Pokémon : An Unexpected Odyssey

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Vee sat on the oversized grooming salon chair, looking incredibly out of place. His little body practically disappeared in the massive seat, and Austin could feel his discomfort radiating off him in waves. 

The barber, a woman with short, cropped hair and a smile that practically lit up the room, stepped forward to assess Vee's condition. Her apron was filled with tools, each one seemingly ready to fix the mess Austin had made. "Looks like a bit of a botched job," she remarked, her eyes flicking to Austin with a playful smirk before turning back to Vee. Austin felt his face heat up.

Yeah, he totally deserved that.

"I can tidy it up around the sides," she continued, her voice soothing as she gently touched Vee's fur. "Maybe add a small faux fur piece if Eevee feels a bit shy about his appearance."

Austin glanced down at Vee, who was trying his best to hide how self-conscious he felt. His ears twitched, and Austin could almost hear his thoughts. Vee gave a hesitant nod, and he exhaled in relief. "That'd be great, thanks." 

"Alright, let's get started," she said brightly, fastening a black grooming cape around Vee. He looked like a tiny, fluffy king sitting there, though Austin could tell Vee wasn't exactly thrilled about it.

Austin moved over to one of the seats nearby, trying to settle in and relax while keeping an eye on Vee. He was Austin's partner, and seeing him nervous made Austin feel on edge too. As he sat down, though, something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. The guy next to him was hidden behind a massive broadsheet, the kind of thing you only see in old detective movies. It lowered slightly, and when Austin caught a glimpse of the face behind it, his heart skipped a beat.

Brock? What the—

Before Austin could even process what was happening, a hand clamped over his mouth, muffling his immediate reaction. Brock, wearing some ridiculous disguise—sunglasses and a fake mustache that fooled literally no one—leaned in close, his expression dead serious. "Talk. Outside."

Austin gave a quick nod, feeling like he'd just been dragged into some sort of spy movie. Brock's grip loosened, and Austin swallowed hard, the surprise still buzzing in his head. What was Brock doing here, and why all the secrecy?

They both stood up, moving as casually as possible toward the door. The groomer barely noticed them, too focused on fixing the mess Austin had made of Vee's fur. She was working like a pro, trimming here and there with delicate precision. Vee, despite his earlier nervousness, seemed to be calming down, probably realizing he was in good hands. Austin felt a small bit of relief wash over him at that.

But still, what was Brock up to?

The moment they stepped outside, the cool air hit Austin's face, his mind buzzing with questions, but before he could even get one out, Brock was already scanning the area like they were fugitives.

"You know, the fake glasses and mustache combo isn't exactly a winning strategy for getting her number." 

Brock blinked. "What?" It took him a second to process what Austin was saying before his eyes automatically followed Austin's thumb back toward the Pokémon groomer inside.

"I wasn't—" Brock started defensively, but the boy's look—one of pure skepticism—must have said it all. He stopped short.

"You weren't going to ask her out?" 

"Yes," Brock said, but it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself.

Austin couldn't help it; he rolled his eyes and threw his head back, staring up at the sky as if looking for some kind of divine intervention. "What are you doing?"

"Waiting for a portal to hell to open. Maybe Giratina will jump out," Austin muttered, sarcasm practically oozing from every word.

Brock blinked at him, clearly lost. "Who?"

Oh for the love of— "Jesus Christ, Brock," Austin sighed, shaking his head in disbelief. Didn't he get the joke?

"Who's that?" Brock asked, still utterly confused.

Austin snorted. Of course, Brock wouldn't get that reference. Wrong world.

"Alright, fine," Austin said, waving it off. "In good faith, I'll believe you weren't hitting on her. So, what's up then?"

Brock mumbled something under his breath, too low for Austin to catch.

"What? Speak up!" Austin pressed, narrowing his eyes.

Brock cleared his throat, looking slightly embarrassed. "I… I wanted to see how Pokémon are groomed by a professional."

