Like Finding a Ralts in a Haystack [LGBT Rock the Block]

In months before they met, Yvonne and Claymore spent their nights planning their journey via instant messenger. Claymore would fly into Lumiose and take the bus to Aquacorde, where Yvonne would rendezvous with her, away from Mother’s prying eyes. Yvonne had saved money not spent on boy’s clothes for her actual wardrobe, and what remained would go towards keeping her financially afloat. The two of them had hashed out a list of dozens of things they wanted to do and see, but reality settled in and they budgetted for more modest goals.

Yvonne wouldn’t budge on wanting to catch a Ralts on Route 4 and so the couple found themselves in the hedges of Parterre Way, just outside of Lumiose City. One of the less busy thoroughfares to Lumiose, Route 4’s main road still hosted significant traffic and was flanked on both sides by wilderness. The hedge-filled flats were a tranquil thicket, seemingly well-maintained on the outskirts.

Yvonne wore functional clothes in which to go exploring. Their function was fashion and they distracted from all the things wrong with her. Wearing a sleeveless black top was probably a mistake today, but it matched the tights that obscured her legs and the large flats she could only buy online and had pray to God that her mother didn’t find the package. A brownish orange skirt tied the whole thing together. It had pockets and looked good with her eyes and hair and skin, so it was enough. Not as appropriate as Claymore’s duds, but they’d have to do.

Claymore’s wardrobe left much to be desired in Yvonne’s eyes. It was an odd mix; she wore a cute grey cardigan, but underneath it was a hot pink dress that clashed with the rest of her outfit. It was not her color and Claymore mistakenly machine dried it once, leaving it a length so short Yvonne wouldn’t wear it on her bravest days. Claymore seemed to agree on that point because she wore an old pair of torn jeans under it. The whole thing was topped off by her green tam o’shanter, the most visibly Galish thing about her.

But Claymore seemed to like her clothes, so Yvonne didn’t critique her too much. They had more pressing issues.

“So, any clue where we’re supposed to find a Ralts?” asked Claymore.

“According to the guide book, they’re supposed to live deep in the hedges, but the book’s from my Mom’s journey, so who knows if it’s right,” explained Yvonne, who kept the worn book nestled in her large purse.

“I think it’s safe to say their habitat hasn’t changed much in twenty years.”

“I hope so,” said Yvonne, furrowing her brow. “I’d hate to walk around in the thicket for nothing.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll clear the path ahead for you! You’ll have to fear no Pokémon as long as I’m here!”

“I appreciate the gesture, Claymore, but I’m worried about branches ripping my tights.”

“We’re off the beaten path, so it’s going to be rough regardless,” said Claymore. “Unless you want to go back, which we could do.”

“I didn’t come all this way for nothing. Let’s just get it over with.” On that note, Claymore pressed forward into the thicket, with Yvonne in tow.

Yvonne was ready for a new Pokémon. She’d gotten used to having a Fletchling at this point and felt like she could take on another small critter. She still had three Pokéballs left over from the five Claymore had generously shared. Yvonne didn’t know that Pokémon trainers get free Pokéballs, but then again, she skipped town before the orientation. She didn’t need that many balls anyway. Two Pokémon would be enough.

A momentary rustling in the bushes preceded a yellow Combee emerging in front of them.

“Ah! Crap!” yelped Claymore, recoiling a bit at the Pokemon’s sudden appearance and shooing the creature away with her arms. The Combee left as quickly as it came, leaving Claymore to turn and announce:

“See? No problem!” The whole thing put Yvonne over the edge, who started guffawing.

“Hahahaha!” She let out an ugly, genuine laugh before cutting herself off in shame.

“Come now, madame,” said Claymore a little more theatrically than usual. “There is no need to hide your voice.”

“Madame? Really?” replied Yvonne. “You sound like Calem’s dad.”

“Did he sound as sophisticated as I do?” semi-joked Claymore as they pushed deeper in.

“You both sound like dorks. God, he was insufferable,” vented Yvonne. “Makes me feel less bad about filching one of his Chardonnays.”

