Chapter 624: Gift Pokémon
~Azure S. POV~
[Unova Region, Nacrene City – Café]
*Scrap*
The sound of a chair scraping against the concrete across the table snapped me out of my thoughts. I opened my eyes, expecting a waiter or a lost tourist asking for directions. Instead, my gaze locked onto a pair of sharp, knowing, sly eyes framed by long, chestnut hair tied back in a neat ponytail.
A familiar red-and-white cap rested casually on the table as its owner settled comfortably into the seat opposite me, a faint, knowing smirk playing on her lips. Leaf Green said, propping her chin on her hand, "You look entirely too relaxed for a guy who just single-handedly dismantled half of Team Plasma's regional scouting division."
I stared at her for a second, my brain processing the sudden appearance of Kanto's most slippery Dex Holder before a genuine smile broke across my face. I said warmly, "Green. What are you doing in Nacrene City? I thought Interpol had you tied down in some port house running counter-surveillance on dock shipments."
Green replied smoothly, reaching across the table to steal a blueberry from the pastry plate I hadn't even ordered yet—though the waiter must have quietly dropped it off while I was spacing out. "I have my ways of taking a detour…"
She popped the berry into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully before continuing. She smirked before adding in a casual tone, "Besides, word travels fast through the underground network when an 18-year-old decides to turn a routine patrol into a one-man wrecking crew."
I raised an eyebrow, leaning back in my chair. I replied, genuinely curious, "Is that what they're calling it now?"
Green chuckled, though her expression shifted slightly, taking on a more analytical edge, "That's the polite version. The official report I intercepted from the Striaton City Police Station said four Grunts were brought in. One with acute head trauma, two with severe leg injuries, and a female Grunt who is currently sitting in a corner muttering incoherently about 'shadow monsters' and 'darkness that breathes'."
I said flatly, my tone dropping a fraction of politeness, "They threatened my Pikachu and my Eevee first. All bets were off the moment they brought living creatures into the crossfire. They're lucky I didn't let Darkrai introduce them to the nightmare realm permanently. Or have Mewtwo have a field day."
Green let out a soft sigh, shaking her head as she said tiredly, "I figured as much. Honestly, Azure, you have got to learn to dial down the lethal intensity just a notch. Not everyone in this region is built to survive a guy who's conquered four League circuits and stared down literal meteors from space."
I countered, though there was no real heat in my voice and tone, as I crossed my arms, "They're criminal grunts, Green. They chose the uniform. What about the other three I caught at the Dreamyard?"
Green's expression instantly darkened, her smile vanishing entirely. She crossed her arms over her chest, her fingers tapping a staccato rhythm against her bicep, informing me, "That's the part that made me catch the first train out of Castelia. I checked the regional database. There's zero record of those three Grunts ever being booked."
I narrowed my eyes. I said humorlessly, "So my suspicion was right."
Green said grimly, her eyes flashing with irritation and annoyance, "Team Plasma has deep pockets, and apparently, they've bought off a chunk of the local precinct's intake division. It's a systemic rot. They're operating under the guise of a peaceful liberation movement in broad daylight, while their foot soldiers quietly cycle through the judicial system thanks to corrupt badges."
I let out a low, dry chuckle, shaking my head shamelessly. I shook my head helplessly as I said knowingly, "It's always the same story, isn't it? Villainous groups never learn that no matter how grand their philosophical speeches are, they're always just common criminals with better tailoring."
Green scoffed, rolling her eyes, "You can say that again."
But then, the tension broke, and a familiar, teasing grin spread across her face. She reached down beside her chair, lifting a pristine, slightly customized Poké Ball and sliding it across the smooth wooden surface of the table.
My gaze dropped to the sphere. I asked curiously, "What's this?"
Green said fondly, resting her chin in her hand again, "Consider it a late birthday present. You turned eighteen a few weeks ago while I was knee-deep in a smuggling sting off the Vermilion coast. I didn't get a chance to hand-deliver it then, so I raided the high-security Interpol tactical reserves for something that would actually match your absurdly eclectic team."
