19 years old

gifted

VANGUARD

FEMALE

THE HEALER

MEDIC

character overview

positive traits

negative traits

things they like

things they dislike

character description

reach - it's not as bad as it seems

SHE STARTS AS A DREAMER: idealistic, always an air head, doodling pictures of princes on Ponyta-back as she sits by the river. The world has dealt her cruel hands, and she responds in turn by pretending that none of this, none of her reality, is real. She's off having battles, being rescued, falling in love, and being stronger than little Amarillo del Bosque Verde could ever hope to be. She takes flight because she can, off and away from the Earth as smoothly as the river she loves, as cleanly as the leaves on her favorite tree (they're all her favorite, she thinks, they are all mothers that she'll never really have), and when she grins softly, words polite just like Uncle told her how to speak, the people in not-Viridian don't know that she is a million miles away. The Caterpie in the forest shy away from her touch, and their thoughts, clear as the daylight streaming through the leafy canopy in her head, betray that they fear her. And at the time, she has no idea why; she is meek, she is weak, and she will never be a thing to be feared. Sadly, she thinks she will never be a thing to be loved, human or Pokemon alike.

And then she finds her prince.

He guides her hands, aids her in catching that first Ratatta, feeds her advice she will never forget, and leaves like a breath flees the lungs – and when he fails, it is her catching him that sets her whole world into motion.

Yellow still dreams. Her imagination is a vast expanse of color and life, idealistic and, unfortunately, unattainable. She yearns for a world without despair or anger, a place where humans can be at peace with humans, gifted with gifted, creatures with creatures, and every combination of the three, and as pleasant as they sound, they are beyond reason. Unlike the little girl by the river, however, she doesn't not simply dream – she dreams success only to awake and work for it, actively protesting the sins of humanity and doing her very best to improve not only herself, but the people around her. Frivolous might her ideas be, but one cannot say that she does not make even the slightest amount of difference in the work she does, always helping, always healing. She puts all of her energy, in fact, into most everything she does, always trying her very best to get even the most mundane of things done quickly and efficiently. “Hard working” would almost be too soft of a compliment for this one, the way she'll push herself beyond her own physical and mental limits if its a means to accomplish a goal time and time again surpassing that of most people who would fall under that same category. Unfortunately, much like the fervor at which she will throw herself at a task, she'll also throw herself with much passion at any idea or moral she can set her mind to, always an extremist when it comes to anything she had any sort of opinion on; once her mind is set up, it's virtually impossible sway her from it regardless of protest or facts, and she will sight for the things she believes in until she quite literally dies. As a benevolent, intelligent heroine, it's gladly noted that the things she believes in are usually on the right side of things, but for the dark-hearted or those rare times when something mundane comes along that she just cannot let go, this stubborn nature of her's can most certainly become quite the hassle.

Despite the strength she displays in terms of what she does and what she thinks, however, one would not be of a rare lot to mistake her as soft from the outside. And, truly, she doesn't look the sort to fight to the ends of the Earth and back for what's right – if anything she looks to fit more the part of a pushover. The blonde is most definitely a sweetheart, at the very least, almost always donning amongst the wreckage and ruin she's been forced into and treating most everyone as a friend before they've even had the chance to speak a word to her. Kindness is found in spades with this one, overflowing in the sugar sweet words she says and the little acts of baseless gratitude she does for any and all around her. She finds joy in the sky, giggles at leaves tumbling from the leaves of trees, and loves the idea of humanity as a whole; all in all, she's not the sort of battle-hardened hero one would expect to handle as much as she does. Honestly, in conversation, she seems even more a pushover, perhaps not stumbling over herself and stuttering as she speaks, but still managing to be quick soft-spoken, always afraid of insulting and never being known as a “social butterfly.” She loves to talk to people, sure, but that doesn't mean she's particularly good at it. Growing up with only the river, the forest, and a sketchbook as friends can do that to a person. Gullible is she, as well, always one to take “innocent until proven guilty” to the extreme and unquestioningly believing anyone who has any bit of information, truthful or otherwise, to give to her. Which isn't to say she's stupid – she'll clearly have her doubts if you're the shady-looking sort, she's not so oblivious to the things around her that she'll put every ounce of faith she has in you if the signs are pointing otherwise, and if she's being convinced to do something potentially dangerous, she won't do something that could have her head without an unbiased party's input – but on some level, she believes that if she cannot trust, she cannot be trusted in turn. She'll only flat out call a lie once she's sure that's what it is, but even then, she'll still turn around to believe someone who has fooled her before.

