To be a true hero, kid, is a dying art

[a certain kid on the network this evening has, having stayed mostly quiet except to catch up with friends after that train disaster, finally decided to pipe up-- to ask something those who know him probably... would not expect for him to ask.]

[there is a good reason for it, though.]

I know that the point of traveling around this world is to work with and learn about Pokémon, but... does anybody else besides me miss going to school?

[because studying somehow seems like a plausible method to recapturing and hanging on to whatever vagrant memories he might not know about, of course. that supposed brain fart about Hollow Bastion a week ago was enough to really rattle his confidence.]

[Saffron Pokécenter visitors might spot this studious teen situated in a quiet corner, a large notebook open across his lap. whether he's scrawling out notes or a hilariously bad drawing, it's hard to tell at a passing glance.]

[clunk. white noise distorts this transmission for several seconds-- the feed cuts in, cuts out... almost blips out entirely for a split second there before the pokégear practically roars back to life and the feed returns to its normal clarity. someone really ought to tell Sora to stop dropping his 'gear.]

[it appears to be any normal evening on the ground here in Goldenrod: warm-colored, freshly lit buildings to replace the setting sun somewhere in the distance, two Girafarigs galloping down the street and away from the feed... someone in the middle of an intense fight.]

[the 'gear is fixed on some spot down the road, so the combatants are mostly heard-- well, Sora, anyway; he's doing a lot of yelling-- and only seen in occasional red and yellow and black blurs. after a few minutes of heavy footsteps and the wooshes of someone swinging something heavy pass, Sora skids to a stop in the 'gear's view, trying to catch his breath, gripping a wooden Keyblade Ven carved for him months ago tightly in his hands. he is sweaty, his hair is disheveled and there's a streak of soot across his face-- he probably smells, too. for a kid caught up in what looks like a pretty violent brawl, he actually seems pretty calm. in fact, the 'gear is close enough to catch a sly grin on his face.]

When are you gonna stop going easy on me, huh Dapper? C'mon, I dare you to sting me!

[oh, it is on now, Trainer-- the Beedrill buzzes from offscreen, and Sora's expression briefly flickers to one of surprise. well, he did ask for it. the pokégear finally craps out right as Sora's moving to dodge a well-aimed Twinneedle.]

[Sora's taking a break from traveling on Route 30 this morning to train a brand new friend he'd captured a few days ago in the Dark Cave-- the feed turns on, the camera focused up on Sora and a silly old bear, who is currently wobbling on his tiny feet and trying to mimic his trainer's pose.]

Is it on, Dapper? Good! Hey, you guys!

[he waves-- this is becoming the customary pokégear greeting for Sora. the Teddiursa at his feet waves a stubby little arm, too.]

I thought I'd show everyone out there training some warm-ups I learned from a good friend back in Traverse Town. They're called stoutness exercises, and they always helped me loosen up before a long day of fighting! Ready?

[there's an enthusiastic "Weedle!" from somewhere off-camera. oh look, Mr. Crankypants is going to try it, too.]

All you need to do is stretch your arms waaaaaay above your head, hold it there, then bend down and touch your toes, and hold it. Just stretch as high as you can, Dapper, okay? Do that ten times! Up, down, touch the ground!

[they slowly go through the motions of ten reps-- the Teddiursa is trying his darndest, but is having some issues actually touching his toes, and somersaults right onto his back on the last attempt. Sora bends down to help the little guy back on his feet, managing not to laugh.]

Good job, everyone! And now we eat.

[ooc; BONUS VIDEO]