I picked up the Poké Ball, feeling the cool, polished metal beneath my fingertips. The device felt balanced, weighted perfectly for someone with precise combat reflexes. I asked, raising an eyebrow, "From the Interpol options? Interpol issues Pokémon now?"
Green nodded, her eyes twinkling as she explained to me, "Specialized units do. And trust me, this little guy was sitting in digital quarantine because none of the standard-issue agents could handle his attitude. He's too proud, too stubborn, and frankly, too much of a warrior for desk-jockeys."
Curiosity winning out, I pressed the central release button.
*Whoosh*
A flash of bright white light materialized on the tabletop, coalescing into a short, bipedal blue otter-like Pokémon. A rigid, cream-colored shell—a scalchop—was clutched firmly against its chest.
The newly summoned Oshawott blinked against the bright midday sun, its dark eyes darting around the cafe before locking directly onto me, "Osha…"
It didn't flinch.
It didn't cower.
Instead, its posture instantly stiffened into a rigid, defensive stance. With a sharp, practiced motion, the Oshawott detached the scalchop from its belly, holding it up like a tactical dagger, its blade catching the sunlight.
Every fiber of its being screamed discipline, aloofness, and fierce, unyielding pride. It looked at me not as a master, but as a commanding officer—and it was evaluating whether I was worthy of leading it.
I couldn't help the small, genuine smile that tugged at the corner of my lips. I murmured, holding the Oshawott's intense gaze without blinking, "Well… Look at you."
The Oshawott gave a sharp, affirmative nod, as if acknowledging my assessment, before immediately turning away with a huff, crossing its arms and standing completely still, preferring to ignore the rest of the world entirely.
Zorua's mental voice chimed with immediate delight, 'Oho! Look at the little guy! He's got that same prickly, 'leave-me-alone-I'm-a-master-swordsman' vibe as Pawniard and Axew. You're collecting a whole battalion of dramatic little edgelords, boss.'
I chuckled softly, reaching out to gently scratch behind the Oshawott's left ear, "He's going to fit right in."
*Stiff*
The otter stiffened defensively for a split second, clearly wanting to maintain its strict, aloof persona, but the soothing motion clearly hit the right spot. It let out a reluctant, low grumble, though it didn't pull away, "Osha…"
I smiled, seeing he didn't pull away. This guy is so in.
I checked my new gift Pokémon status…
[Oshawott the Sea Otter Pokémon. It carries a pale yellow seashell called a "scalchop" on its belly. This shell is made of the same material as its claws and is used for both battles and cracking hard berries. Oshawott wields the shell like a knife.
It uses the scalchop to block the moves of its enemies before slashing back at them in swift retaliation. Oshawott learned how to maintain its scalchop with riverbed stones by copying the humans it observes using whetstones. If the scalchop is heavily damaged or lost, Oshawott can grow a new one from its navel.]
|Name: Oshawott (Sea Otter Pokémon)
|Type: Water
|Tera: Water
|Level: 15
|Gender: Male
|Held Item: None
|Ability: Torrent
|Nature: Serious
|Moves: Protect, Focus Energy, Swords Dance, Soak, Water Pulse, Aqua Jet, Aqua Cutter, Razor Shell, Cut (HM), Detect (EM) (1 move left to learn)
I raised an eyebrow reading this guy's status screen. This guy is a very dedicated swordsman-level Pokémon, that's for sure.
Along with that… doesn't Oshawott's backstory feel similar—Ah!
I just realized why this Oshawott felt so similar now!
This is Blake's future partner!
The only reason I know this is because this Oshawott's exact personality matches Blake, the Dex Holder titled Arrester!
