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A few minutes later, Vee sat stiffly in the oversized grooming chair, his little body almost swallowed by the massive seat. Austin could feel his partner's discomfort radiating off him.
The groomer, a woman with cropped hair and a warm smile, approached. Her apron was stocked with grooming tools, each one promising to fix the disaster Austin had created. She gently ran her fingers through Vee's fur, inspecting the damage.
"Looks like someone got a little… overzealous," she said, casting a playful smirk at Austin.
He felt his face heat up. "Yeah, I might've gotten carried away."
"Might've?" she teased, but her tone was kind. "Don't worry, I'll clean him up. We can trim the sides, even things out, and if he's feeling self-conscious, we could add a small faux fur piece to cover the patch."
Austin glanced at Vee, whose twitching ears betrayed his nerves. "What do you think, buddy?"
Vee hesitated but gave a small nod. Austin exhaled in relief. "That sounds great. Thanks."
"Alright, let's get started." She fastened a tiny black cape around Vee, making him look like a miniature king about to have his royal locks styled. Vee didn't seem thrilled, but he settled into the chair.
Austin moved to a seat nearby, keeping an eye on Vee. As he sat, something caught his attention. The guy next to him was hidden behind a massive broadsheet, the kind of oversized newspaper you'd expect in an old detective flick.
When the paper lowered slightly, Austin's heart skipped a beat.
Brock?
Before Austin could say anything, a hand shot out, clamping over his mouth.
"Talk. Outside," Brock said in a low voice, his face partially obscured by a pair of sunglasses and a fake mustache that fooled absolutely no one.
Austin gave a quick nod, his mind racing. What was Brock doing here, and why all the secrecy?
The moment they stepped outside, Brock scanned the area like they were fugitives.
"You know," Austin said, breaking the silence, "the glasses and mustache combo? Not exactly a foolproof disguise."
Brock blinked, momentarily thrown off. "What?"
Austin jabbed a thumb toward the groomer inside. "Let me guess—you're here to get her number?"
"What? No!" Brock said, his voice defensive, though the redness creeping into his face said otherwise.
Austin raised an eyebrow. "You weren't going to hit on her?"
"Yes! I mean—no! I wasn't!" Brock sputtered.
Austin rolled his eyes and threw his hands up. "Alright, Casanova. So why the undercover act?"
Brock mumbled something under his breath.
"What?"
"I wanted to see how professional grooming works," Brock said, louder this time, though he still looked embarrassed.
Austin blinked. "You dragged me outside for that?"
Without waiting for an answer, Austin turned and headed back inside, leaving Brock standing there.
"Hey," Austin called to the groomer, who was meticulously working on Vee. "Mind if my friend watches? He's… curious about Pokémon grooming."
Brock practically tripped over himself rushing back in. "I—uh—have a hobby as an amateur Pokémon breeder," he blurted, clearly panicking. "I wanted to see if grooming affects… uh… general health and habits. You know, for breeding purposes."
The groomer smiled warmly, either unaware of or politely ignoring his awkwardness. "Of course! Feel free to observe."
As she returned her attention to Vee, Brock let out a relieved sigh. Austin smirked, crossing his arms.
"See? That wasn't so hard."
Brock shot him a look but didn't respond, too focused on watching the groomer work. Vee, meanwhile, had relaxed under her skilled hands, his earlier nerves melting away.
"You're so blunt."
Austin swung his legs back and forth in the chair. "You should be thankful," he shot back. "Otherwise, she might've thought you were up to something sketchy."
"Yeah… you're right."
Austin grinned, clearly enjoying himself.
The groomer stepped away to grab a piece of faux fur for Vee, leaving them alone.
"Brock," Austin said, "what's with the disguise?"
"I didn't want people recognizing me."
"Why?"
Brock hesitated, his jaw tightening. He didn't seem eager to answer, so Austin decided to push, just a little. "You're worried your siblings will find out you like breeding more than battling, aren't you?"
Brock's head snapped toward him, eyes wide in surprise.
"How did you…?"
"Just a hunch."
Brock let out a quiet sigh, his gaze falling to his hands. "It's not that I hate battling. It's just… I have other passions."
Austin nodded, staying silent.
"Everyone is allowed to have passions."
The quiet between them wasn't uncomfortable.
"If you don't mind me asking, how are things going with your dad?"
The question made Brock stiffen immediately.
"You don't have to answer if you don't want to."
Brock shook his head. "No, it's fine. You're not exactly a stranger to my family drama."
Austin let out an awkward chuckle. "Fair."
The silence hung heavy between them until Brock finally spoke again. "My father's… been trying, I guess."
Austin watched as Brock twisted the fake mustache in his hand, his gaze distant. The way his fingers fidgeted told Austin more than Brock's words ever could.
"Do you like it?"
"No," Brock said immediately.
Austin gave him a moment before asking, "Do you want him to be part of your life?"
