A Silent Legend

“Okay! If you need anything, just ask!” she replied with a smile. “It’s so nice to meet you too, though. I’ve admired you for such a long time! You probably hear that so much, but you’re really a legend, Red!”

Her eyes followed Marill and Pikachu, Marill seeming to begin showing Pikachu around Lyra’s yard, leading Red’s Pokemon into the back where she and her own Pokemon had been lounging before Red had showed up.

“If you don’t have anywhere to be right now, you’re more than welcome to hang out for a little while!” Lyra suggested, taking Red’s hand as to lead him in the back just as Marill had with Pikachu. “You’ve probably been on your feet a while, huh? You should relax and take a load off!”

She smiled at the famous trainer, guiding him into the backyard.

“Marill and I were chilling out in the sun before you arrived around here! It’s been hot, so I was planning on making some smoothies if you’d like one!”

Realizing that she’d been rambling and probably taking Red hostage against his will, Lyra quickly let go of his hand and laughed loudly, sheepishly.

Upon hearing how she admired him, though, he rubbed the back of his neck, face blank. So even after disappearing for nearly a decade, people still didn't forget him? It was a bit disappointing, but he shrugged it off. There wasn't any chance to think more of it, anyways, as Lyra had taken hold of one of his hands and began to lead him somewhere. Immediately, he flinched, but managed not to flinch away from her. He was far from relaxed, yes, but he managed not to yank away and stumble back. It was a sort of progress, he supposed, not completely freaking out. Silently (as always), he listened to the brunette talk, nodding slightly as she did so, then writing down a reply once they'd stopped and she'd released his hand. 

'If it's alright, then sure. And a smoothie would be nice. I can hel-' Oh wait. He was atrocious with anything related to the kitchen. 'If it's alright, then sure. And a smoothie would be nice. I can hel I would offer help, but I don't think it would turn out well.' Once he'd finished writing, he looked back to Lyra, only to find himself writing another response.

'It's fine, no need to apologize. I don't mind it at all, really. You're interesting company. ...I apologize if I bore you, though.' He paused in his writing, though, at Lyra's last comment, then simply blinked. 'Cute'? He'd never... Never met anyone who considered him 'cute' before, as far as he knew. Averting his gaze and focusing on the paper once more, he scribbled a quick question.

'You don't find me scary?' 

But, the possibly the main reason Proton didn’t attack was this; he was curious.  Why did Red actually take down Team Rocket.  Obviously he hated them for what they did to Pokemon…but did he even know what they had been trying to achieve?  What they had believed in?  

Proton balled his hands into fists.  Red hadn’t taken their hopes into consideration, at all.  And he had defeated them all so badly that it took years before they could even stand on their two feet again.  Proton noticed the spark of curiosity in Red’s eyes and slowly unclenched his fists.  

“…You don’t even know what our dream was, do you?” he asked, trying to control the anger in his voice.  ”We were going to change the world for both humans and Pokemon.  It was our dream.  And then you and that stupid Gold kid came along and just destroyed it!”  

He glared at Red now.  ”Tell me, Red, did you ever take our beliefs into consideration when you defeated us?  Did you just blindly follow what you believed in to destroy what we believed in?”  He shook his head and sighed, trying to calm himself but failing.

The man in black made an attempt to calm himself at least somewhat, unclenching his fist and speaking slowly, voice controlled. It was an okay attempt, but not the best, as Red could still easily spot the flaring irritation within him. It didn't matter, though, because it was still an assurance that no harm would come to him for now. 

He had hardly taken his own beliefs into account when he defeated them, so why would he think about the beliefs of the very people hurting Kanto's citizens and pokemon if he barely even thought about himself? It was irrational and rash, yes, but there had been no time to think, only to act. He had to protect them, and that was all he knew. 

Protect, protect, protect. 

That was what he had had to do, and it was what he'd done. That was all there was to it, and, without hesitating, Red shook his head, a certain... blunt honesty about the gesture. Lying got him nowhere, obviously, and while the gesture could certainly cause misconceptions (how was Proton to discover that Red had not even cared about his own beliefs?), it was the truth, and it had to be told. The stare he'd held with him only drifted away once the executive muttered that there was no need for such a look. That reaction had not even been intentional, really- the somewhat degrading stare. No, he was just so used to being assumed a mute, so used to everyone knowing that he never spoke, that running into someone who didn't had simply shocked him. Well, whatever. He need not concern himself with it now, and instead drifted into thought.

What could Team Rocket possibly dream of that would be good, though, he wondered, if they had to go about it by crime? They'd even murdered Ubo's mother, for Mew's sake, and what could ever justify that? In Red's own eyes... Nothing. Nothing could justify the murder of a mother- of anyone! But as for him just coming along and destroying their dream, what about what Team Rocket had done? They'd done the same to Kanto and its peace, its safety. What had been a secure and happy region was soon turned into one rigid with fear and collapsing upon itself. How could Proton not see that they'd done the very same thing? 

It was that urge to battle, that want to test skills against someone just as strong.

When he was a Champion, he looked forward to the get-togethers every year, if he was not ‘dethroned’ before then. Fighting someone of that caliber, it was exhilarating and exciting.  He was sure Red felt it, too.

When Red reached for his Pokéballs, Steven reached for his own, breathing softly. Touching one carefully, the man steeled his gaze and looked to the younger.