Austin stared at him, blinking in disbelief. That's it? He dragged him outside for this? Without thinking, the boy turned and re-entered the salon, leaving Brock standing there. "Hey," Austin called out to the groomer, who was still working on Vee, "Can my friend watch you work?"

Brock's eyes nearly popped out of his head as he rushed back in, looking ready to beg Austin not to make things worse. "I have a hobby as an amateur Pokémon breeder," Brock blurted out, clearly panicking. "I wanted to see if grooming affects mating. I'm just here to pick up some techniques."

The groomer smiled warmly, completely oblivious to how awkward Brock looked. "Of course! Feel free to watch," she said, turning her attention back to Vee.

As they settled into seats nearby, Brock leaned over and muttered, "You're so blunt."

Austin chuckled, swinging his legs back and forth in the chair like a kid who'd just won something. "You should be thankful," he said with a smirk. "Otherwise, she might've thought you were up to something sketchy."

Brock let out a long, defeated sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah… you're right."

Austin grinned. Of course he was right.

As the groomer left to grab a piece of faux fur for Vee, Austin glanced over at Brock. His disguise—if you could call it that—was still so ridiculous, but Austin couldn't shake the curiosity gnawing at him. "Brock, why the disguise?"

Brock shifted in his seat, avoiding Austin's eyes. 

"I didn't want people recognizing me." 

Austin leaned forward slightly. "Why's that?"

There was a hesitation in the air, like Brock was debating whether or not to spill whatever was on his mind. Austin could see the internal struggle in the way Brock clenched his jaw.

"You're worried about your siblings finding out you prefer breeding to battling, aren't you?"

Brock's head snapped toward him, his eyes widening in surprise. Got it right, huh? Austin could almost see the shock etched on Brock's face before he quickly masked it.

"How did you…?" 

Austin shrugged, trying to play it cool. "Just a hunch."

Brock looked down, his voice softening as he finally admitted, "It's not that I dislike battling, but I have other passions."

They sat in silence, waiting for the groomer to come back. Austin's mind wandered to Flint, and he couldn't help but ask, "How are things going with Flint?"

The second Austin said it, Brock's face changed. It hardened. Not good, Austin thought.

The boy hesitated, feeling the weight of what he was about to say, but he pushed forward anyway. "Brock, can I be blunt?"

Brock let out an annoyed hum, clearly not in the mood, but Austin kept going.

"I think you should consider forgiving Flint."

Brock's head turned sharply, his eyes narrowing into slits. The air between them instantly grew tense. "And just forget the past?" Brock's voice was low, but there was anger simmering beneath the surface.

Austin shook his head quickly, his hands coming up in a gesture of peace. "No, not forget. Just… don't let it control your future." 

Brock scoffed, a harsh, bitter sound that cut through the moment. "That's easy for you to say."

Austin could feel himself stepping onto thin ice, but he couldn't stop. "Your siblings could really use their father around," he pressed, knowing he was probably going too far but unable to hold back.

That's when it happened.

Brock's hand shot out, gripping the collar of Austin's shirt with a force that took the breath right out of him. Brock pulled him close, his face inches from Austin's. "You don't know enough about this to lecture me," Brock hissed, his voice low and threatening. "Keep out of it."

"EeVee!" Vee barked, his fur bristling as he took a step forward, ready to defend Austin.

The moment stretched uncomfortably long, the weight of Brock's anger heavy in the air. But then they both heard the sound of the groomer's footsteps approaching, and Brock let go, stepping back as if the intensity of the moment never happened. He wasn't looking at Austin now, but the message was clear—he had crossed a line.

Austin stood there, his heart pounding in his chest, the realization sinking in. He'd known Brock as a character from a show, someone with quirks and an over-the-top love for pretty girls. But this wasn't some fictional world with happy endings wrapped up in twenty minutes. Brock was real—his pain, his anger, his family's struggles—it was all real. And Austin had stupidly barreled into something he barely understood.

"Sorry," Austin muttered, his voice barely audible as he stared at the floor, feeling the shame crawl up his neck. "I sometimes forget when to shut up."

