The Ghost Specialist

Redi sent frequent, subtle glances to the bands around Clair's wrists, and Sam never once missed one of her looks. Dragonair‘s Pokéball was inside one of them, and Redi desperately wanted to claim that ball for herself.

But she couldn’t right now. They needed to follow Clair and hear the explanation for the “Dragon Type Trials,” first.

“In here.” Clair said.

A gloved hand pushed open a featureless door, and Sam and Redi stepped in as Clair marched inside.

It was a messy office.

Boxes and stacks of papers littered the floor, filing cabinets lined the walls, and a thick, oak desk had been placed at the back with a blocky computer sitting on top.

Clair strode to that desk, sitting behind it and pressing a button that started the noisy boot process to turn the computer on. As fans whirred to life, Sam and Redi hurried to Clair’s sides to watch the computer’s screen.

The next minute was awkward, as the computer wasn’t fast by any means. It took a painful period of silence between them for the computer to become functional enough to let Clair navigate to the website she wanted to show off.

“The League’s archives contain interviews alongside its Pokémon battles. There’s a short conversation I want you two to see before you make any decisions,” Clair said. “As you watch, pay attention to what he says.”

He?

Sam kept his suspicions quiet as Clair maneuvered through the League’s online archives. The site lacked any special decorations, only containing a series of text-based links divided by name, date, and region.

Clair clicked on one folder labeled “Champion Lance.”

“This interview is from a few years ago,” Clair said, scrolling down and selecting a specific video link. “Back then, Lance was still adjusting to his role as Champion. The behavior expected of one is different from that of a member of Indigo’s Elite Four. He hadn’t fully adapted yet.”

“Wait, why does that—”

Redi quickly went quiet as Clair finished clicking through the progress bar to start the video roughly two-thirds of the way through.

...

“...took him thirty minutes to calm down!” a young-looking Lance said with a smile.

He chuckled, and the interviewer burst into laughter. The newly ordained Champion leaned back in his chair, calmly lacing his fingers together to enter a relaxed posture.

“How funny! It isn’t often we get such a look into an Elite’s past like that,” the interviewer, a pudgy man, said. “But our viewers are dying to know, how did you get your starter Pokémon? A Dragonite is extremely rare. I can’t imagine training such a strong Pokémon like that since the start!”

Lance casually shook his head. The red of his hair almost seemed to be brighter back then compared to now. The smile on his face didn’t match his usual, serious expression or the almost imperial demeanor he usually displayed.

Instead, in response to the interviewer’s question, Lance’s expression turned to one of fond remembrance. A moment of silence was spent in recollection as Lance visibly experienced happier memories of the past.

“Dragonite was... my starter, yes,” Lance said. “I imagine that most would expect a wild story of me climbing a mountain or going through some extremely dangerous trial to partner with him, but the truth is, it was nothing as dangerous as that. As a Dratini, he was simply... Well, he was simply my friend. I grew up in Blackthorn City, and the Blackthorn Clan protects and possesses quite the number of Dragon Type nests. They actively seek to pair trainers with the young Pokémon within.”

Lance smoothed the edge of his cloak, and the interviewer leaned in. He seemed to miss the flash of obvious greed in the interviewer’s eyes.

It wasn’t every day someone talked about rare Dragon Types being handed out for “free.”

“Truly? Your clan provided you with a Dratini? Just like that?” the man asked, the corners of his mustache twitching into a smile.

“It was much more complicated than just a simple handover. I met Dratini by accident while exploring, and we became fast friends. For the clan to approve our partnership...” He laughed again. “It was more like we forced the elders’ hands.”

There was a brief pause, as if Lance was debating something.

“Have you ever heard of their Dragon Type Trials?” Lance asked.

“...I can’t say I have,” the interviewer said.

“The Blackthorn Clan holds them every so often, with the purpose of finding new trainers to support. To begin my journey alongside Dratini, I had to prove myself to the elders of the clan,” Lance said. “They, of course, weren’t happy, so even though they failed me, I constantly threw myself at the trials. They’re arbitrary. Inconsistent. But as rigid and unbending my clan’s elders are, they still care about Pokémon. They eventually relented, and Dratini and I were able to head out together.”

Lance shook his head.

“I was one of the lucky ones. It took me five attempts for me to acquire that ‘aid’ from my clan.”

...

Clair stopped the video there, pausing it before the interviewer could provide a response.

“That’s the most anyone has ever publicly shared about the Blackthorn Clan’s trials,” she said. “Lance’s disagreements with the clan elders definitely colored his statements on it, but his description is still accurate.

