Pokémon Broken Things

[Persephone]

Cover Art by SparklingEspeon

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Spoiler: Content Notice

This is a story about not being okay. There will be attempts to recreate the language of downward spirals, suicidal ideation, eating disorders, , anxiety, and possibly other things. I will do my best to provide chapter warnings for chapters dealing explicitly with suicidal ideation. If there are other notices you would like me to add, feel free to ask. Later chapters deal heavily with homophibia and transphobia.

Note on Representation
This story deals with analogues to real world groups, albeit through an alternate universe lens. I have personal experience with some, but definitely not all of the things this story deals with. I have tried to read enough to not make big mistakes in my knowledge gaps, but I'll probably screw up. Feel absolutely free to point out any portrayals that don't sit well or quite work. As a minor disclaimer, not all POV characters are terribly knowledgeable about things. There are some "mistakes" made that I know full well are mistakes. And also the usual "no character could possibly encompass all aspects of an identity" thing.

Character Art by OldSchool Johto

Spoiler: Cuicatl Ichtaca and Pixie

Spoiler: Kekoa and Hekeli

Spoiler: Genesis and Sir Bubbles

Character Art by Venonat / Surskitty

Spoiler: Cuicatl in 3.2

Character Art by Pen

Spoiler: Nocitlālin

Spoiler: Coco and Cuicatl by Kyeugh

Discord link: https://discord.gg/Sr8rSHmg4T

Arc One: Normal​

"Times of transition are strenuous, but I love them. They are an opportunity to purge, rethink priorities, and be intentional about new habits. We can make our new normal any way we want."
-Kristin Armstrong



Normal 1.1: Prologue
Rachel

8/1/2019
It’s always fascinating watching your espeon eat, even after seventeen years. He nudges a treat into place with the tip of his claw, steps back, and lifts the treat just a little bit into the air. Then he pulls back his whiskers and brings his mouth around it before swallowing it whole. No crumbs ever touch his fur.

With his food eaten, Espy levitates the crumbs off the desk and into the wastebasket. Then he stretches out, walks in a circle, and gracefully sits down with his tail outstretched and a paw on your hand.

{You’re tired.} he says.

“I could use a nap.”

{Mind tired.}

You pull up your schedule instead of giving him an answer.

Interview with The Battler at ten. That one shouldn’t be too much trouble; just gauge if they’re planning to play hardball are not, and if they aren’t send them up to Chris.

New journey group initiation today. You should stop by that, scan for potential problems before they blow up in your face.

The governor’s having a fundraiser tonight and you’ll be there. He’s a nice man. Genuinely likes you. Has a tendency to talk a little too much when he’s lonely and just a little bit tipsy and thinks he can trust someone. And given the way that things seem to be going at home and in the polls, well, he’s very lonely and probably drinking a little more than he should. And it’s your job to be likeable and trustworthy. When the public thinks of your company, they should think of their beloved sports star and hero. When the investors, reporters and politicians do, they should think of the pretty blond girl who either kind-of-flirted with them in just the way they liked or who gave them the kind of compliments they needed. Put a pretty face on your operation so no one ever wants to peel off the surface and look beneath.

Between the meetings? Email. Hours of email. And maybe a quick nap, if you’re lucky.

*​

Your intercom rings.

“Miss Bell? Mr. Sanchez is here.”

“Send him in, Sheryl.”

The door opens and a tall, tanned man in an ill-fitting suit walks in. His eyes briefly glance around the office. You take note of what he pays attention to—the bed where Espy is sleeping, the bag of expensive food underneath, and the map of Alola with nearly three dozen pins in it—and to what he doesn’t: your framed degrees, the busy-but-not-sloppy amount of clutter on your desk, and the half-hidden cot in the back corner. A battler through and through. Probably disappointed that you don’t have trophies or a framed badge case.

“Hey. Manuel Sanchez. With The Battler.”

You stand up and shake his hand. His grip is a little too firm, but you’re just mature enough not to crush him back. As soon as you make eye contact a feeling flashes in the back of your mind and you know that he’s cheating on his pregnant wife.

Eh. Could be worse.

“Rachel Bell. Vice President of VStar.”

You both sit and he flicks out a notepad and a recorder. He turns the latter on without asking permission.

“Alright, so VStar.”

You smile, a little too wide, and tilt your head. “VStar,” you repeat in a high pitch. He’s a cheating bastard who doesn’t really care about the professional world. You can spin that to your advantage easily enough.

“So, uh, Rachel—can I call you Rachel?”

“Yup.”

“Right. What does VStar do? Just to make sure that I’m on base.”

“Of course.” You never stop smiling. “VStar helps fund trainers who might not have the means to complete an island challenge, or trainers who just finished an island challenge but can’t afford to keep all of their partners. We help them get rid of excess pokémon and give them to people who want them but can’t get one. Busy professionals and parents, the disabled, or just people who don’t have a team strong enough to go into the species’ natural habitat. Everyone wins.”

“Right, right. And how many users do you have?”

Not even bothering to follow up on that. Less diligent than even you were expecting.

“Depends on how you define ‘users,’ Manuel. Right now we have 166 trainers currently on their journey with the app. Not all of them are active users. Several hundred trainers traded their pokémon in last year, a few thousand purchased a pokémon through the app.”

“Okay.”

More notes. He doesn’t press into what your vague numbers mean. He’s not normally on the business beat, usually just does puff pieces on trainers in the Americas. Whatever excuse he has, he’s making this almost embarrassingly easy for you.

“So, Rachel, are you a trainer?”

“Espy,” you call.

Your espeon gently rises to his paws before moving from his climbing structure in the corner to your desk in a single, elegant leap. He walks over to you and nuzzles your hand.

“I know the name’s basic, but come on, I was ten.”

Manuel laughs in a way that might be flirtatious appeasement or genuine amusement. Just on the border of being genuine. “I named my growlithe ‘Fuego’ back in the day, so I can’t really talk.”

{Espy, can you pay attention to him?} you ask telepathically.

{Treat?} he shoots back, mentally.

{Later. You just had one.}

Satisfied, Espy walks across the desk and looks at Manuel expectantly. He starts to rub Espy’s ears without asking permission. Espy recoils slightly and his tail flicks in disgust. Espeon aren’t that fragile, but they’re masters at feigning injury if it gets them more treats.

“You bring your pokémon to the office?”

“Of course. We are a pokémon company, after all.”

Espy starts to turn away. Manuel rubs a hand over the pokémon’s back as he leaves.

{Two treats,} you signal.

Espy turns back around.

“How long have you had her?” he asks.

You don’t bother to correct the gender. Espy doesn’t really care, and most people think of all espeon as female. “Since I was ten.”

“I meant how many years?”

You crack your smile a little wider. “Since I was ten.”

It takes him a half second, but he starts to laugh and you join. You’re pretty sure he’s more interested in you and your body than the company right now.

“Is she your only pokémon?”

You shake your head. “I also raise an alakazam. But he’s moving up in the years and doesn’t really like coming to the office.”

His eyes widen. Any half decent pokémon journalist know what alakazam ownership means. It’s why you aren’t going to replace Allen when he dies.

“So, you’re psychic?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

“You in my mind right now?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m not that kind of psychic,” you say. Even though you essentially are that kind of psychic. But you really don’t think he’d appreciate it if you went into the details of the SIPAA, General and Specific Forms.

He relaxes. A lot. So much that he consciously corrects it by stiffening a little.

“What kind of psychic are you?” he asks.

You really doubt this is returning to the company, which is probably for the best. He clearly doesn’t have an interest in it anyway.

“Precognition. Get about a half second warning before I get physically hurt.”

“Huh. Take it you’ve never been in a car crash?”

You raise an eyebrow as if telling him off. “No, but that’s because I’m an excellent driver. Not because I’m a psychic. Really just means that I never stub my toe.”

“Oh.” He half-frowns. The kind that’s more unconscious than not. “Thought it’d be more useful.”

“It lets me train my alakazam,” you suggest.

“Yeah. I guess. You battle with them?”

“On the weekends. Chris likes his lieutenants to be halfway decent in a fight.”

He perks up at the casual mention of your boss. Because of course he does. You’re a pretty girl with a brain quirk and an espeon. Chris Foster? He’s the eight-time-running United States champion, highest ranked trainer in the world, tamer of Victini, and at least the third biggest pain in the ass in Alola.

Yeah. Seeing that light in his eyes, you doubt Chris can mess things up too much. Maybe Manuel would even be impressed by the man behind the curtain.

“You know, I think I can set up an interview with him.”

“Really? I had been told that he’s too busy.”

“Of course, but you’re The Battler. I’m sure he can find the time.”

You don’t doubt that. Journalists build up the trainers into semi-divine heroes in the public eye and then revel in the attention they get from the celebrities they created. No one benefits from the cycle breaking. You still have to screen these interviews, just in case hell freezes over and The Battler decides to blaspheme their gods.

You’re still reeling from a Hau’oli Tribune letter to the editor last month calling VStar “Evil Incorporated.” It had taken you two hours on the phone with Chris to talk him down from making that the official name of the company.

*​

It’s an hour into orientation. Sometimes you’ll stay to watch the full thing, make sure that you know what’s being taught and how. Saves you time when the wrong person leaks the wrong thing (that they remembered wrong) and you have to figure out what really happened before you can tell the press what pretty much happened.

First few hours are nothing important, anyway. Here’s a little about Alola and the island challenge. What are tents and why should you use one. Like your food? Try not to get it stolen. Budgeting could maybe be helpful. This predator lives in these places and here is how you avoid it. The basics of life on the trail, with or without VStar.

The sensitive stuff—payment methods and tables, how to stay within the letter of capture limit laws, corporate facilities and affiliates, mortality rates, advancement paths, mission assignments, legal duties to the company—that all gets crammed in at the end.

The room’s emptier than usual. Only eight initiates, most mid- to late-teens. It’s to be expected. October is a garbage month for starting a journey since it’s in the middle of a semester and right at the start of the rainy season. Most of your new trainers come to the April, May, and June sessions. The people who come in October are the over-eager ten-year-olds who can’t wait to get on the trail or teenagers who can’t stay in their home a second longer.

Group isn’t bored yet. Doesn’t pay you too much mind when you sit down in a corner chair. Half of them look at you for a moment before glancing back to the presentation. One girl’s eyes linger for a little until she makes eye contact and immediately turns away.

Okay. Time to start scanning.

A lot of telepaths just read minds like a book. Or as a monitor with code shifting faster than you could ever hope to read. Your talent doesn’t work that way. It’s more akin to sonar. Send out a wave, wait to see what image you get back. It usually just dredges up a secret or two: the thing that there’s the most resistance to you knowing. If you really focus you can get a basic overview of their personality.

Theoretically you could have your scan bring everything back, but it’d probably take you a week to process and land you in a hospital bed for a few months. If you were lucky. If you weren’t lucky it would land you in a coffin.

The first two are boring. A ten-year-old kid whose biggest secret is that his parents wanted him to wait, a teenager who got a girl pregnant and is running from the consequences.

Third kid. White girl, mid-teens, dressed a little too formally for this sort of meeting. Why is she even here? VStar gives structure, but it’s not the most efficient way to go on a journey. And the money can’t possibly matter to her unless she’s a runaway. A quick scan gives you the start of a headache, and not from the strain of your powers: her family is really, really rich. Big Six Families rich. Again, why is she here? She must’ve been cut off from her money, somehow. Was she exiled or did she run away?

Exile is unproblematic, although it’s the type of gossip you’d like to be aware of. You would have already heard about it if the girl did something bad enough that her family would bring hell down upon you for sheltering her. If she’s a runaway her family might give you endless PR and legal hell until you give their daughter back.

Supplemental scan doesn’t dig up much. Kid’s kind of flighty, kind of lonely. Kind at her core. Very recent trauma with a trail of shame trailing after it. And maybe something buried. Supports either theory, but her temperament makes you think she’s not a runaway. Minds like hers are allergic to rebellion.

Fourth and fifth are an addict and a kleptomaniac. You’ll consider kicking them out before the sensitive part of the meeting.

