He paused, with a sigh, standing beneath a tree, creeping vines looking as if they had been sliced, mathematically, edges strange and impossible. He did not like games- Not in the literal, not in the metaphorical. He didn't like things unclear or obtues, often growled at Bria when she danced around answering questions, and did not understand the escapism of games. The things Bria played- Fort something, or Pokemon, or Legendary something, they were all... all the same kind of game. Fight someone, maybe kill them, and win the game.

He'd pushed against that, at first, refusing to let her anywhere near any of it. Which she'd hated, and finally he had relented. This stuff was fake, and a better way for her to experience it than the real thing. And most of it was... okay. Pokemon was cartoony and childlike, the legend one had dark themes, but nothing visually graphic, and the fort game... didn't seem to have much, but looking at it made his head spin. He didn't like games like that, and Bria only showed him a few games that were... pixels and farming. But he never caught onto those, either. If he was bored, and needed something to do, he played with Bumble, occasionally watched wrestling matches on tv, or read.

Except now, apparently. Last time he'd stopped playing, Bria had laughed at him- he'd nearly missed dinner for this... strange experience. He'd grumbled about it, but... still was here today. Why? What here was so alluring?

He didn't know. He sat under one of the trees, looking up at the sky, thinking. He didn't act how his instincts demanded in "real life," but that was something he took pride in. The ability to breathe and think before acting. So... what was he finding, here?

Maybe Bria was right, in a way. She'd said games like those were popular for a reason- that people liked to battle and overcome challenge. Even if that challenge and battle was now through these little animals as proxies... Was that right? They were powerful, but sapient... They held thoughts, and personalities, and opinions?

It wasn't a true question. The answer was no.

The sun had dipped, slightly, only minute changes displaying time passing. Sprigatito was still on his lap, dozing gently. Verai just kept petting him, gently. Petting his face, scratching behind his ears, occasionally going all the way down his back.

"C'mon, little one." He finally coaxed, gently ruffling the pokemon awake again. Sprigatito blinked, and yawned, fanning his paws out. "Isn't it time to head back?" Sprigatito whipped up his head at that, eyes wide. "Shouldn't you go talk to them?"

<No!> Sprigatito yelped, jumping free of his lap and whirling back to face him. <They don't want me to lead them, so I- I won't!> He said, all bluff and bravado. Verai just frowned at him.

"Aren't they your friends?" He asked. "Don't you like spending time with mudbday, and buizel?"

<No!>

Verai sighed. "I think Kazuki..." He started, trying to be slow and careful with his words. "Would appreciate someone who stood defiant against everyone who thought bad about him, rather than someone who fled at the first sign of trouble."

Sprigatito, at that, froze absolutely still. <... r-really?>

A train of sound: heavy and frantic footsteps closely followed by the gallop of hooves. Occasionally, the sound of a buizel’s cry, translated: <SPRIGATITOOOO!>

Buizel’s riding on Mudbray’s back, holding on for dear life as she calls for their missing teammate. <Sprigatito! We didn’t mean it! Please come out! Pretty please!> Her eyes search, but none of the green she finds is the little tuft of mint they’re looking for. They’ve been at this search for ages. <Could you slow down?!> She asks, nearly falling off as Mudbray leaps over another overgrown root.

Mudbray snorts out of her nose, her head tucked forward. <I’m barely keeping up.>

Their trainer is tearing through the canopy. Wild pokemon hide back into burrows or jump into the bushes at the sound of him crushing and tearing a path through the broken forest. He only stops to pivot, following some kind of invisible path, like a dog on a trail.

They finally come to a screeching halt at the base of a tree, where the dappled light barely shifts.

“You,” Kazuki growls. His brows crease, eyes bright with fury and teeth bared. There are twigs and leaves sticking out of his hair and his bare skin is littered with scrapes from jagged rocks and bushes. He steps forward, and Sprigatito in Verai’s hands presses further against the man’s chest.

“We scalped the crater and the canopy, but of course, he’s with you.” There isn’t a hint of his usual teasing or jest. His eyes move from Verai to Sprigatito. “Hand him over.”

Verai’s composure, usually a point of amusement for him, is now something he’d like to snap over his knee. Kazuki’s shoulders rise and fall with breath, exertion from running full tilt, or bottled rage about to burst.

