Don't try to make yourself remember, darling
Don’t look for me; I'm just a story you've been told
So let’s pretend a little longer
'Cause when we're gone, everything goes on (x)
The trek to the top of Mount Coronet is long and arduous, even pushing Sinnoh’s strongest figures to their breaking points. And yet, every month with stunning punctuality, both Palmer and Barry’s Infernape push aside their duties to scale the hazardous peak together. It’s become a routine pilgrimage, an exercise in stubborn faithfulness.
With every visit to the windswept summit, littered with broken pillars and other remnants of Sinnoh’s past, the pair always finds themselves hoping to find him standing amidst the rubble, that jaunty grin lighting up his features. Infernape’s best buddy. Palmer’s son.
For the impatient duo, it’s felt like eternities have passed since Barry’s abrupt and unexplainable disappearance from this very mountain. The well-meaning blond had rushed headlong into the Distortion World portal in an attempt to save both Hikari and Cynthia, but--in a cruel twist of fate--when the Champion and Champion-to-be reemerged safely from the dissipating darkness, Barry was nowhere to be found...and they couldn’t save him.
Cynthia, Interpol, no matter who Palmer shouted at and begged with...no one even knew where to begin with his problem, and their apologies masked an increasing unwillingness to put up with his desperate behavior. Stinging regret kept the Tycoon’s eyes open during many sleepless nights, the same thoughts swirling in his head. I should have been there for you.
I’m so sorry.
But if I was gone tomorrow, won't the waves crash on?
Is it selfish that I’m happy as we pass the setting sun?
The trek to the top of Mount Coronet is long and arduous, even pushing Hisui’s strongest figures to their breaking points. And yet, young Barry of the Gingko Guild always finds himself drawn up the peak, his overactive mind filled with swirling thoughts as he stares up at the omnipresent distortion pulsing over the revered summit. The merchant is searching, not only for rare items, but for some level of clarity. The story of his Hisuian origin didn’t always bother him so much, but now it weighs more frequently on his mind. Where am I really from? How did I get here?
He has so many questions, and seemingly nobody has the answers to them. In some cases, Barry suspects that some people--especially Ginter and other Jubilife authority figures--are telling him much less than they actually know, which is annoying...but ultimately fine by him. Let them keep their secrets. He’ll get to the bottom of this mystery all by himself.
He reaches the deserted Temple of Sinnoh with a tired sigh, looking skyward at the distortion and pinching the fabric of his handwoven scarf, fingers once again tracing the lovingly stitched lettering on the back.
Barry plops down on the timeworn stones, his heart suddenly heavy with frustratingly unknowable memories and knowledge, his head filling with even more questions. Of course he’s happy, of course he’s safe, and of course he’s grateful for the found family that he’s stumbled into here...but is the Guild all there is to his story? What of his parents, who nobody seems to know?
Not too long ago, Barry woke Ginter up in the middle of the night, swearing that he had heard voices coming from the sky, echoing from the depths of the faraway distortion. The familiar voices were calling out to him, wondering where he was and begging him to come home. There was a long pause, and then Ginter let out a tired sigh that betrayed a hint of sadness.
It’s just a dream, Oran. Probably doesn’t mean anything, the de facto Guild leader had grunted, a pang in his chest. Go back to sleep.
And I'm so scared of getting used to this...
You said, "I'm sorry that you worry, but don't apologize.
I told you to forget me, but you stayed by my side.”
No Barry today. Palmer and Infernape exchange crushed looks, but they still soldier on, holding their chins up as they walk beneath the sun-kissed obelisks. They’ve brought the usual. Palmer scrounges around for a heavy rock, using it to pin down a photo that he had taken recently.
Him, Barry’s mother, Hikari, Lucas, and all of Barry’s Pokemon are beaming at the camera. It’s a bad selfie (he’s still getting used to them), but the positive energy and heart are still there. They’re all still here, waiting and hoping for a miracle. The tycoon will update the photo next month, and the month after that, however long it takes. The photo’s so you don’t lose track of us. You live in the moment, so hopefully this’ll be helpful. We’re all okay, and--wherever you are--we hope you’re okay too.