“The Trials are biased. Progress is made through whim more than strength. Yet, if you prove yourself worthy, if you’re determined enough, they will have to accept your potential. That’s your way forward.”

Redi was frowning, and she hadn’t looked away from the computer just yet. Even with how many looks she had been sending to Clair’s wrists, her eyes were locked to the Champion’s image on the screen.

“How come I haven’t heard of these before?” she whispered.

Clair frowned, pulling her head to the side to stretch.

“The Blackthorn Clan doesn’t want their trials to be public knowledge,” she said. “They used their influence to make sure this interview was never aired more than once.”

“Why?”

Sam stood up and straightened his back as he pulled away from the computer. There wasn’t much room to stand with how close the desk was to the room’s wall.

“I need you to understand that training a Dragon Type is a difficult thing,” Clair said. “More often than not, they only react positively if you have their respect. The actual steps and techniques to train Dragon Type moves and prove your worthiness are secrets that belong to the clan. The Dragon Type Trials were originally meant to be a private event that passed that knowledge onto the next generation, but...”

“The League didn’t want that,” Sam concluded, filling in the statement as Clair let her words drift off. “I’ve caught a news report or two. They passed rules saying those Trials couldn’t be exclusive anymore, didn’t they?”

She nodded her head.

“It was controversial for many reasons, but more than anything else, Dragon Tamers respect strength. The law might have been purposefully designed to take power away from clans, but no one in Blackthorn desired to go against Champion Oak.”

She leaned back in her chair, taking on a posture not unlike Lance’s in the video. Sam would have thought Clair was actually relaxed, but this seemed more like a motion she underwent to keep herself calm.

“Since the Trials are now public, anyone who shows up has the potential to join,” she said. “However, the Blackthorn Clan still has the right to determine how far competitors can go, and they also have the right to determine when and where the Trials take place.

“Now that the Trials can no longer be limited to Blackthorn Clan members, their purpose has been changed to be about networking more than anything else. Promising trainers are invited via informing them about the next Trial’s date, and if those trainers do well, they’ll receive the clan’s support.”

“Like a sponsorship,” Redi said.

“More like quid-pro-quo,” Clair corrected. “The clan provides resources to promising trainers in the hope that when those trainers take on positions of importance in the League, they’ll be more open to supporting the clan’s wishes in the future.”

Sam tried to act casual by resting an arm against a filing cabinet. He almost pushed it over, but he caught it before it fell.

“Is that why the Blackthorn Clan still has so much influence?” Sam asked. “These trials help keep the people in power on their side?”

“Part of the reason,” Clair answered.

She didn’t explain more than that.

Obviously deep in thought, Redi frowned, and she finally looked away from the frozen screen.

“So when you’re talking about support, you mean they give out Pokémon. Like what they did with Lance and his Dragonite—Dratini, I mean?”

She shrugged.

“Kind of,” Clair answered. “Pokémon are only handed out in extreme circumstances, which is why this is going to be difficult for you. The Trials nowadays mostly reward training techniques, hard-to-find information, TMs for rare moves, and even pieces of deceased Dragon Types to promote certain forms of evolution. Just keep in mind that it varies from trainer to trainer, and how much you receive is based on how impressed the clan is with you.”

Both Sam and Redi went quiet for a while.

“Rare information,” Sam repeated after a bit. “Like historical records?”

“I suppose?” Clair said.

“How do we compete?” Sam asked, leaning in.

“The Trial ‘publicly’ takes place at the Dragon’s Den, but as I said, the exact time varies to prevent the participation of unwanted trainers. Except, anyone who shows up is allowed to take part, and the League’s rules mandate that the clan can’t immediately disqualify them. For you two, I can ‘invite’ you by telling you when the next one takes place, but given the level of preparation involved and how much you’d need to show off, your best option is to wait three weeks—”

“Three weeks?!”

Clair jerked as if she wanted to snap at Redi for interrupting her, but she bit her tongue to stop that immediate, annoyed reaction. Instead, the Gym Leader closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Sam could tell this kind of situation didn’t happen to her that often.

“Do you really think you’re ready?” Clair asked carefully.

That question was met with a scoff.

“Of course we’re ready. That’s my name,” Redi said. “You’re underestimating me because I don’t have many Gym Badges, but that’s just because I’m super careful! My Pokémon are strong, so why couldn’t we take it on?”

Clair glanced at Sam for confirmation, and he nodded in agreement.

