Congratulations, you found me! Tiny lil' selective sideblog for BRUNO of the ELITE FOUR. Penned by Dan (31, he/him.)
Follows from @danagerie. Same general rules from that blog apply here as well. Above all: be cool. Be patient. Lowish activity planned. Please don't promo this.
ABOUT BRUNO
Quietly intense, but has an unmistakable laugh. Blunt, harsh, but has good intentions. A bit of a pushover around the right people.
Reclusive, supremely dedicated to his routine: meditation and fitness. Unparalleled strength. Rarely leaves the League headquarters, except to train. Whenever he does leave, he seems to vanish for days at a time. (Appears only when absolutely required to for League promotions.)
Surprisingly inquisitive. Voracious reader and amateur tinkerer.
Trained under the Fighting Dojo's original master. Exited the Dojo just as the master's hotheaded son, Kiyo, assumed the operation. Joined the Elite Four after a period of self-exile. Did not interfere with Sabrina's takeover of the Dojo.
Would do almost anything for a RageCandyBar. He seems to always have one on his person.
you can see everything from the top of a mountain.
when the child first summits mortar with the energy of a second sun (and the wild curiosity of a rookie explorer), bruno just observes in his usual meditative silence, his towering frame blending in to the surrounding crags.
he has been alive for a long time, and has seen many things. the retired elite recognizes the way silva gazes up at the clouds like a fledgling observing other birds. (many trainers have looked at him in the same way.)
he recognizes silva's half-concealed unease. the unfamiliar paranoia of a soul on the run, searching, hiding behind that childish optimism. bruno was once the same way--a giant trundling among the masses, yearning for everything and nothing, eventually finding comfort only in cloudy solitude.
they sit for just a moment as the initial activity dwindles, feeling the wind in their hair. (because, sometimes, the world is best viewed from a distance before you dive back in again.)
it has taken bruno a lifetime to learn this calm. he hopes that silva will find her own respite someday, too.
the crisp mountain air blows against them both, and it feels like a hug.
Born on One Island. Mother was one of the island's few Pokemon Center aides while moonlighting as an Ember Spa volunteer. Father ran a small logging business and frequently ventured out into Kindle Road and Mount Ember, often disappearing for days. In hopes that young Bruno would someday take up the mantle of the business, he gifted his son a Machop. Bruno's first Pokemon.
From a very young age, Bruno was quiet and serious. He did as he was told, worked hard...but had a hidden adventurous streak. He and Machop would often sneak off to the mountain to train while his parents were busy. (He'll never forget one wide-eyed magical night where Moltres alighted at the summit, setting the whole peak ablaze...)
Bruno was only eight when his father disappeared from this life. A mysterious accident, the authorities told his mother. Deep down, Bruno didn't believe this at all--his father knew the roads and mountain better than anyone. He had also built quite the respectable operation, and it had drawn the eyes of rivals, criminals, and many others with bad intentions. (At the time, One Island did not have the manpower or means to pursue the matter further...so no further investigations were conducted.)
With the logging business shutting down, Bruno's mother soon found work in Saffron City's Pokemon Center. It was a big move, and Bruno had difficulty transferring into the bigger environment. He was bullied in school, still festering from his father's death, and spent all his free time doing cathartic sparring with Machop in secret. It was during one of these sessions that he was first recognized by the Karate Master of the Fighting Dojo. Bruno was raw and hurting, but he had massive potential.
As part of his training, Bruno was given a Tyrogue to raise. It evolved into a Hitmonchan. He had always been defensive and walled-off, but under the Dojo's rigorous tutelage, Bruno began to open his mind, acknowledge his pain, and unlock his true abilities in the process. For Bruno, meditation became more important than pure strength training. For Bruno, it wasn't about summits. It was about making sure he climbed everyday. Routine. Discipline. With the Dojo's help as the years melted away, Bruno was coming into his own.
And yet, Bruno still became known for his tremendous battling ability. His power and connection with his fighting Pokemon was unmatched. He eventually managed to raise a Hitmonlee (the first Dojo pupil to raise both) and led sparring sessions when the existing Master was not available. The Master's young son, Kiyo, was finally ready to start training, and Bruno was given the honor of training him. His first student.