Yellow works best, most certainly, in a group. Not that she'd be a fish out of water when caught alone, but she's still just a young woman who relies on elemental creatures to do most of the real battling for her. Cooperation is the game she plays, almost never going into a Pokemon battle or any sort of combat situation, really, with only one Pocket Monster at a time or without a partner to back her up, and the best strategies she comes up with are the ones that play on the strengths of multiple people. Beyond that, she's a very reasonable partner, and even more so a group leader, never pulling all the weight, never dropping it all on one person, and doing an excellent job of helping the whole team to work together even when they wouldn't have been able to otherwise. Part of this may be because of her slight perfectionist attitude, a need for her – as well as everyone else, in this case – to do things absolutely perfectly. That hard work from earlier certainly pays off in this as well, all of that effort being poured in allowing her to more often than not live up to the incredibly high standards she'll set for herself, others, and the work that she and they all do. Those all, also, feed into the idea that she is pretty darn reliable – one of the most reliable people you'll meet, in fact – never going back on her word if she can help it and doing any favor or ordered task to the literal best of her abilities. If the vanguard is not thankful for this tiny solider, perhaps they're not keeping as close an eye as they should be.

character classification

i cleanse in the river for somebody else

TO PROFESSOR OAK, she is “The Healer” for clear reasons. To call her only so much, however, would be a brazen simplification of her powers. She is the Healer, yes – and the telepath, and the telekinetic, and the little girl in a straw hat who has bizarre powers even her own world can't properly comprehend.

Yellow was born of the Viridian forest. It's there, in her name: Amarillo del Bosque Verde, Yellow of the Viridian Forest. A great many people dwelling in Viridian City, in fact, draw their origins specifically to the forest. A great many people dwelling in Viridian City, however, lack the incredible connection that she, among a select few others, has with the forest in particular. To be “born of the Viridian Forest” is to share its powers, and every handful of years, it chooses one child to bear the weight of these abilities. Children like Lance – Yellow. Like so many before them, these two mighty trainers have, at their core, the ability to heal the wounds of Pokemon and read their thoughts and emotions. Simply by hovering a hand over its head, she was able to heal Red's Pika, on the brink of death, back to full health in a matter of seconds, the only thing left tattering its body a scar refusing to budge due to emotion turmoil. Palm to forehead contact does not even need to be necessarily made in order to activate these abilities, considering the fact that she was able to read the mind of Lance's Dragonite while hanging onto its hind legs for dear life as it took flight. It is not unheard of for her to be blocked out of a Pokemon's thoughts or feelings, though, her powers able to read only what the creature's mind would allow itself to think, although in very rare instances has this come to pass. Considering that Sanctum, however, harbors few, if any Pocket Monsters, these abilities would normally find themselves quite useless, if it had not been for the similarities between them and Earth's animals. As such, she is able to communicate with most anything that is not human or humanoid, although training has started opening up the window to hearing fleeting human thoughts and healing minor human wounds.

Healing and hearing, however, are also not the end of her capabilities. She appears to have some trace amounts of telekinesis – at least enough to manipulate a PokeBall to move against a strong river current – although the power is generally unexplored, perhaps because it's weak enough that it does not provide much need for use, or because there are simply never occasions to excuse using it. Lastly, although, considering Lance did not appear to have the same power, we must wonder if this is another of Viridian's blessings or something that she, herself, possesses, she seems to be able to “synchronize her spirit” with her party of Pokemon, effectively quadrupling their levels in times of extreme emotional distress. Normally, her team are a merry band of, she will admit it, pushovers, and her ability to survive much long in battle is caused by a knack for strategy. However, threatening to harm her forest, or likely any of her friends, can bring about a power surge that had Team Rocket's finest – and by finest, we mean the sort that proceeded to kick everyone's butts throughout the remainder of the arc – running, certain they would be unable to win two against her lonely, yellow one.

character biography

She'd lived her whole childhood in a little box of a house, leaking in the storms and always filled with the laughter of her parents and their guests, but it isn't until the fisherman takes her into the woods just outside Viridian City that she learns the true meaning of home. His own little shack is always so empty, so hollow, a mirror of a life she'd had and would never get back and worse, still, during his fishing trips when the little girl is left all alone to her devices, and as fear of the trees ebbs away into familiarity, into fondness, she finds herself finding less and less time inside and more and more of it out in Mother Nature's nurturing hands. Fatigue plagues her from those earliest years, and while falling asleep in the middle of a sun patch has her waking up with a frightened start the first time, and it quickly becomes routine. The Pokemon steer clear of her, loud laughter scaring them away as much as flailing arms and sloppy footsteps made while tearing through the undergrowth, but she finds the distant sound of Pidgey song and watching the Metapod evolve into Butterfree in the early morning to be all the more magical. She hears them, too, whispered thoughts tickling the back of her mind, and as she disconnects herself from the rest of her kind, she loses herself in the happenings and the gossip of a forest – of a world – that never really sleeps. It takes root in her just like the trees its comprised of, and perhaps it's her stubborn nature or his own yielding one that causes Wilton to give up his attempts to tear her from the woods, instead helping her to find a river that she would dub her own and placing a fishing rod that she'd wield as well as an extension of the arm in her hands for the very first time. She'll never have her parents back, but this (the trees, the bushes, the Pokemon, the sound of the leaves rustling in the wind and the Ratatta that scurry across the ground in hoards) is enough that she almost believes it can make up for it.