Infernape is next, offering up a carefully packed box of sweet Poffins--Barry’s secret favorite--before sitting down with his own lunch of charred treats, just like they always used to do together. He’ll leave the sweets behind, just in case his trainer returns and gets hungry. Infernape and Palmer lounge for the entire afternoon before departing, knowing that they’ll be here again next month, their hearts brimming with renewed hope. Come home.
In a dimension stretched across time and space, Barry is eating lunch in the same spot, hazel eyes still fixed on the swirling distortion, straining for signs, voices, anything from above. He can’t spend all day here. Gingko’s delivery services wait for nobody, and--as determined as Barry is to discover the truth to this mystery surrounding his past--he won’t let it distract him from living, from pressing forward in the now and helping as many Hisuians as possible. So, shouldering his pack with a grunt, Barry takes one last glance at the twisted portal before setting off on the long descent towards base camp. When things calm down again, he’ll definitely be back, as relentless as ever, still prying for answers...
In a secluded area above the Alabaster Icelands, a small portal crackles to life...and a box of handcrafted sweet Poffins suddenly falls out of the sky.
“Don't try to make yourself remember, darling
Don’t look for me; I'm just a story you've been told.”
So let’s pretend a little longer
And when we're gone, oh, everything goes on...
Every time I find myself I feel so lost
And every truth that I discover feels so false
And every mountain that I climb that seems so tall
It only felt that way 'cause the valley was so small... (x)
When he’s not making his boisterous pitches to Jubilife Village or dropping off parcels for the Gingko Guild, Barry always seems to end up back here, lured close like a curious Mothim to a flame: the Temple of Sinnoh.
As always, the blond runs his gloved hand reverently over the Pokemon statues at the monument’s base, taking special care to knock any lingering snow or ice loose from their stony visages. And then, as always, he begins to scale the Temple’s winter-scarred steps, a strange, powerful energy thrumming beneath his boots. The climb itself isn’t difficult for the active merchant, but as he nears the summit, distant visions--like wisps of smoke--begin to cloud Barry’s memories, only to frustratingly vanish into thin air before he can even make sense of the disjointed fragments. They blink into his mind’s eye with such speed, providing flickering flashes of a place seemingly far away from Hisui...but oh so familiar at the same time. Barry’s boots are lodged in a marshland. Flash. Barry’s strolling around a manicured garden. Flash.
Barry’s laying on a grassy lakeshore, staring contentedly up at the stars with...
Flash. Gone, and onto the next incomplete thought, and then the next. In some ways, this is torturous...but he just has to know.
What are these memories? Why is this happening to him? Why here, of all places?
What does this all mean?
Reaching the monument’s peak, Barry takes a few more steps before laying down between the towering columns, vigorously messaging his own temples, hoping to dislodge just one elusive answer free from his jumbled thoughts...
There are hints, of course. New arrivals--fallers--are starting to appear with greater regularity all throughout Hisui, with some raving about the lives that they seemingly left behind, some with full knowledge of their origins. Barry craves such clarity, but Sinnoh hasn’t granted him such a gift yet, dangles it out of his reach. No, when Barry thinks back to a life before he woke up in the Fieldlands, it’s like trying to navigate an impenetrable fog. Not knowing hasn’t bothered him one bit before, but now, with these mysterious half-recollections swarming his mind atop the Temple, he’s worried. Am I supposed to be here? Who did I leave behind?
Barry looks around at his windswept surroundings, causing yet another memory to flash into momentary view. He’s battled here before, battled evil with his back pressed up against...who? Why was he fighting? Gone. The poor blond puts his head in his hands with a groan, pulling his green scarf tighter around his neck...and then, he sees it. A faded message scrawled on the back of the fabric’s tattered tag, barely visible...
- Barry, be strong out there, son!! Love, MOM. -
...Mom?
Why is he crying now?
He blinks hard, dabs at his hazel eyes, and fully expects the message to disappear (another cruel trick)...but it doesn’t. And suddenly, Barry feels very tired. This...this is all too much for today. Maybe the message is a prank, or maybe it’s some secondhand scarf from another Barry in Hisui. Even so, the merchant makes sure his scarf is extra secure before rising to his feet again. The Hisuian sun--cold and ruby red--is dipping below the horizon again, signifying that Barry should head back to safety before falling victim to the region’s unforgiving climate.
