Pokemon Slate Gray

Season 2 - Episode 12: Making an Exhibition

Slate spent the remainder of the week in a foul mood. His new Haughron showed no signs of improvement during their training sessions in the park. If he tried to speak to the bird Pokémon, it would turn up its beak and ignore him. While he trained with the others, hoping that Haughron might want to join in, the creature merely preened its feathers and scrutinized passers-by.

He was irrationally angry with April over the situation. After all, she had known what would happen after Uglay's grooming treatment, while he just hoped the Pokémon would cheer up a bit. He didn't express his feelings, though, or much else. He didn't want to argue with April and knew on some level that she wasn't to blame.

Uglay were known to be concerned with their looks, and according to the salon workers, its four evolutions shared that reputation. Even Haughron's Pokédex entry classified it as 'the conceited Pokémon.'

Still, Slate couldn't help feeling frustrated as he lay in bed that evening, staring up at the dark ceiling. Uglay had been the first of his Pokémon to evolve, but the whole experience had been marred by Haughron's attitude. Also, with his first proper Gym match slowly approaching, the Flying-type could have been a valuable ally against a Bug-type specialist like Mayor Douglas.

As it was, Eevee and Cryote were still the only battle-ready members of his team. He was confident they were up to the task, but it would have been nice to have options. He considered the incubator sitting atop his nightstand. The egg inside had moved a few times in the last couple of days.

He had been excited at the prospect of his Nuteran starter egg hatching. However, given what had occurred with Haughron, he had grown anxious about it. What if the creature dwelling inside didn't like him? What if he didn't like it? After all, with how much he had obsessed over the idea of partnering with a Bulbasaur, Charmander, or Squirtle, could anything else measure up?

No, it wasn't right to think that way, thought Slate, rebuking himself for the silly notion. All Pokémon were special in their own way. But...was he special enough for them? Haughron didn't seem to think so. He was no Jet, after all.

***

When the wake-up alarm on Slate's phone sounded the following morning, he wanted nothing more than to roll over and go back to sleep. It had been a restless night, plagued with dreams featuring his capable older brother. However, it was Saturday, the day of the grooming convention, and after giving April the silent treatment for much of the week, he owed it to her to snap out of his funk.

He met April in the Center lobby an hour later. To her credit, the girl hadn't made light of his situation with Haughron. Okay, she had laughed unrestrainedly back in the salon but not since then, at least not to his face. This was surely down to the fact that she had a Training issue of her own to contend with. Although, her problem was a little different.

While Haughron didn't want anything to do with Slate, April's Mossym couldn't seem to get enough of her. Every time she released the fuzzy green mass from its capsule, it tried to affix itself to her leg, as it had on their first meeting. Thankfully, the Grass-type Pokémon wasn't very agile, so April could easily keep her distance, but its adorable eyes would well up from the apparent rejection.

Slate had managed to conceal his amusement on these occasions, knowing that April would likely unleash on him otherwise. It was as if they had silently agreed to a diplomatic detente.

After a quick breakfast, Slate and April made their way to the northern side of the square city. Unlike the many skyscrapers in town, Pistachion's exhibition center was wider than it was tall. It also had a large open area in front, occupied by numerous street vendors.

"What's the hold-up?" asked Slate as they joined the bustling crowd in front of the building's steps.

"Him, I expect," sighed April, gesturing to a short, rotund old man with no hair on top of his head but a thick grey beard below. He was immaculately dressed in a black suit with a maroon tie and vest, and he carried a brass-topped cane.