Brock didn't answer right away. His brows furrowed as he stared at the floor, his fingers stilling. "I don't know."
"What about your siblings?" Austin pressed. "Do you want him to be part of their lives?"
Brock paused. His expression shifted, softening. "Yes."
The admission hung in the air, and the two sat in silence. This time, the quiet felt heavier, as if Brock was wrestling with something too big to put into words.
"You're weird."
Austin hummed. "I've been told that before."
"You're way more mature than any ten-year-old trainer I've ever met," Brock continued, his tone casual but with an edge of curiosity. "And you're clearly a strong trainer. But you're still hanging around Pewter. Why?"
Austin caught the faint undercurrent in Brock's voice.
Was it suspicion that he was Bag Boy? Austin knew people were aware of his Pokémon roster, with the exception of Sandslash. So, was Brock genuinely suspicious, or was he just overthinking it? Maybe Brock was simply trying to rattle him. Either way, Austin kept his tone light.
"Well," he said casually, "my Pokémon and I are rock climbing."
"Rock climbing?"
"Yeah. Thought it'd be fun," Austin replied. "Plus, I wanted to take the hard route to Cerulean City through the Mt. Moon range."
"Why bring that kind of trouble on yourself?"
"I guess that's one way to look at it. But I see it differently. The difficult path? That's the one worth taking. Overcoming it makes you stronger." The boy paused, his gaze meeting Brock's. "Maybe you should see it that way too."
The difficult path… huh?
Brock's thoughts turned to Flint. The anger he carried towards the man had been a constant companion, something he'd held onto for years. But this boy's words lingered in his mind.
Did he really want to carry that anger forever?
Flint was trying. He couldn't deny that. And while admitting it felt like a betrayal of the hurt Flint had caused, Brock knew one thing for sure: he didn't want his siblings to grow up hating their father. They deserved better than that.
But forgiving Flint? Letting him back into their lives? That felt like the hardest thing Brock could imagine. It wasn't just about letting go of the grudge—it was about trusting someone who had already let them down.
Could he do that?
Brock sighed, running a hand through his hair. Maybe this strange boy was right. Maybe the hard path really was the one worth taking.
But it wasn't going to be easy.
Seeing Brock so tense, Austin decided it was time to have some fun. "Hey," he said, leaning in with a grin. "You wanna play a game?"
"What kind of game?"
"The next person who walks into this salon? We try to get their number. Whoever gets it wins $100."
Brock raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "You've got $100?"
"Details, details. You in?"
Brock sighed. "Fine. But the master," he pointed to himself with mock grandeur, "gets to go first, kiddo."
"Deal," Austin said, almost too eagerly.
Just then, the door opened with a cheerful ring of the bell. Both of them turned to look—and Brock froze.
It wasn't some cute girl, or even someone neutral like a delivery guy. No. It was an old woman. She was wearing a floral dress, a gigantic sun hat that looked like it could double as a satellite dish, and a pair of glasses so thick they could probably set Geodude on fire.
"Go get her, master," Austin said, grinning like a devil.
Brock groaned, glaring at Austin, who immediately started making noises. "Bawk-bawk! Master of love, are you scared?"
With a grunt of pure suffering, Brock stood up, his pride dragging him forward like a condemned man walking to the gallows. Every step felt like a lifetime. He turned to the old woman, whose eyes squinted at him through her comically oversized glasses.
"P-please," Brock stammered, forcing a smile so awkward it looked like his face might crack. "Tell me your name… so I may emblazon it upon my heart."
The old woman blinked, tilting her head slightly. And then, with a delighted smile, she placed a hand over her chest. "Oh my! My looks still got it, huh? You flatter me, sonny. But… I'm sorry." She leaned in conspiratorially, whispering loud enough for everyone to hear. "You look a little too young for my taste. Maybe come back in 30 years, hmm?"
Brock wanted to die. His face turned an impressive shade of green as the woman gave him a playful wink and shuffled over to the counter to check on her granbull's grooming appointment.
Meanwhile, Austin completely lost it. He doubled over, wheezing and clutching his sides, laughing so hard that tears were streaming down his face. "Oh, Jesus, I can't—HA!—I can't breathe!" he managed between gasps. "Brock, buddy, your love life is a rom-com waiting to happen!"
Brock stormed back to the chairs and practically threw himself into one, grabbing the nearest newspaper and burying his face in it. "I hate you," he muttered, his voice muffled.
Austin was still gasping for air, collapsing into the chair next to him. "No, no, you don't," he wheezed. "You love me for this moment. Admit it."
"I'm never forgiving you."
The doorbell jingled again, and Brock immediately perked up. His chance for revenge had arrived. He folded the newspaper and waited eagerly to see who would walk in. There was no way Austin was about to succeed where he had failed.
But then Brock's smirk froze.
The person who walked in wasn't an old woman. Or a middle-aged couple. Or some harmless nobody. No, it was a girl.
