A yawn escaped Roxanne’s mouth for the third time in five minutes, and as she pored once more over her lecture notes all she could think was that, for once in her life, she truly understood what motivated some students to skip school. She rubbed at her eyes and took another sip of horribly bitter coffee, trying to dredge up any energy she could. Sitting up to stretch her arms out, she took a small respite from the papers to glance about the familiar environs of the lecture hall.

The classroom was comfortably large—multiple, tiered rows of desks able to hold up to fifty students in total, walls colored in a uniform white with a bit of sky blue trim along the bottom, and three large windows lining the wall opposite the entrance that bathed the room in natural sunlight. The large chalkboard behind her was mostly empty, waiting for her to draw upon it to accentuate whatever teachings she would provide her listeners.

Said listeners had started to trickle in, and Roxanne glanced at the clock to see that there were only a few minutes left before it was time. She could only hope she had retained enough sense to do it right, do it properly, but the past few days had run her more ragged than any others she could remember.

After all, it wasn’t any weekend that an explosion large enough to register a magnitude of five annihilated a great deal of forest right outside city limits.

“It’s getting better around the outskirts,” one man says to another, reading from an unfamiliar device near the epicenter of the blast zone. “Slowly, very slowly, but the effects seem to be dissipating. But it’s getting worse here at the center. Maybe the whole thing is contracting?”

“It’s getting darker and darker,” the other man notes. “The shadows are cutting deeper,” he continues, gesturing toward his abnormally pitched silhouette. “I wonder, if it were any more severe, would even a single photon be able to exist? Our next experiments will surely be fascinating. What do you two think?”

“I think I want to know what bombed my forest,” Roxanne bites out, more acidic than she intends. “Or if it will happen again.”

The two scientists look uncomfortable at her retort, and Roxanne can’t help but sigh when they too don’t have any worthwhile information. She has been out here for two days, watching for any signs of the perpetrator, regularly interrogating nearby personnel for new information. Two days of panicked questions, hurried inquiries, a great flood of messages. From the public, her colleagues, the media, the mayor, and everyone in between. Roxanne has not slept for thirty-six hours and it is becoming very, very obvious.

She kneels down and sifts a hand through the cold grains of the sand, their chill leaving her fingers slightly numb. There shouldn’t be sand here, or so say the people Devon had rushed out. An explosion of this magnitude should have left the ground scarred and devastated, yes, but it absolutely should not have transformed the whole area into desert.

Something is wrong. The sun shines weakly, sound doesn’t carry, and at times she swears she can feel something watching her through the yellow haze. Roxanne doesn’t know what happened or how to fix it but this is an unprecedented catastrophe and she needs to find out what did this so she can stop it from happening ever again and what if it’s in the city next time—

She spirals like this for twenty minutes then nearly calls out her Steelix at an unfortunate reporter after they had slipped through the exclusion zone and snuck up on her, and this is when Head Officer Jennifer finally pulls her aside and tells her to go home. Roxanne collapses into bed and worries endlessly until she finally shuts down at three in the morning.

Another yawn threatened to escape, but Roxanne stifled it with another sip of coffee. She looked back over her notes one last time, then gazed over the growing crowd of attendees. Some of them were shooting her curious looks, and she could almost read their thoughts aloud. She’d even been asked outright, once.

‘Why are you here?’

Why was she still having this lecture? Why was she not still out there, searching for answers? Talking to the public? Was this the best use of her time?

Questions with multiple responses. One was that Roxanne had already done what she could. No country, organization, or individual had come forward to claim credit for the incident, nor had some heretofore unknown mythical pokemon emerged to lay blame upon. For all that she loved her school and thrived in the educational realm, she was no investigator, no sleuth, nor a researcher in anything but Rock pokemon and fossils. All she could do was wait for someone to give her an explanation or target. One of the primary roles of a Gym Leader was to act as their city’s primary defender, after all. Even if she hadn’t had to act out that particular aspect of her position before.