But Kiyo was a massive handful, and a young Bruno was not prepared for him. Kiyo bristled under Bruno's defensive teaching styles--when Bruno preached temperance and restraint, Kiyo destroyed everything with almost wild abandon. When Bruno preached balance, Kiyo sought to hungrily stomp on the scales. Bruno was the earth--practiced, unmoving, and hardened in his ways--and Kiyo was water--an endless torrent of surging creativity and might, splashing in every direction. As master and student, they did not learn from each other. They were incompatible. To no one's surprise, Kiyo's Tyrogue evolved into a Hitmonlee, and he crushed Bruno in battle soon after, using a variety of improvised and unconventional tactics to win. Kiyo reveled in his victory, and Bruno--30ish years young and ego thoroughly stung--left the Dojo that evening. Abandoning his student. His biggest mistake.
Bruno soon found refuge after proving himself once again, as a vaunted member of the Indigo Elite Four. He made peace with his past decisions, and--as exemplified by his newly-raised Hitmontop--had achieved his version of 'balance.' However, even as he meditated in his chamber and continued to train others (notable pupils include Brawly, Chuck, and a small army of Crushers and Black Belts), Saffron was changing. And when Kiyo finally inherited the Fighting Dojo, Sabrina's well-laid takeover was launched into ruthless motion.
The Dojo didn't stand a chance. The takeover was too fast, almost cruel, and Kiyo--despite his awesome power and all-out heart--was quickly deposed. Thoroughly humiliated, he fled to Mt. Mortar. Just like a young Bruno, Kiyo was festering in his own dark thoughts and shame, but no one was coming this time. In the aftermath of the Saffron takeover, Bruno didn't make any move to help--a regret that still haunts him to this day.
Kiyo's first Pokemon was Hitmonlee. His second Pokemon was Primeape. His second Pokemon became Annihilape soon after his self-exile. (Sometimes, anger feels like death.)
Kiyo languished in Mortar's underbelly for years, still just as wild, tormented by increasingly darker thoughts. He would do anything for revenge on Sabrina. Anything. When he finally reemerged, Kiyo thought of relaunching his old life, but his first attempt to reopen a Dojo in Kalos was a complete disaster. (He was never interested in 'starting over' anyways. He needed catharsis. He was water, ready to obliterate the dam.)
All the while, guilt had begun to hammer Bruno's consciousness. He had met Red, and learned that the powerful young trainer had been Kiyo's pupil before the master had fled from Kanto. Bruno began traveling to Mortar then, to train and search for his lost student. Learning to cope with his failure, and seeking to make things right.
Years later, Red returned from mountainous self-exile. Bruno saw Kiyo in him, and saw a chance to rebalance things, just a little bit. He began to train Red as only he knew how, by complementing Red's offensive resiliency and creativity--courtesy of Kiyo--with his own defensive mindfulness and discipline. Red would embody the teachings of two masters. (And years later, in the old Dojo, Red would finally best Bruno in a culmination of those skills.)
Kiyo's first victim was a young Psychic training outside the Ruins of Alph. He was finally beginning to take his revenge. Other victims would follow.
On the night of Kiyo's first murder, Bruno had a vision--dark haze, violence, and familiar anger--but he was too late. He had waited for too long, and now innocent people were paying the price for his inaction. Kiyo had become a monster, and Kiyo was his responsibility.
Bruno is now in his late fifties. Although his physicality may be starting to dip from its peak, in many ways, the titanic Elite is stronger than ever. He will need every bit that strength, for a horrifying entity--Black Fog--looms full on the horizon, and Bruno believes that somewhere--his student is still thrashing within its grasp.
Bruno is not afraid to die. He has lived a full life, and believes in impermanence and spirits. This upcoming mission represents many important things. Redemption, reconciliation, and a real chance to right the balance, in so many ways.
Bruno exits stasis to join in the fight against Black Fog, teaming up with Matsuba and Sabrina to ready a remote signal intended to weaken the entity.