Sixth. Young girl. Probably ten, maybe eleven. Abuse. You’d bet she’s getting away from it as soon as possible. Smart kid. You’ll look the parents up so you have blackmail at the ready if they try and take their kid back. Low security risk.

Seventh is… familiar? You try to never forget a face, but it still just eludes you. By the second minute of staring he’s (she’s?) definitely noticed and you avert your gaze. Secret dredging time, then. See what you missed… Trans. Your power doesn’t tell you if they’re female, male, or non-binary, but it explains the just-unfamiliar face: you probably knew them before, but hormones or style changes are throwing you off your game.

The eighth is in her mid-teens? Early teens? Very short and still rather thin, but her features make her look a little older. Deep set eyes, angular face. Native if you had to guess. Jade green hair. If it’s natural, it’s rare but not unheard of. If it’s dyed then you need to ask her where she got it done. Kind of weird colorful dress. Probably wool. Might be handmade. Big thing? She’s blind. Clouded eyes, white cane, whole deal. Can she really do this? You aren’t going to send a kid out into the woods knowing that she’ll get killed by the first predator she can’t see coming.

Still, in case you don’t rule her out, a secret scan can’t hurt.

A moment later alarm bells of panic and despair and random memories and pain rock your mind. The thoughts came back to you after the scan but it’s like they were cut up in a blender, sharpened into daggers and then launched straight back into your brain. An attack? How? She’s…

Your eyes open wider as it dawns on you. She’s psychic. Probably another telepath. Strong. And not trained in any style you’re familiar with. This definitely shouldn’t be the first you’ve heard of her. You like to think that you’ve met every other psychic in the commonwealth and not a one has ever brought her up.

You got her attention. She’s slowly rotating her head to survey the room with either sound or some remaining vision, her foot tapping nervously the whole time.

How do you salvage this? It’s literally never happened before, and that’s not something you can say very often these days. Thought process isn’t helped by the thrum of pain in your head, alternating sharp and dull so you never quite get used to it. You breathe deeply and make your way to the door. You’ll have someone pull her aside later and direct her to your office. Gives you time to figure out how you’re going to approach this.

*​

Your alarm goes off at 3:00 P.M. and you swear at the ceiling before awkwardly rolling over in cot and turning it off. You still feel miserable after a ninety-minute nap. How does that work?

Well… part of that’s the mental bruising. A cold and empty memory that keeps resurfacing, feelings of panic when looking at random objects, a slight fog over everything, and random sights and sounds getting turned into metal walls and tinny echoes. And then there’s the absolutely brutal headache. You make a point of taking an aspirin, knowing that it won’t really help but hoping the placebo effect does enough to make you comfortable. Which might negate the placebo effect. Is there a placebo effect where you know what the placebo effect is, so you expect the placebo to make you feel better, which means that it does make you feel better? A placebo placebo effect.

The line of thought definitely isn’t making your headache any better.

First things first. You text the instructor to make sure that the possible Skull defectors gets kicked out before the mortality tables come up. VStar’s mortality rates are lower than the general journey-goer rates, but dead kids are dead kids and it never feels like there’s anything to say, much less anything good. At the end you add a note to send the blind girl up to your office when orientation is over. The room is cold and clean and empty. Deep breaths. The third ceiling tile diagonal from the corner does not want to kill you. You’re in your office, the year is 2019, and are texting. The metal—not metal—walls have light blue wallpaper.

Second: the daughter of Ernest Gage, the spider silk magnate. That one you might have to deal with in person, or at least at the fundraiser tonight. He and his wife will probably be there. It would be rude to get the information directly on such a sensitive subject, but there will be other attendees who love nothing more than swapping secrets. The room is cold and clean and

Third: You pull up the new trainer’s files. Abused girl is Aiko Katou. Mother is a barber, dad is a plumber. Good news is that they can’t really go after the company—the men will never believe you—Bad news is that if the family’s got nothing, they’ve got nothing to lose. Blackmail won’t do much. It might only succeed in letting them know where their daughter went. Still might try and get your hands on Why does the ceiling have teeth? By the kings this headache sucks.

Fourth: Blind girl is Cuicatl Ichtaca. From Anahuac. Fifteen years old. Here on a challenge visa. Explains how you’ve never heard of her. Didn’t report any pokémon at customs. You’ll need to start her off slow or put her with some strong teammates for her protection, but if she’s psychic then she might be worth keeping around. If your interview checks out. Moles can be annoying; a telepathic mole could be a catastrophe of the highest order. The room is cold and. Stop. Breathe. You can’t find anything online about her and it will take you a few days to get anything to leak from immigration services, so that’s the end of that investigation. For now.

Fifth—something brushes against your leg. You look down to see Espy looking up at you, holding his leash in his mouth.

Fifth: Go outside. Take your friend on a walk. Stop thinking about work for a minute. Make new memories. Be calm. Outside is warm and dirty and open.

*​

You pull two water bottles and two packets from the refrigerator and place them on the table. “Water, if you’re thirsty. I know those meetings last a while. And I put some gummies there, too. Good to eat every two hours or so. Good for your brain.”

Her hand freezes in midair right before taking the water. It’s only for a moment, and she proceeds on like nothing had happened.

“Hey, it’s fine. You can’t be responsible for things you didn’t know to do.”

She doesn’t answer that. Natural shyness? Nervousness? Poor English? You never realize how much your scans are a crutch until you find yourself without them.

“Who are you?” she asks.

You smile. Uselessly. Doesn’t matter either way.

“Right. I’m Rachel Bell. I’m one of the Vice Presidents for VStar. I handle new recruits, among other things.”

“…and I’m not in trouble?”

“No. No, not at all. Just don’t get many psychics passing through. I try to meet with them individually.”

“I meant for the, um. Did I hurt you?”

Yes. Yes, you did.

“Not very much,” you lie, bringing a smile into your voice. “Napped, took a walk, cleared my head. It’s fine now.” And it mostly is. Espy could help you out a little once he had some sunlight to power him up.

Her head dips a little. Shame, probably. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

“No, no. Don’t worry about it. I’m the one who…” Yoo take a drink of water and figure out how to finish that sentence without coming off wrong. “…reached out to your mind first. Should have asked. Standard for new psychics.” What’s a polite way to ask her about her English skills? Because you don’t actually have a Nahuatl speaker in the building. That you know of. Might be a good idea to check. “You don’t have much training with your powers, do you?”

She gently shakes her head. “No. My mom’s reuniclus taught me a little. I figured some of the rest out. Never met a psychic but my brother.”

“You grew up around pokémon, then?”

Her lips curl into a smile and she makes (near) eye contact as a hundred tiny things change in her expression. She goes from sullen and afraid to absolutely adorable in the blink of an eye.

“Yes. My mom’s team lived near the house. I took care of them. She had a reuniclus, a heatmor, a swanna, a ferrothorn, a conkeldurr,” she really is infectiously cute when she’s excited, with her high-pitched voice and its rapid pace, “and a hydreigon.”

Your heart skips a beat. Her face is the exact same, but all of the cuteness gone.

“A hydreigon?”

“Yes! Her names are Alice, Dorothy, and Ilsa. Alice was first and is in the center so that’s her one name. But she prefers her three names.”

A wild hydreigon flew within twenty miles of the academy once and they shut down classes for three days. Parents accused them of underreacting.

“Uh huh. And, um, you took care of her? Them?”

“She likes ‘ellas.’ She doesn’t know that there’s more than one language and they have different words,” she says. As if this is just a normal thing.

“I see.”

You are very, very glad that she can’t see the color of your face right now. You know full well that your alakazam is a telepathic monster that can fry a man’s mind in seconds, but you will never, ever be comfortable with dragons. And why should you? You’ve seen footage of one shredding a tank without breaking a sweat. Do dragons sweat? You have no desire to look that up.

Focus. You need to change the subject a little. Useful information in those statements? She has a brother, but he’s presumably not here. If Cuicatl cared for her mom’s hydreigon, her mom also can’t be in the picture anymore. Or she was horribly irresponsible. Either way? Dangerous topic. She speaks Spanish and seems to have a decent grasp on English. Cuicatl said she doesn’t have any pokémon on the form. How did that happen? Did it happen? She wouldn’t be the first kid to tell a lie on their paperwork. Okay. Alice. Ellas. How did she find out that Alice liked ellas?

“Can you speak to pokémon?”

“Sometimes. Not with Alice. In her mind, at least. But we understand each other.”

“I see. What all can you do with your mind? I can tell secrets and foresee pain.”

“…secrets?”

She runs a shade paler and you can hear her foot tap against the side of the chair. Nervous tic that you share.

“Not yours. Your shielding is very good. Not trained, but effective.”

“Thank you. Renfield—reuniclus taught me that.”

That wasn’t an answer. But it does explain why it felt so much like the headaches Espy can give you when he’s really, really angry.

“Talking to pokémon is usually telepathy, then. Projecting and reading thoughts. Empathy is sensing emotions. There’s usually some overlap, but not always.”

She frowns. “I think I just have telepathy. Do people usually only have one thing?”

You shake your head. Right. She can’t see that. “Sometimes. You don’t see things before they happen? See things you shouldn’t? Move things with your mind?”

“I don’t see anything.”

Poor wording. Anne would’ve torn you a new one if she’d heard. But Cuicatl doesn’t look too offended. She’s even smiling, just a little. But not nearly as brightly as before.

“But you can’t do any of those things?”

“Right.”

You give her a chance to follow up. She doesn’t. Just shifts in her seat and idly taps a foot on the floor, soft enough that she probably doesn’t even know she’s doing it. Whatever rapport you built talking about her pokémon, it’s gone now. Time for another subject change.

“What brings you to Alola, then?”

“I wanted, um, to go on a journey? And Unova didn’t want to take me. I don’t have much money so a girl in the Pokémon Center said I should come here.”

There’s a shred of truth in there, but she’s an awful liar. Don’t even need your telepathy to see through that. New topic options: SIPAA scoring seems a little too close to the last question and she doesn’t want to talk about why she’s here so… old pokémon.”

“Did you bring any of your mom’s team with you?”

She freezes up. Full deerling in headlights. Shit shit shit shit abort abort abort.

“Hey it’s—”

“No, I didn’t.” Speech is off. Breathing is erratic. Approach and escalate? Keep quiet and seem callous? Response depends on the type of breakdown you’re seeing.

…the kid has to be alone here. Half an ocean from home, at least one parent out of the picture, apart from her pokémon for maybe the first time…

She shouldn’t have to have panic attacks alone.

You get up from your seat and move around the desk to kneel beside her. Then you put a hand on her shoulder and press down a little bit. “It’s alright,” you whisper, “we can get you new friends and a new pokémon.”

The waterworks open in full. Before you can decide if you should hug or not, Espy jumps into her lap. Kid didn’t mention owning a dog, fox, or cat, but she’s still a gentle petter. Holds out her hand for a second for Espy to sniff. Then gently pets the ears and runs her hand back in slow, light strokes.

You take the moment to think as Cuicatl’s breaths get steadier. You remove your hand from her shoulder to avoid smothering her. Homesickness? Trauma? Other mental illness? Kid needs emotional support in any case. Ideally something intelligent enough for her to talk to, social enough to cuddle, and fluffy enough to pet. Difficulty of care and bonding shouldn’t be problems if she kept herself and a hydreigon alive. Maybe something a little difficult to distract her. Eevee would work. Not big enough to be a good guide, though, even when fully evolved.

…

There is a pokémon that fits all of those criteria, but she’s trouble. She’d either be a silver bullet for Cuicatl’s problems or a lead bullet straight to her heart.

You put your hand back on Cuicatl’s shoulder and she flinches from the touch.

 

[Persephone]

Normal 1.2: Firemane
Pixie

They’re talking about you again.

You don’t understand many of the words, but you know the tone. Talking more in breath than sound, trying to sound quieter than they really are. The same fake concern they take on the moment they turn away from your table, like you aren’t still in the room.

But you don’t care. You don’t really care about anything anymore, except maybe for Avalanche. You wonder if she’s thought of you in the last few… days? Moons? Between the ball and the trailer you haven’t had many chances to be outside and count the changing skies and you aren’t sure how often the humans leave and make it dark.