The other was that this was genuinely her best idea to get back into the swing of things. Roxanne had given all the press conferences and phone calls that she could. She had no more information to give, no action to take but to give shallow reassurances. All that could be done was return to normal business—with the caveat that she was absolutely prepared to sprint through the emergency exit and take flight on her Aerodactyl at slightest notice—and what could be more normal than a school lecture? She, too, desired a return to everyday routine; just entering the building had calmed her nerves. Surely seeing her here would help reassure others that things were alright?

Perhaps that was a bit optimistic, but Roxanne was willing to believe it would work.

As the clock continued to tick, Roxanne scanned the classroom intently, searching for a certain individual. Noting a distinct lack of straw hats and odd black garments, she let out a disappointed sigh and shuffled through her notes again. There had been a third, quieter reason why she hadn’t at least delayed the lecture, and she had hoped...well, maybe they’d left early. A lot of the transitory population had, in recent days.

Someone garbed in a nice-looking green dress hesitantly entered the room, looking around in curious puzzlement. Roxanne nearly dismissed the arrival as yet another new student before she abruptly recognized the pale face and red eyes peeking out from under the stylish sun hat. Apparently Astra had upgraded her outfit since she’d last seen her. It looked brand new and suited her rather well. Had she gone shopping recently? Roxanne was glad that at least a few people had had a relaxing weekend.

Astra met Roxanne's gaze a moment later and the girl broke out into a grin, giving Roxanne a cheerful wave. Roxanne returned her smile and gave her a nod of acknowledgement. Astra looked around the room once more, then darted for a seat in the back row.

Times had been difficult, but at least something was going right. As the last minute ran out, Roxanne took one last drink of her coffee and cleared her throat.

“Welcome everyone to today's lecture!” she called out, her voice ringing clear and true through the room. The minor chit-chat among students quieted as everyone turned their full focus to Roxanne. She smiled; her audience was on the younger side, and it was always invigorating to see fresh faces eager to learn. “It’s been an intense few days, but that’s no excuse to slack off! I’m sure your heads are all stuffed from last week's lesson on ancient Hoenn history, tumultuous and tragic as it is, so today we’re going to be talking about a more exciting topic: Pokemon Typings! A set of seventeen distinct categories with unique properties for both Pokemon and their abilities, attributes, demeanor, and diet. This lesson will go over them all in moderate detail; both to give you all general information and to give those looking to specialize a small preview of what is available.”

“A fair warning for those who didn’t look at the schedule too closely,” Roxanne said, “this is an all-day lecture delivered over the course of eight hours. A twenty minute break will be provided at the top of every hour, with thirty for lunch at one. We have a lot of ground to cover, so prepare yourself for a lengthy lesson!”

“Now, Pokemon Types!” She turned, picking up a piece of chalk and writing on the blackboard. “These Typings are: Normal, Fire, Fighting, Rock, Water, Poison, Electric, Dark, Dragon, Ghost, Psychic...”

“Normal types can best be described as the baseline to describe all other types from. The most common type known, they can be found in nearly every non-extreme habitat. Their main characteristic is in their relative neutralness; no particular strengths, but very few faults. It could even be said that the average person falls under this category.

“However, just because they’re Normal doesn’t mean they can’t be extraordinary! Some of the most powerful known Pokemon attacks are Normal typed. A well timed Explosion can decimate whole teams of enemy pokemon, and I’ve personally seen Hyper Beams tear apart even the sturdiest of foes.

“They’re also notable for having mutually null interactions with the Ghost type. As for weaknesses, Fighting type pokemon will do more damage to Normal type pokemon, and Normal type attacks are weakened against Steel and Rock types. Common Normal species include—”

“Fire types are known for their affinity for heat. Usually found in high temperature areas, this type of pokemon thrives in places like our own Mt. Chimney. Some are even made of living flame or magma! Contrary to initial appearances these pokemon can regulate their temperatures extremely well, allowing you to hold even a Slugma in your bare arms.