In the depths of an abandoned medical lab, Bruno comes across Kiyo and his Hitmonlee, sighting his student for the first time in over a decade. Unfortunately, both Kiyo and Hitmonlee had become corrupted under Black Fog's influence, and--with assistance from Sabrina and Matsuba--Bruno manages to subdue his former student, who perishes in the ensuing showdown. (Bruno manages to capture Kiyo's subdued Hitmonlee. He is presently rehabilitating the grievously corrupted Pokemon within the depths of Mortar, frequently referring to the Hitmonlee as his 'final student.')
With Matsuba's assistance, Bruno has Kiyo cremated in a moving ceremony. He intends to bury Kiyo's ashes at the apex of Mortar in the near future.
Along with the rest of the assembled team, Bruno plays an important role in containing Black Fog once again. While others emerge from the battle unscathed, Bruno finds himself afflicted with a months-long lingering illness that evades explanation, Black Fog's stubborn brand upon him. Hiding said illness, he intends to retire from the League to live out the remainder of the days in the mountain, meditating with his Pokemon.
loose ownership timeline of the Saffron Fighting Dojo.
When Bruno first began training at the Fighting Dojo in his early teens, he was one of the first students to learn under Karate Master Junichi. Junichi was the a recent heir to the Dojo, which had carved out a revered niche for the fighting community over centuries of existence within Kanto. (Junichi continued teaching the lessons learned from those who came before, with a focus on peacefulness, fundamentals, and discipline.)
Following Junichi's passing, his son--a wild, unprepared Kiyo--inherited the Dojo. Karate King Kiyo, as he preferred to be called, boldly sought to expand the Dojo's profile in a changing Saffron. The old ways--the Dojo's slowly-built culture was thrown aside to indulge Kiyo's ambition. For the first time, aggressive advertising and a strong anti-Psychic sentiment were deployed. The Dojo's teachings shifted with the master. (Kiyo loved to battle. He had an all-out approach when it came to teaching offense, endurance, and creativity. Meditation was not used for peaceful purposes, but to resist psychic tactics. Many students were injured under his watch.)
Following Sabrina's takeover and Kiyo's subsequent abandonment, the Dojo sat abandoned for some time before mutual arrangements were made for Karate Master Koichi to revive the thoroughly humbled space. Koichi, Junichi's youngest surviving student, is the current master of the Dojo. The present space is not nearly as storied as it was under Junichi, nor is it as expansive as it was under Kiyo, but--by firmly staying within his lane--Koichi has maintained the Dojo well enough to secure a small foothold within Saffron's futuristic cityscape.
Because the Dojo is so isolated and obscure in present day, many Kanjoh League members and their friends now use the space to casually spar/practice with some degree of privacy. (No matter how destructive their battles become, Koichi is always on the ball when it comes to repairs and maintenance. He's good.)
@noitxll sent: somewhere near the peak of mt mortar, noland has appeared, folded over onto his hands and knees in silence — not from the windedness of the climb, but rather awaiting the mountain's judgement, waiting to be spoken to first. he is visibly, and strangely enough, tense.
Perched atop Mortar's summit like a gigantic boulder, Bruno doesn't move. At all. His craggy features and towering, perfectly still frame blend him seamlessly into the rugged backdrop.
He's made this same trek thousands of times by now, sat under countless rising suns and shrouded moons. Who knows how long the veteran Elite has been meditating up here, this time around?
Even as a pair of Spearow light on his impossibly broad shoulders to squabble with each other, he seems content to let them fight, silently serving as a momentary perch for their showdown. If not for the near-imperceptible rise and fall of his chest, a new arrival like Noland might mistake Bruno for dead. A monument to pensiveness.
When Noland finally pulls himself up to the peak, Bruno cracks his eyes open, regarding the unexpected visitor with his curious, expectant gaze. (He can tell that this is the Brain's first journey. You just know, after a while.)
He watches, but he doesn't speak. That's Noland's job.
Will's outburst is interrupted by Xatu flapping one wing out to smack him on the face with it, irritated at how loud he was being. After a moment of rubbing his nose, he pouts deeply.
"I mean, you're the longest serving member of us, but still! Have you picked a successor yet?"
Will's harried questions are met with expected silence. The energies shared between the two Elites could not be more different at times, yet Bruno isn't ignoring the resident psychic. As his colleagues all know, sometimes it just takes him a minute (or five) to respond.