A very cute girl.
She was chewing bubble gum, her Meowth strutting confidently beside her like it owned the place. She had this effortlessly cool vibe, like she'd stepped straight out of a music video. Her leather jacket and ripped jeans made her look way too stylish for this tiny grooming salon.
"Your turn."
Austin took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. I've survived Team Rocket. I've survived Sird. How hard can this be?
He stood up, his heart pounding. He could feel Brock's eyes boring into him, waiting for him to crash and burn.
"H-hey," Austin said, walking up to the girl who looked to be about a year or so older than him.
She glanced at him, raising an eyebrow as she blew a bubble, then popped it with a sharp snap. Her Meowth gave him a look that said, Who's this clown?
Austin decided honesty was his best bet. "So… me and my friend are playing this challenge. Whoever gets someone's number wins $100. It's my turn, and, uh… can you pretend to laugh at my jokes and give me a fake number?"
The girl raised an eyebrow, her gum snapping again. "You'll split the $100 with me?"
"Uh… yeah. Sure. Fifty-fifty."
She giggled, clearly amused, and asked, "Got a pen?"
Austin shook his head. "Nah, just pretend you're whispering the number." He leaned in, and she whispered a string of numbers into his ear, her Meowth watching with mild disinterest.
Straightening up, Austin walked back to Brock with the confidence of someone who just won the lottery. "Got her number," he said, deadpan.
Brock's jaw dropped. "You what?"
"I got her number," Austin repeated, crossing his arms smugly.
Brock collapsed to his knees in mock despair, throwing his arms up dramatically.
"Oh, cruel world, why have you forsaken me?"
"Drama queen, party of one—sit down and zip it," the groomer called as she walked back in, holding a wig.
Brock shuffled back to his seat, grumbling under his breath.
Austin tried not to laugh as Brock turned to him, eyes wide with newfound respect. "Teach me your ways, master."
Austin opened his mouth to reply, but the words caught in his throat. He'd been about to say something like, Why don't you join me on my journey? But he stopped himself, the thought hitting him like whiplash.
Why the hell did I instinctively think that?
Was it just the heat of the moment? Or… was it something else?
Before he could dwell on it, a loud squeal pulled their attention back to Vee.
The groomer was fussing over him, and—oh Arceus—Vee was wearing a wig.
A long, flowing blonde wig.
Austin stared, his brain struggling to process the sheer ridiculousness of the sight. Vee tilted his head dramatically, the wig's golden locks cascading like something out of a shampoo commercial.
That was it. Austin burst out laughing. So did Brock. The absurdity of it all, after everything, was just too much.
Vee struck a pose, his eyes sparkling as if to say, Aren't I fabulous?
A minute later, after paying the groomer and collecting his bet money, Austin turned to Brock.
"Looks like this is it," Austin said, pocketing the cash.
"Yeah," Brock replied. "I hope to battle you again with my full team."
"Me and my Pokémon would love that. Take care, Brock."
"I'll stay here a little longer," Brock said, gesturing back to the groomer. "Still need to take note of those techniques."
"And maybe hit on a girl."
"Don't rub it in," Brock groaned.
"Just play it cool, man. I'm sure you'll find someone eventually."
Brock nodded.
"And Brock," Austin said, his tone turning serious.
"Hm?"
"Second chances come after proof of change, not before," Austin said, his gaze steady. "Look for that in Flint. Then decide what's best for you and your siblings."
"Thanks, kid, I'll think about it... Oh, and one more thing," Brock added, his voice dropping into a warning tone. "Try not to go through the mountain range. Security's tight—practically everything going in and out is being monitored by the authorities."
Austin gave a small nod of understanding before extending his hand. Brock shook it firmly.
As Austin turned to leave, a sharp whistle caught his attention. He turned back to see the girl he had approached earlier smirking.
She held up a note, beckoning him over.
Curious—and a little red-faced—Austin walked up to her. She handed him the note, and in exchange, he handed her her half of the bet money. As he unfolded the note, he read:
You're funny. Call me.
Austin glanced up, his cheeks heating up as the girl gave him a playful wink. What just happened? Austin thought. Back on Earth, his luck with girls was a solid zero. But apparently, here in this world, he'd inherited Ash's ridiculous dumb, cosmic-level luck.
He barely had time to process it before Vee snatched the note right out of his hands.
"Hey!" Austin shouted, lunging for the paper, but Vee already had it in his mouth. The little furball stared Austin down, his expression pure spite, and began chewing the note with exaggerated slowness.
"You little—" Austin lunged again, but Vee bolted for the door, his fluffy tail wagging in mockery as he darted out of reach.
The boy chased after Vee, not really caring about the number. Relationships weren't on his mind—he didn't care for them, not now. Maybe it was because he hadn't hit puberty yet, or maybe he just wasn't interested. All he wanted was to enjoy this journey, have fun with his Pokémon, and make the most of his adventure.