No, as much as you’d like to believe it you can’t imagine Avalanche cares about you anymore. The nine-tails only keep two vulpix to train. It lets them keep the territories intact. When the unchosen become three-tails they set off on their own. Your body and mind and comfort are your problems now, not hers.

And, because you don’t care, those things are now the problems of the people in white falsefur.

They keep you alive. They try to coax you into eating things that help with the bruises and scars. You won’t because it’s your mouth and you eat what you want. Which is nothing. They took you ball out once and you bit them. After that they’ve let you sleep on the table instead of in a cage like the others, and you’ve learned to sleep in the dark while the humans are away and rest on the table in daylight, keeping an eye open for more balls.

There’s a new human today. Young and female. Like you. You catch a glimpse of her mane when she walks in. Thick, curly and went a little past her shoulder-blades. Light-yellowish, like the fire-tails in the stories Avalanche told you. It has leaves in it, some dirt. Even from a distance it smells unclean, although humans seemed to have a higher tolerance for that. It would be pretty if cared for and you want to run your paws and tongue through it to clean it up like you would for your own coat. Like Avalanche did for you.

You suppose you still care that you look like a fox should. But presentation is sort of like breathing, so you aren’t sure that counts.

New human approaches you again, with the other humans behind her. She walks up to your table, looking away like this isn’t premeditated, and stops at the edge. You cast her the sort of wary, frigid look that only an ice-type can manage.

“Hey,” she says. “Can I pet you?”

You don’t understand the words, but she offers her paw, keeping it head-length away from your snout. She doesn’t smell nervous. Is this how humans offer scent exchange? You hadn’t thought they marked each other at all.

It takes you a few seconds to decide, but you eventually do move to push your face against their paw, rubbing your scent glands against it. Her paw is warm, but not unpleasantly so. You sneeze and a burst of cold air radiates from your body. The human pulls away for a second, probably on reflex, but puts her paw back up to your head when you look at her expectantly.

*​

She’s back the next day.

This time she opens up the door and looks at you.

“You want to go outside?”

The words are mostly unfamiliar, but you think you know the meaning. Yes, you decide, wind and flower smell would be nice. Rising on your paws is painful as you feel the muscles and skin ripple around your scars and bruises, but nothing tears. One of the humans picks you up gently and cradles you in his arms, like Avalanche would in her jaws when you were a kit. Insulting. The humans are not nine-tails. They have no right to handle you like that.

They set you down in the grass outside. The sun and air are much warmer near the sea, but your body quickly begins cooling itself to adjust. You can still feel the sunlight striking your fur. And you can smell the plants. There are different flowers here than you have on the mountain and there are far more of them. You absent-mindedly walk up to one and wrap your jaws around it to get a better feel for its taste and texture. The young human pulls you away.

“If you want food, they have more vulpix-friendly stuff in there.”

Her tone is cheerful, but you recognize the pleading edge and the ‘food’ sound. You turn away and walk closer to the big black human-trail, puffing up your tails behind you in a show of defiance. Before you reach it, a much larger pokemon cuts you off. He’s quadrupedal, red-and-black-colored and you can feel radiated heat enter your personal blizzard. Fire-type. Big fire-type.

He notes your reaction and adjusts quickly, holding his tail still and lowering himself to the ground before rolling on to his side.

“Didn’t mean to scare you. Just want to play.”

It’s a feline dialect. Close enough to your native vulpine to understand, even if you aren’t sure you got all the meaning.

You tilt your head. “Play?”

“Yes. Chase each other around or—” He stops short and rises to his paws before slowly walking towards you, head down. You allow him to brush his face against yours. “You’re sick?” He asks. “You should get that fixed.”

You slowly lay down and show him your stomach. “How do you heal this?”

His eyes narrow. “Do you have a ball? Or have they tried potions? Those look old and improperly healed. You’ll need to get those looked at before we can play. And eat. You look underfed. Are they feeding you?”

You tuck your tails between your legs, turn around and head back inside. You don’t want to talk about it. What happened. What happened after. Why you don’t care. He seems well-meaning, and he shouts after you that he’ll be back to play later, but there are things that a healthy fire cat with a gentle human mother can’t understand.

Still. The human seems to like you, and she at least takes care of her cat. She’s not like… like they were. You wonder why she came back, why she cares about you, and you realize that maybe she wants to put you on your team. You’d leave the room. She’d stuff you in a ball, sometimes.

But it’s something to hope for. And you’ll take it.

*​

You eat that night. The food is dry and bland, but you get some down your throat before your stomach gets upset. Then you let them spray things on you (which sting and hurt) and put you into another capsule. They keep you in it until it’s bright out again.

You stretch out with your front paws and feel your belly react. It hurts less than it did when you went into the ball. You roll onto your side and move to scout out the area with your tongue, but you’re met with a spray of water when you do so. You uncurl, climb to your paws and hiss blindly in the water’s direction, kicking up a frozen mist around you in the process.

A human forepaw reaches down to your arched back and you bite the air around it before even seeing whose it is. It’s the young female human. Firemane. You’ll call her Firemane. She seems a bit startled, but not angry. You calm down a bit and let her stroke your back, but you won’t warm up the air for her while she does it.

After a few strokes she reaches down to pick you up, doing so by wrapping her arms around your side and hugging you to her chest. Won’t touch your underside. But she’s less gentle when she drops you down on the table. You still land, perfectly of course.

“She’s doing much better,” one of the humans says. “We’re very thankful for your help in this.”

Firemane’s voice sings and rumbles. Humans do that sometimes when they bare their teeth. You know that sound well enough, but it doesn’t seem to be threatening. The last times you heard it were followed by violence. This one is only followed by a chunk of delicious smelling food the size of your head being dumped in front of you.

“Not all at once,” Firemane says. You can guess the meaning, and it’s unnecessary. You couldn’t eat this much if you wanted to.

You end up getting much closer than you would have thought, but half of it’s still left. That goes to the cat, who devours in three bites what took you dozens. Firemane talks to the other humans for a bit while the fire cat tries to make conversation with you. But he’s very large and his voice is always approximating a growl, even when he seems to be happy.

Firemane leaves you a while later with a thorough head scratching.

*​

They aren’t back the next day. Or the next week. Or the next month. You let them spray you with nasty liquids and put you in a capsule and cut you open (while you’re asleep, but still) but Firemane never comes back.

And with every day you sit on a table doing nothing, watching the humans care for sicker creatures until they leave you start to feel a little bit more like you did before you were healed.

Eventually your stomach is fine. They let you lick it again and you can only feel the scar if you really press your tongue down and weave it between all the tufts of fur. You still don’t know what comes next but that’s fine.

You don’t care.

*​

Many moons later…

You wake up to the sound of your kennel being unlocked. Odd. You’re usually awake by walk time. Without opening your eyes, you stretch out and fluff up your six-and-a-half tails. When you look up you reflexively freeze the air around you. The woman staring at you is the matriarch of the facility, the one that all of the other humans submit to. She almost never comes down. Why is she here? Why is she here for you?

Matriarch steps back and waves her paw. “Come on, Pixie. We have things to discuss.”

You gracefully leap from the kennel to the ground and trail after her as she walks. She opens the door to the visiting room and you follow, leaping onto the table as she sits down.

You immediately puff your fur up and hiss. There’s another fox here. A short-furred, hideous pink fox with one good tail and a pathetic growth of a second. Eevee. You don’t know what gimmick this one has, but they’re all just eevee to you.

“Pixie, play nice,” Matriarch scolds. Even though that disgraceful asshole is on your table.

You generously let it go with a single huff and look back at Matriarch.

“Good, now that you’re paying attention, let me be brief. I’m giving you your sixth and final second chance with a trainer. Are we clear?”

You blink. She’s threatening you. Can you growl at her? Or should you submit? You don’t want to submit in front of the imposter fox. Or to someone threatening you.

“I’ll take that as a no. What I’m saying is, your shit stops now. No more peeing on pillows, hiding pokéballs in the woods, freezing the ground your trainer is about to step on, letting all hell break loose when you see another eevee, or trying to hurt teammates. Again, are we clear?”

That is a very unfair assessment. You only did the first three things because your trainer was already going to abandon you and your window for revenge was very limited. And every eevee deserves it, with their tangled manes and their insufferable pleading eyes and their “look at me, I can pretend to be a guardian of the peaks or a firetails or a fish or anything I want” nonsense like that makes them better than you. It doesn’t. And you obviously weren’t trying to hurt that rabbit: you were trying to kill it.

Matriarch sighs and cradles her head in her forepaws. “Pixie. I like this one. I think you can help her and she can help you. She’s probably the best trainer you’re going to get. If you’re just incompatible, fine. I’ll sell you off to a zoo on the mainland. But if you hurt her, I will personally haul you back to Mt. Lanakila and see how long it takes for the weavile to get you.” With that she stands up and walks towards the exit, her eevee trailing behind her. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. You had best prepare yourself to make a good impression.”

Then she shuts the door and leaves you alone. The gall she has. You never even did anything to her and she’s acting like you already killed her kit. Fine. If this goes downhill, she’s given you no incentive to hold back. She wants a fight, you’ll give her one.

When Matriarch reenters her foreleg is gently wrapped around another human’s. Other human has a strange white stick. A weapon? It wouldn’t be very effective against you. Foolish to even try. Matriarch walks the smaller human to a seat and gently helps her down before shooting you a wicked glare. She leaves you alone with your last-chance-trainer.

She’s very small. Her whole frame is delicate. Her skin tone is a little too in the middle. Humans are least hideous when they are very pale or very dark. She’s on the darker end, but not quite far enough to be visually pleasant. Her mane is green, which is a strange and somewhat disturbing color, but it is very shiny and well cared for. Her falsefur is white, which is the best color. Then her eyes… they’re only half moving. And something is off in them. Shimmers over the surface like a barely frozen pond.

The care that Matriarch took, the eye shimmers: she’s blind. What a cruel joke. Sticking you with a tiny, frail human who cannot even appreciate your majesty.

“Hello, Pixie,” she says. Her voice soft and kind of high pitched and it flows well. Like the sound of slow winds running along the mountain rocks. Except more human. Still not enough to make you like her. She extends a paw out for you to smell or rub or whatever but you don’t stand up to go to it and she eventually sticks it down flat on the table. “My name is Cuicatl Ichtaca. I’m from Anachuac. I hope you will be friends with me.”

Nope. You will not give Matriarch the satisfaction. The human does not get the obvious hint and keeps talking.

“I’ve haven’t met many ice-types before. My home was warm. There were mountains nearby with snow on top, but they were very dangerous so my father and sister rarely let me go.”

Her family sound terrible. if she is too weak to climb mountains you do not want to associate with her.

“I read about vulpix once. It was a long time ago so I forget some things. You’re nocturnal, right?”

Obviously. What creature would ever want to go outside in the sunlight?

“If you are, then you probably won’t want to be outside in the day when I go places. I am okay with that. I can get around well enough with my cane. We can play and train around dusk and dawn. But I usually try to sleep at night, so not then.”

It is a better offer than most trainers make. But no. Not for the blind kit of an eevee trainer.

“I don’t know what your other trainers taught you. But I have ideas for battle. You could be a really good arena controller and zoner. Using hail and frozen patches to make it harder to get to you, and then hit them with from far away. Or just put them to sleep or trap them and then set up. You’re probably fast enough to be a sweeper. Or will be fast enough when you evolve.”

You are fast enough now to ‘sweep’ anything, whatever that means.

“Do you know roar?” she asks.

You do, just to show her how good your roaring is and maybe make her run away. She smiles, which is not the proper reaction. The proper reaction is terror and awe. Worse, she giggles.

“Sorry. I’m not laughing at you. You’re just really cute.”

You bark to scold her. It’s very annoying that she can’t just understand your glares and know when to shut up and fall in line. The bark does silence her and she stops baring her teeth for just a second. Good.

“Oh. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.” You fluff up your tails. Her? Hurt you? Impossible. The most she could do is annoy you. “I think that I went at this wrong. Can we start over?”

…what?

