just looking - open

Zachary hardly bothered himself by going out of his way to investigate phenomina spoken of between the locals, and he hardly bothered himself with even listening to what the locals even said, much less when he to go see for himself what they were talking about. But this was a... special case.

Clouds. Clouds were everywhere. Dark, thick, obscuring the radiant light from the sun. It'd been this way for days; or, at least, for as long as he could remember for the past few weeks. Small rain showers had been littering the weather forecast for days, drops of rain from as small as sprinkles to ones that nearly hurt when they collided with ones skin - well, as much as a raindrop could hurt a person's skin - having plagued them. The never lasted over half an hour, though, disappearing as suddenly as they'd arrived and making people wonder if they were really rained on at all. There was little doubt that today would provide another short burst of precipitation. It was all a matter of when. The breeze that flew through the air was a bit chilly, maybe jacket weather at best, so it was a little odd to see anyone wearing short sleeved shirts on that dreary morning. But what did he care that he was sticking out? He was practically famous, for goodness sake. And this was probably why he was being sent on this stupid task of all things.

The professor hardly ever left Vardent Town. Okay, scratch that; before Lyeant started acting up all weird and whatnot he hardly ever left Vardent Town. But it was still rare to find him in places such as Erayo City, the place he'd spent the previous afternoon, the night, and a bit of the morning. Being the region's professor - and more arrogant reasons he tried to force himself to believe, but could never quite wrap his mind around like he wanted to - his presence was quickly noticed and, within the half day he'd spent there, a handful of trainers and the like had already approached him looking for tips, advice, help with training, et cetera, et cetera. This was nothing new. Of course, when a group of teenagers looking rather bewildered approached, he had a feeling that the day would soon break out of routine. Supposedly, they'd seen a shady character hanging around the remains of nuclear accidents in the battle against Team Imum and wanted to know if he'd go check it out for them. To his dismay, they hadn't been able to get a good luck at the figure, mistaking it for a ghost of sorts and fleeing before they, themselves, could investigate further, but his intrest was piqued already. Few let themselves hang around the "accident points" for long. Too likely a chance of poisoning due to radioactivity or something of the like. Sure, people visited for a bit to mourn the dead and destroyed, but not any longer than fifteen minutes tops. From what he was gathering from the group and even other people in town was this person had been the much longer than that.

Something wsn't right.

The blond gripped the handle of his sword tighter as he departed from Spitfire Road and moved his sights on the Ishya Ruins. The sword that the league and sometimes even older starting trainers coming to his lab to recieve their first Pokemon scolded him for still using. "No one uses swords anymore" they would say, or "Aren't those dangerous?", or sometimes even "What, are your Pokemon stupid? Why not use them, instead?". But his Pokemon wouldn't always be around. Beside, they were creatures of the two extremes. They were either too rusty to fight or were tearing out the throats of another trainer's Pokemon. In the end, the sword, while not exactly approved of in a place such as the Pokemon world, was a better weapon for self defense and sparing. He, at least, knew when to stop, something he couldn't teach his Pokemon before it was too late. Naturally, if worst came to worst and it would come down to a strife, he'd rather use his own blade than summon his bird-like Pocket Monsters. And, as his gut feeling was telling him, it was highly probably that it would come down to a strife, regardless of his inability to explain why.

By the time his feet commanded him to stop, too soar to go on, his red eyes were scanning the expanse that was the Ruins of Ishya behind his shades. Apparently, the stranger had been spotted somewhere between the place he'd just left - Spitfire Road - and the place he'd just arrived, supposedly headed for the latter. In other words, if the researcher was going to have any luck of finding them, it would be somewhere around here. There was always the chance that they'd left like any other person with an ounce of sense would, but he wasn't going to believe it until he saw it with his own eyes. Check every nook and cranny, his mind was telling him. Leave no stone left unturned. Then you can leave and be thankful you didn't run into a possibly disasterous encounter. And, for a while, it seemed as though that was exactly what was going to happen; avoiding whatever freak had scared the crud out of a group of kids. But, of course, he was never that lucky. Halfway through his search, slightly movement caught his attention out of the corner of his eye and he found himself snapping his head to see what was causing it. Sure enough, there was a strange looking figure - just ghastly enough that he could almost see why they may have mistaken the supposed him as a spectar in the early morning fog - rummaging through the ruins.

He had to have been here for at least half an hour, if not more, and yet he looked completely unfazed. Well, aside from a slight set in his jaw that gave away slight irritation and not-so-slight fear. Maybe he was worried about the effects the air could have on him. But something was nagging at him in the pit of his own stomach, warning him that that probably wasn't the case. It was also saying something else to him wordlessly. Telling him that... that... he knew this person. Hadn't seen him face ot face in his entire life, but was a face he'd seen somewhere in the public media or something and held enough significance for him to remember just barely. And then there was a growl. And then there were shards of a boulder shattering, obviously caused by the move Rock Smash. And then everything sunk in.

After the death of his aunt, Zach has buried himself in finding out everything about the tempermental professor's murderers as he could. This ended up leading him to hacking into Imum's data base and finding files - ranging from complete life stories told in surprising details to nothing but a name, no face to match it, and question marks littering the entire page - one all of the members that held slight importance. It just so happened that the man before him was one of those people. "Hataro Satsuhaji..." he murmered through gritted teeth, all of the anger and resentment from Professor Pine's murder crashing over him with a vengance for the first time since Team Imum's final stand. There was a voice. Tiny, small, hardly a voice at all. But he oculd hear what it was saying. It was saying that the gjinka didn't deserve to live for the slaughter of his guardian. Didn't deserve to live for the slaughter of hundreds and thousands of people. And he had to make sure to serve justice where justice was due.

"Ya' know, I think it's funny," he called, letting his "cool kid" facade slip just enough to allow himself to laugh at the "hilaroty" of it all and hatred dance in the red flames hidden behind his sunglasses. "Lorelei smeared her face all over the public, and now she has to hide herself away forever so she doesn't get killed. But not you. You were smart enough to lay low enough that you can walk out in plain sight and get nothing more than a few weird looks." By this point in time, Zach was gripping the hilt of his trustly blade so tight that his knuckles were beginning to turn white. "You're just as dangerous, though, aren't you, Mr. Satsuhaji?"

1474 words.