“Though, I wouldn’t recommend subsequently making that Slugma angry. You’ll get some nasty and well deserved burns for your trouble. The natural weakness of fire is, of course, water—”

“...and that’s it for Rock types.” Roxanne finished. She may have taken a few dozen extra minutes just for her favorite type, but who was counting? She scanned the room, smiling. “Before we move on, are there any questions about the Rock type?” A hand raised, and Roxanne nodded in their direction. “Yes?”

“Is it true that if you feed an Onix gold and then evolve it, it’ll turn into a golden Steelix?”

Roxanne stared at the girl. “...No,” she said, after a pause. “Golden Steelix only come about when an Onix burrows through pyrite rich soil for most of their life. They are not made of actual gold, and suffer from a variety of difficulties due to their composition. Please do not feed precious metals to pokemon.” She paused. “Most pokemon,” she amended.

Taking a sip of water, Roxanne cleared her throat. “Next question, if any?” Roxanne asked, plastering a smile back. It became a bit more real when she noticed Astra holding her arm up. “Yes, you there, in the back.”

“What’s the difference between Rock and Ground?” Astra asked, and Roxanne couldn’t help but notice that her voice seemed to lack an echo. ”Aren’t they the same thing?”

Roxanne broke out into a full on grin. “Good question!” she said, silently thanking the girl. “While Rock and Ground can be viewed as superficially similar, they are actually very different when we examine them together. While both refer to what lies beneath our feet, Rock is typically defined by sturdiness and solidity, while Ground exemplifies a more granular approach.

“To put it simply, Ground is more like sand, silt, and clay, while Rock refers to large, aggregated solids like granite and basalt. Loose particulates to concrete mass. There are some that take this comparison a step further and include Steel into the equation as a sort of refinement of Rock.

“Of course, all this is metaphorical when we apply this to Pokemon. The energies of Ground, Rock, and Steel are all mutually distinctive and we call them by what they most often represent. One could ask the same question of Water and Ice and get a similar answer. I hope this answers your query.”

Finishing her explanation, Roxanne looked around for any confusion in the audience. Finding none, she nodded. “Speaking of Ice, our next Pokemon Type is a bit chilly...”

“Ghost pokemon have a rich history in myth and legends. Malevolent spirits, haunting phantoms, even mischievous apparitions—Ghost pokemon are known far and wide for their connection to the spiritual side of life. Some even claim that certain Ghost types are the remnant souls of those who have passed on.

“These pokemon tend to favor environments both dark and macabre, such as caverns or cemeteries. One notable example is Mt. Pyre, which is nearly entirely inhabited by Shuppet and Duskull. Despite the negative reputation Ghost pokemon have, they’re just as capable of forming heartfelt bonds as any other Pokemon group.

“Just make sure you train them with discipline. You wouldn’t want your Gengar to think that giving you nightmares is funny, would you? A few honest conversations, a healthy dose of love and attention, and a bag of ectoplasm-infused treats will go a long way to a happy partnership.

“Speaking of ectoplasm, this mysterious substance is a foundational part of Ghost type biology. Under certain circumstances it has the ability to become incorporeal—”

“Dark types are another group with sinister stereotypes. Similarly to Ghost types, they are often depicted as vicious creatures, bringing portents of fear and doom where they go. Some even prefer to call this pokemon typing by another name: Evil. This is of course wildly inaccurate. While pokemon of this type do indeed fight in ways that one may deem ‘dirty’, they are wholly undeserving of the extremely poor moniker of ‘evil’.

“Let us take the common Poochyena as an example. Poochyena are some of the most loyal and devout pokemon one may come across. Be it darkest caverns or highest peaks, a Poochyena will follow its master into the worst disaster without hesitation. Its evolved form, Mightyena, exemplifies these traits even more; for if a well and truly loved Mightyena’s trainer should fall, this Dark type may choose to guard their resting place until it joins them.

“That said, do not take this group lightly; if unprepared, you may find that wild Dark types can and will live up to their fearsome reputation. Fighting type pokemon can typically handle a Dark type with little issue, but for those who favor Psychic types, beware: the Dark type completely nullifies all Psychic abilities and will obliterate the user besides.”