The other Guildsmembers don’t need to know about this--it’s a personal battle, and Barry feels like he’s gotten one step closer to victory today...victory in the form of clarity. So, he’ll be back, but in the meantime, Barry is happy to return to a Gingko Guild feast by a roaring campfire. Maybe Volo will even make a rare appearance tonight.
He sniffles and looks back at the Temple’s expanse once more before starting his descent. Despite these swirling memories and mysteries, Hisui is still his home.
...Right?
At this point you're pretty much out of my mind
But when I close my eyes I think about you every time...
“Y’know, I think we can be downright pleased with what we accomplished here today, ol’ buddy...” Barry declares, leaning back against one of Amity Square’s lacquered benches with a contented sigh, twinkling hazel eyes fixed on the stars overhead. To his right, Infernape sits in a similar state of peace, happily munching on a bag of charred Poffins. Bunches of bright flowers lie in between the pair, intricate bouquets purchased “wholesale” from Floaroma’s Pick a Peck of Colors Flower Shop. Was it illegal to resell the floral arrangements here at a slightly higher price, on the most romantic day of the year? Was it perhaps a little shady to sell the purchased bouquets out of Amity’s weird cavern hollows? Was this whole idea just a bit unethical?
Probably. However, the Hearthome squaregoers were always consistently overloaded on cash, and many lovestruck couples eagerly conducted business with Barry’s Best Bouquets today. Also, thanks to their crafty hiding spot, Barry and Infernape managed to avoid the infamously uptight Amity guard patrol for the entire day. It’s yet another successful operation for the dynamic duo.
The park is quiet now, save for the gentle cooing of Hoothoots and the occasional crisp Sinnohan breeze. There’s no more customers or guards to watch out for...everyone has gone home (most with their dates, some without.) Normally, just sitting here in silence would drive Barry crazy, but tonight just feels different. The stars are shining overhead, his pockets are heavy with rich people money (to be wisely invested later, of course), and his partner Pokemon is loving the crunch of his overpriced Poffin treat (for some reason, the nearby Poffin House always upcharged the self-proclaimed master chef.) No, in this moment, Barry feels weirdly at peace. Maybe he is getting older after all. The blond laughs quietly at the very thought and tugs on his scarf, feeling its comforting warmth around his neck.
Tonight--just this once--maybe it’s okay to relax for a little while longer.
Well I just got to draw the line
And go get my peace of mind
Lord knows I'm tryin’... (X)
“Thanks for the meal as always, Gramps...delicious!” Barry proclaims, eagerly leaping up from the wooden table to fetch the well-worn Sinnohan snow gear hanging by the front door . ‘Gramps’--the elderly owner of the cozy Snowbound Lodge--can’t help but smile as he begins to pick up the leftover breakfast dishes for his latest guest. Seemingly out of nowhere, Barry had returned to this modest spot one month ago...shivering, out of breath, but determined. After compromising on a small “lodging fee” with the new arrival, Gramps was happy to let the Twinleaf native use his space as a de facto “home base” for the time being. So far, the owner has no regrets--Barry is definitely on the messier side, but when he’s actually here, his sheer energy and exuberance powers the entire lodge.
“If you’re training again today, be careful--to no one’s surprise, it’s still snowing out.” Gramps warns, looking up from the freshly-cleared table with a wry smile. “If you manage to make it back in one piece tonight, the soup will still be hot...so try to return at a reasonable hour this time, will you?”
Fastening his classic green scarf, Barry only scoffs, his hand already clamped on the lodge’s doorknob. “Geez, Gramps...you’re starting to sound more and more like Teach every day,” he teases with a grin. “I’ll have you know that safety first is one of my five most well-known catchphrases...and if I’m late for tonight’s soup, you can fine me 100 years’ worth of rent! Catch ya later...!”