And then they come.

Men in black hats and black suits, crimson “R”s slapped across their chest as their raid the city, raid the forest. It's the worst tragedy the city has faced since the loss of their gym leader (the sick humor of the situation, she'd later find, was that he was there, he'd returned – just not how anyone had anticipated), and while the house wives and worker men fear at home, Yellow attempts to forget it all in the winding paths of the woods. Not safe, they tell her, Viridan Forest is not safe, but the Pokemon have never hurt her and nothing has changed. She fights her uncle tooth and claw, struggling against his strong hand as he tries to keep her from leaving their home to flee to the forest, but he – no one – can understand her connection to it. Her desperate need to be there in times of danger. The trees are so thick, anyway; why on Earth would Team Rocket attempt to traverse the labyrinth-like paths? And as she thinks, they do not, every nook and cranny she now knows by heart empty of any such heinous men. But they don't leave it untouched. Oh, no, even without stepping a foot inside, they taint it with their greed, their destructive tenancies, and when she finds her river, she finds something else entirely. A Dratini. A massive one at that, angry faced and prepping to strike. Strike – strike her. For a moment, she thinks of her mother and her father. For a briefer moment still, she thinks how wonderful it will be to see them again.

The creature strikes, blue tail slamming into the ground with enough force to seemingly make the whole world shake, but the blonde has escaped the cruel hand of death narrowly once again. (Why is she cursed to always survive?) Her hero lets her go gently, soft hands the one that had lifted her into the air and pushed her out of the way in time to avoid what could have easily been a fatal strike, and turns to her with kind eyes. Red eyes. The color of fire – the color of the ones who did this to her beautiful forest. For some reason, they instill no fear. “Are you okay?” he asks, but her voice has fled her, making it impossible for her childish tones to answer in affirmative. Behind him, a massive beast like she's never seen before has the dragon-type tied in a thick vine, crying out a call of “Venasaur!” and striking its opponent with yet another at the battle cry of its trainer. “Vine Whip!” It falls immediately, stunned and dropped to the ground, and while something ill settles in her stomach at the sight of the poor thing being hurt in such a way, the whole situation has served to shake her to a point where coherent thoughts are becoming a challenge. As such, she says nothing, watching in silence as the nameless trainer returns to his Pokemon, scratching gently at the top of its head in a way it seems very much to like, and flashes her what she's beginning to think is a perpetual grin. Strangers in the woods were always said to be scary, but even after all that has just transpired, she still finds the look he offers her to be more calming than anything.

“You've got to be more careful. You sure you're okay?” His words ring of scolding, but the tone is much different than when the fisherman demands she stay out of the forest. Unsure of what to think exactly, she instead fetches as polite of words as she can manage.

“Y-yes. Thank you.” Silence ensues, the likes of which she blames herself for, and she attempts to remedy it shortly after with a glance at the grass-type Pocket Monster waiting patiently behind them. “Is... that Pokemon your's?” Of course it is, some deeper part of her scolds, but if the question is as bothersome to him as it is to her conscious, he says nothing of it.

“Yeah. Saur may look mean, but he's kind at heart!”

“Mean” would certainly be a word the little girl would use to describe the face he was making, but the pleasant thoughts tumbling through his head banish the facade. Still, she can't piece together complete sentences, but it appears she doesn't need to to clue in on the deep affection and loyalty that the two share. Her thoughts find themselves in the morphing Metapod, the occasional Pikachu that come to drink at the riverside. Not a single one has ever allowed her to reach out and touch it, but perhaps it's not too far of a stretch to image that, someday, when she has grown, she, too, will have a Pokemon much like this “Saur” to her name. Pokemon who could protect her from rampaging Dratini. Who could save innocent lives from deadly house fires. Quietly, mostly to herself in words meant to be thought but not spoken, she says, “I wish I had a friend like that, too.” Regardless of its whispering qualities, though, her sentence is just loud enough to be heard, and it takes just a moment before the raven-haired stranger is raising a curious eye at her.

“You don't have any Pokemon?”

A pause. Will he laugh at her? “... No...”

“Take this one then.”