“...and that’s the shocking conclusion to Electric types!” Roxanne cheered. “Quite an eclectric bunch, aren’t they?” she chuckled at her own joke. “Now, are there any questions?” A hand rose, and Roxanne nodded toward the student.

“If I feed my Pikachu a lot of pancakes before I evolve it, will it turn into a psychic Raichu?”

Roxanne blinked. After a moment, she managed to find her voice. “Excuse me?”

The student shifted in his seat, looking very bothered by the stares the rest of the class was giving him. “I heard that was how it works in Alola...” he said, quietly.

Roxanne pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “In general,” she said, voice raising to hammer in the point. “Do not put your pokemon on ill-planned diets just because of a rumor. They are not playthings, they are friends and companions and should be treated as such. How some pokemon develop halfway across the globe does not affect how pokemon grow here.”

Roxanne paused her lecture to take a swig of water, breathing out slowly as she set the bottle down. She watched her class diligently finish taking notes and copying the scattered drawings on the blackboard behind her. The sight of so many students admirably engaging with her lesson was a balm for her tired soul. She smiled warmly at the myriad sounds of scratching pencils, pens, and in one case a rather oversized keyboard.

Nevertheless, Roxanne's eyes drifted up towards one student in particular. Astra had not brought any such utensils with her; neither pen nor pencil nor keyboard, nor even any paper to record notes upon. Instead she had just attentively watched the lesson. Roxanne wondered if people with Astra’s capabilities had better memory. It certainly seemed like it would be in their wheelhouse.

She had also not taken off her hat, which was a bit odd. Well, Roxanne couldn’t fault anyone for adherence to their fashion. Even exhausted as she had been this morning, she’d still found the time to style her own hair. Though, if what she suspected was true, maybe it made sense for Astra to keep her hat on at all times.

Public attention was easier to ignore if you just pulled the brim down, after all.

The sound of writing gradually dwindled, and Roxanne swept the blackboard clean. Onto the next segment.

“Psychic,” she announced, and it was only her close attention and suspicion that let Roxanne notice Astra’s subdued flinch. Ah. Well. It was what it was. She would deal with it when the time came.

Until then, there was a lecture to deliver.

“The Psychic type is perhaps the most well-known esoteric group of Pokemon. Known for a variety of capabilities, they specialize in all things relating to the mind. Telekinesis, telepathy, teleportation, clairvoyance, even the ability to alter dreams. Psychic pokemon are perhaps the most versatile companions one can have.

“Despite all these abilities, one of the most important, yet most forgotten attributes is their innate sense of empathy. Many Psychic pokemon will reflect or react to the attitude of the ones who approach them. A friendly attitude will often get better results than hostile intent, which will usually have the Psychic pokemon make a quick escape via teleportation. Abras are particularly well known for this tactic, as many delvers of the sprawling Dewford Granite Caverns can frustratedly attest to...”

The clock ticked steadily, light slowly following the sun as it crossed the sky. Keeping an eye on the time, Roxanne finished the last section of her lesson a bit earlier than planned. She had enough material for another half hour at the very least, but enthusiasm didn’t make up for the faint rasp edging its way into her voice.

“And with that,” she said, “I believe we are nearly out of time. I will open the floor to any last minute questions.” A hand raised, and Roxanne nodded in their direction. “Yes, you near the window?”

“Are there really only seventeen types?” the student asked. “Could there be more?”

Roxanned hummed. “As of now, yes, there are only seventeen pokemon types. Contrary to many popular stories, Pokemon types like Light, Bird, Fairy, or Sound are not recognized by the scientific community and are either complete fabrications or old variations that have been folded into the current framework. I can’t say that there won’t be new types discovered in the future, as we are still discovering new species of pokemon every day. But, as they have not been discovered with the vast numbers of pokemon we already know of, it is rather unlikely.”

The student slumped in disappointment. Roxanne resisted the urge to shake her head. There were always a couple pupils who had gotten engrossed in a few too many stories. “We have time for one more question,” she said, looking around for the final time. “How about you in the middle?” she asked, gesturing to a younger student.

