump when he saw an old butler standing behind him was due to how frequently Haunter tried to scare him by sneaking up in a similar way.

“I provided it upon request,” the butler answered on behalf of Misdreavus. “Mr. Pokémon keeps spare supplies on hand to provide to trainers in need. You are welcome to keep it. I imagine your Pokémon might benefit from more frequent grooming. I’ve found Pokémon tend to enjoy it, as well.”

The butler looked over a silver tray to glance down at where Sam sat on the steps. Sam turned away and tried his hardest not to blush.

It wasn't like he didn't groom his Pokémon—he did try to make sure his Pokémon looked good. However, his attempts were generally passive and nothing he ever went out of his way to do. Haunter preferred to manage his appearances on his own, Misdreavus never asked, and Primeape just got annoyed whenever Sam attempted to fix his hair. Yet, when he ran the brush through Quilava’s fur, she purred in contentment, and Misdreavus looked on enviously. The Ghost Type had her own ragged mane of hair, and Sam couldn’t hide how Primeape’s fur made him look like some kind of spherical bird nest.

“...I will write you a list of grooming supplies that will greatly assist with taking care of your Pokémon,” the butler commented after facing several seconds of silence from Sam.

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

Amused, the butler chuffed, and he turned his gaze back to the outside field. Sam looked at what the man was carrying in his hands—a silver tray full of paper-wrapped sandwiches and piles of berries.

“Are you hungry?” the man asked, lowering the tray for it to be accessible to Sam. “It is currently seven minutes before noon. Please, take what you need.”

Sam grabbed a sandwich for himself, and Quilava and Misdreavus took a few berries for breakfast.

The three boys were still fighting Redi, but the butler didn’t approach. The food might have been for everyone, but he seemed content to wait for them to either finish or notice. He even had a small smile half-hidden by his mustache as he watched them all train.

“So... You work for Mr. Pokémon?” Sam asked. The silence felt too awkward to let continue.

“Indeed. I have been in his service for quite some time. Alas, I am but one of two that work under him. I assist him in mundane matters while he deals with private affairs.”

“So he gets visitors often?”

Sam chewed on his sandwich. It was pretty basic but surprisingly good.

“He does,” the butler answered. “It didn’t start that way, but his open-door policy has seen more and more trainers coming here to rest. I can’t explain it, but the families of Cherrygrove have somehow acquired the idea that this is a safe destination for their children to practice traveling on a journey. I’d try to correct that notion if it wasn’t for the safety of Route 30. The wild Pokémon in these parts are some of the tamest in Johto, and the route’s high Ranger presence ensures that trait remains.”

Huh. I wouldn’t have minded doing something like that when I was a kid. If we’d gotten that practice in, maybe Quilava and I would have left earlier.

...But then we wouldn’t have met everyone else. I’m happy with how our journey has turned out.

Mostly.

Sam suppressed a grimace when last night’s events flashed through his mind.

The battle continued, and Sam ate his brunch. Primeape and Ursaring’s dominance lasted until their opponents started to flag. Tired, one of the boys glanced around and saw the butler waiting with food in hand.

Everything immediately fell apart when the trainers and their Pokémon raced toward the offered tray. While they did nab food to enjoy right now, they also pocketed a few wrapped sandwiches to keep on their person and eat later when they returned south.

As they furiously amassed everything they could, Redi finally saw Sam, and her expression immediately lit up. She jogged over with Ursaring and Primeape hot on her heels. The two Pokémon said their names at each other, exchanging a round of “friendly” taunts.

“Sam!” Redi said excitedly. “Man, you passed out fast last night. I tried to wake you up earlier, but only Primeape and Haunter woke up. I invited them out here to practice, and, well...”

She sent a grin toward the three younger boys, exposing her teeth in a nasty-looking smile. The prospective trainers were all either eight or nine, and they shivered in unison before running off. They moved to a nearby overhang on the wall to eat in the shade, sitting somewhere far away from that “crazy” girl.

Redi plopped down next to Sam.

“Petrel’s in prison,” she whispered. “Morty sent us a message on the Pokégear. He’s awaiting trial, and they didn’t have any trouble bringing him in.”

“That’s... good.”

Sam breathed out. He never wanted to deal with that stress again.

“Good? That’s great!” Redi said, her voice reaching its usual volume. “Porygon’s safe. No one is after us. And now we can just focus on the rest of our journey!”

The butler came back out with another fresh tray of food. Sam never noticed him leaving in the first place. Redi helped herself, and Primeape and Ursaring got sandwiches to stuff in their mouths as well.

Their group ate in silence. Sam didn’t want to talk. After everything, he just wanted to enjoy how peaceful their surroundings were. He wanted a break after the past... all of that.