Green eyes blink, face flashing between his own serious countenance and the PokeBall he offers her in his right hand. She can see its contents through the translucent red lid (hear its contents thoughts in her mind), and she cannot honestly believe that he would so readily give away a Pokemon he had caught to the first stranger he'd met without one. He goes on to explain, however, that he wants her to throw it in the direction of a nearby Ratatta, minding its business as it searches for food, and that he'll teach her the basics of combat from there. He guides her mind, guides her hands through each step as she commands his friend, Pika the Pikachu, to use a Thunder Shock, and then a Thunder Wave, and finally a Quick Attack to knock the rat-like creature to the ground. It's her hands alone, though, that toss the empty PokeBall at the end, and its her breath alone that escapes hurriedly from her longs in relief when she watches the shaking sphere come to a still, signaling the completed capture. Euphonium pumps through her veins at the site of the duel-colored monster in its small little ball, and despite the terror in the wake of the attack that had slowly been leaving her just moments before, she finds there to be a jump in her step as she runs after it to pick it up in her hands. The object is as smooth in her hands as it had been when she threw it across the way, but somehow feels even moreso with the knowledge of what it carries inside: a Pokemon. Her Pokemon. Her very first Pokemon. The emotional whiplash of going from a near death experience to such a joyous occasion (the likes of which she most certainly intends to show to her uncle to prove the wonders of the woods) would almost make her believe this to be a dream, yet the weight of the boy's hand on her shoulder grounds her to reality. She will go to bed and wake up with the same amount of Pokemon as she had when she went to sleep the night prior: one.

He takes her back to the city when the wild Pokemon, influenced by Rocket's heinous deeds, start to return. It dawns on her later that their brief moment of peace was simply the eye of the storm, the entire forest swarming with Pocket Monsters agitated much the same. They don't leave, either, until the boy – Red – does, that same Venasaur used to save her life used to save the rest of the city and bring a halt to the nefarious deeds of their Gym Leader and the organization he had assembled. She visits him in the wake of his battle, body as tattered as his Pokemon, and when he leaves, she knows he won't really be gone. Yellow can see him in her mind, hear his words and the advice that he had imparted in her before disappearing over the horizon. In time, she would come to cling to them like her lifeline.


Save him.

Save him.

The stranger drifts to her from the heavens on the back of a Jigglypuff, and the questions she brings, the news she speaks of plummets the little blonde girl's world into absolute chaos. Red has become her hero (she stayed home longer than she ever had just to watch him battle in the Pokemon League Championships, felt his victory as if it had been her own) and so long, so strongly has she been waiting for the day that he returned to Viridian Forest, or even to the city beside it that the possibility of never seeing him again never even graced her mind. To hear that he's missing, wounded and in danger of losing his life shakes her to her core, and before the brunette even has the time to ask her for her cooperation, she knows what she must do: Save him. He'd reached out and snatched her life from the edge of death's door, and in the two years since, she has thought of one thousand and one different ways in which she could possibly make up for what he has done for her. To reach out and do the same, find him when no one else can, save him when no one else will would most certainly repay the debt – and even if she hadn't such a debt to repay, she doesn't think she can turn the older girl down. It's the power of the Viridian Forest that gives her any advantage in this situation, the gifts she was born with what draws the other's attention to her and makes her a worth while ally in the charge, and it's at that same riverside that she dedicates her life to the cause – the cause that will save humanity and rewrite her life as a whole.

Blue teaches her the basics of battle, incorporates a bit of trickery into the mix in order to accommodate for Yellow's passive fighting style, and concocts a plan within a matter of days that will lead the younger girl on a quest to hunt for clues on the whereabouts of Red and dissect the battle strategies of four men and women known as the Elite Four, each of which are predicted to give her trouble along the way and may have had something to do with the champion's disappearance. She's not to give out her name, her home, her anything; any information she can give is information that can be used against her, to link her back to Blue, and they're to be kept under lock and key. Furthermore, her boyish features are put to use, ponytail hidden under a massive stray hat in order for her to work under the guise of a boy, further severing any links to her home in Viridian and any links to her Uncle, out at sea or no. She wishes that he was still here so that he could see her off, tell her where she was off to. He certainly won't enjoy coming home to find that she's taken Dody the Doduo off on a region-spanning quest that he can never understand. There's no time to waste waiting for permissions, though, especially when the situation is as dire as it has been made out to be.

“I'm counting on you, Amarillo del Bosque Verde.”

And soon, so will the whole of Kanto.


She cries when Ratty evolves.

It isn't as though she can help it; she had only ever witness the metamorphosis of a Metapod into a Butterfree in her beloved forest, and the idea of it happening to her oldest friend, changing from one form into something completely different, had never once crossed her mind. If anything, she believed that only the Caterpie and Weedle lines underwent any such change, and the shock of seeing her adorable, small, and purple rat becoming an intimidating, large, and brown rat was a little more than she could handle. She likens it to watching a brother or a sister have surgery to completely change their face – and however normal Green may chalk it to be, that doesn't stop her from feeling upset. Worse, still, is that fact that the poor thing thinks that its his own fault, guilty thoughts flooding his mind when the first tears start falling and only leading to her bawling all the harder. It isn't his fault, it isn't. It's simply that she a bad trainer, the sort who can't save Pokemon and win battles, who can't properly catch a Caterpie, who doesn't even know what the red Pokedex in her hand is supposed to do. Ratty deserves better than a trainer like her. Green deserves better than a student like her. Red deserves better than a savior like her.

Everyone deserves better than her.

But that doesn't mean that she won't try.