“Wait, what?” responded Claymore, blindsided by the comment.

“I took a bottle when I was over at Calem’s. They all thought their son did it, too.”

“Yvonne!”

“Okay, it wasn’t the most mature decision of my life,” admitted Yvonne. “But it wasn’t without reason.”

“And that was?”

“I’ll tell you later.” Claymore rolled her eyes, but let the topic drop. “Come on, we’ve got a Ralts to catch.”

The height of the hedges made it tough to judge location, but it seemed like the two of them were pretty deep into at this point. Scarlet, Yvonne’s Fletching, definitely could see the whole thing from above, but she seriously doubted how much she could communicate about it.

A few more minutes of walking proved fruitful. The colorful horn was the one blessing when searching for a Ralts. It was reddish and a little round and contrasted against the pure green of their hair and the messy greens of the hedges before them. Unaware and facing away, Ralts rested in the shade.

“There it is,” Claymore almost whispered about their small target ahead of them. “Just remember what I’ve told you and it’ll be a breeze.”

“Come on out, Scarlet!” Yvonne flung her Pokéball, which ejected her Fletchling, who landed on the ground, not totally aware of his surroundings. The sudden light and noise startled the Ralts, who now franticly cycled her attention between the three new figures near her.

“Scarlet, use…Peck!” Her little companion lept into action. Scarlet had been in exactly three battles before and it showed. The Ralts teleported out of range before Scarlet reached anywhere near.

Both Scarlet and his confused trainer looked about the hedges for a glimpse of the small psychic-Pokémon who had made a mockery of combat. The Ralts couldn’t have gone far with such a move, but the maze of hedges obscured things even at close range.

“It’s close. I’ve got a feeling in my gut about it,” said Claymore, arms crossed and attempting a posture that implied wisdom. The sight of a red horn clashed with the green scenery around it.

“There—“

“You’re not getting away that easily!” Claymore charged after it, punching a hole through in the hedges, leaving Yvonne to slowly scooch through, careful not to get her clothes caught on the branches.

Yvonne followed the sound of footsteps and snapping branches through the network of sometime uncomfortably tight and thick bushes. She’d lost sight of Ralts, of any other wild Pokémon, and of her travelling companion.

The racket stopped and Yvonne followed the trail of disturbed foliage to find Claymore, standing and lightly panting. Hearing the Yvonne and Scarlet approaching, Claymore made a sheepish expression.

“Looks like we lost it, heh,” she said.

“Let’s just take a breather for a moment,” said Yvonne, adjusting the padding in her bra. “I’m starting to work up a sweat.”

Claymore stood, hands in her pockets, as Yvonne fished a brush and a compact mirror from her large knock-off brand purse. Just as she’d predicted, Yvonne’s strenuous dash through the greenery had affected her face.

“Ugh, I look like a hot mess,” lamented Yvonne as she lightly brushed make-up on, careful not to dirty her sunglasses resting just above her forehead.

“Yeah, but you look like a hot mess,” said Claymore, wearing a goofy smile and pointing finger guns. A single momentary expressionless glance from her travelling partner shut her up.

A couple minutes of adjustments later and Yvonne seemed satisfied, for now. The rest of her outfit seemed only still a little mussed, nothing a quick brush-off couldn’t fix. Wiping leaf bits from her skirt, Yvonne noticed something much worse.

“Fuck!” she let out. In her haste, her tights had accumulated several tears: big, unrepairable gashes which left her blooming leg hairs exposed. “Fuck! Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!”

Yvonne could only partially restrain the urge to stamp her foot and shake her fists, so she just clumsily jerked her limbs like a child. Claymore stood back, unable to help, until Yvonne wore out her emotions. “Fuck.”

“Hey, it’s alright. We can get some new tights. It’s not the end of the world,” reassured Claymore, resting her hands on Yvonne’s shoulders and looking her in the face. Yvonne gently shooed the arms away before responding.