And with that singsong farewell, Barry steps out onto blustery Route 216, the door blowing shut behind him. It’s still very early in the morning, and the bitter Sinnohan winds waste no time cutting into the blond’s rosy cheeks. There’s a sudden flash of red light from his pocket, and Barry can’t help but grin through chattering teeth as Infernape--dependable Infernape--appears at his side, swirling snow hissing as it sizzles on the Pokemon’s flaming mane.
Just like they’ve done every day since arriving here, the duo silently bumps fists...and starts to walk.
--------
Route 217 is a classic Sinnohan trial, the region’s cruel way of breaking even the hardiest of trainers with wicked gales, sheets of shard-like snow, and waist-deep drifts. Despite these obstacles, a well-practiced Barry presses onward, Infernape melting down the bigger drifts in their way with his flaming fists. For just a moment, the blond allows his mind to wander--his orange Poketch has been sitting dead in his overstuffed coat pocket for the past few days, the cold’s latest victim, and he hopes that no one is worrying about him. After all, the important people in his life are all prone to disappearing from time to time--it’s just part of getting busier, getting older.
Even with Barry and Infernape’s expertise, Route 217 still makes for a dangerous, time-consuming ordeal. It’s early afternoon when the pair finally arrives at the Acuity Lakefront for a much-needed lunch break, plopping down in the snow with near-identical sighs. However, their respite is kept brief--after Infernape finishes defrosting their packed sandwiches, they’re back on their feet again, pushing past snow-slicked boughs to reach Acuity’s hidden shore. Barry pauses to look out at the frozen expanse, ripples stopped in time...and closes his eyes.
He can still picture her sneering face. He can still smell the acrid scent of Skuntank smoke, and can still taste the tears that he cried alone after that pivotal defeat. Here lies Lake Acuity...the site of Barry’s first real wake-up call, the site of an event that finally revealed the flaws in his thinking, revealed the fact that he still had a long way to go to achieve his dreams.
But, when Barry opens his hazel eyes again, he feels more determined than ever. He can feel himself getting stronger with every return trip here. In fact, he’s almost ready to accept that Acuity might best represent his renewed resolve...not his past failures.
And...whew. That’s enough thinking for today.
------------
“Let’s go, everyone! Up and at ‘em!” the Twinleaf traveler yells out, waving his arms as his party excitedly emerges from their capsules. With a dramatic flourish, Barry points towards the lake’s distant far end. “Listen up, team! We’re gonna race to the other edge of the lake today! Do whatever you need to do to win--just remember...” he trails off, lowering his voice for added suspense, “...last one there is a rotten Exeggcute.”
As soon as Barry announces that horrible punishment, his Pokemon all launch themselves gleefully towards the lake, every one of them already talking friendly trash to each other. “Hey! Guys, wait! Hey!” shouts the trainer left behind, taking off in a full sprint after them through the snow. “Hey, I didn’t say go! I’m part of this too, you know!”
Staraptor is doing lazy loops in the air and taunting his teammates, rightfully confident that he won’t be the loser for this challenge. Infernape--on his feet--and Floatzel--on his belly--are both sliding across the ice like hockey pucks, each of them trying to playfully shove the other off-balance. And Snorlax, with both Roserade and Heracross perched on his massive shoulders, is absolutely booking it down the lakeshore side, face scrunched with sheer focus.
With his team successfully inventoried, Barry takes to the ice with a shout of laughter, a big, cocky smile on his face as he slides past the quarreling Floatzel and Infernape...on his back.
I need to get stronger. I need to be able to protect people who I care about. I’m gonna be super reliable! he thinks to himself, one eye on Floatzel and Infernape, who look like they’re plotting revenge on their trainer. Even if I have to do my training alone like this from time to time, it’s okay. If these little vacations help me move forward, then it’s totally worth it!
Spinning around like a breakdancer, Barry struggles to his feet as Floatzel and Infernape both lunge unsuccessfully for his ankles. He fixes them both with the most infuriating grin he can muster before innocently skating away on his boots. The “runner-up Champion” closes his eyes, briefly imagining the roar of a celebrating crowd as he nears the shore. (Snorlax and his ensemble are the first ones there, of course. Staraptor is sulking on a branch.)
There’s still so many adventures to go on...and I’m gonna be stronger for ‘em. I’m gonna be stronger for everyone.
