#high jump queue

Bluejay gave a chirp to agree with Toma’s command, which earned him a glare from Quill. What part of “don’t make noise” did the Taillow not understand ?

Toma stifled a laugh at his Pokémon’s exchange. “Don’t be mad, Quill. It takes a lot of noise to wake Dingo up. Now, I bought something that you two could use.”

He held the bow out, and was pleased to see a sparkle of interest light up in the Pokémon’s gazes. Bluejay seemed particularly enthusastic, and gave a soft coo to catch his trainer’s attention.

“Yes, yes, you can try it on. You’ll be next, Quill.” Toma whispered, with a little glance at the mattress above his head. He heard Dingo shift in his sleep, making the bed frame creak.

Toma reached down to attack the bow around Bluejay’s neck, and made sure that it didn’t slide down his head. The result was extremely cute, and the Pokémon seemed to know it.

“I need to take a picture ...” Toma mumbled. He hurriedly jumped down the bed, but didn’t realize that the boxes of Pokémon food were still in the way. Toma tripped over the boxes, and fell flat on the floor.

“What’s your problem, you- !” Dingo emerged from his dreams at once, and sat up straight. He stared around in confusion, and saw his brother lying face down. “Toma ! You okay ?”

Dingo nearly leapt down the top bunk, and helped his brother to his feet again. Toma should get away with a light bruise, but this wasn’t his concern. Bluejay and Quill flew over to Toma, bringing an end to Toma’s hopes of avoiding a fight.

When he saw the bow on Bluejay’s head, Dingo frowned deeply. “Where did he get this ? Did you buy it ?” He glared at his little brother, his frown worsening. “Why did you waste your money on this ?!”

“I thought it’d look pretty on my Pokémon ...” Toma muttered in reply. He silently called his Pokémon back to their Pokéballs, but it was too late. He already knew that he’d made things worse.

“Pretty ?!” Dingo yelled, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Why do you care about that ? Pokémon aren’t meant to be pretty ! They’re meant to be strong and awesome !”

Toma endured the first round without a word. Tears stung at his eyes. He had seen this coming - he knew his brother would react that way. Why had he even bought that ribbon ? He shouldn’t have provoked his brother ...

“You should have bought Potions with that money. Or actually useful items your Pokémon can use in battle.” Dingo went on. Toma’s lack of response only made the older boy angrier. “What are they gonna do with that stupid ribbon, huh ? D’you think people will go easy on you because your Pokémon look pretty ? You’ll never win a battle with that kinda mindset !”

“I don’t WANT to win a battle !” Toma blurted out. Tears now streamed down his face, but there was no shame in his eyes. They burnt with a fierce light. Something had snapped inside the boy.

“Why won’t you get it ?!” Toma pleaded, his voice filled with the resentment he had bottled up for months - maybe even years. “I don’t want to do battles ! I don’t want to sit on the side as I watch my Pokémon get hurt ! I don’t see the point !”

"Becoming strong ! That’s the point !” Dingo retorted. “Or d’you wanna spend your whole life depending on someone else ? Being unable to protect yourself ?”

“I don’t care about strength.” Toma spat. "I don’t want to be strong. Or noble. Or whatever you think a Pokémon trainer has to be. You never try to understand what I really want ! You keep trying to turn me into someone like you !"

There was a blank in the argument. Fire burnt in Dingo’s dark eyes, a dangerous, wild fire. Toma didn’t see the punch coming for his face.

The child stumbled back, the bunk bed stopping him from another fall. His ears buzzed under the raw power of the punch, his mind too dazed to truly process what had just happened.

“I’m only trying to do what’s good for you ...” Dingo’s voice had dropped to a growl again. “Since you won’t learn how to protect yourself, someone has to be there. I’m being strong for both of us, and instead of thanking me, you waste our money on ribbons. I’m only doing what dad would have done !”

“You’re wrong !” Toma roared. Never in his life had he felt so much rage. “Dad would have never tried to control me ! He would have listened to my needs, instead of trying to make me a copy of himself ! Because that’s what you want to be ! You wanna be like him ... but that’s impossible. Dad wasn’t a selfish jerk.”

Toma didn’t wait for an answer. Trying to ignore the swelling bruise on his cheek, he reached for the backpack that hung from an edge of the bunk bed. It contained all his most precious belongings, and a couple days’ worth of snacks. It was all he needed.

Toma made his way for the door, waiting for Dingo to stop him. To grab him by the arm, to tackle him to the floor. To tell him that he was wrong ...  But nothing happened. Toma made his way out without so much as a glance above his shoulder.