He hates the question of why.

He doesn’t understand why Verai would ask him this, when the man usually kept a tight lip, his cards held close, and acted as if anything Kazuki did is the product of feral machinations beyond his understanding. The display of curiosity is an insult when Kazuki isn’t in the mood for games.

“You’re asking me this, as if I haven’t already given you a cat, you greedy bastard. You can have a hundred fucking cats. That one is mine.”

Sprigatito takes some comfort in the basket of by Verai’s arms. He looks between the two men with concern, with fear. He’s used to Purrai and his trainer fighting but this feels—different. He doesn’t like this kind of different.

He looks to his trainer and his teammates watching nearby, and does not want to leave the safety he’s cradled in.

Kazuki’s hands curl into fists. The look Verai gives him fuels the anger stirring in his gut, all self-assured and reeking of disappointment. It wrenches him back to memories of facing his parents after they were informed their child had slugged another student in the courtyard.

Verai was even talking to him as if he were some sort of idiot.

“I already told you.” He walks forward, lips curled into a snarl, to snatch his cat out of Verai’s hands or to deck the guy—

Only to pause at the sound of a small lawn sprinkler.

Sprigatito has roused from where he’d been curled in Verai’s arms, now baring his fangs at his trainer, ears flipped back as he hisses. <STAY BACK!>

“What the hell?”

The kitten scrambles, pulling himself forwards as far as he can while still being held. <Don’t touch Purrai! Purrai was helping! He hasn’t done anything wrong!>

His little lungs expand and contract with the volume of his wails. <I am so sick! And tired! Of everyone fighting all the time! And- and no one ever listens to me ‘cause I’m not the leader, and, and—>

The kitten stares at his trainer with trembling eyes, before laying his head down on Verai’s arm with a whimper. <And what’s the point? It’s not like you can understand me anyways…>

Kazuki blinks, his brows furrowed with genuine confusion at the outburst and the sulking. The cat had never even glared at him before. It’s uncharacteristic. To Kazuki, his cat had left for Verai and was now refusing to come home, for no apparent reason.

“What did you say to him?”

Verai answers him slowly, Kazuki’s gaze flicking from where the man’s hands smooth Sprigatito’s fur to steady eyes mirroring his contempt. The crease between his brows deepens the longer he listens, the situation—“That’s it?” He grits, but it doesn’t deter Verai from continuing, from poking holes into how he’s been playing the game.

He knows, of course, that his starter wants his attention. The cat has all the subtlety of an elbow to the face. Since their meeting, it’s been nothing but whining in his ear, copious amounts of fur rubbed onto his skin and clothes, and the sight of the reckless little puffball throwing himself at everything, everything, even opponents thrice his size and made of stone. Stupid. Needy.

And how the hell was he supposed to know there was an argument? Distrust? He glares over his shoulder to Mudbray and Buizel still waiting by the sidelines, the former looking away, the latter fidgeting with guilt written over her face.

“I haven’t said anything to him.” Sure, he hasn’t been showering the thing with compliments. He doesn’t fawn over them like Verai, doesn’t coddle them as if they’re made of glass. But why would that even matter? Why would any of that frivolous bullshit matter to a pile of screaming pixels?

Sprigatito turns and bunts his head past the hand petting him, burying his face in Verai’s chest.

“Son of a— Alright! Fine! Fuck!” He pulls up his UI, practically punching the buttons with his fingers. “Stupid, shitty-ass game, fucking infuriating little—why even make this an option if it’ll just cause problems?!” Through the torrent of profanity, Kazuki jabs into his account settings.

ENABLE PKMN SPEECH? Yes

Saving changes to settings...

“There.” He waves away the window that has somehow dealt a prominent blow to his pride, still glowering at Verai as he speaks, “I changed it. I can talk to the brat now, so—” his attention returns to Sprigatito, who remains curled up against the other man, but whose ears twitch, giving away how he listens to the conversation. “You! Fucking tell me next time you’re fighting with the team, got it?”

Silence. It’s a pause before Sprigatito stirs, gingerly turning his head to look at his trainer. He’s pouting.

<You can… you can understand me now?>

The rage on Kazuki’s face fizzles, replaced instead with confusion.

“They talk with subtitles?!”