The crackling of the flames within his room is a welcome sound, a comforting backdrop after the whirling rush of events that just occurred. Despite some mild grousing, Will has done a well-enough job tending to the low-maintenance chamber (just as he promised.)
"...I have a lot to think about first. And do," Bruno finally answers, once again in his immovable meditation, the long-serving pillar of this flame-swathed chamber. Faded ceremonial paint still marks the hulking musculature of his shoulder in a variety of hues, and an ornate wooden box rests just to his side. Bruno's eyes seem to stare right through Will--ever since his return, he's been more lost in thought than ever. "But it's time to start moving forward now."
For the first time in a while, a smile crinkles the giant's stony features.
"...Thanks for looking after this place, fire and all. You hoping to inherit it once I'm gone?"
Bruno holds the box delicately upon his lap. Even with his eyes closed, he can sense Erika's passing presence. A comforting, warm scent lingers in the air, and it triggers a memory...
Kiyo blitzes up the mountain like his very life depends on it, his haphazard, scrabbling footfalls thudding against the upward grain as he veers off the beaten path to create his own trail, indiscriminately leaving whole beds of flattened flora in his wake. All the while, his sharp gaze never wavers from Mortar's apex. Even from a shrinking distance, the summit overtakes all of the young student's vision.
Kiyo crests the mountaintop before his master is even halfway ascended. And Kiyo lets him know it. His victorious crowing echoes down the grade like a rockslide. You've slowed way down, Master. Has anyone ever beaten you this badly before...?
Compared to his student above, Bruno's climb is steady--almost thoughtful. Efficiency is prized over speed for the time being, and his focus remains unbroken even as Kiyo's exuberant gloating continues to rain down on him. Trudge, trudge. (Bruno is so unbothered, he even pauses to relocate a Geodude to a nearby ledge.)
When the Elite finally summits, Kiyo is in the middle of a pushup set, sweat dripping from his frame as he brushes wild hair out of his eyes. I can't count how many laps I took around the summit before you got here, the fiery protégé smirks, rising unsteadily to his feet again. Bruno merely grunts in return.
"...Hasty as always. We're only halfway done, dumbass."
Kiyo's grin falters, and then falls away completely once Bruno's message finally sinks in. Of course. He'd forgotten about the way back down--
Kiyo takes a step and winces. He had burned everything just to get up here and celebrate, and now he can only lurch desperately as his 'slow' master shifts into another gear for the descent. Kiyo wouldn't dream of giving up, but a frustrated roar still rips from his throat as the giant Elite leaves him alone at the top. Not fair! Fuck you...!
Meanwhile, Bruno is already bounding down Mortar with the gleeful exuberance of someone half his age, Geodude rolling alongside him like they've found their kin. His booming laugh easily drowns out Kiyo's snarling banter from above, rattling the entire mountain...
Bruno holds the box delicately upon his lap, the nostalgic memory still lingering within his mind. He's smiling to himself, even as tears slip across the lines creasing his tired face. Back then, Kiyo was so full of spirit, seemingly limitless potential, reckless energy firing off in every direction. And that's the Kiyo he will choose to remember. Rest now. Don't mind if you wait for me, this time.
I've still got one more mountain to climb.
"It's been some time since I've seen you, Master Bruno."
Giovanni's voice, as tinny as it was coming out of the Porygon, was unmistakable. The creature, a robotic Gallade and Gardevoir fusion, was unusual, but still carried the former Boss's mannerisms and posture as the Porygon spoke.
"I hope I'm not disturbing your meditation."
Giovanni's presence here in the lounge feels like it should be improbable, impossible, and yet--here most of him looms--his very consciousness somehow neatly contained within a technological shell.
Even after all these years, Bruno can still recognize that voice anywhere. As the titanic Elite has already done so many times tonight, he allows this latest revelation to wash over him like a wave, brow furrowing slightly as he finally opens his eyes to digest yet another miracle. (God. The robotic fusion even stands like him.)
"...You're really in there," Bruno rumbles evenly, though a flicker of relief wrinkles his weary features, a fleeting glimmer of familiarity flashing across his vision. He's glad to see Giovanni again, even in this form. "Somehow you always find a way, Sakaki."
