Yagyuu Hiroshi

[Oh, look. It's a Yagyuu, wiling away a rainy afternoon in the comfortable security of the Tennis Haus's library. Given the flashes of tiny paws and bits of fur that keep flickering around the video, it's likely this recording is the product of one of his many Eevees; however, he seems a bit preoccupied with his own thoughts at the moment, lounging in the window seat with a peacefully sleeping Espeon in his lap and watching the rain come down.

Here and there, other flashes of Eeveelutions go by; for anyone careful enough to take a headcount (an affair made slightly easier by the fact that most of them wearing collars of varying colors), there'll be fifteen in all — two of every variety of Eeveelution, with the sixteenth being the one drowsing the afternoon away in his arms.

After awhile, though, he leans over and retrieves the Gear from where it's gone skittering across the floor, regarding the red recording light almost blandly — it switched on, how unsurprising — before beginning to speak.]

I'm afraid I'm somewhat late to the topic of Starter Appreciation Day — it was a few weeks ago now, as I recall — so recounting any such fond memories about mine would be fairly moot at this point, I should think. However, it does pose an interesting line of inquiry, doesn't it? I've seen plenty of speculation over time about the meaning of the starters we're given, why they're the types they are, why they were chosen for us. I've seen some that have fit their trainer...remarkably aptly. And others that haven't.

[He pauses, giving his Espeon a gentle pet, and she purrs a little louder.]

I wonder if that's truly something to be contented with — the thought of being handed one's perfect match. One would think, in the grand scheme of things, it might be all the more rewarding to discover them on one's own.

[Another pause; some paws skitter in the background. And then at last, he seems to come back to his usual, more businesslike self.]

Ah, but speaking of matches, that brings me to a second question I've been considering lately. For those of us who have been designated as Breeders here, our charge is to attempt to produce the best or highest quality Pokemon possible, isn't it? I've become curious lately how people have chosen to define quality that way. Is it from a large moveset? A powerful one? An unorthodox one? And has anyone considered the more mundane practice of tracking bloodlines instead?

[He flashes the camera toward his Eeveelutions, most of whom are happily playing about the room in a technicolor whirlwind of fur and fuzzy feet.]

Speaking as someone with Pokemon whose lineage I can trace back four generations, I suppose you could say it's something of a pet interest of mine.

[This video opens, perhaps a bit oddly, with a shot of the library in the Tennis Haus — or what would be a shot of the library in the Tennis Haus, if it weren't for the fact that Yagyuu is currently blocking the view as he makes adjustments to the camera, shadows playing over the out-of-focus image as it shifts back and forth until he gets it the way he wants it. He's being rather meticulous about getting this just right, actually, and fusses over it awhile until it's the way he wants it — perhaps a bit odd in itself.

At last, though, he steps back, appraises his handiwork for a minute, and then leaves the room with a slight nod of apparent satisfaction. But he isn't gone for long; within a minute or so he's back, carrying a small box, and with his Vulpix at his heels.

He sits down on the carpet, holding the box in both hands, and then sets it aside as he withdraws a brush from his pocket and pulls the Vulpix into his lap, beginning to groom her with familiar ease.]

You'll be eight months old this month, Masako.

[He works slowly, methodically, bringing her fur to a healthy sheen with more care than Yagyuu is generally inclined to show toward anyone.]

I'd planned to leave this to Kirihara-kun, you know. It's part of the responsibility of being a good captain, knowing your players' capabilities. Their strengths, their weaknesses. When to nurture them and when to take a firm hand, to better push them toward their full potential, and when to demand more still. When to ask them to surpass their own limits.

[A gradual pause.]

He'll be a good captain, once he comes to the realization that he can't be our junior forever. But that's something he'll have to do for himself.

[He finishes up, then sets her back on her feet in front of him, and reaches over for the box. There's a Fire Stone inside, one he bought a few months back, that he's been holding in anticipation of this moment — and so now he brings it out, holding it loosely in his upturned palm.]

Now that he and Fuji-kun are gone, I suppose this is something you'll have to do for yourself, too. When you're ready. When it's what you want.

[He holds the stone out for her inspection, then sets it on the carpet between them, well within her reach.]

We all have to grow up sometime, don't we.

[And for a minute, silence hangs in the air between them as they look at each other, a boy and his Vulpix together in a sunlit library, and then at last the Vulpix moves — running right past the Fire Stone on the ground to jump back into his arms instead, nearly bowling him over in the process.

And the last thing that's visible before the video ends is a pair of clawed purple hands descending on the Gear, and a smudge of ghostly fuzz at the edges of the camera, and — oh, would you look at that, this private home movie just got uploaded to the Gear network, didn't it? Thanks, Hirochii. Thanks.]

[No video for you today, Johto, but there is some shuffling of feet, rustling of papers, and otherwise standard white-noise sounds of occupancy heralding you as this post first begins. There's also a light pitter-patter of padded paws across the carpet and, if one listens very closely, the faint trill of a particularly smug, self-important Espeon. That doesn't last for long, though, because soon enough there's a soft thump, and shortly thereafter Yagyuu's voice comes in—]

Lady, this is the third time—

[Another pleased trill.]

What's gotten into you lately? You've been underfoot for days, you've chased Masako, you bit Hirochii, I know you've been harassing Sudoku when you think I'm not watching—what? What is it. What are you trying to—

[Footsteps. A pause. A pause that drags on into awkward, disbelieving eternity.]

...You really felt it necessary to make your point six times over?

[There is a pleased trill from the world's smuggest Espeon, and the audio fades out; later, a text appears on the network.]

~
At the risk of attributing far too much credit to these Pokemon of ours, has anyone happened to notice them occasionally displaying motives that appear to be almost unsettlingly human in nature?