“Hello, Pixie. My name is Cuicatl Ichtaca. I want you to be my friend. If you don’t want to, that’s fine. You can stay here. But if there’s anything I can help you with…”

You hiss and sit down. What could she possibly help you with?

“I don’t know, Pixie. I was hoping you could tell me.” What? “I want friends. And money. And I thought you could help. But if there’s nothing I can do for you, then you should stay here. Maybe someone else will be able to help you later.”

You growl softly and menacingly and the human’s half-smile is just her baring her teeth because she is very afraid of your wrath. You aren’t actually sure about everything Matriarch said with her nonsense “zoo,” but it was still clearly a threat. No one will help you later and she knows that. So now this human is also threatening you.

“Oh. A zoo is a place where you’d have a big outdoor cage and humans would come to look at you.”

Your tails flex out reflexively in shock—in a temporary blip in your perfect composure. You bark-hiss, “You really understand me?”

“Yes, but it’s much easier if you vocalize somehow.” As you think about that, she continues, “Why did she threaten to send you to one?”

You flick a tail down and growl, “No reason at all. I am a very good fox. She is a very bad human with a worse fox.”

The human bares a little more of her teeth at the injustice. “The horror.”

“Exactly!” This one may be much smarter than the average human.

“I can take you if you want. And then either keep you, give you to another trainer, or release you to the wild. Whatever you want. Or I can leave you to the zoo.”

You flick a tail down on the table. This was not a set of options you were expecting. You weren’t really expecting options at all.

“What do you want, Pixie? What kinds of things make you happy?”

“Cold. Prey. Grooming. Toys. Proper respect.”

“Hmm. The wild would probably have cold and prey. No one else would groom you and there wouldn’t be toys. Don’t know about respect. The zoo would have grooming and toys. Maybe cold. No prey, definitely not respect. I could give you grooming and toys. I’d try to give you respect and you can tell me if I’m not. No cold, though, sorry. Other trainers couldn’t talk to you but if you don’t like me they could give you the toys and grooming.”

Many words. Good breakdown of options. You were going to just pick the one that sounded best, and probably will, but she is good at thinking. Rare in her species.

“What do you mean by respect, anyway?”

This is not an easy concept to express. It’s just respect. Every vulpix understands it. You aren’t even sure how much she understands of your language, but you try to express it.

“I am prettier and stronger and smarter than everyone else and they should recognize it and submit to me.”

“I’m sure you’re very pretty, strong, and smart,” she correctly says. “I would try to help you. Give you food and love and try to make you even stronger. But I can’t promise I’ll do everything you say. You would have to help me sometimes. And sometimes that help would be taking ‘no’ for an answer.”

“I do not need help,” you say.

“Then you’re best off alone.”

Alone.

A shiver wracks your body.

You are not afraid of alone.

The human sighs. “Do you want love?”

You bark, yes, of course, you deserve love.

“I can give you that.” You stare into her awful, foggy eyes. There’s brown somewhere in them. The dullest, worst color. “Do you want me to hold you?”

Your legs rise up and move towards her and you hate your limbs for it. She extends her forelegs, slowly at first, and then she flips you over and moves you towards her chest all at once. It’s not unpleasant, just unexpected. You yip in surprise and she whispers an apology. Then you’re cradled in her forelegs, pressed against her body. She’s warm. Not too warm, though. And it’s nice to feel a heartbeat.

She is a trickster with clever words and whatever she says, someday, maybe even today, she will hate you and leave you like Firemane and all the others.

But for now, Skysong is yours.

 

[Persephone]

Normal 1.3: Almost Natural
Genesis

July 27, 2019

It’s raining.

That means it’s good weather for catching poliwag. You said that you’d wanted a water-type because you were in shock and don’t even remember why and Father strictly forbade you from getting a popplio. That leaves poliwag and the rain. Even if you sort of asked for this, you wish it wasn’t raining. The day is more than miserable enough.

Stefan stands to the side under an umbrella, watching as you cast the lure again and again. Sometimes he critiques your form. Mostly he doesn’t bother. The first few bites are magikarp. He does come forward and help you take those of the line before throwing them back. Then he steps away and takes the umbrella with him, leaving you out in the rain.

You finally reel in a blur of blue sticking to the top of the pond. It doesn’t struggle too much on the line or in its lure ball. And then it’s yours. Stefan walks back to the car before you can let the frog out for bonding time. It’s okay. You’ll have time for that later. When you’re alone. You grab a stick on the way back to the car. Stefan gives you a funny look, but it’s important. You just don’t want to explain right now.

It’s a quiet ride into the city, only the sound of rain on the windshield and the occasional car sloshing by to distract you. That’s fine: you don’t feel like talking, anyway. You’ve already reasoned, begged, prayed, and cried to no effect. Father won’t be moved, and Stefan is on Father’s payroll. There will be no moving him.

The car comes to a stop outside the Pokémon Center. Stefan walks around to open your door.

“You can register in there,” he says. “Then I’d take a ferry to Hau’oli. VStar is having orientation in a few days, and they can help you get money.”

Implying that you could be away for long enough that you’ll need to make money of your own. You stare straight at the door and nod. He leaves without either of you saying goodbye.

*​

The nurse says that the poliwag is a boy. She politely doesn’t mention the damp stick you’re carrying, even when you take the multiple choice test on the computer so you can be a trainer. It’s all really basic stuff. She told you all of this many, many times over and you remembered enough to ace the thing.

When the rain clears up you go around to the pools out back and let the poliwag out. He looks up at you unblinking and ribbits. You kneel down and brandish the stick. He runs. “Wait! Come back!” Too late. He’s already in the middle of the pool, glancing at you from the surface of the water. Fine. You can break your plans. You very visibly throw the stick into the trash before walking back, hands raised in surrender. “I, um, dub thee Sir Bubbles? I had a whole ceremony planned, but…”

He dives underwater.

Looks like you dragged the stick here for nothing.

*​

October 1, 2019

The sanctuary is dead silent when you enter. You step through the rows of pews, descending towards the altar. The head of Xerneas greets you at the far wall, shifting rainbow antlers illuminating lifeless wooden eyes. Probably for the best. It can already be unsettling, having your creator and god staring down at you. If it blinked… that would be too far.

You needed to come here. Today is a big day, after all, and Xerneas is one of the few beings left that will listen to you. Maybe the only one who knows you aren’t lying. But it takes you ages to think of something to say.

“Lord Xerneas, my creator…”

Always a good start. Now more stuff.

“Thank you for giving me life. And please help Mother and Father understand what happened. And… maybe luck is too much to ask, but I would like to keep living and… I’m very thankful for everything.”

The eyes stare back, unblinking, as the rainbow lights shimmer above them.

“May my words and deeds bring honor to thy name.”

*​

You should pay attention to orientation.

You want to pay attention to orientation.

You are not paying attention to orientation.

Partially because she already told you most of this and you remember some of it, despite you being you. You’re thinking about things that don’t matter. You’ve already read every scrap of writing in this room a bunch of times. There’s not much to read, anyway. Just a few notices and inspirational quotes. It’s like a sparsely decorated school room. Even the chairs are similar, as you’re painfully reminded every time someone drags their chair forward or back.

And there’s a girl in front of you, just at the edge of her peripheral vision. She has nice hair. It falls down to her shoulders a lot of loose, shiny spirals. Green but not the bright, ugly, obviously dyed green. Almost natural. Maybe it is. Not the weirdest thing about her. That’s the colorful, maybe home-made dress. Might be a thing in her culture. Whatever that is. She has dark skin. You didn’t get a good look at her eyes since, well, they’re milky white. That was a lot bit distracting. Like staring into the dead eyes of Xerneas with color swirling throughout.

The intimidation is a little undercut by her height. Her feet don’t even reach the ground when she’s seated. At first glance you thought that she was a tween kid eager to rush onto her island challenge, but her face—the parts you remember apart from the eyes and hair—seemed older. Nice cheekbones. And there’s some muscle on her arms that you wouldn’t expect from a kid. Between her size and blindness, she’s still delicate. Maybe too delicate to go into the wild.

You wonder if she’s in the same boat as you, going along with the least bad option.

A woman in a very nice suit walks in midway through. Odd. Everyone else you’ve dealt with here was dressed in business casual or casual casual. Her eyes wander around the room, settling on each person in turn. You squirm and go back to looking at the series of stars and triangles you’ve wrote down in your notebook. Just one look from her makes you deeply uncomfortable. It feels like she’s staring right into your soul and judging you based on what she sees.

You can feel it when she moves on. You glance up in time to see the woman recoil as if in pain and bring a hand to head. What? What happened. The girl in front of you must feel it, too, because she’s looking around now. The woman quickly exits the room and the girl eventually goes back to resting her head on an arm and staring forward.

The girl probably doesn’t see the point of taking notes. Maybe you should for her. It would get you to pay attention, maybe. You can at least try it.

*​

There’s a breakout session at the end where you finally get to meet your traveling companions. Girls, probably. It would be inappropriate to put you with boys.

You’re the first to arrive at the meeting room because you finished your lunch quickly, without talking to anyone. You don’t know any of them and what are you even supposed to say? Best to stay quiet and not ruin things. Although now that you’re in a room with nothing but you and a ticking clock you’re starting to wonder if you should have stayed. Was that expected? Were you being rude?

You glance at the clock. No, you’re a little early to the meeting but still on time.

The door opens and a boy enters. (A boy! Why are they letting you travel with a boy?) He lets the door slam shut behind him with a loud noise somewhere between a click and a clack.

“’sup,” he ‘sups. Then he plops down into one of the firmer chairs, letting his back sink in and his legs sprawl out.

You squirm in your seat. What was his name? He was a few rows over, but you didn’t think you would be with him because he’s a boy and you’re a girl and this is really inappropriate. Should you offer to share your name? That seems like a good idea. And he’s been quiet long enough that it’s awkward.

“I’m Genesis.”

He glances at you before rolling his shoulders back and somehow sinking even deeper into his chair. “Kekoa. Nice to meet you, Jennifer.”

“Genesis, actually—”

“Jennifer.”

He stares at you as if daring you to challenge him again. You break eye contact first. Fine. Guess you’re stuck with him. That’s just how your month has been going.

“We’re supposed to have a third person, right?”

“That’s what they said.”

The clock keeps ticking.

“You have a pokéball on your belt…”

“A pikipek.”

“Ah.” Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. “I have a poliwag.”

“Cool.” It does not sound like he thinks it’s cool.

“So why are you here?”

“Why are you?”

You don’t want to answer that, so you don’t. And he doesn’t want to talk, so that’s that. He goes back to looking at an old flip phone.

There are footsteps outside and a strange grating noise. The door opens and the blind girl walks in, the woman in the suit behind her. “See you tomorrow,” the woman says before walking away. The girl just stands in the doorway. There’s something almost sad about her expression, but she shakes her head and starts to smile. Maybe you just imagined the earlier look: you’ve never been great at reading emotions.

“Is there a chair somewhere?” she asks.

You give her directions.

It turns out that you are not very good at giving her directions, but she does eventually sit down.

“Hello. I’m Cuicatl Ichtaca.”

“Hi! I’m Genesis.”

“Kekoa,” the boy says. You finally realize that you never got his name before. “Good to meet you, Kiwi.”

Her smile falters before coming back stronger than before. “That’s not even close and you know it.”

“Don’t give a shit.”

You think Cuicatl rolls her eyes but it’s… unsettling to look at. She won’t know if you’re making eye contact or not, so you look away from her face. “She like this to you, Genesis?” she asks.

“He, thank you very much.”

“Oh. Sorry. You just have such a girly voice, you know?”

His voice is a little high. The rest of his body is maybe just on the masculine side of androgynous. Normal enough for a guy your age. Ditto for his face. Still chubby but not unusually so. Maybe with longer hair and different clothes he could pass for a girl.

“Fuck off.”

You flinch at the profanity. He didn’t sound serious, almost joking, but the words themselves paint a different story.

“Where are you from?” you ask Cuicatl. Crap that was probably not the right question. She’s going to think you’re some kind of a racist, which you’re not—

“Anahuac.”

“Oh. I know about it. A lot of your people come here. Not here specifically, I actually haven’t met many, but on the mainland. Um.” You stop before you can dig deeper.

