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Hiba stood there, never breaking eye contact with Henrietta as she wove her pretty speech. He stood there arms crossed matching her cold stare until she finished. at which time he looked over to Takamaru to see how he was reacting to her speech.

This time Takamaru was looking directly at Hiba, willing him to accept Henrietta's words. To accept his choice, to acknowledge his progress. That broke Hiba's resolve.

With a sigh Hiba conceded to defeat.

"I know he's strong Blondie, i know he's capable, and hell, i even understand his willingness to fight." He Began.

"But i care about him to much to respect his choice to fight in this war against terrorism. Not cause he's not strong enough, no. But because off the things i cant protect him from, what this is going to do to him on the inside." Hiba understood about PTS, it was the reason his dad took up drinking and drove his mother away, and eventually him.

"Watching people and Pokemon die, you don't just get over that. it stays with you. you've already seen a bunch of messed up crap, are you really willing to see more, if not worse stuff?" Hiba asked, almost pleading.

Tk nodded. "Yea. because its between that or live with the guilt of knowing that i didn't do anything when i could have, should have."

"I understand-" he began with a sad sigh. "But know this, i wont go with you. I wont watch the you i know and love die. It'd be to much for me, im not as strong as you i guess." Hiba offered a sad smile as he turned to walk away. "Later bud." he said with one more look over his shoulder before leaving.

Takamaru clenched his fists so tight his knuckles turned white, tears welled up in his eyes but they wouldn't fall, this was his choice so he wouldn't cry. Instead, he stood there watching as his best and only friend prior to coming to Unova walk away. Lowering his head so that his bang shadowed his eye's, he turned away as well.

Driftveil City: Basculin Bowl

Festive debauchery was still firmly in place at the harbor’s largest and most decadent bar, which is what one might expect when combining pirates, live ska music, and a bar together. Nowell sat at the counter eating nachos. His young age was emphasized in the pub, especially since he was taking full advantage of the fact that the barstools spun in place, bopping his head to the music.

“Nowell!” The backpacker reversed his spin, stopping when he saw Ska walking up to him, excited. “About time you showed your face around here, mate.”

Nowell hastily wiped his hands on a napkin. “Long time no see.” He held out his plate to the captain. “Nacho?”

Ska shook his head. “Pass. Those things are gross.” He took a seat next to Nowell and nodded at the bartender, who received the unspoken signal to get him some whiskey.

A nacho was lifted off the plate by an invisible force and was pulled towards Ska’s shoulder. It suddenly disappeared, and joyous crunching sounds replaced it. “Kec kec.”

The Kecleon’s camouflage dropped, her position on Ska’s shoulder. It was an oddity among it’s species: the colored stripe around her stomach, which normally never changed color, was permanently transparent. The result was that the Kecleon’s upper half appeared disconnected from the bottom. Ska tickled under the Kecleon’s chin. “Looks like Keasbey is takin’ you up on that offer.”

Keasbey’s long tongue snapped more nachos rapidly. Nowell shrugged.

“Just save some for me. Oh! Did you find that Native Unovan kid I was telling you about? He shoulda been here by now.” The fact that Moze was probably at least two years older than Nowell put a smirk on Ska’s face when he called Moze a kid.
“Not too long ago. He’s a slippery one. It’s gonna take some plannin’ to take him down. But there’s a bonus. He’s got himself a sister.” Ska clapped. “That’s a whole new world of options.”
“I know! I’m pretty sure I met her on the way over here.”
“Brown braid, gold eyes, shorty, possessive aggressive?”
“Yeah, yeah! She was like, a seven out of ten? Maybe an eight?”
“Well I’d say she’s an obvious pass since I’ll be thirty one years old next winter, but that’s not the point.”

Ska held up two fingers. “Our job just got twice as easy. Just finding one of these buggers is hard enough, but now we’ve got two to work with.”

Nowell nodded, munching on more nachos. “You think that’s easy? I’ll see you the sister, and raise you her boy toy.”

The captain blinked and tilted his head to the side. “…didn’t follow you on that one, mate.”

“He said he’s got an Aura power. Moving experiences from one thing to another. You know they’re both part of that Legends Crew fad, right?” Nowell wiggled his eyebrows, hoping Ska would catch his drift.