“Lance said it took him several attempts to get his Dratini, so it shouldn’t matter if we fail. Even if we don’t succeed on our first attempt, we’d be able to try again later, right?”

After looking between Sam and Redi for the final time, Clair sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. She seemed like she didn’t want to accept this, but she did at least acquiesce.

“Fine. I think it’s too soon, but you’re right that you can try again,” she said. “There’s one in two nights. Just... know that you won’t get through it. Don’t complain to me when you lose.”

With how packed the previous day had been, they didn’t outright train so much as they practiced and took time to rest. Redi used this time to send a message to Mr. Pokémon and request a copy of the sponsorship contract. He replied with the exact terms, and she passed them along to her family.

Negotiation would take a while, but from what Sam knew about Redi, he doubted the entire process would take longer than a week.

Needing to wait, Sam spent the next two days practicing with his team, exploring the city, and trying to find out what he could about the Blackthorn Clan—not much. His efforts were curtailed by the clan’s secretive nature as well as the perfect distraction he had in his possession.

The vast, vast majority of his time was spent reading. He poured over the notes contained within that old journal he’d purchased. The information within didn’t have an explicit through-line or even that much organization in general. Rather, they simply contained everything the author could obtain when it came to Hisui’s culture and lore.

It contained folktales and legends. Sketches of environments and descriptions of locations. Species were mentioned too, but none that were explicitly variants. Unfortunately, almost everything in this book had been obtained secondhand. Specifics were sparse, but Sam at least appreciated the overview that it gave him.

Hisui was a different time, one where technology wasn’t as prevalent. Pokéballs were only just beginning to spread, and even then, they were crafted by hand more often than not. The stories that described the region’s culture were all passed down through word alone, with the clans of the period defined by oral tradition. The Diamond Clan, the Pearl Clan, and all the other, smaller groups all existed back then.

But between all of the vague descriptions and flat summaries, Sam was at least able to identify a few parables that stood out to him. He took note of them and carefully read them through. Truthfully, most of his time was spent trying to derive any hidden meaning from their words.

The first story he found warned of the dangers of letting too many hostile spirits group together. The outcome was described as a “great curse,” but Sam was pretty confident the story was likely about Spiritomb.

Another story was aimed more at children, discussing the tale of a fish and a snail and their ongoing relationship. Every time the snail drank from a river, the fish approached to attack the other creature from invading its home. Yet, the snail never retaliated, and the fish only ever hurt itself with its attack. However, in the end, the fish’s struggles somehow saw both of them evolve, and then they parted as friends.

That’s dumb.

Sam took that story as one that praised the benefits of friendly rivalries, as it was a proven fact Pokémon and people grew most in battle. It was trying to convince children that fights weren’t anything to make enemies over. It was better to stay friends than needlessly attack someone for a pointless reason.

Other than those two tales, there were more stories about things like funeral rites and area guardians called “nobles,” but Hisui didn’t exactly have a unified culture back then, as far as Sam could tell. He just wished the journal contained more specifics than the vague summaries it did. No matter how much he read through it, he couldn’t find anything directly helpful to Quilava.

But it at least gave him a better understanding of the time period. Primarily, Pokémon were the ones to manage the natural order of things. Humans generally kept to themselves.

When the time came for the Trial to start, he made sure the journal was tucked away in his pack, right next to the New Pokédex, then left with Redi. They had a ways to go if they wanted to reach the Trial’s location on time.

It was set at the Dragon’s Den, which was located on the other side of the Gym’s crater lake. Its entrance was within a small opening of a cave, lit up by a pair of fiery torches that were visible from the opposite shore. Unfortunately, that cave was the Dragon’s Den's only entrance, and there were no paths around the lake to guide trainers its way.

To reach the trial grounds, Sam and Redi were forced to hike through the steep, evergreen forest that grew around the lake’s sides, traveling through the dimness of early night. But even with the darkness along the way, Sam didn’t fail to notice how often nearby trees were splintered with large grooves from a Pokémon’s attacks.

Given where he and Redi were, Sam had little doubt in his mind about the identity of the species that left those marks.

Thankfully, they reached the cave’s entrance without seeing or being attacked by any wild Pokémon. Redi had been impatient to go, and because of that, they made it to the Dragon’s Den earlier than expected. A small path from this side’s beach connected to a flat, dirt area just outside the cave. Three people were already present, with two of them other competitors and the last a Blackthorn Clan elder.

As they approached, Redi nudged Sam’s arm and tried to subtly point at the two trainers.

“Look,” she whispered. “Both of them are our age.”