Dewott is Blake's most trusted partner, and the two share a strong bond. Like Blake, he is very intelligent and can strategize without Blake's commands. He holds a strong amount of pride in his ability as a warrior, and due to this, he rarely shows fear. He is very strict and aloof, preferring to be left to himself if possible.
Due to being part of the International Police, Dewott is very powerful, being able to easily defeat most of his opponents with little effort, and he can adapt to many kinds of situations.
After every battle, he makes sure to take the time to polish his scalchops. Just like this Oshawott's doing right now…
Man… what a small world we live in.
Still, I kind of lacked a good Water-type. And a highly trained Starter Pokémon would be ideal in the future.
Green burst into laughter, leaning back in her chair. She said in a confident tone, in a resolute voice, "I knew it! The moment I saw his file, I said, 'This is totally an Azure kind of Pokémon.' He refuses to show fear, he treats every mundane task like a sword kata, and he hates being babied."
I agreed, recalling the steel-type's similar obsession with honor and combat drills, "He'll get along great with Pawniard. Thanks, Green. Really. This is... an upgrade to the team, to say the least."
Green teased, checking the sleek wristwatch strapped to her forearm, "Don't mention it. Just make sure you feed him something better than standard kibble—he's got gourmet standards, apparently."
Her expression fell slightly, a look of mild resignation crossing her features. She sighed in a disappointed tone, "Speaking of schedules... my break is officially over. Interpol wants a status update on the Plasma dorks, and I have to remote-link into a secure terminal before my superior starts screaming over the encrypted comms."
*Click*
I said sadly, returning Oshawott to its Poké Ball with a gentle click, sliding the sphere securely onto my belt, "Duty calls."
Green sighed, "Always… but first…"
*Chuuu*
Green stood up from the table and adjusted her cap. She leaned down, planting a quick, casual kiss on my cheek before flashing a brilliant grin. She said happily, "Don't cause too much collateral damage in Nacrene City while I'm gone, Azure. Save some destruction for the Gym Leader."
I replied smoothly, "No promises!"
With a wave, Green turned on her heel, her boots clicking against the pavement as she melted back into the bustling pedestrian traffic, disappearing toward the commercial district.
I sat back down for a moment, letting the quiet settle back over the table. Pikachu had curled into a tighter ball, fast asleep, while Eevee stretched her front legs forward with a soft yawn. I muttered curiously, standing up from the chair and tossing a few coins onto the table to cover the bill and the untouched berry tart, "Alright, everyone… Let's go stretch our legs. Word is, the Nacrene Museum of Art and History is just down the block, and I want to see what all the fuss is about."
With my team settled securely—Pikachu on my shoulder, Eevee on my head, Pichu (Mew) hidden in my jacket, and Zorua trotting invisibly alongside my shadow—I stepped out onto the sunlit stone street, walking toward the grand, warehouse-style facade of the local museum.
The massive double doors of the building were propped open, welcoming a steady stream of tourists, art enthusiasts, and trainers looking to escape the midday heat. I adjusted the strap of my bag, taking a deep breath of the crisp Unova air as I crossed the threshold into the cool, cavernous interior of the hall.
And that was when I saw him.
Stepping out from the shadows of the towering dinosaur skeletal exhibits near the grand foyer, a young man with striking, mismatched green hair and pale, soulful eyes was making his way toward the exit. He wore a simple, light-colored shirt and a checkered cap, his hands tucked loosely into his pockets.
N. We'd meet again.
The enigmatic king of Team Plasma paused mid-step, his head turning slightly as if he had sensed a sudden shift in the air. His gaze swept across the crowded foyer, bypassing the tourists and art critics, until his striking, clear eyes locked directly onto mine.
The ambient noise of the museum seemed to fade into total silence. I guess encountering N works like in the games.
Guess I must defeat my 'rival' here like in the games.
There goes my relaxing trip to the museum today.
Maybe a quick battle will fix that…
Or maybe not, depending on what N has in store. Either way, he has my attention now; let's see where this takes us.
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A/N: Hope you like the chapter!