Evidently he did, by the look of realization that slowly dawned upon him. With this realization came a huge grin. Wayne and Salieri, and maybe the rest of this Legends Crew were brand new cogs in the machine. They’d either crash it apart or make it run smoother than ever before. And Ska would do everything he could to make sure it was the latter.

“Aces. This is absolutely aces.” Ska snatched a whiskey bottle out of the bartender’s outstretched hand and took a huge swig. “Scheming has never been this fun before.”

“So what’s the plan now?”
“Now we sit back and wait. We’ve got some time to make a move. And my gut’s tellin’ me that the girl’s gonna make a move first. She’s the vengeance type, it’s all over her eyes.”

He rested an elbow on the counter. “Alright, now tell me all about your little tour, mate. Start with the highlights.”

“Heh. Highlights, huh? I’ve got ‘that’ highlight, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“That’s exactly what I’m getting at.”

Nowell opened his backpack. Ska leaned over and peered inside. An ornately decorated and ancient looking box sat inside.

“Highlight numero uno. Treasure trove.”

Azucena ruffled Takamaru's hair. "Just keep moving," she said to him in a low voice.

"I'm gonna go set up shop. Might as well start earning money." Robby was heading off wherever, and she turned toward Henrietta and Takamaru. "What about you guys?"

Henrietta had returned her sword and had replaced the ball with Bastion's. "I'm going to get a room and then do some training."

With that Henrietta set out.

((I'm going to assume that I secretly wasn't waiting on Takamaru.))

Azucena had the little restaurant set up in the small bridged island at the entrance of Driftveil. With the Combusken cooking for the tired and weary travelers, K-Rok singing light songs to Ervin's playing and her playing both waitress and cashier things were going rather smoothly.

She could already tell, however, that their supplies would quickly grow limited, and their ability to serve with limited dishes had meant quick runs into town to spend what they did make on more supplies. It was a frustrating thing starting off, and Azucena knew they were limited by the lack of a dish washer.

She needed a water type.

"Thank you, we'll be here as long as we can," he told the customer as he paid for his meal. They didn't have a proper menu either but people were able to see what was in stock. All in all it was a very rudimentary restaurant. Or, it probably wasn't even a real one in the first place.

***

Henrietta had changed and headed to the beach. It wasn't really a beach, more of a small strip of sand near the docks. The docks themselves alongside the cold storage was a large work area bustling with the evening shift.

Clad in swimsuit, Henrietta stood next to Bastion. "We need to figure out how to do this," she told him. Their first attempt had been lackluster, and easily could've killed her without natural infusion and her aura ability. The second attempt would be over water, which meant less risk.

"We'll start with basic surfing," she told Bastion who nodded in agreement. It appeared he hadn't much enjoyed the ride either. "If we can pull this off," she said as she turned her head to look up at him, his eyes trained on the sea and its waves, "and make it combat efficient we'll have a new edge against our opponents."

"Blast."

"Let's go."

And then they were separate again.

Robby knew that the words said before wouldn't suddenly flash away. Everyone would remember, especially the people involved in the earlier argument. LG had been trying hard, but he could see it, now that he breathed and started to think. They weren't going to follow her.

No one was likely to agree to follow anyone. But for now, he couldn't let them drift. He was sure they would all keep moving, intending to be heroes still. There was no guarantee any of them would stop easily.

A flash of light came a moment after he flicked his pokeball. Bacon let loose a terrifying yawn, but the lad stood still. Listening. "Sniff 'em out." He whispered. "Not LG, Takamaru or Azucena. Other two. Lead me to one of 'em." The pignite lifted his nose in the air, and for a time, the two stood still.

At last, the pokemon caught something, and they started moving. For now, he would check on everyone, see their moods. Talk a bit. Nothing demanded attention.

So he just had to make sure no one was doing anything ridiculous.

It felt like she'd been out there for a month and a half, training with her Blastoise, spending a lot of time falling and hitting the water painfully. It was closer to two hours, maybe more, but it still hurt enough to feel like an eternity.

Part of her mused over how she wouldn't have been able to train this intensely without aura. Something about it made her stronger, faster, more durable. Better. She recovered faster, turning what would've been falls that stopped her for the day into short rests spent swimming out in the ocean, just far enough from the city that nobody could arrest her for trespassing in the dock area.

Currently she was resting on the back of Blastoise's shell. He'd gotten surfing down, it wasn't all that difficult really. It was basically swimming with someone on top of your back, and Bastion could feel it too, a sort of power born from their bond.