The indicated teen stood up, the stylized M on his red shirt briefly glinting in the light. He stared at Roxanne intently, then took a deep breath. “What really happened out east?” he demanded, slamming his hands on the table.

“What?” Roxanne asked, taken aback. She frowned, glaring at the student disapprovingly. “Young man, that is hardly relevant to my lesson—”

“Don’t try to deflect the question!” the boy interrupted, glaring right back. “This is Hoenn’s biggest environmental disaster in years and nothing about it is natural! I know you’re hiding something out there!”

“I most certainly am not,” Roxanne snapped, the dull ache of her throat lending her voice the beginnings of a harsh rasp. “If you wish to know what I’ve said on the topic, the local news can certainly provide—”

“What was it?” the child interrupted, a sharp gleam in their eye. “Some secret weapon? A mythical pokemon? Was it—”

Roxanne slammed her hand on her podium, the sharp clap bringing an abrupt end to his tirade. “Enough!” she commanded, pinning the student with an exhausted glare. “I am not talking about this topic, and further prodding will only get you a well-deserved punishment. Are we clear?”

A look of pure indignation crossed the accuser's face, and there was a tense moment where it looked as though he would continue regardless. The school’s bell chose that moment to ring. He looked away with a scoff, grabbing at his things.

Roxanne glared at him as he stormed out, then sighed. “Class dismissed,” she called out, redundantly. “Make sure you don’t leave anything behind. If you have unanswered questions, please refer to the usual self-study materials. Next week we’ll be covering Pokemon Breeding and the various Egg Groups; if you’re under eighteen years of age, pick up a permission slip by the door and have your parents or guardians fill it out. Have a good day.”

A stream of chatter and clatter rang out as the students packed up, though a few lingering pupils got busy talking to their seatmates. Roxanne waited patiently until a certain bundle of green descended the stairs.

“Astra,” Roxanne called, slightly amused at the jumpy startlement this caused. “Would you come here for a moment?”

Astra blinked at her, confused. She looked around nervously, eyeing the students who had briefly stopped to gaze at a potential spectacle, then hurried over to Roxanne’s desk.

“Hello?” Astra asked, sounding confused. “Um. What’s up?”

“A couple things, actually,” Roxanne admitted. “But first of all, I wanted to see how you found my class. I recall you saying that you’ve had to figure things out on your own, so I hope you found it informative.”

“Oh!” Astra said, brightening. “It was, actually. Particularly the bits about Ghosts. Are they really weak to themselves?”

“Indeed, a trait they share with Dragons,” Roxanne confirmed. “Though a better counter would be the Dark type. Are you interested in Ghosts, Astra?” she asked, curiously.

“Only in how to make them go away,” Astra said. She tilted her head. “Are they really the spirits of the dead?”

“A question for the spiritualists, I’m afraid,” Roxanne said, smiling. “I’m more of an expert on Rocks, myself.” Sitting up, she refocused herself. No more distractions. “As glad as I am to hear that you enjoyed class, there was something else I wanted to talk about.”

“Alright?” Astra asked, blinking.

“A few nights ago, when I was reviewing those recordings of our battle,” Roxanne started, then paused, frowning.

She eyed the students still hovering around the classroom. They didn’t look like they’d be leaving anytime soon, and the room was designed to let her voice carry to every corner. Overhearing would be an issue, and Astra did appear to be trying to hide. Best to be circuitous, she supposed.

“Sorry, just had a thought,” Roxanne apologized, returning to the conversation. “The recording. I was studying it due to some errors when I noticed a certain...peculiarity.” she hedged.

“A peculiarity?” Astra said, looking puzzled.

“About you, specifically,” Roxanne clarified. “A...unique quality of yours, you could call it.”

Astra squinted at her confusion before a look of comprehension dawned over her features. “Wait, do you mean...?” she asked, waving a hand around her head.

Roxanne smiled; it seemed she’d got it. “Yes, that,” she said. “I apologize for being vague; I didn’t want anyone to overhear.” She nodded over at the lingering students.