The brunet throws balls of fire at himself, risking his own life and limb by pushing his Pokemon to protect their master's life. They respond in turn, moving quicker, swinging faster, and in a day's time, she can already see the improvement in his Scyther's slash, in his Charizard's Flamethrower. In turn, she emulates him, her Raticate and her Doduo smashing boulders and dodging around them or deflecting them back at the other. Sophisticated? Hardly, especially in comparison to her mentor's methods of teaching. However, it seems to do well; she's poor at directing, but their levels seem to increase in great numbers, their “deflecting shots” evolving into “crushing blows” as day falls into night. Similar things, though, still cannot be said for two of the newest additions to her party, the Omanyte and Graveler gifted to her by Misty and Brock respectively hesitant to follow a new master and showing their distaste for the change of scenery by turning their rock-and-water-type attacks on a girl who simply does no know better. They'll learn, though, he assures her – no one can expect a new Pokemon to relent to new rulership so easily, and so long as she keeps up her efforts, they'll bend before she ever will. Three days and an angry swarm of Mankey later, and he tells her that these are the things that will give her the leverage she will need to complete her journey: Her unbreakable will and the powers granted to her by the Viridian. It's up to her to finish the rest, though, and she knows that she can't possibly hone her abilities the way she needs to if she's constantly feeding out of his hand. Perhaps he knows this, too – he certainly doesn't argue when she says that she's off to travel alone again.

This was only ever her mission to begin with, anyway.


“Humans and Pokemon can live together! I know it! You know it, too, Pika... Ratty... But how do I make them believe? Omny, Dody, Kitty, Gravvy... How do I show them?

“Give me the power to show them!”

She rides on the leg of his Dragonite to the top of his ultimate weapon, the dying dragon so sure of his master's genocidal cause that it would risk its life (too tired, even, for the task of shaking off an unwanted tag along) in order to help attain his grand designs. Yellow, however, will see his plans doomed. For all of the destruction this man has caused, all of the destruction she could not prevent – Vermillion City laid to waste, the invasions of the main land cities, for what happened to Blaine – she is certain that this time, she cannot fail. To let him win would mean the extermination of the human race, every happy Pokemon left without the trainers they had made friends with and every family wiped from the face of Pokearth. When, she wonders, along the way did her journey shift from saving Red's life to stopping a madman attempting to kill them all? And a madman just like herself; the Viridian Forest chose him for one reason or another, and the fact that he tries to use such beautiful abilities for the sake of such terrors crushes her heart just a bit. We could have worked together, she thinks helplessly. We could have used our powers to make this world better for Pokemon and humans. Too late for that. Always too late – to save her parents, to save Red, to save Lance. Her only option is to defeat him, to crush him where he would crush all others. She always told herself that violent was never the answer – only, this time, it most certainly is.

They fight tooth and nail on the back of Lugia, the dragon tamer's ultimate team versus the freshly evolved party of a girl who was never meant to be a trainer. Pikachu, Raticate, Dodrio... each and every one of them absorb her fury, her passion, and with it, they match the strongest Pokemon the region has to offer blast for blast, claw for claw. Broken arm or no, she's determine to fight with every once of strength she can muster, and the thought seems to trigger the final memories hidden in Pika's mind: namely the key to ending this once and for all. It's impossible to stop the flow of energy. Nothing in the world can prevent the beam the energy amplifier creates and pours into the legendary beast they ride on, but if they can generate a force to equal it – a force to exceed its power, they can reflect it, blast it away, and save the world from certain annihilation. Trainer and Pokemon catch one another's eyes, black orbs staring into green, and they realize what they must do. They realize the only thing they can do. Beams of energy surge up from below, the strongest attacks Red, Blue, and Green's Pokemon can muster, and in her mind, the girl in the straw hat calls upon everything she's ever known. Calls upon the powers of the forest that gave her life, gave her the life she leads now, and begs her for one more blessing. The power to save the world. The power of -

“Mega Volt!”

I'm sorry.

Yellow can't see Lance through the light of the attack, electricity exploding from the cheeks of the electric mouse and into the atmosphere around them, destroying most anything in its path. The leader of the Elite Four is most certainly caught in the blast, even when she is not, his cries of pain ringing in her ears as she shuts her eyes against the intense rays. It's impossible to tell what, exactly, is going on around her – her eyes still shout white from behind her eyelids, and aside from the screeching of a man she regrets not being able to save, the likes of which fade startlingly fast, all she can hear is the crackle of the attack. She only dares to gaze around the world around her when the buzzing has started to cease, adrenaline leaving her veins, and euphorium finds her again when she finds herself alone with her Pokemon, unscathed, and the gentle beams of Lugia. It had worked. Viridian Forest's greatest power had transformed what would have been used to kill into an energy of life, protecting humanity and allowing it to see another day. Lance was gone, but she was not, and nor would the others below be. I'm glad, she thinks, fatigue setting in the wake of everything that had happened and the overuse of her abilities. She falls from midair, carried on the tired arms and wings of her Butterfree, and through eyes threatening to flutter closed to sleep, she can see the silhouette of a figure as it catches her. A silhouette she knows well.