Bruno pauses then, and time itself seems to undulate. Inhale, exhale.
Inhale, exhale.
"The intersection between life and death is crowded tonight. Many crossed over, some brought back, and a few left in the middle," he observes softly, his gaze lingering upon Giovanni's gleaming vessel before falling towards the wooden box cradled in his lap. A conflicted shadow crosses Bruno's face in this moment of concerned reflection. His telepathic link with Matsuba and Sabrina has heard almost everything tonight, for better or worse. Giovanni is here in the lounge with him. Giovanni is also lying lifeless downstairs.
"Crowded everywhere. And loud," he grunts, rubbing tiredly at his temples. "...Makes me feel uneasy."
How many times had he drawn this comparison? From challengers seeking to conquer him after barely outlasting Koga, from Karen--thumping him lightheartedly on the chest as they pass in the League halls, the teasing falling so easily from her lips--, from those countless first impressions...
When Will's Xatu speaks, her voice seems to reverberate from all corners of his mind, each word triggering a memory. Bruno blinks, and he's pulled back into the past, those gruesome scenes flickering before him with a psychic's ruthless neutrality. He had tried to bury them all through meditations, but--as Xatu gently pulls at each sordid thread--the ugly memories all resurface, each surrounded by the bitter blight that had been curling around his dreams lately.
The body of a young psychic lies in the Ruins of Alph, surrounded by the disjointed calls of Natu.
The body of a young psychic is found in the Blackthorn mountain range. He had been running away.
Body after body cascades across Bruno's vision. Death after pointless death. His fault, for allowing this to fester for so long-
The unbreakable mountain feels his heart cracking all over again...but there's also resolve to be found here, between the fractures. No more hiding, no more running away--it's time to face the truth, and all of its consequences.
Bruno polishes off his third konbini bento box and slowly rises to his feet with a grunt. Tell Will to check on my chamber while I'm gone, he thinks, knowing Xatu will remember.
"...I'm sorry," he mutters, seemingly to no one in particular.
The laugh that escapes him is blunted by how tired he is, but the bitterness beneath it runs deep enough to be lost in the rush of the water.
"Not blind to it. Used to it. It's been a year." When he sweeps the cuff of his pants up, his ankle is bruise-black and the marking curls around his shin and foot like the edge of an enormous claw crushing his limbs. "It's been darkening for a year. It started spreading at the halfway point."
Beyond them, Gengar slips into a shadow to avoid a kick aimed at the middle of his wide body, laughing as he dances around Hitmontop. Even with his incorporeal nature, he knows Hitmontop's hits could connect without issue.
"I knew it was coming back. We've had a year to prepare to put it away - and Sabrina is confident she has the solution this time. For what it's worth, I think we'll be alright."
He exhales slowly, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck and slicking his hair to his skin.
"I'm attached to this life, as much as the afterlife interests me. I have things to do. I've finally figured out what I want to do in time for my life to be threatened - so I have to fight for it, or I'll disappoint myself."
In the flickering glow of the cavern, Matsuba's conviction burns brightly as he answers Bruno's question. The Elite offers a mere nod in return before once again falling into that contemplative silence, his broad frame sinking back behind the curtain of frothing water. Matsuba has given him a lot to think about.
"...I remember where I was one year ago. I was here, roaming these same caves," he mutters. "I always told myself that I was still looking for my student, but I was sidestepping the truth. Kiyo ceased being my student a long time ago. And now, it's certain that he's abandoned this life to become something else entirely."
Bruno's low voice is already going hoarse. He's rarely ever talked this much. Hitmontop is twirling away in the shadows, the Tags attached to his limbs wind-whistling faintly in the expanse.
"You have already been fighting for so long, Matsuba. And I'm sorry for not getting involved sooner--but I'm ready now. To make up for lost time and face the truth, whatever form it takes."
Inhale. Exhale. Bruno's tired eyes are alight with determination, his disciplined posture straightening against the wild crush. (In this moment, he is one with the unshakeable earth beneath the waterfall.)
He closes his eyes after Bruno asks it, his mind indeed racing in dozens of directions. There is a needle-claw beneath something he's named ambition, digging deeper and deeper to get him to do something foolish. It laughs behind his ear, telling him to chase that darkness to its ends.