It was using the transportation over the seas that was the hardest part. It required a lot of coordination and power, something that would be impossible without aura or years of training.

"We're just skipping over the gaps," Henrietta said to herself. The gaps in time that someone needed to get better at something because of their physical limitations, those gaps simply didn't seem to exist. Or rather, while they existed, they were growing smaller and smaller with each passing day.

"It's probably about time to head back."

((Whoa look out, it's a post-))

Driftveil Harbor: Moze

“Cut it out, Blacksheep.”

Moze sat on a bench just outside the harbor area, passing the time by eating popcorn with his Whimsicott. Blacksheep had gotten the notion that trowing popcorn at Moze would be funny, resulting in a short popcorn battle that ended with a thin film of butter globbed on the side of Moze’s cheek.

"Cott cott,” Blacksheep taunted. Moze smirked and flicked her cottony mane, causing it to shiver. The pokemon was distracted by something past her trainer. She pointed at it, and Moze turned.

The girl was like something out of a movie. Statuesque, with long red hair and dressed to impress. Moze whistled. Blacksheep nudged at him. “You want me to…oh no. No no no, I don’t want to…” The monk musician rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “I don’t want to accidentally woo her.”

It sounded so modest that it could be mistaken for extremely deadpan sarcasm, but Blacksheep knew he was being sincere. Nevertheless, she continued to nudge. “Okay, I’ll give it a shot. I’ve got to test it, after all.”

He stood up and took a deep breath before walking to the girl. “Excuse me?”

She stopped in her tracks, eyeing the butter on his cheek. “Do you know where the Rock Type Café is?”
“Just down the street, to your left on the corner.”
“Ah, thanks. I’m going to-“

She smiled at him and walked away, leaving Moze frozen mid sentence. He nodded to himself. “Uh-huh. Okay, not used to that.”

Blacksheep reached into her wool and pulled out a cue card with a big number three on it. Moze knew this was out of ten. “That bad, huh?”

The monk grinned. “Zeraaa~shashasha!” He made his way back to the bench and gave Blacksheep a high five. “I guess that training paid off after all.”

Route 6: Salieri

Salieri’s trek through Route 6 was not a simple walk. Now that only trainers and citizens with special permission were allowed to use the walkable routes to travel from town to town, it was much easier to find competitors lurking around. She battled several trainers and local fauna, earning cash and experience with each fight. The battles were pretty cool, you should have seen them. They were so magnificent and epic that I just don't have words to describe them.

Anyway, after some time, she finally arrived at the laboratory Dr. Markus had told her about. It was the only building she had seen on Route 6, and for a research facility it was fairly small, almost house-like. A small greenhouse was attached to the side. Sal assumed it was for the doctor’s research on Deerling.

“Hey, is anybody in there? Dr. Markus?” Salieri stood on her tiptoes in an effort to get a better view inside through the door’s window. No lights on, no movement. Nobody.

The trip out to the laboratory had been good for training, but the goal had been to find out more about the Native Unovan race. There had to be a reason why it seemed no one had anything good to say about them. If the history was there, Sal needed it now: if she was going to be ridiculed or put down in any way, she couldn’t shake the urge to figure out why.

One open pokeball later, her Frillish floated next to her. He looked up and down at the modest building. “Haizhe, can you search this place for anything on Native Unovan’s? Books, DVDs, whatever? I need them intact.”

She already knew the pokemon’s stance on stealing. It was a matter of whether or not he’d cooperate. So far, he had agreed to help with the research, which led her to believe he’d keep going. Indeed, Haizhe had become invested in the topic. Not as much as the Native Unovan herself, but his curiosity had been piqued.

With a sinister grin, Haizhe licked his lips. His Scope Lends monocle bubbled into place from within his head onto his eye, and he phased through the door.

“Oh.” It fully dawned on Salieri that she was committing a robbery. She intended on returning anything she found. Unfortunately, the police didn’t judge you on intentions. She gulped, put her back to the door and whistled slowly as her eyes scanned side to side for passing trainers.

After ten minutes that seemed like an eternity, a disappointed looking Haizhe floated outside, holding two dusty books. With a huff, he handed them off to Salieri. [Useless, dreadfully useless,] he muttered, but Sal paid him no mind. She snatched the books and then grabbed his tentacle, yanking him away so they could escape the scene of the crime.