Yeah, I refuse to let the Legend of Barry end here!
With comforting sunlight streaming through the windows of Canalave Library, Barry can’t resist throwing his head back to let out an instinctual yawn, his heels drumming restlessly against the floor. Across the worn, oaken table, both Rowan and Dawn sigh disapprovingly while Lucas opts to stare a hole in the ground instead. Again with this...
“Look, I can appreciate a good chat about evolution, philosophy, whatever you guys are talking about...but I gotta say, this is turning into another Celestic Town situation. All talk, no action,” the blond fires back, folding his arms defensively. “We know the mission: head to the Lakes and find Gramps’s special Pokemon...so let’s get going! Time is of the essence, people!”
“...Oh, and maybe I can kick some Galactic butt on my way up to Acuity!” he adds with a jaunty wink. “If I’m lucky, maybe I’ll even run into their big boss like Dawn did! Yeah, just wait until that guy gets a piece of my mind--I’ll show him why you don’t mess with anybody from Twinleaf Town!”
Fully self-motivated now, he leaps out of his chair to strike a powerful karate pose, eliciting an eyeroll from Dawn. As Lucas sinks further into his seat out of embarrassment, Rowan clears his throat and peers up at his unruliest “student.” When the Professor speaks again, his usually-stern voice is tinged with a subtle hint of sadness (Barry is young and so wrong about so many things, but not even Sinnoh’s sharpest scholar can steer Twinleaf’s freest, most innocent spirit away from inevitable catastrophe.) “...You may g-”
BOOM!
The placid afternoon is abruptly sundered by the sound of distant, rolling thunder...and then, dear Arceus, the quake begins. The library’s well-worn floorboards creak horribly alongside the straining of the earth, and dusty tomes tumble from the wobbling bookshelves. Rowan’s dismissal is abruptly cut off, Barry is knocked off his feet in the middle of a roundhouse kick demonstration (thanks, Maylene), and both Dawn and Lucas white-knuckle the wooden legs of their sturdy library table, both waiting out this freak occurrence.
And yet, as quickly as it started, the ruthless shaking just...stops, like a predator losing interest in its prey. Barry is gingerly picking himself up off the floor when he hears panicked footsteps--Canalave’s head librarian is sprinting over to the building’s ancient television with tears in her eyes, and a few moments later, the opaque screen flickers to life with Jubilife TV’s grainy skycam footage: a massive plume of black smoke rising from a dried-out lakebed. Everyone in the room pauses as the live reporter, her voice choppy and distorted thanks to a poor seaside signal, tries to speak over the helicopter’s whirling blades.
Barry is on his feet before anybody else, renewed electric energy coursing through his veins as he takes in the pixelated disaster. Despite the frustrating image quality, he can still see the unmistakable Galactic uniforms encroaching on the wounded space like scavenger bugs. For a brief moment, Barry imagines the skycam’s lens on him as he takes out swarms of grunts, protects the lake, and saves the day--yes, the thought of being a Sinnohan savior leaves him breathless. It’s unbelievably tempting.
So, when Barry hastily scrambles towards the door, blurting out Gramps! I'm going to the lake!, he’s careful not to name a specific lake. After all, he’s already abandoned his plans to blitz towards Acuity. Instead, Barry is willingly heading right into the center of an uncertain storm, directly into assured catastrophe.
[a dad au drabble novel, finale to barry’s memory dex]
originally from anon: Heart thumping, eyes shimmering. The father on the other end hears nothing until a laugh breaks the silence. "I guess I wouldn't mind if you started calling me 'champ' again. I did it, dad. I won."
In the process of working on your dreams, you are going to incur a lot of disappointment.
“Dad?” the trembling, young voice on the other end of the line called. “I-I made it to Jubilife, Dad. But I’m scared…there are a lot of trainers that look tougher than me…I kind of want to go h-home.”
Heart lurching in his chest, Barry cradled his PokeGear carefully against his ear, biting his lip. “Son,” he began, a gentle but firm tone in his voice. “If you want to come home, I won’t stop you. Just remember that you’re chasing your dream. You wanted to become a trainer, right? And I know that you can be the very best…you come from a family of champions after all!”
