Chapter Text
Cashmere Lane hadn’t wasted any tears saying goodbye when she had departed her household that morning. For starters, there wasn’t anybody to cry to: She and her father were barely on speaking terms—and her brother wasn’t around. ‘I’m off to Hulbury’: That was all she’d said, announcing it over the breakfast table as simply as if it were her everyday routine. ‘I need a vacation.’ Pa Lane was sitting there, reading the paper and taking his tea, and he merely grunted in response. Perhaps he hoped some lad would knock her up on the ocean shores, and she’d come back heterosexual and with a new understanding of her place in life. It was a fat chance—the beaches of Hulbury were far from the actual destination she had in mind.
Regarding her destination: The Dunn household had only been the first stop along her journey—although, it had seemed the most difficult. Cash hadn’t seen her childhood friend since, well, before she had come out as a woman, and she hadn’t really known what to expect. As it happened, though, Red looked about the same as ever, if a little less kempt—which was kind of cute, in a way. (She’d always been such an uptight youth.)
As for the matter of her actual request: It had gone swimmingly. Red would cover for Cash’s entry in the Wedgehurst Pokémon Tournament by pretending to enter herself. Red’s concern about said plan really hadn’t been misplaced: Cash truly did only have her childhood Wooloo alongside, and it was a domestic pokémon not used to serious battling. Her pokédex told the story :—
#034 Wooloo [Normal] ♂️
- Ability
- Run Away
- Moveset
- [Normal] Tackle (Physical: 40 / 100%)
- [Normal] Growl (Status: ⸺ / 100%)
- [Normal] Defence Curl (Status: ⸺ / ⸺%)
Docile nature. Scatters things often.
—: but then, that was why she was now headed to Route 2. She needed to catch others. And, well, to train. Cashmere was well‐aware that her odds were long, but she wasn’t about to give anything less than everything she had. After all, she couldn’t really afford to lose.
Her father didn’t approve of her battling: That was the long and short of it. The man was a Rosey, the type wot thought that Postwick’s three most successful trainers—ever—were nothing more than upstarts disgracing the proud traditions of Galar, wot with their new “Battle Tower” and “schools” and “democratic reforms”. ‘Business has given this region everything it has to offer,’ he would say. ‘And they want to throw that away—for what! Socialism! Next you know, they’ll be having us catch pokémon with apricorns, rather than pokéballs!’
‘Well,’ Cash would retort, ‘they are biodegradable.’
‘They’re ruddy plants!’ her father would exclaim. ‘You can’t catch a pokémon with a ruddy plant! Whatever happened to great men, and great technology?!’ Neverminding the fact that people had, indeed, been catching pokémon with apricorns for hundreds of years—and they still were today, in Johto.
Of course, her brother’s activities posed no problem. He was the firstborn son, and he could do whatever he damn well pleased, so long as he settled down “eventually” on the family farm. (Cash wasn’t holding her breath on that one.) But she: She was to be the dutiful daughter: to manage the estate, to marry well, and to cover up for all of her brother’s blunders. Pokémon battling would only alienate her future husband. While Cash didn’t respect her father or his opinions, she also didn’t want to be homeless, so for the time being she had to play along.
It was for this reason that she couldn’t let anyone know about her entry. No, she wasn’t worried about her brother being unfair, or spoiling her chances. It was just that the man couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut. Nobody in Postwick could. Yet, if Cash were to win the tournament, and secured an endorsement, fair and square—well, there was nothing that a League loyalist like Pa could do to keep her from following through with the Gym Challenge. Supposing she did well with that—she’d be able to live off of endorsements for a few years minimum. She would never need to return home.
On the other hand, if she lost, she’d be forced back home under the full fury of her father’s rage. Not only that, but she’d be letting down her friend, who, in all honesty, was really sticking her neck out for her on this one. No pressure.
It was with these thoughts in mind that Cash herded Wooloo away from the welkept path wot most people followed down to Wedgehurst, and into the tall, grassy areas which skirted Route 1. She needed every chance at training she could get. They would take the long way down.