Brock was quiet for a moment, and then he asked, his voice cold and distant, "What connection do you have to my father?"

Austin met Brock's gaze, deciding there was no point in hiding anything. "He was my guide when I first arrived in Pewter City. He helped me out a lot. During my training, he… he tried to bribe me not to battle you."

Brock's eyebrows shot up.

"I think he regrets a lot of things from his past," Austin said, his words slower now, more measured. "It seems like he wishes he could turn back time to fix his mistakes. Sadly, he can only try to mend what's broken now."

Brock didn't say anything.

Brock sat there, listening, trying to wrap his head around everything being said. At first, he couldn't believe it—couldn't process the idea that his father, Flint, was actually trying to make things right. But as the words sank in, he felt something inside him shift. It wasn't an instant thing, more like a slow burn. A flicker of relief, of hope. Could Flint really be trying to make amends? Could Brock actually allow himself to believe that?

Maybe I should give Flint a chance, he thought, leaning back in the chair. He felt his body loosen up as the tension slowly drained from his shoulders. A part of him wanted to believe that his father was serious this time, that he wasn't just going to vanish into thin air like before. The thought stirred something deep—something he hadn't felt in a long time. Was it happiness? It had been so long since he had allowed himself to feel that when it came to his father. But now… now he couldn't ignore that little spark of possibility.

"Are you Bag Boy?"

Austin's heart slammed into his chest like a Thunderbolt. How did Brock know? Was it a guess? A shot in the dark? Or worse—did someone spill the beans? He felt the world around him spin for a moment as he tried to piece together how Brock could have connected the dots. The timelines… the battles… had he slipped up? Did others know? Was the League onto him? Giovanni?

Before his mind could spiral any further down that dangerous path, the groomer's voice broke through the chaos in his head like a lifeline. "What color do you think would look best?" she asked, holding up a few fur pieces, oblivious to the tension swirling around him.

Austin latched onto her voice like a drowning man grabbing onto a rope. "Let's ask Vee," he said, forcing himself to sound casual, trying to buy time to get his heart rate back under control.

But Brock's question was still there, hanging in the air like a storm cloud ready to burst. Bag Boy. That wasn't just a simple question—he was testing him, connecting the dots based on timelines and similarities only someone like him could see. Gym leaders were sharp. They had to be.

Austin could feel the weight of his next words pressing down on him. If he acknowledged it, even in the slightest, everything could unravel. Denial. Denial was the safest bet. But how should he frame it? How could he sell it?

He glanced at Brock, playing dumb. "Who's that?"

Brock raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Don't you watch the news?"

Oh, man. He's digging now. How the heck was Austin supposed to bluff his way through this? He gave Brock a sheepish grin, keeping his voice light. "Wow, that's awesome, but no, I don't watch the news. Too boring for me. I'd rather focus on my battles."

He leaned into the just a dumb kid persona, keeping his words light, his tone carefree, almost exaggeratedly so. It was a delicate balance, making himself sound sharp enough on the battlefield to explain his skills but not too sharp. Definitely not sharp enough to be connected to Bag Boy.

"It's been almost a week since our battle. Why are you still hanging around Pewter?"

Austin had to think fast. "I've been taking rock climbing classes at the Pewter City Indoor Climbing Center," he said smoothly, not missing a beat. "You can ask them if you want."

Brock didn't blink. "Why rock climbing?"

Here we go. Austin flashed a grin, leaning into the explanation. "Simple. I thought of a new training method for my Pokémon. I'm gonna have them climb the mountain ranges around Mt. Moon with weights tied to them."

The excitement Austin let bleed into his voice wasn't entirely fake. It was a half-truth, after all. He could feel himself warming to the subject, hoping it'd throw Brock off. If he could get him hooked on the idea, maybe he'd stop poking around. "It'll build their strength, endurance, everything."

"You could easily just go through the tunnels, though," Brock replied, still suspicious, still watching Austin closely.