“Dad! Quit saying that! I-I’m not even close to becoming a champion! I don’t even have my first badge!" muttered the young voice at the other end of the line exasperatedly. Barry merely chuckled, grinning as he comforted his son. “No matter what happens, or what you choose to do…I’ll always be proud of you,” he promised. “If you want to come home, I understand. We’ll have a big coming-home party, fit for cham-royalty!”
There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Some sniffling, some shuffling of feet on grass…and then a deep breath. "Dad, I’m gonna keep going," murmured the son’s voice finally. "Thanks.”
A lot of failure. A lot of pain. A lot of setbacks, a lot of defeats….
“It shouldn’t be this hard!” moaned the voice in Barry’s ear. From the sound of mining machinery echoing into the receiver, the blond guessed that his son was in Oreburgh City trying to get his first Gym Badge…for the third time. “I want the badge already, but every time Roark has an advantage over me! Gah!”
Noting his own fiery competitiveness and impatience in his son, Barry sighed with a smile…this was going to be like dealing with a mirror image of himself. Once his son had stopped ranting, Barry took a deep breath. “You need to really believe that you can win that badge…and when you do that, your Pokemon will believe it too,” he advised with a grin. “Bring your spirit to the battlefield and let your Pokemon shine! Don’t think too much, just let you and your Pokemon go at it!”
“Let them do their own thing, huh?” mused his boy thoughtfully. “I guess I was panicking too much in there after a while…I’ll remember to calm down.”
Barry laughed, scratching the back of his head out of habit, just like in his youth. “Just remember to have fun out there, okay? And here, I’ll send you some money so that you can buy some extra Potions. You must be running pretty low by now!”
Another long silence and then a small chuckle from his son. “Thanks, Dad. I am. Talk to you later.”
But in the process of doing that, you will discover some things about yourself that you don’t know right now. What you will realize is that you have greatness within you.
“His eighth badge already? Wow, you must be so proud!”
“Proud?!” exclaimed Barry incredulously, puffing his chest out at Lucas with barely-contained pride. “I’m more than proud! I-I’m…proud times a hundred! No, a thousand!”
"Okay, okay…" Lucas laughed, trying to calm his oldest friend down as he waved his arms in the air emphatically. "Calm down there, we don’t want you spilling coffee like last time…”
Barry took a deep breath and grinned, resting his chin on his hands as he stared out of the diner window. “I am proud of him, though…” he eventually murmured with a twinkle in his eye. “I hope he calls soon, hasn’t called me ever since he beat Candace in Snowpoint. Maybe his phone broke in the cold?”
A reassuring hand on his shoulder calmed Barry’s nerves as Lucas leaned forward with a chuckle. “Relax, old man. I’m sure the kid will be just fine.”
Mentally reminding himself to get back at Lucas for his jab, Barry shook his head with a smile as he sipped his coffee thoughtfully. “Yeah…I’m starting to sound like his mother now, huh?”
What you’ll realize is that you are more powerful than you can ever begin to imagine.
"And Floatzel goes in, but Bertha’s Hippowdon dodges the attack, shrouding herself in the Sandstorm! But Floatzel is still looking…and finds her! Boom! A solid shot to the head with an Aqua Jet, and Hippowdon goes down! And with that, Bertha goes down as well! This new challenger, son of a famous trainer in his own right, is well on his way through the Pokemon League!”
“Dear! Dear, calm down! Put your shirt back on…oh my sweet Arceus,” managed Barry’s wife before breaking out in giggles as her husband danced in front of their modest television like he was a kid again, twirling his shirt around in an ecstatic, whooping celebration. On the crackling screen, a boy…no, a young man smiled just like his father as camera flashbulbs popped around him for post-match interviews.
"I’d like to thank my parents," were the first words out of his mouth, and his mother put her hands to her mouth, overcome with emotion, while Barry shot a thumbs-up to the screen. “You’re welcome, son! Yeah!” he exclaimed, pulling his sniffling wife to her feet and dancing in celebration again. He had no doubts: his son would be champion in no time.