She puffs up a little. Which is bad. She’s angry. But it’s also kind of cute.

“My mom was Unovan,” Cuicatl interjects.

Oh. Definitely here legally. That’s good.

“Then you’re a citizen?”.

“…no. Here on challenge visa.”

Maybe not legally. You’ll have to do the talking if any cops show up. Which they shouldn’t, because you aren’t going to do any crimes. Except for the crime she already did.

*​

VStar gave you an advance to buy boots and you know just the place to go.

Princess Square Mall is easily the best place to shop in the entire commonwealth. It’s got everything from the Gracidea flagship to the usual big box stores, plus literal miles of halls lined with their own quirky shops. You make… made a point of coming here most weekends to try and look through at least three new stores knowing full well that by the time you visited them all some would’ve closed and others opened in their place and you’d have to do it again. You got some good stuff out of it, though, like a stuffed altitlama made with real altitlama wool and a blue snow globe with a faintly glowing horseshoe on the side. No idea why the latter cost as much as it did.

Kekoa powerwalks ahead and ordinarily you’d match him but you have to stay back and help Cuicatl along. He sometimes glances back and slows down a little bit, which clashes with his aloof meanie vibe. Eventually you get to Shaft’s Outdoor Supplies and Kekoa finally stops to turn towards you.

“I’m just going to go ahead and get this done on my own. Leave you girls to do your shoe shopping.”

“Then why are you going alone?” Cuicatl asks.

“Letting you two have your estrogen party in peace.”

“So why aren’t you coming with us?” Cuicatl asks. “If it’s a girls thing…”

Kekoa shoots her an absolutely murderous glare. “I’m flipping you off,” he says before turning around and storming off. He is not actually flipping her off. Cuicatl just has a cute, dumb smile plastered on her face.

“Asshole,” she says.

You shouldn’t giggle but you do.

“So, um, what are you looking for? In boots? I can look for you.”

She doesn’t even take a full second to think it over. “Waterproof, well-fitting, don’t make me look too stupid.”

Okay. You can work with that.

“Do you have a personal style? What clothes do you ordinarily wear?”

It occurs to you too late that she might not know that. Thankfully, she does.

“I guess you would call them dresses, like what I’m wearing now. Sometimes more athletic clothing. Pick whatever colors you want.” Hmm. She has long hair that’s clearly well cared for. Isn’t wearing much makeup, but that might just be because she can’t apply it. In any case, definitely not a tomboy. Some outdoorsy-but-still-femme look, then. Hiking boots and whatever she’ll be wearing on the trail probably satisfies the outdoorsy bit, so you’re mostly concerned with the femme half. Ideally, you’d get something dark green or very dark blue to go with her hair, but a quick talk with an employee (a talk that Cuicatl seems oddly despondent during) reveals that you’re really color and style limited at her size in the kids section. You settle on a pink pair without laces so that she doesn’t have to fumble around to tie them.

“They sound nice,” she says when you tell her the description. Her face is guarded so it’s hard to tell if it really does sound nice. Or if she cares about style at all. She rises up on the balls of her feet and then settles down and tilts her shoes to the sides. “Fit well enough. Should be fine after a little breaking in.”

And that’s that. Even before the two-thirds discount new trainers get on supplies, hers are just barely over fifty dollars. Yours are about three times as much, but after the discount they still fit within budget with some money left over. Black, kind of shiny, waterproof because Cuicatl thought that was a big deal. A size up from your old shoes, too. Apparently, you’ve grown. You’d be comfortable wearing your boots in a city, which is kind of a must because you’re going to have to break them in before going out on the trail. Orientation made a very, very big deal about that, up to showing some blister photos that look like they came right out of a presentation on a disease that requires genital amputation.

*​

You decide to have a movie night for your first night sharing a Pokémon Center room. You’re doing your best to ignore that you’re sharing a bedroom and bathroom with a boy but at least Cuicatl’s here so he’s outnumbered.

Kekoa fiddles with the screen of your phone for a second before putting it on the pile of stuff he haphazardly threw together. Then the movie starts to play on the small screen. Not really big enough for three people to crowd around, but Cuicatl’s sitting a little farther away since she he doesn’t really need to watch.

“You have your own account?” you ask to kill time as the company logos roll.

He snorts. “Yeah, no. I’m sure someone pays for this, but I don’t know them and no one I know knows them.”

That’s kind of theft, isn’t it? At least, not using it as intended. Are you doing something wrong by watching.

The logos stop and the screen shifts to a cage being moved in the rain by a bunch of men with guns. Then something goes wrong and the thing in the cage kills some of the men with guns before getting shot itself. What. This is violent. You definitely aren’t supposed to be watching it.

“What kind of movie is this?” you ask.

“A damn good one,” he answers.

Again with the vulgarity.

“Seconding,” she adds.

You frown. “Your parents let you watch this kind of thing?”

He looks at you like you’d just asked whether water was wet. “No. My brother let me watch it once while my parents were out since I was going through a dinosaur phase. Now, I, uh, kind of watch what I want now.”

“People don’t really care about sex and violence in movies in Anahuac? They’re a part of life. No reason to keep kids from knowing real things exist. And do you want to talk about the dinosaur phase?” She’s absolutely beaming now. “Because I had a dinosaur phase. Never really left it either.”

Kekoa snorts. “You would, dragon girl.”

They’d talked about trainers at dinner. You didn’t have much to say, but they got into a long argument about what type was most reliable on the battlefield. Cuicatl had gone all in for dragons. You’d mentioned water-types because she had thought they were the best. You couldn’t really defend the point, though, when Cuicatl started arguing with you. When she realized that she’d gone back to arguing with Kekoa.

“Hey,” Cuicatl answers Kekoa. “it’s not my fault that we used to have birds that were four meters tall, then we didn’t, then we brought them back, and now no one seems to care that we have four-meter-tall birds again! Oh, Genesis, the dinosaurs in this movie shouldn’t have as many scales as they do. Except the aurorus, which should have spines and frills. But the dilatosaur shouldn’t have frills. Or venom. They were grass-types. And the pyroclaptors should be half the size. And none of them are actually from the Jurassic. Other than that, perfect film.”

Kekoa leans forward and makes a show of turning the volume up, even though it’s already as high as it goes.

“Fucking nerd.”

“Please watch your language.”

He flips you off. Cuicatl just ignores you. Okay, then.

She folds her arms and leans back into the wall. “I don’t see what the problem is with liking things. Especially cool things.”

“Well, you missed the flaw that actually matters: tyrantrum were scavengers.”

“You shut up!” Cuicatl practically screams. “That is one scientist’s theory based on snorlax of all things. Sure, tyrantrum could have scared off smaller predators, but then why would they need the neck muscles if they weren’t going to hunt? And what was killing all the prey they ate? Claptors weren’t big enough in most of their home range and the crocodiles would’ve just dragged the food into the water. Maybe other tyrannosaurs, but if smaller tyrannosaurs were killing giant armored herbivores then why couldn’t tyrantrum do it?” She huffs and crosses her legs before glaring in Kekoa’s general direction. “Such bullshit.”

They continue like that for hour, with Kekoa asking short dumb questions and setting Cuicatl off on adorably angry tirades about tyrantrum’s typing (maybe a dragon-type, but definitely not a dragon), tyrantrum-pyroclaptor nest arrangements (the raptors didn’t eat the tyrantrum eggs, they ate the mammals that came for the eggs, duh), and whether blaziken would beat a pyroclaptor in a fight (blaziken one-on-one, but a pyroclaptor would never fight alone so that doesn’t matter). He immediately changes the subject whenever she gives a substantive answer, so he’s always winning the conversation with very little effort. Like Mom. Except Cuicatl doesn’t seem to hate it?

You stopped paying attention to the actual movie almost immediately. It would be rude to leave the room, but that doesn’t mean you should watch something like it. At some point you fell asleep entirely. You don’t know if your new partners ever stopped their bickering.

 

[Persephone]

Normal 1.4: Period
Kekoa

October 2, 2019

“Go, Whiskers!”

You don’t say anything as you send Hekili onto the field. What’s the point? She knows her name and what’s about to happen.

“Now, Fake Out!” Just as you see what Whiskers is doing, a shockwave ripples across the field and smacks Hekili head-on. “Great! Get in close and bite the wing!”

“Retreating peck,” you calmly answer.

The meowth rushes across the field but it’s too slow. By the time that he reaches your pikipek she’s already ascending and gives the cat a nasty peck on the head for its trouble. A few wingbeats later she’s up in the air circling the field.

Perfect.

“Echoed voice.”

The air around you ripples, first towards Hekili and then away. It’s barely noticeable but you know that’ll change soon enough.

“Hey! No fair, that’s cheating!”

You glare at the kid. Some young haole brat. He ever heard “no” before? What does “fair” mean to him? The deck stacked in his favor, but subtly enough that he can deny it? Even odds must feel so unbearably unfair. And to top it all off you definitely aren’t cheating. It’s a perfectly valid, very common strategy that if he’d ever watched a damn match he would know he needed a counter for. But, nope, he’s entitled to win, however little work he puts in.

“Louder,” you respond. And Hekili answers with a cacophony of sound and a blast of wind. You definitely felt that one and from the meowth’s disheveled fur you’re guessing it felt it as well. “And keep it up.”

“UGH!” The kid actually stomps his foot like it’ll get you to roll over and give you what he wants. “Jump up and use scratch!”

The cat’s legs bend down and it pounces in one fluid motion. Before you can even order a spiking peck, Hekeli lifts up and the claws only hit feathers. She knows what “up” means, even when other people say it. Clever girl.

Unless the kid’s pulling a spectacular con on you, that’s about as much thought as you’re going to have to put into this. Meowth are frail and devastating up close, but it can’t get a hit in and will go down to echoed voice soon. Battle’s over even if he doesn’t want to admit it yet. And you hope he doesn’t concede until the bitter end. You want to see him crushed until he cries for his mommy. Keep people off the trails who don’t need to be there.

“Fake Out!”

“Steady.”

Meowth sends off another shockwave, but by now the echoed voices are hitting it five times harder than anything it could use. The blast wasn’t even powerful enough to disrupt Hekili. You look up in admiration. Your starter’s getting pretty big now. Almost the meowth’s size. And her echoed voice has more sounds in it, more little ripples that draw a little more power in than the last and send a little more out. Not quite ready to evolve but she’s made progress.

“Work up! We can do this!”

Hmm. The meowth is gathering a little double helix of rising energy around itself. Give it a minute or two and it’ll probably be strong and fast enough to get hits in on Hekili. It won’t last that long. Probably. Persian are glass cannons so you imagine meowth are, too. You could rush in with a rock smash, disrupt the charging, and maybe score a knockout at the same time. But if you fail, you’re in close quarters. Exactly where you shouldn’t be.

You’ll give it a little bit. Then go in for the kill.

In the meantime, you take a quick glance at the adjacent battlefield to see how Kiwi’s doing. Her vulpix against a pyukumuku. The fox is firing off ice shards but the water-type barely even seems to notice. Weak, resisted ice attacks against a bulky ‘mon? It won’t be nearly enough.

“Rock smash,” you call without even bothering to look back at the field.

“Now’s our chance! Whiskers, use—”

There’s a crack sound as Hekeli’s beak collides right with the meowth’s face and the cat is flung back onto its ass. You almost feel bad for it. Not its fault that its trainer gives pep talks in a do or die situation. A flash of light washes over the field. You compliment it with your own withdrawal. Hekeli can be thanked later; for now you have an image to project.

“You owe me six bucks.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” the kid huffs as he crosses the field. You hold out your hand and he slaps the bills into it. “Someday, I’m going to fight you again and I’m going to win.” He looks at you with an intense gleaming in his eyes, like he not only believes his words are true but knows they are.

You turn away from him and walk towards Kiwi’s battlefield. “I’ll take more of your money any time you want.”

Your match was a one-sided slugfest. Kiwi’s is decidedly more stallish. Her keokeo has the faint purple aura of toxic poisoning around it, which means that Kiwi’s opponent bought or borrowed the TM at some point. The fox is panting from poison and heat. The pyukumuku has some shallow cuts from the ice shards but nothing managed to get past the outer layers. Not surprising. Those things are damn hard to hurt.