The two present competitors were opposites. A boy with messy black hair wore a red jacket covered with an unnecessary amount of spikes, zippers, and chains. He stood with his arms crossed, scowling at the Blackthorn Clan elder. As for the other trainer, she was a girl, and she was overwhelmingly pink.

Her dress was covered in bows. It puffed out way more than was needed. She had a patient smile on her face that seemed to make a point of ignoring how the boy looked so ready to fight. She simply stood silently and politely whereas the boy visibly glared and clenched his fists.

As for the Elder himself, he wasn’t wrinkled and old, but he was a stern middle-age with neatly cut, salt-and-pepper hair.

The man silently watched Sam and Redi approach, his hands hidden within his sleeves. His outfit was uncomfortably close to that of a Sprout Tower Sage, but Sam did his best to not immediately distrust the man. He tried to greet the elder with a slight tilt of his head.

Surprisingly, that nod was met with a smile and a similar, polite greeting back.

Uncomfortable, Sam looked away, and the elder returned to staring ahead.

“I don’t want to make a scene. If you need me, I’ll be on that stone,” Sam whispered.

He gestured to a flat boulder set at the edge of the clearing, where it was almost perfectly obscured by the shadows of a tree.

“Alright. I’ll just be here. Waiting,” Redi said.

She crossed her arms and looked around. Given the reason she was here, Sam couldn’t imagine the amount of stress she was under.

He sat on the stone, and Redi started to pace. Thankfully, no one really paid attention to him. The boy was too busy glaring at the elder, the girl was too busy staring out over the lake, and the elder himself only sent the occasional, casual glance both Sam and Redi’s way.

Even with so little attention on him, Sam still made sure to act casual when he pulled out that journal from before.

“...Hm,” Sam mumbled.

No one was talking. The tension was palpable. There were still several minutes before the Trial was set to begin. So, he opened up his book and flipped through it, moving to the most boring section he could find. The words on its pages were only barely visible thanks to the flickering flames of the torchlight.

From there, he mumbled. If anyone tried to listen in, all they’d hear was the sound of a flat description of a meadow. Sure, Floaroma Town might have been interesting to some, but the description in the book was so boring and literal that even the most curious would have been turned away.

Sam’s deception worked.

The girl in the dress briefly glanced at him but just as quickly turned away. Her eyes twitched for the short second she paid attention to what he was saying, his words only barely audible in the silence of the night. No one else bothered to try to listen in, and Sam became confident that he was speaking without any eavesdroppers.

His mumbling changed. Instead of reading from the book, he whispered a quiet command to his Pokémon.

“They aren’t paying attention. You should be able to get close enough to sense what’s in their Pokéballs,” he said quietly. “See if you can find out anything about their teams, and then pass what you discover back to me.”

Redi continued to pace, that boy continued to glare, and the girl continued to stare at the water of the lake, all of them unaware of what Sam just said. No one noticed the dark shapes leaving his feet to join the shadows of the woods.

Tibia and Fibula stayed with Sam and Redi respectively. Haunter was the leader of the group that left—just as much as he had been tutoring those two Ghost Types in new moves, those two Ghost Types were tutoring him back when it came to sensing the world around him. Sam had no clue what his Pokémon would discover, but he at least hoped to obtain some insight into why these other trainers were invited, or at least what preparations they had gone through.

A minute passed. Silence continued. The time to start rapidly approached. The boy in the jacket eventually snarled, never once looking away from the elder’s face.

“What? Not going to say anything?” he growled.

The Blackthorn Clan elder didn’t even bother to look his way.

“We have two more we are waiting for. The Trials will begin once everyone has arrived.”

As if to punctuate the middle-aged man’s statement, a dark shadow passed over the camp, only visible thanks to how its body obscured the night sky’s stars. When it touched down in the dirt clearing, the Pidgeot demonstrated such control over the Flying Type that not even the slightest breeze disturbed the ground under its feet.

From its back, a man in his early twenties wearing a red vest jumped off to land next to it. Sam sucked in a breath when he saw him.

An Ace Trainer? The Blackthorn Clan invited an Ace Trainer here?

He was starting to understand why Clair said they weren’t prepared.

Now within this dirt clearing, the Ace Trainer bowed his head to the Blackthorn Elder, receiving the same respectful greeting back. He placed a hand on his Pidgeot’s side to quietly say thanks before returning the Pokémon to its ball.

And then silence.

Mostly.

The sound of shuffling fabric came from that one girl’s dress as she twisted back and forth, and Redi’s feet caused the dirt to crunch underneath them as she continued to pace.