“Look, it’s just…I only have a few pairs and I paid double price because these ones were supposed to be tear-resistant,” said Yvonne, now calm, but still unhappy. “It’s just not how I wanted the day to go, is all.”

“Hey, here’s a suggestion,” said Claymore after a moment of thought. “Why don’t you wear trousers instead of tights, like I do. They’re much better for the outdoors.”

Yvonne made a wry scoff at the suggestion. She was absolutely not going to dress like Claymore.

“I’m not going to wear pants. I look too masculine in them. I feel too masculine in them.”

“You don’t have to wear them every day,” suggested Claymore. “Only when we’re out and about.”

“That’s not the point. I have to keep up my appearance in totality. The hair, the clothes, the makeup: they’re proof that I’m a girl!” retorted Yvonne, clearly getting heated again. “No one believes me otherwise.”

“You’ll still look great! I think that you could dress in more outdoor clothes and still pass without a hitch.”

“It’s not that easy! I don’t get to have hormone blockers like you, Claymore! I can’t just wear whatever I want and be treated well!” yelled Yvonne to a stunned Claymore. Neither of them were happy with that exchange.

“I didn’t mean to snap at you, sorry,” she said, dejectedly lowering her head and retreating behind long chestnut bangs. Claymore committed to not letting it end with that. She raised Yvonne’s chin with one hand and brushed her hair out of her face with the other.

“Hey. You look like a wonderful girl to me.” It was dorky and cliché and not half as suave as Claymore had intended and somehow it still worked.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Well this idiot got you to smile, so what does that make you?” countered Claymore playfully.

“Get fucked.” Yvonne hated that her partner was right. She walked away to prove her otherwise. “Come on, let’s get this Ralts and get out of here.”

Claymore cheerfully tagged along. Their surroundings were hedges extending in every direction. They had no idea where Ralts was nor did they know how common they were across the route. All of this inspired Claymore.

“Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t we split up?” suggested Claymore. “It’ll let us cover more ground more rapidly. It’s not like we’ve got a faster way to search.”

“That seems like a good way to get lost.”

“Don’t worry! If you get lost, just have Scarlet get me,” said Claymore. “I’ll be over as fast as can.”

“I was worried about you getting lost,” deadpanned Yvonne.

“You don’t have to worry! With Mimi by my side, we’re undefeatable,” explained Claymore. Yvonne sighed, but acquiesced all the same.

Claymore disappeared into the greenery with a brave smile and quaking legs, leaving Yvonne and Scarlet to conduct the search themselves. Yvonne prayed it would be a quick one.

She wanted to figure out what sort of nest Ralts lived in to speed up the search, but she didn’t have the faintest idea of where humanoid Pokémon lived. The guidebook was useless on the matter and this sort of thing wasn’t the kind of thing they taught kids in the boonies, or at least it wasn’t something she paid attention to. Not that she’d paid much attention to any of her schooling; it was all a chore. No surprise that she left town with the first stranger on the internet who said, “I’m just like you”, “I love you” and “Let’s go together!”

The best things about being lost in the woods was that she wasn’t in school, she wasn’t in Vaniville, and she wasn’t a man. No amount of hedges could change that. Not even the Ralts before her could change that.

“Scarlet, Peck!” she commanded, more confident in her Pokémon’s moveset and aching for a runback on this Ralts, who was probably the same one as before. Pleasantly, she didn’t teleport like before. Unpleasantly, she attacked instead.

“Ah shit!” yelped Yvonne who, like her Fletchling, was almost zapped with a beam of psychic energy. Scarlet had enough sense in him to dodge the obvious danger and pecked away at Ralts’ childlike head.

“Yeah, get ‘em!” yelled Yvonne, working out her frustrations in battle. The psychic Pokémon looked dazed from the blows. Ready for the whole thing to be over, she chucked one of her three remaining Pokéballs at the Ralts.

Yvonne grunted in shock as the wounded Ralts knocked off Scarlet and shattered the Pokéball with one psychic wave. Scarlet landed in the bushes, hurt, but not out of commission.