The trip up Route 6 had been full of trainer battles and wild pokemon encounters, which was excellent for leveling up. The trip down would be far more relaxing. With the aid of Salem’s Telekinesis and Chen Zhen’s Vine Whips, Sal’s party quickly constructed a small log raft to ride the river’s current south.

The sun was now setting, but there was still enough light for Sal to see the pages in the old books. Across from her, Haizhe grunted with his tentacles folded in front of him. [A waste of time,] he grumbled to Salem. The Espeon simply rose an eyebrow, so he continued.

[It’s a secret code. There must be hundreds of unique characters in those pages, far more than any language I know. Dare I say it, it’s fake. Something a child scribbles. What a mockery! If I found that child, I’d-]

Sal flopped the book down on the raft in front of her with a furrowed brow, much to Haizhe’s delight. Of course she wouldn’t be able to understand it. If he couldn’t decipher the language, none of them would be able to.

“It’s just…some farmer’s agricultural logs,” she sighed, cradling her chin in her hand. Haizhe’s jaw slowly dropped as she went on. “Dating way back. Nothing about Native Unova’s culture, except that they really liked corn, I guess…They couldn’t have all just been farmers. Who hates on farmers for no reason-“

Haizhe lunged forward, yanking at Sal’s braid. [How do you know?! HOW DO YOU KNOW!? You can’t read these pages, you dirty liar!]

Sal flinched when her Frillish made his first move, and the rest of her pokemon snapped to attention. He hadn’t had a bizarre outburst like this since they first met in Castelia. Now, he was pulling her head down, trying to force her face into the book’s pages. [Slanderous filth! Nothing but scribbles! There is no language here, HOW DO YOU UNDERSTAND!?]

She tapped his cheek, and a current of her bioelectricity ran into his super conductive body. Haizhe convulsed in brief pain, long enough for Sal to return him to his pokeball.

The bubbling sound of the river washed around the party’s silence. Salieri stared at the pokeball in her hand. Between everything with N, Ska’s harassment, Clay’s remarks and her Frillish acting up again, things were unraveling faster than Sal could craft them together.

She couldn’t help but feel like she was being tested. After all the strength she had gained over the last few days, she was finally getting pulled at on all sides. Tougher challenges had always loomed past Nimbasa, but she hadn’t expected them to be so…personal.

If your opponents pull at you, you push back and overtake them. Sal stood up and looked to the south. Driftveil was down the hill and only minutes away. “I think…there’s still someone else I can talk to. Someone who wants to tell me what’s going on.”

Basculin Bowl: Ska

Ska peered at the scroll carefully with his visible eye through Nowell’s magnifying glass, delicately scanning every little symbol. There were so many of them, each one with subtle differences. “You’re not gonna get anything out of it,” Nowell told him with a shrug. “The rumors are true. None of my connects could hook me up with a translation.”

“We knew that from the start,” Ska said with a grin as he stood back up. “I just think it’s pretty.” The captain rolled up the scroll and returned it to the treasure box Nowell had brought it in. He rose up his eyebrows, trying and slowly failing to contain his excitement. “This is aces. Did I mention how aces this was?”

“Once or twice.” The archaeologist folded his arms. “Ska, how do we know this is gonna work? The cipher might be lost in history by now.”

Ska’s grin faded slightly. Nowell wasn’t deterred easily. The attempts to translate the texts must have been completely futile. “We don’t, that’s why this is a plan is a ladder.” Nowell tilted his head in confusion. Ska sighed. “Cause it’s got a whole lot of steps?”

“You mean this plan is stairs, captain?”
“I know what I said, mate.”
“Ladders have rungs, captain.”
“Ladders have…” Ska paused, and looked down at the large beer mug in his hand. Empty already? He shook his head. “Right, well whatever. You know what I mean, let’s drop this metaphor.” Ska walked past Nowell and gave him a pat on the back. “Hakuna Matata mate, be right back.”

The captain danced his way past the crowd of familiar crewmates as music still played in the background, and arrived at the barstool next to Hiba’s. He reached over the counter and pulled out another large mug.

“Oi, glad you’ve made it. It’s a celebratory mood tonight, chin up.” Ska reached over to the tap, filling both mugs with a pale ale. He slid one down to Hiba. “Why the longface, longface?”