What you will realize is that you are greater than your circumstances…that you don’t have to go through life being a victim.
The rain had started innocuously enough, but soon in escalated into a full-blown thunderstorm that not only canceled Barry’s flight to the Indigo Plateau to see his son battle Cynthia, but also knocked out the Twinleaf television signal. Staring intently at the wisps of picture filtering through the endless sea of static on the screen, Barry thumped his fist on the floor. Come on… he thought desperately. My dad wasn’t there to see me battle back then…I want to make sure that my son and I can talk about this battle for years to come. Come on…let me see my son.
And then, with his wife watching worriedly behind him, Barry gasped as the television flashed in full clarity and the snapshot of an Empoleon driving a fainted Garchomp into the ground revealed itself. Barry got one last look at his son raising his fists in triumph before the screen went fuzzy again.
For once, he had lost the ability to talk. Barry and his wife sat for what seemed like an eternity in shock, unable to process that their son was the strongest trainer in all of Sinnoh. The phone rang, and Barry immediately snatched it up with shaking hands. “H-hey champ-er…ah…” he fumbled, remembering his son’s disdain for the nickname. The blond froze as he heard a soft laugh from the other end of the line.
"I guess I wouldn’t mind if you started calling me ‘champ’ again. I did it, dad.”
“I won.”
For a minute, the silence seemed almost comical between the father-son duo that loved to talk for hours on end. Finally, Barry broke the standstill by gulping down some air, still trying to process his son’s victory…and trying not to cry at the same time.
“I’m so proud…I’m so proud of you, son. Me and your mom are both so incredibly proud,” he managed, smiling as a happy tear rolled down his cheek.
There was a sniffle from the other end of the line, and Barry was reminded of the young child who wanted to turn back at Jubilife, of the young child who had trouble getting his first badge, of the young child that needed directions to the top of Mount Coronet. His child. Another tear ran down the father’s face as he realized that his son had done what he never could have: become the champion of Sinnoh. As he ruminated on his son’s victory some more, Barry felt a huge weight of relief lift off of his chest.
“Dad?" piped up the voice from the other end of the line suddenly, bringing Barry back from his thoughts with a jolt. "I miss you and Mom. Can I…can I come home for a bit?”
His son was still so young.
“Of course, is that even a question?” scoffed Barry with a watery chuckle. “Come home real quick, and we can finally throw that homecoming party. Don’t be too late!”
A laugh was heard and then there was more silence before his son spoke up again, warm appreciation in his voice. “Thanks, Dad.”
“No son…thank you,” retorted Barry with a grin, wiping a tear from his eye. “Do you want to talk to Mom?”
Don’t let anybody steal your dream. You may fail, and fail, and fail again. But you’re still looking at your dream, reviewing it everyday and saying to yourself…
The words fly from Barry’s lips before he can reel them back in, packed with a surprising amount of anger. After seeing Dawn’s Piplup submit his Chimchar, and after seeing Roark’s Cranidos wreck his newly-caught Starly, the blond finds himself sitting despondently on the floor of his Pokemon Center room, stewing mostly--for once--in silence. Who knew that his adventures would involve so much losing?
Barry is (somehow) less mature then, definitely more prone to impulse...but even he knows that the bitter complaints don’t suit him, that they make everything worse...salt in open wounds. His poor Starly (wing bandaged) flinches at the outburst, and the gaze of his scratched-up Chimchar (composed even at his young age) merely hardens. As the inexperienced Trainer tries to sputter out scrambled apologies, Chimchar quietly grabs Starly’s healthy wing and leads them both out of the room. Barry doesn’t follow, leaning over his bed and punching the pillow feebly as tears sting his eyes. What could he do now?
“Aw man...”
Barry can’t find his young team for the rest of the day, but he manages to mostly bottle his worry--perhaps they just needed some time to cool off. However, when the stars begin to shine over the craggy horizons of Oreburgh, the harried blond determinedly recites his apology--written on his seventh piece of scrap paper, crumpled and crossed-out to oblivion--and sets foot outside the Center, purpose once again in his step. Barry turns the corner of the building, and his heart melts. The rehearsed apology falls from his loosened grip--he wouldn’t remember the lines now, anyways.