“I accept your challenge.” He kept his hand on his selected Pokéball, then looked around. It was quite… cramped. The cave could collapse, if they were not careful. Since he was battling with /the/ Red, he doubted the battle wouldn’t go without at least one powerful maneuver gone wrong. “Although I’m to assume… we will be taking this elsewhere?”

"I accept your challenge."

It wasn't an expression that could be found in the positions of the muscles of his face, not really; it was more of a flicker of emotion in his eyes than anything else. Regardless, it was still easily recognizable- that flare of excitement in his eyes. A real, true battle. One with another champion at that. Upon hearing Steven's question, though, Red only nodded. Of course they'd battle somewhere else- they wouldn't want the cave to collapse or something, would they? And his battlefield- a legend of sorts all in its own- was where every battle was carried out, regardless of where on the mountain the challenge was issued.

Patting the side of the ursaring's face lightly, Red received a low (but non-aggressive) growl in response, and the bear pokemon nodded and lumbered slowly away. The gesture had been a quiet dismissal, though, telling Ursa (which was the name Red had given her in his head) that she was not needed for now. Once she'd gone on her quiet way back, crimson eyes flickered back to Steven. Raising a single gloved hand, he silently beckoned Steven to follow, then wandered out into the whiteness of the snow again.

Perhaps it wasn't the most ideal spot for a battle, but it was expected of a champion to be able to handle any terrain, was it not? And he could not possibly have lost such a touch so quickly, could he? Such thoughts plagued the ravenet's mind as he forged a trail through the snow, walking with a gait that certainly suited one called the 'phantom champion.' It was obvious by the quietly simmering confidence of sorts in his step that he knew the area well, that he didn't worry one bit about something going wrong, and soon enough, the two arrived at what was Red's battlefield. After pointing a spot out to Steven where he could stand, Red wandered over to his side of the field, hesitating only to cast a questioning glance at the gray-haired man. This was okay, was it not? Would he prefer something else? 

Ever since he had left Mt. Silver, he had found himself unable to forget the phantom Champion.  He had been so lonely, so misguided…And Lucas had come so close to helping him.  He had almost made Red realize that he deserved to be loved, that he wasn’t a monster.

Almost being the key word.

After that day so many years ago Lucas had regretted not being able to completely help Red.  But he was glad he got to meet him.  He had been kind and protected Lucas when he needed help.  And Lucas really had considered Red to be his friend…even if he didn’t think so himself.

But why would Red come down from his mountain hideaway now?  Lucas supposed he would have to ask him…But not yet.  Not until he got to catch up with the crimson-eyed boy. 

Red gave Lucas an awkward nod at the mention of the note in the sketchbook, which Lucas took as “it was no big deal”.  He smiled.  ”No, but seriously, thank you!  I really appreciated reading that.”  And this was true.  Lucas had been so happy to read what Red had written.  He had found it the day after he had left the mountain as he was flipping through the pages of their conversation.  Red had wished the best for him…and that had made him so happy.

Lucas couldn’t help but continue to grin when Red “asked” his question.  Lucas furrowed his brow, trying to decipher the motions Red made with his hand.  Finally he decided that it could only be “how are you.”  That would be the proper thing to ask under the circumstances, after all.  ”I’m great!” he replied.  ”I’ve actually traveled a little bit now, and I’ve seen a whole bunch of new people and Pokemon. Everything’s been fantastic.”  He looked directly at Red.  ”And how have you been?”

Lucas blinked as a light bulb turned on his head.  ”H-Hold on a moment!” he instructed.  He rifled through his messenger bag before pulling out his sketchbook and a pencil.  He held both items out to Red.  ”Here, this might make things easier!”

The notebook. It only took a brief moment, along with a blink or two, to remember it, and once he had, the champion accepted it (along with the pencil that accompanied it). This was how he'd talked to him lasttime, wasn't it? Casting a short nod to Lucas, he flipped through the pages, eyes flickering briefly over each new drawing. He didn't want to pry into Lucas' life by any means, and so the sketches were passed over quickly, yet registered into Red's mind all the same. Once he came across his old messages, though, he halted, reading over them for a moment. Was he... Was he really such an awkward person?

Well, that was to be expected. He'd always been awkward and somewhat out of place, and living on a mountain could not be expected to help that. Taking a long moment to scan over the rest, Red finally flipped the page to a new one. Blank, smooth, and white- just like the last page had been, before he'd marked all over it with... With comments to break down Lucas' argument. A wave of guilt rushed over him, and as he picked up the pencil to write, he silently promised to himself not to do something like that this time.

'That's wonderful. Nothing bad has happened, then?' You've been happy? 'As for me, I... I do not live on Mount Silver anymore. I live with an-' He paused in his writing there, trying to think of the right word. Friend wasn't quite right, and he didn't want to outright say who it was- 'Acquaintance.' That should work. 'And things have been... Good. They have definitely been good.'

And they had. He'd run into many kind people since meeting Lucas, and even gotten to a better standing point with Green than he'd had before. It wasn't the most exciting thing for him, since he obviously preferred solitude, but he'd been accepted for himself, and that was what made him happiest. He did miss the training, though, and the quiet, the isolation, etcetera, but he had to make do and move on- and moving on had brought him right back to Lucas somehow. For a fleeting second- a flickering, nearly nonexistent second- he thought that maybe they could be friends. But that was all too silly of a thought.