Chapter Text
Even for early March, it was a brisk day. Still, the snow, which had been abnormally persistent that year, had finally melted. The air hung nippy but steady in the mid-50s, and the mountain springs above Blackthorn City were ever flowing with clean, freshly melted water. Cold, cold water, but clean.
For Silver, clean was enough. Because frankly, he stunk.
He was always cautious, but on a chilly day like this, with as far into the wilderness he was, he really doubted anyone would interrupt him. So, for the first time in several weeks, he shakily unbuttoned his ratty, reeking jacket. The air bit goosebumps into his arms as he reluctantly peeled off the rest of his meager wardrobe until he stood shaking in the buck. Not one to delay the inevitable, he steeled himself and slid in with a splash.
Considering the guttural dying-Rattata sound that left his mouth afterwards, he was doubly glad no one was around. It was embarrassing enough that his Pokemon could probably hear it from their balls.
With a sigh, he released them one by one. He honestly would have rather been alone right now, but his Pokemon also needed bathing. He was pretty sure Sneasel had rolled in something dead recently because he could barely stand to be within a whiff of it.
As always, they regarded him with wary caution. He wasn't sure why it annoyed him so, he had not attempted to foster a loving relationship with them and he did not intend to. And he definitely was not jealous of the way Lyra's Pokemon nuzzled up to her like big sentient plush toys. Gross.
"Bathe yourselves." He commanded. He was met with a variety of reactions, but they all sort of followed his directions in their own ways. That was typical. The only time they listened wholeheartedly was when he was calling out attacks.
Meganium was a serious Pokemon, stalwart loyalty devoid of affection. Even shivering, it dipped its long head into the water and rinsed the dirt from its scales. The others followed suite. Magnemite spun around until it shone and Golbat whipped up a current to wash its teeth and wings. Silver watched as Kadabra painstakingly groomed its luxurious mustache with a pinecone. What an odd Pokemon.
With Kadabra's recent addition, his was on week three of having a complete Pokemon team. It'd been almost seven months since he'd stolen Chikorita from Elm.
Silver didn't know what to make of his newest Pokemon. He knew he'd needed a psychic-type- they were strong- but they were also... very odd. But he'd thought Haunter had been odd too, so maybe he could get used to it. Kadabra was painstakingly polite if nothing else, and its Psybeam was a killer.
Silver was shaken from his thoughts as water splashed him. Sneasel gave an annoying giggle and Silver glared daggers.
"Get in the water, you stupid weasel. Don't just kick your feet around. You're an Ice-type, aren't you?"
Sneasel ignored him, examining its long claws. Sometimes, in dark moments, Silver wondered if those claws would ever been turned on him. Sneasel could a bit of a clown and somehow even Silver's mean-spirited banter pacified it well enough, but it was the least obedient Pokemon in his possession. It didn't really feel like his.
Naturally, considering it really wasn't. Perhaps he'd made a mistake swiping it. It had been one thing to gank an untrained beginner Pokemon from Elm's lab. Chikorita was hardly bonded to the professor, and was probably bored out of its skull most days until Silver had taken it, if Meganium's love of battling was anything to go by. But Sneasel? It'd had an actual trainer. A spineless, milquetoast sort of a guy that actually thought he could take on the Cianwood gym with a Dark/Ice Pokemon, but Sneasel had seemed bonded with its previous trainer well enough.
Silver often caught Sneasel seeming unhappy and lonely when it thought he wasn't looking. He tried to ignore it. He had too many damn things on his mind to worry about Sneasel. If it became a nuisance, he could just drop it off in the cold. It thrived in the cold, right?
Silver mused that maybe he thrived in the cold too, but this water was testing his patience, as was the watered down bottle of shampoo that he'd forced to last months. His hair was so greasy and tangled that building up any kind of lather in this cold water was impossible. He hoped he'd at least be presentable enough after all of this to venture down the mountain for some more battling. Even more than training, he really, really needed some prize money. He'd had to resort to letting his Pokemon hunt to feed themselves most days. Magnemite, Meganium and Haunter had unusual diets that were surprisingly easier to fulfill. Sneasel and Golbat often returned with wounds, and sometimes he wondered if they would return at all.
Sometimes a part of him wishes they wouldn't. Not because he wanted something bad to happen, but he wouldn't be too torn up if they ran away. Still, he couldn't justify having fewer Pokemon, not with Lyra still somehow besting him in battle every time they met, but he was... overwhelmed, to say the least.
Six Pokemon were not a walk in the park to take care of. Doubly so when you were a homeless twelve-year old living between different stretches of woods without a cent to your name. And right on the tail end of winter, which Silver considered to be his own personal hell. Winter, when no berries grew and every flat surface was wet, cold or both. When starving packs of Houndoom roamed the woods at night in search of anything with a pulse. He couldn't remember when exactly the last time he'd eaten was, and that was not an exaggeration. It must have been weeks. He could barely afford the occasional Potion or container of Pokemon kibble, let alone a luxury like human food.
He waded to the edge of the spring and laid his head on his hands, trying to power through a hunger pang that was suddenly cramping his insides. He felt himself deflate a bit. God, he was so *hungry*.
His stomach growled loudly enough that all heads turned in his direction. Sneasel gave that annoying, raspy laugh again, and Silver silenced it with a cold splash to the face before returning to his shampooing attempt, blushing heavily.
"Finish up already, Sneasel. Once I'm done here we have to look for shelter and firewood. I'm not waiting for you."