Sam tracked his Ghost Types as they silently moved around the clearing. The torches’ flickering flames helped disguise their presence, but Sam was able to follow how patches of darkness moved from tree to tree.

He knew that Tibia and Fibula’s sensing rarely returned anything specific, and that Haunter was much worse at detection than them. However, he still hoped Haunter would be able to find something. At least, he’d be able to gauge the strength of everyone else here.

However, as Sam stopped reading to follow his Pokémon’s movements, he froze when he saw the Ace Trainer watching him. The man smiled, chuckling to himself, and turned away.

Sam shoved his head back into his book and returned to reading.

He pretended not to feel the heat that had rushed to his face.

The time for the Trials to start came and passed, yet the elder did not announce that they were set to begin. The last person was yet to show up, and it took some time before any sign of them appeared.

Out on the lake itself, a second dark shape slowly came into view. As it got close, someone shouted from its back.

“Wait for me! I’m almost there!”

Sam blinked when he realized he recognized the voice, but he couldn’t exactly place it. The torches illuminated the Pokémon’s silhouette and revealed the shape of a rare Lapras. Once it reached the shore, a girl a few years older than him jumped off its back, thanked it, then returned her Pokémon and raced up the path to the Dragon’s Den entrance.

Getting close, she somehow locked eyes with Sam, even though he was sitting in the shadows under a tree.

“Ah! You’re... that boy!”

“Sam,” he said. “And you’re... Eliza?”

Eliza smiled at him, looking a lot more confident than the last time they met. She had competed in the Beginner’s Tournament with her Slowpoke, and then she had faced him with her Scyther immediately after Goldenrod’s Gym Trial.

Eliza jogged over, welcoming the friendly face. She didn’t seem to recognize Redi, however. Redi stopped pacing to watch with a frown.

“Hey! Are you trying to get TMs, too?”

“TMs?” Sam asked.

Eliza shook her head.

“I guess not,” she said. “I’m not really sure what’s going on. I came to Blackthorn to get a few Dragon Type moves for my team, and then after asking around, a member of the Blackthorn Clan directed me here.”

Sam licked his lips.

“Huh. That’s... interesting.”

“What are you here for?” Eliza asked.

“Support, mostly. But I’m also hoping to get access to the Blackthorn Clan’s historical records, too.”

Redi wanted to prove herself to obtain Dragonair, but Sam also had a feeling that the Clan was old enough to help him with his goal. He wanted either something to help him with Quilava’s evolution or something to help him find more Ghost Types. Given only the Misdreavus and Gastly lines were common to this region, he hoped the Clan knew where other Ghost Types could be found off-route.

The New Pokédex didn’t have that information, after all.

Eliza smiled at him, and she started to talk, but Sam turned his attention to the ground. Haunter didn’t exactly exit a shadow, but he brought a claw out to scratch at the dirt, where he began to draw out shapes.

Via symbols and arrows, Haunter was able to share what he had found.

Primarily, he drew pictures that represented specific Types. For that jacketed boy, he drew both a fist and sharpened teeth. The girl in the dress got what looked to be a butterfly. Eliza got both a water droplet and something that resembled a metal beam, but when Haunter tried to draw something for the Ace Trainer, he instead stopped and shivered.

Couldn’t find out anything about him, but I can’t blame you for that. Ace Trainers are supposed to have some kind of defense from Ghosts, I’m pretty sure.

But then for everyone else, that boy... The Fighting Type? And Dark Type? Or Dragon Type? That girl is definitely the Fairy Type—ugh. And then Eliza... Water and Steel. So then did her Scyther evolve?

“...And I hope you can find what you’re looking for, too!” Eliza finished.

Sam blinked, realizing she just had an entire conversation with him without him paying attention. He opened his mouth to try to find some way to salvage this, but the Blackthorn Clan elder finally spoke up at that point.

“Enough.”

Sam looked up.

The boy in the jacket clenched his fists, grinding his jaw, and the elder’s eyes passed over the crowd.

“You, you, and you.” The Blackthorn Clan elder made eye contact with the Ace Trainer, the girl in the dress, and Sam himself. “You three will be moving on. Follow me.”

He turned around to step toward the entrance of the cave. Sam heard a sigh next to him, and Eliza slumped where she stood.

“Of course,” she mumbled.

“What about the rest of us?!” Redi called out.

“Unfortunately, it has been determined that you are not ready to take part in tonight’s trials,” the elder said, turning back around. “The Blackthorn Clan appreciates your participation, but you will not be progressing further. You may try again at a later date, if you are invited.”