Austin slapped on a big, exaggerated grin. "Yeah, but how would I do my super-secret awesome training then?" he said, voice dripping with enthusiasm. He even threw in an over-the-top smile for good measure.

Brock paused. Austin could see the wheels turning in his head. For a moment, he wasn't sure if Brock would buy it, but then his expression softened, flickering between doubt and reconsideration.

Huh, maybe I got it all wrong.

He could almost see the suspicion fading from Brock's eyes. Austin let out a small, relieved breath, though he made sure to keep it quiet. Don't celebrate yet, he reminded himself. Not until Brock was fully off the trail.

Just then, a loud squeal pulled both of their attention back to Vee. The groomer was fussing over him, and—oh Arceus—Vee was wearing a blonde wig. A long, flowing blonde wig. It was the most ridiculous thing Austin had ever seen. Vee tilted his head dramatically, the wig's golden locks flowing like something straight out of a cheesy movie.

Austin couldn't help it—he burst out laughing. So did Brock. The absurdity of it all, after everything, was just too much. Vee shot Austin a look, wiggling his eyes in a way that just screamed, Aren't I fabulous?

Austin gave him a double thumbs up, still chuckling. Brock, meanwhile, was trying (and failing) to keep a straight face. 

Maybe Brock really had dropped the Bag Boy thing after all. Austin watched as Brock shook his head, his suspicions melting away.

This naive, goofball, battle-obsessed kid—that's all Brock saw now. There was no way someone like me could be Bag Boy. At least, that's what Austin hoped Brock believed.

For now, he was safe. But deep down, Austin knew he had to be more careful. Because next time… there might not be a way to laugh it off.

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Vee tiptoed through the desolate shopping mall. The only sound was the soft padding of his paws against the cold, hard floor. Shadows loomed large as the dim light from outside barely penetrated the thick grime on the windows, casting strange, distorted shapes across the walls.

As he ventured deeper, the abandoned stores gaped like dark mouths with empty shelves. Vee's ears twitched at the slightest noise—a distant drip of water, the creak of a settling building—that seemed to echo endlessly in the vast, empty space.

Passing a row of mannequins, Vee paused. Their blank eyes seemed to follow him, their pale, featureless faces unnervingly still. A shiver ran down his spine as he moved away, his footsteps quickening.

He found himself by some heavy curtains that swayed slightly, though there was no breeze. The air was stale and cold, sending a chill through his fur. Vee pushed past the curtains, peering into the darkness beyond when suddenly a Team Rocket grunt lunged at him aggressively.

In an instant, Vee felt a familiar and frightening restraint—a metal collar, reminiscent of his time in the lab, snapped around his neck.

"Hold still, this is for a great cause," the grunt murmured, his form unsettlingly shifting into that of a scientist. The scientist wore a sterile white lab coat, splattered with blood stains, his hands covered in tight latex gloves. He held a syringe filled with a greenish liquid.

Human, save me! Vee cried out desperately, the panic rising as the needle pierced his skin.

He suddenly jerked awake.

Thankfully, he was on the couch, unlike Pikachu, who was sleeping peacefully on a pillow beside him. Shivering and panting, Vee struggled to orient himself. His fur was damp with sweat, and his heart pounded fiercely against his ribcage. The remnants of the nightmare clung to his mind, blurring the line between sleep and wakefulness. Vee's eyes darted around the room, seeking something familiar to anchor his reality. Gradually, the familiar shapes of furniture and the gentle, rhythmic breathing of Austin sleeping helped calm his racing thoughts.

Just a nightmare, just a nightmare, he reassured himself, trying to calm the rapid beating of his heart. Yet, the thought of closing his eyes and slipping back into the darkness of sleep terrified him.

Why am I having these nightmares now? When I am safe...

Vee's gaze drifted to Pikachu, the teammate who had been with him from the start—the friend who got hurt because of him. A heavy weight of guilt settled in his chest as he closed his eyes, a painful thought taking root in his mind.

They would be safer if I wasn't around.