“You've got to be more careful. You sure you're okay?”

Red.


Crystal doesn't necessarily trust her at first.

All of the reasons in the world couldn't quell the guilt that plunges into her heart at the thought, but she can gather an idea of why the Capturer isn't so quick to extend a hand to the bizarre “boy” and her sea-loving uncle. From what she understands, the poor girl has gone through so much, fought in so many battles in the short amount of time that she has been employed under Professor Oak and his Pokemon Encyclopedia gather quest, and while she, herself, has never been the type to distrust someone, it doesn't take her much to see why the same couldn't be said for her. It isn't as though she, herself, made a very good first impression, attacked by Lickatung right off the bat and nearly throwing herself and her companion's Bayleaf into the sea when trying to solve the situation. To turn around and make claims that she was the one who awoke the legendary beasts from their slumber, to say that she was the one who defeated Lance on Cerise Island just one year prior would instill suspicion in just about anyone, she can imagine. Even if she doesn't notice said suspicion right away and comes off as a terribly idiotic traveling companion. Sea sickness, sea sickness – what on Pokearth had she been thinking? Even assurances from the Professor from Kanto himself don't seem to make her any more comfortable with the strange, speedy ride to Cianwood City she's been thrown into, and it's only when Yellow picks up on the doubt ebbing off of her in waves that she realizes that the only way to prove her identity is to prove her worth. Thankfully, Lady Luck deals her as many favorable as unfavorable hands, and this time around, the next few moments fall under the former: a heard of Remoraid launching themselves at the ship. Perhaps an odd thing to be thankful for, but each girl on board is allowed the chance to see what earned the other the right to hold a PokeDex.

“They're not stopping!” Crystal yells, arms helpless covering her head as if to protect it from the onslaught of flying fish. “I'll have to capture them all!” Capture them all? The healer calls upon times when she'd watched a trainer catch a Pokemon, and she can't recall ever watching them be caught like this. Goodness, the most intense capture session she ever experienced was when she captured the Seadra underwater, manipulating the PokeBall on the end of her fishing rod to fight against the current and capture the attacking Pokemon. Attempting to battle each one of the water-types and throw a ball for them all would be too time consuming to be effective – but it appears as though the dark-haired female has another plan entirely. She orders the fisherman and his niece to hold their breath for a while, ordering a Stun Spore attack from the Parasect she'd left roaming about with her other Pokemon. The wide-spread attack effectively slows them down, but doesn't bring a halt the attack; even so, though, she grabs her bag and begins spreading empty PokeBalls, at least one for each creature, around her in a near-perfect circle. Again, the green-eyed child can't help but think that such a process is incredibly inconvenient compared to the alternative that would be throwing them all as soon as they leave the bag, but the intention becomes clear as the owner of each sphere crouches down, one leg extended so it sits in a small gap in the circle. And a'one, and a'two, and a'three – and there they go, kicked into the air with one centrifugal swing of the leg and colliding with each one of the paralyzed Remoraid. Balls rain from the sky, a great deal directly onto the heads of all three humans on board, but when the hail-like collisions finally cease, they open their eyes to find themselves no longer under attack, the assailants all trapped inside a dual-colored prison.

“Capture... complete!”

The display is awe-inspiring, truly, particularly to a trainer who can count the number of captures she has done on one of her dainty hands. Seeing so many filled PokeBalls is almost quixotic, especially given how quickly they became filled, and there's no doubt in her mind that Oak has, once again, chosen an efficient girl for the job. It's the least she can to do help out, truly, when she finds the Parasect injured, cut by the sharp fangs of the attacking heard, and decides to heal it with her own abilities. Her newest partner starts the hunt for a potion in her bag, but by the time she retrieves it, the deep gouge is gone, the only traces of it ever having being there the smudge of blood that she'd picked up on her hand when touching the wound. When they catch each other's eye, the amazement she feels in her own mind is reflected in the eyes of the one she stares at, each looking at the other as if they were standing under a new (and grandiose) light. As if on cue, they both move to shake hands, a meeting reborn at the sight of just what they're both capable of.

“It's nice to meet you, Yellow! You can call me Crys.”