“Oh!” Astra said, nodding gratefully. “Um, thank you. ” She paused, looking at Roxanne uncertainly. “Er, what about it?”

“Concern, mostly,” Roxanne admitted. “I’ve met many individuals in the same situation, and I even count two among my colleagues. But none I’ve met have either expressed or hidden it quite as you have. It made me curious as to why someone would.” She sighed, expression turning gloomy. “Only recently have I learned that those in your position can experience some...backlash, just for being as they are. Forgive me for prying, but have you experienced anything...upsetting, like that?”

“Upsetting?” Astra asked, a troubled look on her face. Her gaze flicked down, hand reaching up to touch at her hat as she considered Roxanne's words. “Um. Nothing bad, I guess. But people give me weird looks, or act really awkward. There was this cashier at a Pokemart that asked for a picture. Trevor was nice, but it was still something to deal with.” She paused, then gave Roxanne a tired grin. “It’s just...easier, if they don’t notice. Even May and Brendan were kinda weird about it for a while after they found out.”

Brendan? Did she mean Birch’s boy? He’d visited the gym a few times in the past week. Roxanne couldn’t imagine him being anything but supportive. But then again, her worldview was taking a few hits lately. “I see,” she said, levelly. “Are they still ‘weird’ about it?”

“Oh, no!” Astra denied, shaking her head. "It was only at first. They've been great; I couldn't ask for better friends."

"I'm glad," Roxanne told her, finding the brilliant grin on the girl's face infectious. "Both for your experiences and relationships. Good friends can help through even the worst of times. Keep them close and I'm sure you'll never face a problem you can't overcome."

"I will!" Astra agreed, still smiling.

Perhaps there was nothing to worry about after all, Roxanne thought. She didn't seem to be lying about her lack of trouble—minor incidents aside—and by her account she had some excellent friends in her corner. Still, something seemed a bit off, though Roxanne was having a hard time putting her finger on what.

"Um,” Astra said, fidgeting with her sleeves. "Was there anything else?"

"One more thing," Roxanne said, reaching for a small card she'd printed off earlier that morning. "Have you had the opportunity to meet others who share your...quirk?"

"Um." Astra hesitated, seeming to think for a moment before looking at Roxanne with a curious, uncomfortable frown. "No, why?"

"While close friends are nothing to scoff at, I find it helpful to occasionally talk to people that understand what issues you face on a more personal level.” Roxanne said, sliding the card over. “My colleagues said that if you ever want to talk about it, you can call this number.”

Astra took the card, looking at it curiously. It was mostly unadorned, save for the promised phone number and an accompanying symbol: A simple black eye on a purple background with a crescent moon for a pupil. It was the traditional symbol for the psychic type, though Roxanne preferred to use the newer spiral pattern in part due to how terribly she drew eyes.

An uncertain look crossed Astra's face for a moment. Then it vanished as Astra slid the card into her bag. “Thanks, I think." Astra said, a bit awkwardly. Roxanne didn't blame her; this was an unusual conversation for both of them, she imagined. "I'm not super invested in meeting others with, um. This." Astra continued, gesturing to her head again. "But, uh, I appreciate the thought?" she tried.

Roxanne nodded. "Better to have the option than not. But I imagine you'll meet some along your journey in any case. Just remember, should you encounter those who would take issue with who you are, you are not alone."

Astra stared at her. Astra smiled, though for some odd reason it seemed rather sad. "Thank you."

"I wish you luck on your travels," Roxanne said. "Maybe one day I'll see you in Ever Grande Stadium. Until then, keep learning; you'll never know what small bit of information will lead you to victory."

"I will," Astra said, giving her a final, resolute nod. Astra hefted her bag—was that...woven grass?—over her shoulder and headed for the door. At the threshold, she looked back and waved. "Thank you for the class!"

Roxanne smiled as the girl left, then let out a sigh and leaned down across the desk. What a messy talk. Was it even appropriate of her to bring the subject up? Well, she’d rather be awkward than apathetic. If there was a next time, she’d do better. That was what learning was all about.

