Note: this story takes place in a parallel timeline where the end of Johto does not lead to switching misty for May. In fact where this story is set is impossible to tell.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

The taxi turned a corner in to a dark alley as had been instructed. The cook had been pacing around in the kitchen for ten minutes waiting for the arrival of the ingredients, but fortunately the taxi, not entering the parking area, would not block the very late lorry. A concern filled him, pertaining to all the sorrow that was approaching him. The health inspector was due in just a few moments, having narrowly been persuaded to save an unimpressive, dilapidated restaurant the previous year. The cook had the additional problem to cope with that two very dangerous guests were coming on the same night besides the inspector. They were the ones who needed the most ingredients, but the inspector needed the freshest ones. Concerned he might mix up the ingredients in a farcical way, the manager had declared the cook should be sure to use only the freshest ingredients for everyone. The cook knew however that the truck was now late, meaning that no one could safely be served; yet the restaurant could hardly be closed, given that the part of the inspection to take place under closed conditions was already completed, leaving an open-services inspection.

The truck finally arrived only a few minutes before the inspector was due to arrive at one o’clock. The schedule indicated also that booked tables in the names of the two most troublesome guests would receive their bookers half an hour after the inspector was due. The truck came only ten minutes before the inspector’s scheduled arrival; unfortunately he was eleven minutes early, and was in the aforementioned taxi: and so in the minute that remained until the truck arrived, what seemed like hours had passed for a cook as anxious as his manager.

Things went surprisingly well in the first forty minutes, since the manager and cook and the other staff had worked tirelessly for twelve months to make sure they did much better this time. They were still slightly below average in their performance, but there was no danger of closure. The next worry on the horizon, having enough food to stay open until the inspection ended at nine, was induced by the fact that two sources of complication were present in the last 90 minutes. The afternoon was a busy enough one as it was without this difficulty, because as February 14th it was a popular one. Unfortunately they had to deal with not one, but two, nationally (going on internationally) well-known extreme eaters.

These were Sakora of Ecruteak City, best known for speed eating – especially of ice cream – and Misty of Cerulean City, who was also specialised with ice cream, although she was most famous not for speed, but sheer quantity: the two had tangled in the past, but never with a poor sentiment, because they had met under far more co-operative circumstances, and they had even then practiced some healthy competition in a pokémon battle or two to aid Sakora’s learning; and now they had only come closer, though not in any sense to which this special occasion pertained, with Misty joined by her long-term friend (arguably partner) Ash Ketchum and Sakora by a new companion.

Yes, that was just one sentence.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Sakora had been involved in an eating contest to represent Japan a couple of Valentines earlier, at a time when she narrowly lost that opportunity to Misty. It only added insult to injury that at that time it was Misty, not Sakora, who had any sort of company suitable for Valentine’s Day. Sakora finally had an interested companion, however, who had been fascinated by the Eevee-evolution centre (for want of a better name; it was, more boringly, a tea-ceremony school) in Ecruteak City. This was the son of local gym leader Morty. (Yeah, son, that will do. It sounds better than son of father, right?) By a “strange coincidence” his name was Morty.

No, bollocks, it was him!

Morty had some sort of like for younger women, but they seldom returned this. Sakora would not normally have wanted him hanging around either, but what with his experience as a trainer – no, not the kind you wear on your feet – she stood to gain from his presence. Besides, the desires for company of humans change as we age. As anyone who has ever seen a show aimed at ten-year-olds, set in a classroom with characters of that age can testify, there is a distinct division between the sexes at that time where each group assumes the inferiority of the other. They interact no more of their own free will than inhabitants of the Indian subcontinent of different nationalities. (If you think that is racist, it is worth remembering that what I have said does not entail a maximum for the desire for interaction of the latter group, but rather of the former. After all, if I say Sumo wrestlers are at least as heavy as Americans, it is the former I call at least as heavy as a certain amount; but to call them EXACTLY as heavy would insult both.) (Never mind, that logic is too complicated.) Things change later on.

Morty had at first not thought much good of Sakora’s large size, which had been induced since the events described in “The Valentine”. His theory was that he had gotten here because, being less popular, her standards were lower. Nothing could be further from the truth. She did not even have romantic ideas – she was a little younger than Morty realised. She saw him as a source of wisdom, but his intentions were different. He had come to accept the growth that went with her practice, i.e. her intentions to do as well as Misty. (These dreams were born of her difficulty with training, but for some reason did not subside as a result of Morty’s teaching.)

As for Misty’s history with Ash, see “The Valentine”, as well as “The Nightmare of Christmas 3”. (Don’t ask why Misty is lighter in the latter than in the former!) To them the following may be added. Since Sakora had first shocked Ash and Misty with her performance and her bad dental luck, Ash had grown closer to his female follower.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

The manager greeted the first of the two guests to arrive with a heavy heart, not knowing whether it was as heavy as she. Sakora, the lighter of the two assassins, entered about two minutes before the other. Morty was quite surprised when he saw Misty arrive. “Are you all right Morty?” Sakora asked, noticing his gaze in a distant direction. “Yes, of course, I just … I need to get some fresh air.” He proceeded to do so. Sakora turned a deep plum-colour. She marched over to Misty, adrenalin pumping through her veins. “Misty,” she announced, “we can settle this right here, right now, if you feel brave enough! Do you fancy you can handle a little – ”

Here we go again, thought an experienced Brock, receiving support in his views by a seldom-recalcitrant Pikachu. If there was one thing they had seen more of than the average taxpayer had had hot dinners, it was Ash or Misty in contests, be they eating contests or pokémon contests (such as that one Jessie was runner-up in, and that one whose runner-up was the annoying and soon-embarrassed Poliwrath-trainer) or whatever. He went to warn the manager that his worst nightmare was about to be realised.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

They started off by each ordering the all-you-can-eat Valentine’s Day special buffet. After each having three bowls of soup and a full loaf of garlic bread for a starter, and one of everything available for the main course, they repeated the latter ordeal (a term inaccurate for their stomachs). Then they gave three of each of the Valentine’s Day desserts a go. Ash and Brock decided just to have a normal lunch for fear of high costs, and Morty had similar ideas in mind once he got back from his stepping outside. (It took surprisingly long.)