She's only ever been Straw Hat Boy. Boy – not Girl, but Boy. The short boy with the blond hair, or the strange boy who hates violence, or the little boy who blasted Lance away and saved the world. Nothing that happened on Cerise Island, or even the things preceding it had ever been done for the sake of self gain or a need of recognition, but it had been so hard for her to return to Viridian City, lying about how she'd been on an extended sea trip with her Uncle and removing that same straw hat for what she had believed was once and for all. She was back to being Amarillo del Bosque Verde, the little girl who couldn't so much as swat at a Weedle if it was bothering her, and while there would always be those troublesome head-scratching similarities, the differences between a shy child who spent all her time in the forest and the courageous tales of the mighty Yellow (exaggerate far beyond what she had done; had it not been for Blaine, for the original three Dex Holders, or even Giovanni's help, no one would be around to herald her a hero at all) were simply to great to ever really form the connection. They could wonder, but they'd never settle, and her lack of ability to talk about all the horrors she had faced if only for consolation's sake very easily kept her up at night. Very well could she have taken a life, barely eleven years of age or no, and no one would ever know. Not until she was under her hat again, of course, off on a shopping spree with Blue or watching Red and Green battle against each other in the fields. Somewhere along the line, she thinks, she poured her real self into that blasted object. Very accurately had she told Blaine that she felt naked without it during their trek through the winding tunnels of the island, and without it on her head out in the forest, she felt almost as if she was lying to the trees, to the Pokemon – to herself. Amarillo wasn't brave, wasn't strong; she was a little girl who couldn't even save herself from a rampaging Dratini. Yellow, though – Yellow was brave. Yellow was strong. He didn't need his Prince Charming to come sweep her off her feet and save her from the Dragonite: He was his own prince, his own knight in shining armor. To take off that hat was to revert back to her old self, and to put it back on was to slip back into her own skin.

To take it off in front of her friends would be like admitting that brave, powerful, selfless Yellow was nothing more than a helpless little girl who can do nothing better than sit at the riverside and draw.

The blonde knows that it would come to this eventually, and she knows that there are no greater excuses than this one to do exactly that. Pryce has disappeared into the Crack in Time, prepared to bring his nefarious scheme to completion, and poor Gold has been imprisoned in a sheet of intangibility where even Silver's most desperate attempts to save him could only fall short. It's the feathers on her hat that can save him, that can lead them to Pryce – but it's the feathers that won't come out of her hat that he needs, and Red is there, and he's staring at her. Blue knows. Green knows. Crys may gape and Gold may gasp, but none of them matter in her panicking mind. Only Red. Only ever Red. How would he take to knowing that his best friend – his best guy friend – was nothing more than a bumbling coward?

“I can't believe you!” the golden-eyed male shouts at her from the slab of ice, fists pounding against his reality-warped walls. She can't blame him for his impatience, for his anger; he can't possibly understand the dilemma swirling in her mind, and even then, she knows that it's something so trivial. That doesn't stop her from fighting herself over it, though. “If you won't take it off, I'll get Exbo to take it off for you!” The Typhlosion beside her starts at the sound of his name, beady eyes flashing between both trainers, and she can hear in its mind the surprise over such a violent demand. Already, though, she knows she won't give it a chance to comply; how much had she sacrificed for the greater good before? Her name? Her gender? Her whole identity? Red be doomed – she can't sacrifice all of Johto and Kanto for the sake of embarrassment.

“Okay, okay! I'll take it off myself!”

Yellow stares at the ground as the takes the brim of the straw hat in her hand and removes it slowly from her head, ponytail falling free against the back of her shirt and revealing to all that she was never really the hero boy to begin with. Silence ensues, even as Crystal takes the article (its owner trapped in ice, herself) and touches Gold's prison with the feathers buried deep in its weaving. The sound of shattering glass is what finally fills the air with noise, his follow-up “That's a lot, Straw Hat Bo-” only serving to further keep the sounds occupied, but he, himself, freezes at the sight of her revelation, words falling short for a moment before he shouts, “Ack! You're a girl? Why didn't you say something?” Say something to what? His nickname for her? It wasn't as though pronouns took priority over defeating the crazed old man (although, isn't that what she had almost let happened right then?), so what would the point of correcting the title he had awarded her be? She dares to look up, however, just in time to see something akin to understanding flood his normal hard eyes, the simpler emotion coloring his face in a way that almost reminds her of the other raven-haired male in the vicinity that she does her very best not to make any kind of eye contact with. “Oh, I guess were you were fighting your own battle over taking that hat off, huh?” You don't know the half of it, she says in silence as he plucks the Rainbow Wing and Silver Wing from the object, tossing it to the ground at his feet now that it no longer serves its identity-protecting services. With then, he announces, he can travel freely through the Crack in Time just like Pryce can, and with them, he certain intends to give chase; what with the way all three Johto Dex Holders have found themselves on the backs of the legendary beast trio, though, determination firing in their eyes just like it had in her own a year ago, it looks as though he most certainly won't be alone.

Off they go, devoured by the small shrine on their mission to save Celebii and stop a monster.

Off they go, leaving the four Kanto trainers alone to face their own battles.

“Yellow...” Red breathes, and when green eyes meet red, she finds his to be as wide as saucers. “Y-your hair...”


He's Giovanni. The ex-gym leaderof Viridian City and the real boss of Team Rocket – Giovanni.

And he is Silver's father.