Bruno would, of course, think his mind runs in too many directions. Tireless as the mountains itself, he wonders how Bruno would fair with a psychic's mind, where quiet was never an option.
"Sitting here, I think...about what I need to do." He says it softly at first, almost too quiet to be heard over the water. "My duties. They're always on my mind. Lately, though, I keep thinking about eyes."
He raises his hands to cover his own, palms flat against his face as he breathes deep. It's hard not to calm himself when he's trying to match Bruno's pace.
"I see a lot. I see more than most ever will, but lately I can't see the one thing I've been searching for. It's good at hiding from me, but I can feel it watching me at every turn. I've had nightmares lately where I feel someone sitting at my bedside watching me - and sometimes I don't wake up in my bed."
He exhales, dropping his hands back to his lap.
"I come here to think, but I think I came here this time so I wouldn't have to listen to my own thoughts. The tower is too dark and quiet for me."
Bruno acknowledges Matsuba's candidness with a small nod, slowly rubbing at his chin. Over his many decades, he has become acquainted with many mystics, psychics and channelers...and he knows by now that telling them to simply clear their minds is a fruitless endeavor. An impossible task for those like the ultra-perceptive Gym Leader sitting next to him, haunted by elusive visions on both sides of the veil...
"...You've been spending so much time wandering inside your own head that you've become blind to the rest of your body," Bruno grunts, tilting his head towards Matsuba's bruise-wracked frame. "Look at yourself. Whatever you're trying to find...it's swallowing you whole."
The waterfall, steady and predictable, continues to thunder down from above. Gengar and Hitmontop are (literally) shadow-boxing in the corner, twin blurs of limbs and spectral shapes.
"Seems like we'll all be arriving at an important crossroads soon. Sabrina told me that we should be ready to die," the Elite rumbles, raising a level gaze towards Matsuba. Always so neutral and unrattled, with undertones of a quiet curiosity.
"...How much is this life worth to you? Are you prepared to fight for it?"
He stretches the knots out of his muscles as Bruno wades closer, sitting with his back to the falls as he lets the water shift around Bruno's enormous form. Only once the Elite is settled does Matsuba join him. His shoulders hunch, speaking of pain that echoes up and down the nerves of his spine.
(Like hands reaching in and clawing them out. It's been a long month.)
Hitmontop bounces out of his ball and the reactions of the shadows swing wildly on the spectrum: Gengar giggles, glad for a familiar face, and Zoroark snarls until Matsuba gives a noise to command it quiet, slinking back into the fog.
The marks look like bruises from afar, but up close one could see the way the edges are tattered and spreading like a creeping fire under the skin, seeking to take up as much of Matsuba's body as it could. Whether the marks themselves hurt or not, Matsuba gave no clear indication, but he had gone out of his way to hide them from most. (Most meaning people who would not normally stumble across him here.)
Mention of a storm makes him brush his hair back from his face again, eyes turned to the darkness that encroached on the lantern light.
"Yes. No. I've had a year to prepare and I feel more lost than ever." Will had sensed it too, hm? Perhaps that explained his absence for this year's conference. "I've barely been able to see anything ahead for us."
Weary conflict is etched deep into the lines of Matsuba's exhausted face. Judging by the extent of the mystic's virulent condition, he's been fighting too hard for too long against the very darkness that threatens to swallow him presently, and Bruno's frown deepens. A hint of concern finally creases his brow.
(Matsuba's condition was echoed across the entire Johto League: another tragedy of an overburdened leader, tasked with carrying and upholding insurmountable legacies, lineages, and responsibilities until they caved in on themselves. In order to fill the great footprints of those who strode before, most of them had to grow up much too quickly.)
And now, the storm approaches.
Bruno can hear the frustration flaring subtly beneath Matsuba's soft voice. The waterfall--relentlessly neutral--continues thundering across their shoulders, sprays of foam flashing against the little lantern-light.
"Your mind races in too many directions, Matsuba," the titanic Elite mutters above the low roar of nature. He leans back with a grunt and shifts the entire flow of the cascade, followed by a few more moments of silence.
"...When you sit beneath these falls, what do you think about?"