Having finished these identical feats, as they had agreed, the contest proper began. The rules were simple: gallon after gallon until one fell behind by more than fifteen minutes. Misty asked that the figure be pushed up to thirty, but was refused: she accepted fifteen on the condition that a small savoury dessert occur between each half-gallon. Sakora agreed, not realising that her weakness with the large mince pies in previous eating contests at Christmas time was explicable in terms of their savoury nature. (Misty was a lot smarter than Sakora.)

Misty managed by this clever trick to stay level with Sakora, who specialised in sped-eating, but knew that she would have to overtake her by a significant margin to get out of this predicament. Fortunately she knew that Sakora had a more limited capacity in her stomach than she did. (Two Valentines ago this had become apparent.) It was now simply a matter of a delicate balance between critical values of numerical parameters, because Sakora was becoming more accustomed through larger drinking to the dryness of the savoury dishes. Sakora was fourteen minutes ahead when her abilities caved in.

Sakora was in disgrace.

However, at least the restaurant stayed open long enough, passing its inspection with low-flying, dull, murky colours.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

There was no light left save that of the sun. When they had understood what made this glamorous noise and Eusine was quiet again, the others picked him up unhandily and gestured him to a shelter. The people of Ecruteak lay restlessly and noisily among the dry outside, watching the pokémon that was dancing towards the sun. Sometimes a young one cried out from the houses and once an adult spoke in the light. Then they too stared. A sliver of Mew repositioned over the horizon, hardly large enough to male a path of light even when it sat right down on the tin tower. There was a corkscrew tail across the sky. There was a speck above the city, a figure draping swiftly behind a party, a figure that left with a dangling tail. The changing winds of various altitudes took the figure where they would. (Adapted from the Opening to Chapter 6, “Beast from Air”, of Lord of the Flies by William Golding.)

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

After the curious events of the afternoon, Morty was very quizzical of Sakora.

“Sakora, why did you order food without waiting first for me to get back? Why did you want to eat instead with a stranger?”

“Some stranger!” she yelled. “I have met her before. By the way, I saw the way you looked at her!” Morty burst out laughing, which confused Sakora no end.

“I only noticed Morty looking anyway near our group just before he went outside once: it looked to me like he was looking in my direction, not Misty’s,” said Ash. “He must get shocked every time he sees me. I know he did when I returned to Ecruteak after getting a badge from Jasmine.”

“But why?” asked Sakora.

“Ash tends to be very lucky around legendary types, his appearance correlating strongly with theirs,” explained Morty, who then went on to explain how Ash had already met Ho-oh – indeed on his first day as a trainer – before they first met, and by the time they met again he had met a Celebi and a Suicune, and the latter appeared yet again to Ash while he was in Ecruteak, at a time when a world-renowned, very young by nonetheless best-in-the-world Suicune expert (by the name of Eusine) was also in the area, agreeing how odd Ash’s history was.

Yes, that was just one sentence.

“You may be surprised to hear this, Ash, but I saw what looked like a Mew behind you through a window shortly after you arrived;” Morty concluded by explaining that was why he went outside, and that it proved very elusive, and that was why he took so long. Sakora was now in disgrace in quite a different way, vowing not only to apologise to Misty and Morty and anyone else she could find whose first name began with an M (an allusion, note, to The Nightmare of Christmas 3), but also never to get so overly competitive for such frivolous purposes ever again. She had no pen or paper to hand, but she felt confident that she would remember it.

Then again, so did Mr Burns in Rosebud.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

A few minutes later, a call indicated that Morty’s temporary replacement had spotted something extraordinary in Ecruteak, necessitating Morty’s immediate return to help with the investigation. Sakora decided she could visit her sisters while there. It would be a fitting way for her and Morty to go her separate ways, and it was almost good that they had to do so, after she had realised how little she trusted him. It was good for getting him off younger females too. She decided to spend the rest of the day with Brock (she was not going home until the next day), since she had a theory that after all this time without a date he would be willing to be monogamous – even avoiding ogling – so long as an offer was in action. She was surprisingly accurate in her idea. Morty seemed to accept her decision, even though they would soon split, as he too felt a little hurt when he found what she had thought.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

I hope the story was less disastrous for the other half of the party, but that I cannot say. Ash and his friends were divided by Brock’s stroke of luck, and I refer not just to being split geographically, since they did not go with him. There is no summary of an accurate nature as to what feelings they shared. I can tell you, however, that an ignorant Pikachu was greatly amused by the spectacle of Brock having to settle for less. Now, Pikachu wondered, was Morty like that too?

Pikachu knew from experience the curious nature of humanity, whereby the life with a mate not only pursued very surprisingly non-reproductive behaviour, particularly on this day of the year that focused on a purely emotional kind of “love” as they called it that served no long-term purpose for the survival of the species, but apparently also involved a choice based on even more surprisingly non-eugenic criteria, with Darwinian requirements pertaining to survival of the fittest likely to render the poor biologist a-spinning in his grave if only omniscience were to greet him.

Yes, that was all one sentence.

The End