“Scarlet! Let’s end this!” called out Yvonne. “Use your Peck again!”

Scarlet flew out of the bushes, charging dead on towards his opponent, only make a sharp turn at the last moment to dodge another Psywave. Yvonne tried to conjure up battle options or moves to use in vain. Seeing his trainer in a panic, Scarlet charged again only to be chased off by another Psywave.

“Use…Scarlet, try…Do a fire attack!” Neither of them knew if Fletchling even could learn fire moves, but Scarlet approached again. Before Ralts could emit another Psywave, Scarlet glided nearby, mouth open as if he were trying to vomit. A dribble of stomach acid was followed up by an aggressively fast cluster of sparks, which pelted the Ralts. The impact drained Ralts’ remaining energy, leaving it limp on the ground. Yvonne tossed a second Pokéball into the air.

The second Pokéball was hit by a second blast of psychic energy, destroying another precious item and knocking Scarlet out on the spot.

“Oh, come on!” Behind that attack was a second Ralts. Of course there was; there’s more than one Ralts in the forest. Yvonne kept a defeated look on her face as she returned Scarlet to his ball and faced down another angry psychic.

“Hey! I’ll show you how to treat a lady!”

Yvonne was too happy to have backup to care about the terrible one-liner.

“It took you long enough, Claymore!” said Yvonne, to her companion with trusty Sobble at her side.

“Ganging up on a lady two-against-one? That’s unfair. But against me? It’s unfair for you,” declared Claymore. Yvonne would point out that one of them had fainted, but she just wanted the day to end.

“Mimi! Bubble beam!” Claymore ordered, her Sobble shooting a jet of fast moving bubbles. Despite, their non-threatening appearance, the bubbles sliced through the second Ralts’ retaliatory Psybeam and delivered a clean knock out.

“Now’s your chance, Yvonne!” With those words, Yvonne channeled all her rage into chucking that last Pokéball. It connected and, with a burst of light, the Ralts was scooped up and captured. Yvonne let a sigh similar to slowly deflating tire.

“Might as well capture mine, too!” Claymore completed the task in one clean motion, capturing her opponent with more grace. She picked up hers and Yvonne’s and brought them over.

“We’ve got matching ones! They’re our first matching couple thing!” said Claymore, more excited than Yvonne had ever seen her. “What are you naming yours?”

“I don’t know, maybe… Let’s go with Esther,” said Yvonne, pulling the first good name from her mind and going with that.


“I could use a drink,” said Yvonne off-hand. That comment recalled memories from the walk into the hedges.

“Hey, you never explained why you stole that bottle of wine from your friend’s house,” said Claymore to Yvonne, wishing the topic would stay buried.

“You really want to know?” said Yvonne who really didn’t want to tell.


“Calem called me a Faggot when we were hanging out at his house.” Claymore gasped a little and Yvonne let the statement linger.

“I don’t remember why. It was over something stupid, I’m sure,” continued Yvonne. “It wasn’t the first time he’d called me that. But it was the first time he said it and I truly knew what it meant. It felt like a knife in the gut.”

“Oh, Yvonne.”

“So yeah, I stole it to get back at him. It wasn’t mature, but I'm a petty bitch and it felt good. And so did drinking like half that bottle the same night. The hangover I could have done without.”

“I can see how being around that bellend would…force your hand,” responded Claymore. “I promise I’ll never say words so hurtful that you’d want to do something so stupid in return.”

“I know you won’t say them, you dork. You don’t need to promise me that,” said Yvonne as she grabbed Claymore’s hand. “Instead, I want you to promise me you’ll take me to the Vineyards sometime.”

“Wait, what.”

“I self-medicated just enough to learn wines can actually taste good. I guess I became a wine snob along the way,” explained Yvonne, who extended a hand to her partner. “So you in?”

“I’ll travel with you to the ends of the Earth.” Claymore met Yvonne’s hand halfway. “But! We’re going to catch me a Honedge first.”

They pulled each other in, sealing the promise with a kiss on the lips.