“You're lying!” the red-head shrieks, anger she has not heard in his voice since the day he attempted to lead the charge against Pryce some four years ago dripping into his tone. It doesn't (can't) bury the disbelief, the terror that lies deep in those words, though, tone betraying the fact that every clue that had been leading up to such a grand reveal points to his roots finding themselves in Team Rocker's heinous leader. Born of Viridian – just like Giovanni, a fact she, herself, had learned in her battle against Lance. Memories buried deep in his Sneasel's mind of the statue of the very man in the gym, the likes of which could have only gotten there if both Pokemon and child had been in that building before the time of their kidnapping. Why, too, would these so-called “bodyguards” be so intent on taking him aboard their ship, as well, if it hadn't been for some sort of connection between man and child? She'd would be a liar to say that she hadn't started having her doubts the moment she tapped into memories that even her arch-enemy had not been able to see, and knowing how smart Blue liked to peg her “younger brother” to be, he should have been thinking just that same, shouldn't he have? Unless his hatred for the organization blocked out any possibility of that being his reality until the moment when it was spelled out for him, of course. Knowing how deep his rage seems to lie (as well as the faintest flicker of thoughts she's beginning to hear in the minds of humans, as well), she wouldn't at all be surprised by such a fact. How foolish, though, of her to think of such things at a time like this. The woman of the pair – Sird, was her name – is speaking, her Banette moving in rapid movements that at first serve to confuse, but then go to instill fear in her.

“You look as though you're very, very agitated about it, hm?” she begins, the red irises of her ghost-type Pokemon's eyes glowing an iridescent light that Yellow is all too aware she cannot stop. “Although you're usually always on the alert, that agitation of yours has created an opening that will cause your downfall.”

“No!” the healer shouts, making a run toward the boy in order to obstruct the path of the Hypnosis attack. “Don't look at its eyes!” He's not all there, mind seemingly lost in a maze of posibilities and excuses, and she can't reach him before he's falling backward, mind wiped clean by the doll-like Pocket Monster and snatched up by the two Rocket executives. “Silver!” She grabs for his sleeve and catches dead air, the thin woman and the muscled man seemingly influenced by the speed of their own Pokemon and boarding once more the ship that had carried them down with their leader's son in hand. “Wait!” she cries desperately, not even needing to call to her Butterfree as it flies to her, grabbing her with its hands on her sides and lifting her up and into the air after them. Speed proves to be her enemy, the gain they have on her growing with each second, but the battleship they ride to appears stationary in the sky; the time in which they arrive to it may be vastly different, but she will find him all the same. Perhaps she hasn't known him that long, could hardly call him a friend, but this is the boy that helped them to save Johto, the boy that Blue saw as her own brother, and she would die before she simply allowed him to go, snatched once again from everything he has known.

Ten minutes pass and she tears her way through the exterior, metal of a ship no match for the passion lit in the hearts of she and her Pokemon. She will find Silver, she's sure of it.

And when she touches ground again, she will perish.


She falls to slumber in Deoyx's black hole, then further to death when turned to stone. (Sird always was a sore loser, but perhaps she finds victory still in kill the four Kanto Dex Holders and their friend from Johto.) Death, however, was not what she had told Red, predicting that the sleep she would fall into would be a long one, but not eternal. Not this time, at least.

Yellow wakes as if thousands of battles had not been fought when she slept, as if dozens of people she could have saved have not been killed while she was away. The world was put in peril once again, but she doesn't know – she doesn't know, because she never woke to find it. Instead, she finds herself without Green or Blue, without Silver or Mewtwo; even Red, the one who promised he'd come back, is scarily absent. Around her, instead, are the shocked faces of men and women in odd clothing (odd, at least, compared to her own black shirt, yellow dress, and purple pants), all of which whispering of how “the statue came to life, the statue came to life.” Around her, too, does she find red rope, almost as if she'd been put on display here for all to see and had only just woken up now. With their talk of stone turning to human and the way the paged security treat her like a wild Tauros about to rampage, some part of her wonders if that very well may be the case. “The Sleeping Lady” is what they call her – more fitting than Straw Hat Boy, she thinks, particularly when she realizes that she'd left her iconic hat behind on the Rocket Battleship – and even when they determine that she is one hundred percent human, incapable of turning back to her “rocky” state, the miniscule press that cover the incident only ever refer to her as such. “Excuse me, but, ah – I do have a name!” she tries (futily) to explain, but it never changes. Nothing ever changes.

Nothing except the world around her.

The Pokemon have all gone, her beloved Viridian Forest nothing more than a distant dream. Although, with the way it tugs so strongly at her heart strings, she wonders if she'd liken it more to a nightmare. (Or, perhaps, it is this new world that's better deserving of the title.) They tell her that everything outside the city has perished, crushed by frightening monsters – and immediately, she begs them to tell her what she can do to help. This world – this horrible, horrible world – is not her's, but so long as there is a PokeDex in her hand, she must task herself with lending whatever aid she can in any situation she can. Three times now she has saved her world, and it's only time she starts marking the talleys for this one.

How can she go home to the Viridian, after all, knowing that the place she left behind is in such terrible disarray?