With the practice battle having ended, there wasn’t much going on, though there was still something to watch. Haunter had finally baited out Tibia and Fibula, and he seemed to be lecturing them hidden in the shadows of the front gate’s open entrance. Sam couldn’t tell what Haunter was talking about, but the two Gastly were paying rapt attention.

Sam soon finished his food, and Redi devoured her meal in less than a minute. Everyone else ate quickly and hungrily, finishing almost immediately after. With nothing distracting them, the butler used that moment to speak up.

“Mr. Pokémon should be done with his morning meetings. If you two are still interested in speaking with him, he will be available shortly.”

Redi hopped up and stretched.

“We are!” she said.

Sam nodded and stood up as well.

The butler bowed his head, beckoning them back inside. As they followed, Sam returned everyone but Misdreavus, and Haunter stayed behind to keep talking.

The trainer with the Pidgeotto had vanished, either flying off or returning to his guest room. The only point of interest left was the building at the far end of the courtyard. It was taller than all the others and was likely where Mr. Pokémon lived on his own.

Sam saw its doors open up. A suited man carrying a briefcase stepped outside. He didn’t spare any of them even a single glance, instead releasing an Abra and disappearing via a quick use of Teleport.

Approaching, the butler raised his hand to knock on the cracked-open double doors, but a voice called out from inside before anything else.

“Come in, come in! My meeting with the Silph Co. representative has finished. Managing investments might be boring, but it is quite important, yes?”

Mr. Pokémon laughed.

The door was opened by the butler, and Sam and Redi walked in. Misdreavus followed, but Haunter continued to lecture—

Sam paused.

There were now three Gastly. He wasn’t sure where that third one had come from.

The room Sam entered was a personal office, one filled with items from all across the world. White, blue, and yellow draconic scales were proudly displayed in open cabinets. Mannequins in glass displays wore ancient uniforms and armor. Sam could see swords of the thin, Johto-make as well as swords of the broader, foreign-make. Hand-sized totems painted yellow, pink, orange, and blue sat on a shelf and stared ahead with animalistic expressions.

There was also a silver feather pressed flat by a glass frame. It was split toward its end, with each of its soft barbs appearing thick, almost like fur.

“Please, sit!” Mr. Pokémon said happily. “I was told you wished to speak with me?”

The man sat in a far-too-cushioned chair behind a thick, oak desk.

Redi sat on a chair that was just as large, and Sam quickly seated himself in the other one before the desk. He knew Misdreavus was somewhere nearby, but she had disappeared from her usual spot when they’d entered.

Suddenly confronted by the prospect of speaking to Mr. Pokémon, Sam wasn’t sure where to start, and Redi didn’t seem to either. Mr. Pokémon smiled at them from under his mustache.

Nervously, Sam shifted in his chair.

“Well, if you don’t want to begin just yet, how about I start first?” Mr. Pokémon said. “There’s no reason to be so nervous! This isn’t economic business, or a professional meeting, or you getting into trouble. I’ve been told I might resemble a school principal, but any such resemblance is simply a coincidence!”

He laughed merrily, and Sam felt some of the tension leave his body. Mr. Pokémon both looked and acted rather jolly. The man leaned back in his chair, fiddling with his mustache as he hummed.

“Hm. How to start? They call me Mr. Pokémon, of course. It’s a nickname, not my actual name. I come from a long line of merchants, with my family having roots all throughout Johto. My most notable ancestor was a wealthy man—one who primarily dealt in trade. When growing his fortune, he sought to work under an old clan of Johto but was turned away due to his ‘common’ heritage.”

Mr. Pokémon chuckled, shaking his head.

“My ancestor was so offended that he declared he’d only ever work with the ‘commonfolk’ from then on,” he continued. “I bring this up not to say I share the same viewpoint, but to provide context to my core belief.

“There is no such thing as noble blood. There is no such thing as hereditary strength,” Mr. Pokémon said. “No, there are only people and Pokémon. Even those considered weak can become fierce competitors with the right mindset. My entire life, I’ve invested according to that belief. I’m both a businessman and a researcher—but not a Professor, mind you. My aim is to make knowledge of Pokémon more common. What about you?”

Silence fell between them, and it lasted for several long seconds until Redi broke it with a snort.

“Man, we just sat down, and you dumped your entire life story on us?”

Mr. Pokémon blinked at her before bursting into laughter.

“Hah! Oh, yes, I admit that was probably a bit much. I apologize for coming off a little strong. See, Morty told me you two wished for my advice, and I wanted to share my qualifications, hm?”

Sam sent a subtle glance to Redi, who looked a bit more comfortable, now. They were here for an important reason, but they didn’t need to treat this as some life-changing event.

They just wanted advice.

“You have a lot of trophies. How much do you know about species from other regions?” Sam asked, needing to take a moment to build his confidence.