You get your first glance at the pyukumuku’s trainer. She’s female. Asian. Her dress looks expensive, she’s wearing shades that obviously aren’t the cheap kind, and you think she’s got a designer purse. Not that you’d be able to tell the brand or anything, but it looks like something you’d see on TV. Add in the TM and, well, honestly you’re just shocked that a rich bitch uses a pyukumuku of all things. Good taste in pokémon in spite of everything. Rather have her along than Jennifer.

“Ice shard,” Kiwi calls just a little too loudly. You don’t think she’s deaf and her fox has good hearing. No need to signal things like that. Not that you’re going to tell her that. If she’s smart she’ll figure it out on her own.

Ice rises up around the keokeo and flies towards her opponent. The pyukumuku takes it like a champ and its trainer’s smirk deepens. Fuck her. She’s an asshole like you, but she’s not actually justified in her assholery.

“Spite,” she says. In the same calm “I already know I’m going to win” voice you’d been using three minutes ago.

“Now,” Kiwi commands with the exact same tone as her opponent.

Once the ice shards land, pyukumuku’s mouth opens and its tongue comes out to flip the fox off. Just when its innards are out a dozen sharp ice crystals come out of nowhere to impale themselves in its tongue. The water-type bloats up for a second, its entire body growing a little bit bigger before it hastily pulls everything back inside.

It was a good play. Doesn’t matter. So long as the pyukumuku never inverts itself again there’s nothing Kiwi can do. Eventually her pokémon will go down to poison or spite, which you didn’t even know pyukumuku could learn. And it was a ‘mon you were hoping to pick up later on, so you’d think you’d know what it can and can’t do.

“Kiwi, you might want to spare your fox some pain,” you tell her. She recoils, either from hearing your voice unexpectedly or the weight of your words. But she slowly nods her head in agreement.

“Good job, Pixie.” Two flashes of red cross the battlefield. The pyukumuku’s trainer crosses the field, smirking the whole time.

“And that’ll be six dollars, if you’d be so kind,” she says with the kind of over-affected false innocence you’d never been able to get away with. Kiwi doesn’t react, just pulling the money out (how does she know which bills are which?) and handing it over. “Thank you kindly, miss,” the girl says before sauntering off.

You’re about to call after her to ask for a battle of your own when you feel something shift, bringing your mood plummeting down with it.

“Let’s go,” you say through gritted teeth.

*​

“How’d it go?” Jennifer asks as the door opens and Kiwi shuffles in. Jenny’s still in her pajamas and rubbing sleep out of her eyes. It’s a good thing because otherwise she’d probably be chipper.

“Fine,” you grunt. Kiwi just slides into her bed before spreading out on top of the sheets.

“Okay, well, um, if you don’t need it, I’m going to get ready in the bathroom?”

Neither of you answers so she rummages through her bag and picks out some things before stopping by the closet to take a top out. She closes the washroom door behind her.

It’s not too bad yet. Soon you’ll need to lie down for at least a day but for now you can awkwardly stand in the middle of the room. You glance at Kiwi. Worth talking? Nah. You can wait a few minutes and call someone you actually like. Not that she’s that bad. Maybe someday you’ll like her. But that day wasn’t yesterday and it sure as shit isn’t today.

By the grace of the tapus Jennifer doesn’t take a shower. She shuffles out after a time that feels both too long and too short, makeup and hair immaculate and sleep either gone or hidden. Her t-shirt and jeans look like they cost more than everything in your bag combined.

“Alright. You ready to go?”

Kiwi rises and picks up her cane without a word.

“I’m staying,” you say.

“Tutor’s free,” Kiwi says.

“And I don’t need it.”

Jennifer looks at you funny before you dismissively wave her away. Less than a minute later you’re blissfully, finally, totally alone.

You go into the bathroom and let your pants drop before looking down. No stains. Pad’s still holding. You’d wondered if it wasn’t coming even though deep down you knew damn well it was gearing up. So you hoped for the best, planned for the worst. And the worst came. You don’t know how long you stand there staring down at your too-flat boxers before your gaze lifts to the mirror.

Turn around. You don’t. You should but fuck you you’re a hormonal bitch and you keep looking. There’s a curve under your shirt. You love your binder more than any other thing you own but you’re big and there’s only so much a piece of fabric can do. Below that, well, your torso curves in before your hips flare out and none of it makes you any less of a man but damn it some part of you feels ridiculous even asserting that you could ever be male with your body as it is. And you know your voice is still high. Kiwi said as much. Her world is sound and people are voices and your voice is female so you are too. And. She. Just. Can. Not. Stop. Rubbing. It. In. Your. Cute. Rounded. Face.

You turn around without thinking and leave the bathroom. Then you slide into bed and fold half of a messed-up sheet over your body. You can still see your fucking tiny toes so you have to actually push yourself up a little to get everything covered up by a blanket. Except for the little bulge on your chest that still perks the fabric up, reminding you that it’s there and will be until you’re eighteen and have real money in your wallet. There’s a phantom pain in your arms and legs like something under your skin is trying to press itself out. You can massage it or hit it or scream or cry or try to ignore it but the feeling will never, ever go away.

It gets better. It’s getting better. In three days there’s another shot and then another a week after that and on and on forever. This could be your last period. And your voice is going to change and you’ll have hair and smell different and have almost everything you need to be you. But there’s nothing you can do about that right now. Just lie here and pray that your body turns out okay. It feels like you should be doing something even if you know there’s nothing to be done.

You pick up your phone to call one of the three people you know and like but stop when you see your reflection in the black screen. You should press the button. Ignore the truth. Move on.

You don’t.

You won’t.

You let it fall down to your lap.

This had better be the last time you have to deal with this.

*​

October 5, 2019

“You may begin.”

The sound of rustling papers fills the room before abruptly dying out.

Class III Exam. Let’s see if this is more of a challenge than Class II or Class I.

“Rank the following ten pokéballs based on the quality of life they would give a misdreavus.” Awkward wording aside, that’s dusk at the top and dive at the bottom. Wonder if some poor kid believes that luxury balls are always the answer. Or gets caught up in wondering if misdreavus are made of water (they aren’t… right… no, not second guessing yourself).

“Briefly describe the laws around vikavolt capture and sale.” That’s easy enough. Buggers are nearly extinct in the wild due to over-capture so they let trainers capture one but only sell it if they actually complete the entire challenge.

“Which of the following are True Psychics?” Hypno and mr. mime. Alakazam is the trick answer.

On and on. “How do you treat hyperthermia in ice-types? What islands do tsareena live on? What happens if a z-move hits a mega evolved pokémon? Briefly explain how oricorio form changes work. Which of the following are invasive? How do you get a pokémon registered as a ride pokémon?” Some of it’s practical, most of it isn’t. Just meant to make sure you know a few things about a lot of pokémon. That you actually care about this shit.

You’re the first to finish. Out of the 100 questions there are maybe six you’re uncertain on. You can miss twenty and still pass.

All in all? Good day.

You step outside and see Kiwi on the bench. Why did she show up? Special needs tests aren’t until tomorrow. You consider just slipping past her and being on your way since you really aren’t in the mood to get misgendered now. Not when you’re coming down from the high of probably victory.

She stretches and stands up. Her keokeo stirs beside her. “This Room 202?” she asks.

Shit. No dodging this one. “Yes, Kiwi.”

A frown flashes across her face before quickly fading. “Well, how’d it go?”

“Fine.” You start walking down the hall. She follows.

“I went back to Lilypad Square today. I won.”

You glance down at her. She seems very proud of that. Is that her first win ever? “Against what?” you ask.

“Rattata.”

You snort. “Wait, was it held by some preschooler or something?”

She purses her lips and looks away as her footsteps slow down for a moment. You keep plowing on.

“She sounded young. I don’t know how young. Ten to twelve?”

Holy shit. You have to try really hard not to laugh. Girl beats up some kid’s pet mouse and feels on top of the fucking world.

She doesn’t say anything else to you on the way back to the Center.

*​

“We should celebrate,” Jennifer says.

“No money,” you answer.

She honest to gods puts her hands on her hips and pouts. “Don’t need money to go to the beach.”

“No swimsuit,” Kiwi answers.

“Same.”

You do have one. But other people seeing your body is blech. Even if you weren’t trying (and failing) to go stealth.

“Well, what else are you going to do?”

“Movies. Inside. Where it’s not hot as shit.”

“Chirlov’s battling. There will be a radio broadcast. In Galarian.”

“Oh, come on!” Jennifer huffs. “It doesn’t feel like we’ve even done anything fun together. Can’t we just do one thing?”

Ugh. Fine. Maybe this will get her off your back.

“I’ll go, but I’m not getting in the water.”

“Great! Cuicatl?”

She groans. “I’m staying on land with Kekoa.”

Jennifer claps her hands and you see Kiwi flinch in your peripheral vision.

*​

“You sure you don’t want to come in with me?” Kiwi shakes her head. You don’t respond at all. “Come on, Kekoa, you’re just wearing shorts and a t-shirt. Nothing that can’t get wet.”

Also wearing a binder. And you’d really prefer not to have your clothing vacuum-sealed and showing all your curves to the world.

“I’ll pass.”

“Hmph. Whatever.” Jennifer turns around and slips her shorts and shirt off, leaving her surprisingly modest swimsuit behind. She turns around and kicks the shorts towards the bench you’re sharing with Kiwi.

For a moment you’re facing her head on and, ah shit she’s hot. Like you kind of always knew that from the legs and general face but seeing her exposed makes all the things click. She throws the t-shirt at you, although it flies a little bit to the side. “Don’t be gross.” With that she pivots and walks towards the surf.

Kiwi leans back into the bench and crosses her legs. “What’s she like, scale of one to ten?”

“Eight.”

She snorts. “Can’t tell if she’d be more insulted that you answered or that you ranked her so low.”

“I have very high standards,” you respond. As deadpan as possible. You like some substance under the surface.

That just earns a wicked smirk. “Really, then? So what am I on your scale?”

She’s not ugly. Her hair is nice. The rest is uh. Too short to pull off anything other than cute, and some of her features aren’t really cute enough for cute-cute or ugly enough for ugly-cute. A couple lighter lines on her skin from old scars, eyebrows that are a little too heavy, a gauntness over everything that brings her muscles into contrast but makes her face look really sharp.

“Four.”

She very lightly punches you. Probably aiming for the shoulder, hits near your elbow instead.

“Well, my voice is a ten and that’s all that matters.”

“Really? Well, what’s my voice?”

“Hmm. Three. Too manly for a girl.”

That sends a stone straight into the center of your feelings. The emotions ripple to the edge of your heart and rebound in and pretty soon there are ripples clashing with ripples as the whole thing threatens to spill over into… into what you don’t know. A lot of something.

She moves on before you can find out. “Very windy today.”

You grunt to test the waters. No emotion bleeds through. It’s safe to speak.

“That’s just the sea breeze.”

“Hmm?”

You sigh. Is this a cultural thing or no? And should you tell her if it is? Ah, fuck it. She could figure it out online in a minute.

“Wind rushes onshore in the day, offshore at night.”

“Huh.”

There’s silence aside from the wind. Jennifer is out there somewhere but you can’t really pick her out in the offshore crowd. As your eyes scan they settle on something else down the beach. A metal framework with the first bits of a proper building being grafted on. Another resort to bring more tourists and take your kingdom just a little bit further away.

“Didn’t grow up near the sea, I take it.”

“No. Foothills of the mountains. Never been to the ocean until last week.”

Oh. That’s depressing. Although her people are more desert and lake dwellers so maybe being cut off from the sea didn’t even matter to her.

She goes silent for long enough that you suspect that she’s probably drifted off. Not a bad place to do it, on the beach with the tropical sun beating down. You’re thinking about dozing off yourself. And then out of the blue: “We’ve never battled.”

You glance over at her. She’s sort of half-lying on her side, facing you.

“Because you have type advantage. Wouldn’t be fair.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t suck at this. So maybe it would be.”