Still, she couldn’t help but feel like she had missed something. Hm. Maybe she should have invited the girl to have a rematch sometime; the musical accompaniment, misleading as it was, added an exciting flair to the battle.

She yawned, rubbing her eyes. What a week. Maybe she should call it early. That sounded nice. Pick up a tub of ice cream and rent out a documentary. Bliss. Oh, and call Steven. He’d been out on vacation in the Granite Caves; maybe he’d found something interesting. She was sure he’d be interested in this fascinating new psychic trainer too.

Packing up her things, she left the school with a hum.

And, to nobody’s surprise, went home with a carton of Rocky Road flavor.

Astra headed out the front doors, emerging into the burgeoning evening lost in thought. She hadn’t intended to talk to Roxanne again, aside from maybe a passing greeting or farewell, and it was even more of a surprise when the gym leader had drawn her into such a heavy conversation. It wasn’t like they knew each other, after all. Still, Astra felt that the older woman had her heart in the right place.

Astra still would have rather avoided the topic of her supposed albinism. Apparently her fake ailment carried more weight than she knew. Though, considering the reassurances Trevor, May, and then Brendan had given her once she had delivered her lie, perhaps it shouldn’t have been. People like that Aqua member who had called an Exploud on their heads existed, so the fact that there were those who would dislike her just for being sick...

Well. She hoped she never found out what they’d do with the much more extreme truth.

Probably a beating, then a pokeball.

Astra sighed, pulling out the card Roxanne had given her. There wasn’t much explanation on who it would call; supposedly someone else with albinism, but with little context. The eye symbol was also a mystery. Maybe it was just a logo; she’d seen stranger on the various buildings around the city. As for using it? Talking to someone who actually had this ailment? No, she didn’t think so. It felt wrong to claim she had it in the first place; saying so in front of an actual victim?

Astra grimaced, then shoved the card into the depths of her bag. As she reached the street, a gloved hand waved from atop the giant sign on the school’s lawn and caught her attention. A figure detached from the sign and raced over.

“Hey!” May shouted, jogging up. Ske skidded to a stop, giving Astra an annoyed look. “The hell took you so long? I saw a crowd leaving ages ago.”

“Sorry,” Astra said, scratching the back of her head. “Roxanne wanted to chat after class.”

“Eh? What about?”

“She just...wanted to know how I liked the class.” Astra said, smiling weakly. She perked up. “Actually, it was really informative! Apparently Ghosts are weak to themselves! Also they don’t hurt Steel types much. Also apparently you can turn an Onix golden by feeding it pyrite?”

“Alright, I get it,” May said, holding up her hands. “Glad you enjoyed your snoozefest. Now c’mon, I smashed a couple trainers at the gym for a hot wad of cash and I wanna do something fun! Brendan’s already on his way, so let’s go.”

“Oh?” Astra asked, falling into step with May. “Where are we going?”

“Oh, this is gonna blow your mind!” May cackled. “Listen, have you ever heard of an ‘arcade’?”

“...and there was actually a really interesting set of caverns that opened up recently,” Steven explained, talking animatedly through the speakerphone. ”Rather unexpected formations inside, I had no idea there was magmatic activity here this far back. No fossils yet, but there’s a beautiful series of extruded sills and di—er, vertically-oriented igneous intrusions throughout the network.”

A pajama-clad Roxanne chuckled from her couch, idly feeding her Nosepass another scoop of ice cream. “Using formal language on that one, are you Steven?” she teased, idly watching an avalanche of Golems on her television.

“You know very well the shorthand for that is unfortunate.” Steven huffed. “Still, they’re fascinating. The local Abras are using the sills as makeshift resting areas, lining the shelves with leaves and soft grass. Incredible, really. They are quite creative with their Psychic skills.”

Roxanne perked up. Oh, that had reminded her. “Speaking of Psychics, I met the most interesting trainer recently—’”

“Oh, was it Astra?”

“...Steven, how the hell—”