Sneasel huffed and Silver huffed back. As he lathered his body with the residual shampoo, he suddenly heard the sound of footsteps. He instinctively started to sink down, hoping to hide, but realized this was a futile action with all six of his Pokemon out. He sunk down so that only the top half of his head was visible and glared at the approaching intrusion, oblivious to the fact that he looked more like a wet Meowth than anything remotely threatening.
Lance, the Lance, dragon master, current Indigo League champion and general pain-in-the-ass stared back at him. The sharp intake of air was mutual.
"Ah- Hello there, young man!" Lance said with some strange salute-like pose, whipping around his stupid cape with the sharp movement of his arm. Doubly stupid-looking considering the other hand held a picnic basket. "It seems we meet ag- GAH!" The picnic basket dropped from his hands and he covered his eyes with his cape, almost like a child might. "Y-you're naked!"
"I'm bathing." Silver deadpanned, annoyed. He was relieved that there was no threat, at least. Just the current clown of a champion who absolutely did not deserve such a title.
"Ah geez... I hope no one's around, this is really bad ops..." Lance whispered to himself beneath his cape.
Silver rolled his eyes. "I can still hear you. What are you worried about anyway? You can only see my head and nobody's around. I'm not even sure why you're here."
Silver thought that would be enough for Lance to get the hint and beat it, but the young man simply turned away from Silver and continued to speak. "I am here to have a picnic with my Pokemon! I've always thought this part of the mountain was strikingly beautiful this time of year!"
'This guy is way too chatty...' Silver thought, annoyed. "Good for you."
Lance was silent for a moment. "It's awfully cold today, though."
"Mm-hmm."
"I mean, it must barely be 50 degrees. I bet the water is even colder than that."
"Yep."
Lance cleared his throat. "Er... what I mean to say is, and don't take this the wrong way, but I don't think you are being safe right now."
Silver felt his eye twitch in irritation. "What's it to you, anyway? Go have your little picnic somewhere else. This is kind of a private activity, you know."
"Ah... that's... sort of the part I don't understand. Why are you bathing all the way out here? Surely you must be freezing..."
"I am. But I'm dirty. So..." Silver shrugged.
Lance remained silent for an uncomfortable amount of time. "... I see... Are you... on a camping trip?"
Silver huffed out a dry laughed, which Sneasel mimicked. "You could say that."
Lance was silent again. Silver dunked his head to rinse it, but had to steady himself when the movement made black spots appear in his vision. When he opened his eyes Lance had turned back around.
"Hello? Privacy?"
"S-sorry, I promise I didn't see anyth-"
Silver's stomach took this moment to interrupt the other trainer with an inhuman thunderclap of a growl. Silver blushed and Lance laughed heartily. "Do you and your Pokemon care to join us for our picnic? I packed plenty of food."
The temptation was undeniable, but Silver had a reputation to uphold. "My Pokemon don't play nice at meal times. You don't want them at your little picnic. Trust me, if they aren't in their balls, some of them will take the food from under your nose."
Lance frowned slightly. "Are they poorly trained? Pokemon should be able to control themselves at mealtime."
"They're trained to battle. They aren't pets."
Lance was fully turned to him now, glaring. Silver cowered ever so slightly. "Your Pokemon are not mere battle tools! They're living beings with emotions and needs. You should treat them with respect, they may not be pets but they aren't weapons for you to command, either." He glanced around at Silver's motley group of Pokemon. The were scarred, unkempt, and a bit too skinny. He quashed the surge of anger and kept his voice level. "They're thin. And they have wounds. When was the last time you fed them? Used a potion? Took them to the Pokemon center? They're in awful condition."
Silver felt red hot indignation rise in his chest. As the champion, Lance had everything. How dare he judge Silver, who had to scrape for every single thing he had?
"They're fine. What's it to you, anyway?" Silver said coolly, his tone deceiving his anger.
Lance, on the other hand, seemed to be done playing nice. "What's it to me? That's all you have to say? What's it to you, Silver? You just... let your Pokemon starve, and their wounds fester? Not a care in the world?"
Silver scoffed. "Yeah, I love keeping my Pokemon in terrible shape. But since you insist, maybe I'll go to the nearest Full Restore tree and pick a few off the branches! Maybe I'll even score some free Pokemon kibble while I'm there." He dripped with venom and sarcasm.
Lance's blood was boiling. "Don't you dare give me that, you irresponsible brat! You're their trainer! You just... expect them to fight for you without even the slightest consideration of their well-being? That's sickening. You should be embarrassed." He spat. "Is neglecting them convenient for you?"
Silver had had absolutely enough. "Don't you DARE lecture me! Every coin I get goes straight to Pokemon food and healing items! You think I don't know you have to spend money on them? I feed them WHEN I CAN!" He yelled, partially emerging from the water in his anger. "'Convenient'? For me? Nothing is convenient for me, for us!" Silver barked, gesturing to the Pokemon around him. "They're fighters! They hunt so they don't starve! What do you think Pokemon do in the wild, hold hands? ...Huh? Answer me! Don't just make accusations and then stare at me like a dead Magikarp!"
Lance was indeed staring, but not really listening. He was staring wildly at the sheer emaciation of Silver's scarred torso, littered with bruising. His shoulder bones were visible, though he held his skeletal arms with a posture of strength and ferocity. Lance could count his ribs from several feet away. The teen looked tiny. Had... had he always looked like that underneath his baggy clothing?
Beginning to feel a bit self-conscious, Silver dropped back into the cold water. "W-what?"
Lance tried to force his throat to work, but his words failed him.