You think about correcting her. But fuck it you aren’t going to pump up her ego for her. She can beat up rattata if she needs the boost. You press yourself up and put your hands in your pockets.

“Okay. You’re on. There’s a battlefield near the surf, looks like that match is about to finish up.”

*​

“The one-on-one battle between Kekoa of Ak/ala,” the kid you roped into announcing has an awful voice break and stands looking stunned for a second before he decides to power through, “and Kiwi of Anahuac is about to begin. You can, um, I don’t really… send out now?”

Someone’s going to need to teach this kid confidence but it’s not going to be you.

Kiwi actually has to release her keokeo from its pokéball since it’s not out with her. Guess the beach is too hot for an ice-type.

“Pixie, battle time!”

The fox growls as soon as she materializes, ears slicked back and tails pressed down. Does she do that every time she comes out? You’ve barely seen her use the ball.

You toss your ball into the air and catch it. When you release this is all going to go to hell and you need a moment to think. Toss. Catch. No time to set up echoed voice. You’d just get knocked out of the sky by ice shards. Toss. Catch. She doesn’t seem to have anything to hit up close. Just roar for zoning. Toss. Catch. Hekeli’s fast enough that roar doesn’t matter. No reason not to get in close and never let up. Toss. Catc—shit. The ball slips right off the edge of your finger and crashes into the sand. Kiwi smiles. “You going to keep me waiting?”

No. You reach down, flick the ball into the air and catch it before releasing. Need to practice that more. Hekeli materializes and seems to get what’s going on pretty quickly. You glance at the referee and glare to wipe the smile off his face.

“And, uh, begin.”

“Up,” you command. Hekili rises higher as a blast of ice crystals flies right beneath her.

Kiwi’s face is inscrutable. Maybe she doesn’t even know if that hit or missed. “Baby-doll eyes.”

Weird choice but holy shit that is the cutest fucking fox you’ve ever seen. Were her eyes always that big? Like, does she physically make her eyes bigger or is

Shit closing window of attack.

“HEKILI, ROCK SMASH!” you shout. The pikipek quickly snaps out of the trance she was in before cawing and diving straight down. Kiwi starts to speak and a small flurry of ice rises around vulpix in the fraction of a second Hekili needs to descend. It doesn’t matter. There’s a crack in the air for a moment before a very cute fox with very big eyes is flung up herself.

You whistle and Hekili moves. When the vulpix finally comes to earth and stops rolling through the sand it gets another nasty peck on its side. There are shouted orders and little glimmers of ice digging into Hekeli’s side. It doesn’t matter. Too much damage too quickly for the vulpix to cope with.

Kiwi had the better part a week and she hasn’t even figured out how to counter your pikipek? What a loser.

A red flash shines on your smirk. After it fades Kiwi just stands still as a wave crashes into the beach. And another. And another. Then she starts walking across the field towards you as her hand slips into her purse. She drops two bills as she walks by you without stopping. You watch her walk up the beach without any words spoken.

For a moment you want to follow, tell her that it’s alright and she’s a special snowflake just like everyone else. Then there’s anger. She’s just doing this for pity points, to make you feel bad that you won. Fuck her. Manipulative bitch. Using her size and disability to take away your win from you and make you give her what she wants. Well, she’s going to learn right here and now that emotionally abusive bullshit will get her nowhere. She wants a win? She can take it from you over Hekili’s unconscious body.

You reach down to pick up the money before it blows away.

 

[Persephone]

The chapter below deals with contemplation of suicide from a stream of consciousness perspective, with a second person narrator acting as the kind of thoughts that spur it on. I understand very, very much if you don’t want to read it.

I will post a summary of this chapter at the start of the next one. I promise that after the relative brutality of 1.4 and 1.5, 1.6 is fairly happy. It contains a scene where a snow fox eats ice cream. Promise.

Additional content notices for discussion of an eating disorder and internalized ableism. And strong language, but that feels like an afterthought given everything else.



Normal 1.5: Until The World Moves On
Cuicatl

May 2019

Achcauhtli dismisses his friends and walks up to you.

{Hi.}

He sits down and you lean against him, letting your mind fully intertwine with his.

{Hi.}

There’s more kept in his personal sphere than usual. Typically he lets you see about 70% of it, and you let him see almost 90% of yours (pretty much everything except for the feminine and romantic stuff that grosses him out a little). Now you can see maybe 40%.

{Something wrong?}

He groans, physically and mentally.

{Headache. Like yours.}

{Share?} you reply.

{No.}

You get to your feet and give him telepathic and physical kicks.

{You always take mine.}

{I always take one-third of yours. This is my first, so I will keep all of it. Owe you that much. And more.}

You roll your eyes. It took you forever to get the eye roll just right. You send him a quick, compressed guide to migraine survival. He already knows all of it, of course. He’s had one-third of a lot of migraines. It’s more of a passive aggressive thing. You pain share, so can he.

He stands up and takes your elbow to guide you. You immediately recoil.

{You’re really hot.}

{Am I?}

{Yes. Let me share.}

{No.}

You could force it. You’re the stronger sibling by far because all that brain mass he wasted on vision went straight to your third eye. But you don’t. It makes him really upset whenever you do and then the connection makes you really upset and then it takes months for everything to get back to normal.

Also it’s wrong and stuff.

{I’ll tell Dad you’re sick.}

He actually, physically snorts.

{I just have a fever and a headache. What’s he going to do?}

Nothing. Nothing is what he’ll do. So you shut up for a little bit, making sure that some of your displeasure bleeds into his mind for the rest of the walk.

You know you’re almost at the house long before he tells you. But you let him chivalrously say that it’s approaching and then let you in the door. He does it partially because of his annoying masculinity, partially to keep appearances, partially to ease his anxiety from that one time that you took his sight away for two days to teach him a lesson. Gods, he was so adorably helpless.

“We’re home,” you call to the house so that he doesn’t have to. Neck and jaw movements can sometimes be a pain during migraines.

There’s a fairly long pause.

“Cuicatl, are you still going out tonight?”

You turn towards your stubborn brother.

{Am I?}

{I’m fine. You can go.}

{Do you want me to stay?}

{I’m not going to pain share and I won’t be good company.}

{We can talk. I can distract you.}

{You know I won’t be in a talking mood.}

{But I will be.}

He gives you a mental shove. “She is.”

“Okay. I have a box for heatmor by the door. Bring it out to her.”

“Of course,” you say.

A few seconds later you realize that’s all you’re going to get from Dad so you generously let your brother guide you to your shared room. He leaves you standing in the doorway, then stumbles forward and loudly crashes into his bed. Which probably doesn’t help the headache.

He grumbles something incoherent aloud and you smile in spite of everything. On your way out the door you slip your mind out of his. With one final gesture you point towards your love for him and he belatedly points you towards his for you. Then you shut the door and walk back through the house. You find Searah’s box easily enough by shuffling around near the doorway. You bend down and—mokuitl this is heavy—immediately set it back down. You take a few steps and open the door. Then you bend down again, properly brace yourself, and haul it up, ignoring the burning in your arms. Next it’s a few awkward waddling steps out the door where the arm pain starts to nestle into your back. You’re strong but you’re small and even Dad might struggle with this one. At long last you can feel the sunlight on all of your body. You bend down and let the box go. Maybe ten centimeters higher than you should’ve given the crash. Oops.

“Alice! Dorothy! Ilsa!” you call. There’s a familiar wingbeat and then warm, dry air rustles your smiling face. Alice cries out her greetings and you take a few steps forward for a hug. Ellas dutifully complies. Ellas is warm which reminds you of your annoying overly macho twin brother. “I know girls, it’s been too long.”

Ten days, actually, which really isn’t bad. Alice’s territory is almost four thousand square kilometers so she can be gone for a while if food is scarce or she has a boundary dispute to attend to.

Alice grunts her agreement. You slowly step back, making sure to stroke each head in the process. You point in the general direction of the package. “Mind carrying that for—”

There’s a giant rush of wind that almost knocks you off your feet. A moment later you feel Alice’s breathing beside you where the package should be. Ellas barks out a “yes.”

“Good girls,” you whisper as you extend a hand. One of the minor heads reaches out to nuzzle it. As you scratch the cheek you run your fingers across a ridge where the scales don’t quite mesh right. Dorothy. “Now let’s go out back to see your friends.”

You gently wrap your hand around the base of Dorothy’s head and start walking towards the gate to the back lot. Alice glides along, subtly pulling you away from a rock (that you knew was there). Then you get to the rusty old gate, open it up with an awful screech, and slip inside. Alice just slides out of your grip and floats over the fence. Her wings beat and stir the wind less often and with less power than you’d expect. However ellas stays airborne, mechanical flight is only a small part of it. You’ve never been able to find out how that works in all of your reading and you’ve read everything the library could find on hydreigon so you’re pretty sure if there was an answer you would’ve found it.

You close the gate and walk deeper into the lot. “Anyone here?”

Searah squeals and you hear her light, rapid footsteps as she races over. You brace yourself before she practically flings herself on you, standing on her hindlegs as her clawed hands rest on your shoulders and her snout presses against your neck. “Hey girl,” you say, before returning the hug. If Alice is warm, Searah is almost uncomfortably so. Comes with her typing. More importantly, she has a wonderful layer of thick fur just long enough to submerge your fingers in. “Brought you a toy.”

She squeaks again, much closer this time, and the meaning flashes into your head. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” Searah lowers herself to the ground and shuffles towards the box, a steadily quieter string of thanks echoing in your head. Then you hear her shred the cardboard followed by the faint sound of her tongue licking her food. Probably a durant carcass given the weight. There aren’t any down here and heatmor are literally built to eat them. Naturally they’re her favorite treat.

{Hello, child.}

This voice appears directly and exclusively in your mind. It’s distinctly male and very deep and almost echoey. Not threatening just… comforting. Like a warm blanket of words. You could easily fall asleep listening to him. You have several times.

{Hello, Renfield.}

He doesn’t physically embrace you. His body is weird. Squishy. He doesn’t like being squished. Not that it hurts him. You’re pretty sure that even Searah would struggle to burst him open. Alice, well, all bets are off there.

{Is your brother not here today?} he asks, even though he could easily just get that information from your mind. He taught you all of your tricks and he’s way stronger than you are.

“Achcauhtli’s sick,” you respond. Aloud. So that Searah can hear as well. Not that she reacts. Her tongue is probably three feet deep in a giant ant right now.

{Unfortunate.}

Alice growls. Quiet and high, descending in volume and pitch at the end. Jealousy. She’s the only one who doesn’t instantly understand what you say, language barrier be damned. It takes you a second to come up with the words, though. Words that she’d understand. Sickness isn’t really a thing that hydreigon deal with. Their only concept of it is in reference to prey. The same growl can mean very old, very young, sick, reckless, or disabled. Anything easy to kill. You replicate the growl (a little bit too high pitch but you can’t really rumble like ellas can), followed up with your brother’s name in human tongue.

She growls again. This time with a whine at the end from both minor heads.

“No, not like Danielle.”

Alice snorts. Skepticism. Or a request for clarification. Or both.

“Not…” you gesture towards your tummy as you perform the hiss for child. Not pregnant, you mean. Not about to die and be replaced by two helpless infants.

She chuffs understanding.

{Did I do that right?} you ask Renfield.

{You would know better than I.}

{Okay.}

“Anyone else here?” you ask. There’s a faint shifting in the dirt a few meters away followed by a metallic clang. The closest thing to a greeting that he ever does. And even that’s unusually social for a ferrothorn. “Good to see you too, Spike.” No answer. You weren’t really expecting one.

{Charles and ‘chovsky here?}

{No.}

Also not surprising. They stayed nearby after Mom died out of loyalty or convenience, but they don’t make a habit of being out back when you get home from school. You’re a curiosity because you can talk to them like Mom did, but you aren’t their trainer and never will be.

{Well, greet them for me.}

{I will do so.}

You take a step towards Alice and ellas swoops up to meet you. When you stand up on your tiptoes ellas presses right up against you and you can feel her low, constant growl of affection through the wall of her belly.

“Ready to go?” you ask.

She responds by yanking you up into the air and soaring off.