“Quite a bit. I have connections across the globe,” Mr. Pokémon said. “Although, they’re mostly just business connections. Nothing more than a few small investments and friendships with other researchers. However, I’ve done quite a bit of traveling in my younger days, too.”

Sam took a breath to prepare himself. Mr. Pokémon wasn’t untrustworthy, but Sam didn’t often share his plans with anyone else.

“...How much do you know about ancient Sinnoh?” he asked carefully.

“Hisui, do you mean?”

Something sparkled in Mr. Pokémon’s eyes.

“Ah, I knew you were up to something! You’re trying to evolve your Quilava into a Hisuian Typhlosion, aren’t you?”

Sam winced, not realizing how transparent he’d been.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “We’ve been trying for that. A lot of Ghost Type practice and research. We only really have Curse to work with when it comes to her practice with that energy, so I want to get as much information as we can before we push for her to finally evolve.”

Mr. Pokémon eagerly nodded along, and Redi sent Sam a look before speaking up.

“And I’m trying to evolve Ursaring into an Ursaluna,” she said. “I need a Peat Block for that, but I don’t really have a way to get one from Sinnoh.”

The two of them had discussed this before. While Sam was the one with the New Pokédex, Redi was the one with the Ursaring trying to evolve. She was the one to decide whether or not she’d share her plans with other people. Sam might have wanted to maintain his informational advantage, but that didn’t mean he got to control who Redi talked to.

Mr. Pokémon glanced between them curiously, and Sam found himself gripping his hands together. The man took a moment to speak, needing to consider their words.

“Well! You two have certainly created quite the set of goals for yourselves, hm? Hisuian species and their alternative evolutions were originally found in Sinnoh, though most of them are now considered to be extinct,” Mr. Pokémon said. “They involve such Pokémon as Samurott, Decidueye, and Typhlosion, and there are other, unique species such as Sneasler and Overqwil that can no longer be found in the wild.”

“I think it’s possible to obtain them,” Sam said. “Hisuian Typhlosion, at least.”

He met Mr. Pokémon’s sharp eyes, and the man’s smile turned serious.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“I am,” Sam answered, doing his best to project as much confidence as he could.

Hearing that, Mr. Pokémon chuckled and leaned into his chair once more. He rubbed his mustache again—it was either a nervous tic or an unconscious habit for when he was in deep thought.

“Hisuian forms are... complicated,” the man said, rocking his head. “Alternative, regional forms are phenomena we’re yet to fully understand. Kanto has close ties to Alola, and Samson Oak—cousin to Samuel Oak—has been leading the regions’ research into their shared but different species.

“Kantonian Rattata versus Alolan Rattata. Ice Type Vulpix and Fire Type Vulpix. There’s a similar situation for Grimer and Sandshrew, but for regional variants lost to time?”

Mr. Pokémon audibly hummed.

“It all boils down to environmental factors, in my estimation,” he said. “We believe those historic evolutions and species have vanished due to reasons out of our control. Something about Ancient Hisui allowed such Pokémon to exist, and that quality has vanished—at least, according to most researchers’ best guess.”

“But there has to be at least something we can use, right?” Sam asked desperately.

Mr. Pokémon wiggled a hand.

“Maybe,” he said. “There are those who say Hisui’s alternate evolutions stemmed from the attention of Sinnoh’s creator god. Others say they were possible only due to trace minerals that ran out when humans moved further into the region. I can see that as a potential explanation for the lack of Ursaluna if there have been changes in Pastoria’s swamps. But Hisuian Typhlosion?”

He shrugged.

“I haven’t done much study into its existence, but as far as I can tell, it simply existed for a set period before inexplicably vanishing.”

“...Oh,” Sam said.

Redi seemed to be stuck on what Mr. Pokémon had said about Pastoria’s swamps.

“But!” the man said, shifting in his seat to properly sit up. “ While I can’t directly help you with your Pokémon’s evolutions, I’ll admit that you two have caught my interest. When it comes to discovering lost species, you seem more educated than most, and that’s... interesting.”

Mr. Pokémon leaned forward and interlaced his fingers. Sam sat up a little straighter.

“I might not be able to help you obtain the information you need, but I can provide a more... material assistance. Samples of peat, spiritual items, and even perhaps a useful TM move or two? I’ve specifically invested my wealth to assist with discoveries like the ones you two have proposed, and thus you’ve presented me with a possibility I’d be thrilled to support.”

He wiggled in place, smiling at them. He seemed genuinely unable to hold back his excitement.

“So!” Mr. Pokémon exclaimed, glancing between them once more. “With all of that said, what do you need? If you’re willing to come to an agreement, I believe it might be worth discussing a minor sort of... sponsorship. Yes?”