In the corner of the Center yard, Chimchar and Starly are sparring each other, their flickering movements visible in firelight. The small monkey grunts as he parries a swat from his feathered teammate. Starly, sweating near the flames, stretches out his bandaged wing. Judging by their heavy panting and dried patch of grass beneath them, they’ve been at this for a while.
“I’m sorry!”
Both Chimchar and Starly jump again as Barry falls to his knees, bowing his head on the cool spring grass. “I shouldn’t have yelled! I know how hard you guys work! We’re a team--we win together, we lose together, and, y’know, I can be better! And I know we won’t give up until we win! I’ll never give up on y-”
A prodding wing in his messy hair gets Barry to lift his gaze from the ground. Starly motions over to Chimchar...and the sincere Twinleaf trainer is again stunned into silence: his starter, his number-one buddy, is glowing golden.
“No way...” is all an awed Barry can manage. With a slight nod, Monferno--still focused--offers a strong hand to his teary-eyed trainer. We still have work to do. And we can’t work if you’re on your knees. That position doesn’t suit you at all.
His heart swelling, renewed vigor coursing through his veins, Barry can’t help but smile as his Pokemon help him to his feet. They’re ready to go another round, ready to get stronger, ready to go all the way to the top with him. The blond smiles because, right then, he knows.
“Oh, in Arceus’s name...my shop! My poor little Poffin shop!”
The owner of the Hearthome Poffin House can only gape slack-jawed with horror as the blond demon across from her engages in one of his Forbidden Arts: cooking.
As Barry feverishly manhandles the poor Poffin machine with rapid, destructive stirring motions, batter splatters over the floor, spills freely onto the counter, and even drips sadly from the ceiling.
It’s food carnage. It’s disaster.
“Y’know, I really think I got it this time!” Barry declares excitedly as the abused blender wheezes to a relieved halt. The Poffin House owner peeps out the smallest no as the oblivious whirlwind Trainer proceeds to lift up the cooling pot of lukewarm Berry batter. “Now to do the batter flip, just like you d-”
Splat!
Time freezes for a second--maybe Dialga was watching over this mess with an equal sense of horror--and the owner slowly lifts the bowl of Barry’s charred batter off her head with barely-contained rage coursing through her weathered bones. Barry hurriedly roots through his bag, pulling out two dried Pecha fruits. He tries to offer up the winningest smile ever, even daring to reload the slimy machine: “My bad, let me try one more-”
“OUT!”
----
[To: DAWN!] can you believe that she kicked me out??!!
[To: DAWN!] this wasn’t right, i was just learning!! >(
[To: DAWN!] SOMEONE is getting fined here. BIG TIME!
“Hey!” Barry protests grumpily as Monferno swats the Poketch out of his hand. Reaching into his Trainer’s bag, the fiery monkey lazily pops a few of Barry’s charred Poffins into his mouth, sighing contentedly. “At least someone appreciates fine cuisine...!” the blond grins, before shooting a pointed look at Staravia and Roselia, their food untouched. As if sensing Barry’s gaze, the two Pokemon turn up beak and flowers in disgust, a show of silent protest.
“Well, Dawn isn’t here right now to whip up some of her magical sweet Poffins, so excuuuuse me for trying!” the miffed trainer grouses, digging through his bag for another meal. “We’ll have to stop at a restaurant or some-huh?”
Whipping back around, it’s Barry’s turn to go slack-jawed--Roselia and Staravia can only hold each other and blink as a Munchlax happily bumbles into camp. With an unconcerned toothy smile, the new arrival scarfs down both Pokemon Poffin servings before him, pawing at the crumbs blissfully. Looking up, Munchlax waddles towards the blond as if to say compliments to the chef. Barry’s on the verge of happy tears.
“Finally!” he gushes dramatically, falling to his knees and looking Arceusward as Munchlax tries to eat his favorite green scarf. “Someone who understands me! Yup, I’ve decided that you’re definitely coming with us, little guy--I’ll cook all the food you’ll ever need personally!”
Monferno, Roselia, and Staravia exhale with relief as Barry makes a new foodie friend. They’re totally down with this.