*​

October 5, 2019

The nurse is quiet for way longer than they usually are. Fuck.

“Fought a pikipek, did you?” she finally asks.

“Yes.”

“Did you catch the trainer’s name? Or did you exchange bets electronically?”

“I… yeah. He’s my traveling partner. How bad is it?”

She sighs. “She’ll make a full recovery within twenty-four hours. Could’ve been much worse. Pikipek have a hard time controlling their attacks and I want to talk to the trainer before he gets an excessive force ticket.”

You half-smile in spite of everything. Full recovery. You’re a bad trainer, but you didn’t break anyone forever. Not this time.

“Can I have his name, please? Again, he’s not going to get punished. Just talked to.”

Heh. No need to worry. He wants people to rise and fall by their own hand, fine. He can take his own falls.

“Kekoa. I don’t remember his last name. He’s about sixteen.”

“Has he gone by this center?”

You nod. “He’s staying here. Same room as me.”

The nurse makes a few clicks and keystrokes.

“Okay. I’ll talk with him tomorrow.”

You lower your head and feel one of your shoes pressing hard enough into the back of your leg that there will be a print for a few hours. Weird. Didn’t even notice that you’d started. You press the shoe in a little harder and sigh.

“Take good care of her, please.”

“I will,” she says in a way that sounds like a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You can’t bring yourself to answer that. Only nod and turn around.

Hau’oli is a really friendly city for the blind. Much better than Tenochtitlan was. Every curb has the bumpy pavement to tell you to stop and all the crossing buttons have a voice telling you to wait or go.

You ignore it all. There’s a wind on your face and you’re going to walk towards it until you hit the ocean. If someone hits you, well, fuck it. At least your Dad gets some more money to piss away. You get honked at a few times or feel a rush of wind uncomfortably close to your body. At the busiest intersections you even stop until the nice robovoice tells you to go. If you get hit by chance, then that’s fate. You’re fine leaving yourself to fate, to the gods. But you can’t just walk into a car and let the gawkers see your limp body flung across the street. That’s not fate, that’s a choice. And there’s no dignity in it.

Everything’s numb. No, not numb. The opposite. You’re feeling everything at once and your feelings haven’t quite decided what to tell your brain. But there’s definitely shame. Maybe anger. Fear? No, not fear. Not much anyway. Hunger, of course, because there’s almost always hunger clawing at your insides and tempting you to give in, to break and stuff yourself and become even fatter and less loveable. But it’s a numb pain right now, the kind that settles in after a couple hours.

By the time you can hear the waves over the cars, you’ve settled on a single thought.

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go.

Your mom was a professional battler. You spent hundreds of hours listening to battles on the radio and hundreds more ignoring lectures and daydreaming about teams and routes and strategies. Hundreds more practicing knots and fire and first aid with your brother. You were never popular, sure, but you cuddled with a dragon. Someday you’d leave town and be someone. Everything was looking up until it wasn’t.

Your dad never blamed you in words, but you’re a telepath and you hear when people think about you like you hear people saying your name from the other end of the room. You should’ve known, should’ve pressed, should’ve stayed, should’ve told him.

You should’ve been enough.

Or at least, it should’ve been you that went instead. He had eyes, a future. He never put his hands on his hips and pouted in a way that reminded him far too much of a long-buried woman, never had stupid unobtainable dreams, never got held back a grade because he couldn’t read the books.

You should’ve been enough. But you weren’t when your brother needed it, which shouldn’t have been a surprise because you’d never been enough before.

There’s another feeling now. Concern, apprehension. A quiet, trembling voice asking, Where’s this going? even though it already knows the answer. Because it’s your voice. The one you use when someone’s yelling at you. Which, yeah, you’re yelling at yourself now.

You don’t know when the tears started. Crying in public again. Other people, the ones with eyes, can see you.

…not that you care about the eyes…

You take a deep, steady breath to beat down the ugly sobs. Keep some dignity, at least.

The ocean’s below you. Three to five meters, probably. What would happen if you fell? Probably nothing. Unless there were rocks. It’d just be one of those tall diving boards you’ve heard about on television. If there were rocks, if you fell the right way, maybe there’d be nothing at all. Just the feel of the wind and then silence forever. Or maybe you’d screw it up like everything else and wind up a damn cripple too. Then you’d deal with three times the pity. One for the jump, one for the eyes, one for the wheelchair. Like you’re not even human. Just some poor sick infant everyone else is supposed to accommodate. And maybe you are.

The only battles you’ve won are the ones you felt bad about winning. Baby humans with baby pokémon. You lost to your partner who you had a type advantage against. If you ever thought you were going to be a good battler you’re definitely don’t anymore. What else are you good for? Emotional support? You shared a damn mind with someone and then left them alone to die of meningitis.

…

Please don’t do this.

…

What if you did?

…

You don’t want to die. You just want things to get better.

…

Well, when’s that going to happen?

…

How long will it be until someone thinks about you for the last time? Your dad's probably already written you off as an idiot child who decided to throw herself to the dogs. Kekoa won't care. Might even be glad. Genesis will be sad for like three days until she realizes that she's much better off with whoever replaces you. Pixie will be upset until she finds some new trainer to disappoint her. Rachel might show up to the funeral (if anyone even bothers to hold one), but she's a busy woman and you give her two weeks before she realizes how much of a waste of time you were.

Alice, Renfield, and Searah would care.

No. They’ve already found new homes and trainers who won't fail them when it matters most. Maybe they'll think about you in pity or scorn a little bit in the upcoming years, but less and less until not at all.

Three years. You give it three years until the world moves on entirely like you were never here at all.

…

That narrative demands to continue, to be finished. But everything around it is screaming in fear and concern and… and… the narrative isn’t you. Not all of you. You sit down and the anger breaks and the narrative isn’t the loudest voice anymore.

You sob and choke up and make a scene and don’t care.

People would miss you. The whole town came to… to his service. People you don’t think your brother ever thought much of. And their minds were broken by it, scarred in a way that you’d never seen before. If you could see your own mind…

Well, you weren’t like this before.

You miss before. You miss Achi. You miss sitting next to him on the hill behind the house as the sun went down and watching his terrible telenovelas while teasing him in your minds. You miss having someone in your head who loved you more than you ever loved yourself. Someone who could take the narrative, shred it, and banish it away.

…

Minds are fragile and you’ve seen scars that cut right down to the core and turn normal, happy people into people like you. Oh gods above it hurts. It hurts and you want it to stop and you don’t know how to make it go away and maybe it never will.

Footsteps approach and you don’t care because there’s a void inside you pulling everything into it that it can and it will never be satisfied.

Someone bends down beside you. “Hey,” she says. It’s quiet and soft and resolute. Like Mom in the memories that Renfield showed you. “I’m Rachel, if you don’t remember,” the voice says.

And then it doesn’t say anything else. But you can still feel her presence. The vague touch of her mind on yours, shying away from the turmoil just inside the surface. It’s… it’s a lot. After what you did to her.

You stick out a hand and she holds it and you keep sobbing but it doesn’t even matter.

*​

She keeps reading through the menu like you care. A dish name, a description, no price. It’s drowned out by the dozens of conversations and the sounds of the wind and waves and the wingull fighting on the shore and the little whispers of thoughts all around you.

Eventually she stops talking and gently but audibly sets the menu down.

“Anything sound good?”

You should respond. Make small talk. Or just give a one-word answer. But it feels like you’re lying down half asleep at the bottom of a pit and the answer is so high above you and you can’t make yourself get up and reach it.

“Okay. Mind if I pick?”

…

Do you?

…

“Allergies? Dietary restrictions? Things you just don’t like?”

…

That’s very considerate of her to ask. It’s very inconsiderate of you to just drown in your despair like no one else is hurting. Just give her an answer.

…

Now.

…

You worthless atlikauitl.

…

“I’ll take that as a ‘no.’ You eat much for breakfast?”

…

You ate half a muffin before it became a ball of mush in your mouth that just got bigger with every bite so you spit it out into a napkin and threw it all away like a toddler.

…

“Hmm. Fried magikarp sandwich fine? It comes with stuff on the side that you can put on if you want it, but otherwise it’s just fish. Natural fish, probably. Not lab.”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

Rachel shifts her arms. “Perfect. Congratulations on your Class III, by the way.” She sounds like she actually cares.

“Thanks.”

You pick up on more of the whispers and sounds from the minds around you as you slowly pull yourself out of the pit. It takes you a few seconds to banish them again.

“How’s Pixie?”

“Unconscious. In the Pokémon Center. For the third time this week.”

Well. It’s out there now and you’re only crying a little bit.

The waitress comes back and sets down a bowl and says some kind but meaningless words and takes Rachel’s orders before walking away. It doesn’t reach her voice, but her mind has words of confusion and concern and pity bubbling up near the surface.

Rachel pushes the bowl closer to you and then slides some small objects across the table.

“Plastic knife. Rawst butter. Little balls of fried dough in the basket. Best if you cut them in half and put the butter in.”

Your arms are heavy. Your mouth is free from he pit but your body hasn’t quite been dragged out yet. Takes a few seconds just to convince your body that, no, really we’re being alive again. You have to very deliberately take control of your arm and take it off autopilot. Then lift it up even though it just wants to stop and rest. Next step: pick up a ball. It’s rough, none of the crumbs really come off, even if you rub a finger along it). Set the ball down. Steel yourself and lift the arm, fingertips reaching down almost to the tablecloth. Find the butter packet and cut some bread in half. By the time you’ve buttered it you feel like you’ve just done twenty pull ups.

Look at you. Eating food. So accomplished.

…

The food is good though. The butter has the taste of preserved fruit. Deeper and richer and almost bitter. Not the vaguely sweet water of fresh fruit. Or the fruit snacks she gave you that tasted like how soft plastic feels. The bread is probably too dry in the way that fried dough usually is if it’s not fluffy. The hint of food turns the hunger from a quiet ache in the background to a ravenous beast that will not be ignored.

Whatever. You reach for another one.

You can just skip dinner. Fake being sick. But then Genesis would bring you food, because she’s like that. Nevermind. Go on a walk alone at dinner time. Sit on a bench for a few hours. Come back, say that you got food on your way back.

Rachel doesn’t say anything for a while. You don’t think she’s eating, either. Just watching you. Weird.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.

It takes you an awkwardly long time to finish chewing and swallow and speak. “No.”

“Okay.” You reach for a third before she can follow up. She does anyway. “You know where you’re starting your journey at?”

You shake your head.

“Oh. Akala. You’ll get the full details at the briefing tomorrow. While you’re there, there’s someone I think you should meet.”

You reach your hand in the basket but there’s nothing left. Did you really eat all of that? How many? At least five balls three centimeters across. That’s maybe a full centimeter of fat spread across your stomach. Your skin will swell in size as the blubber grows, becomes obvious and hideous and unable to just hide beneath your shirt like it should. They’ll laugh. Leave you. They should.

“I can ask for more if you—”

“No.”

“Probably a good idea. Your sandwich should be here soon. Anyway, Akala. There’s a person there. They’re sort of the boss of people like us on the islands, even if they like to say that they’re less of a boss and more of a preschool teacher trying to get the entire class through the day without anyone sticking their finger in a socket.”

You give a “heh” because it sounds like a joke and you don’t have a laugh in you right now. Your mind is still whizzing away in the background, revising your earlier plan from a walk and sitting on a bench to a run. And then figuring out the logistics of going for a run without Pixie in unfamiliar territory. Maybe go to another center and use a treadmill?

“It’s sort of a formality. Meeting them. But we don’t have a school on the island and they’re in the best position to talk about options and…” She sighs. “I don’t know everything that you’re going through, but I think it might be good for you to wait a few months and get some training before you start out.”

You frown. Response. Response that needs thought. “Can’t. Time limit.”

“Visa time limit? Because she could get you transferred to the mainland with an educational visa in hand within a day.”

“It’s not the visa.”

“Mission from Xerneas? World to save?”

You don’t like the tone. It’s closer to mocking than anything she’s ever taken. Like she saw what you just did with the bread. And you don’t want to explain why there’s a time limit. Not now. Not here. Not when both the hunger and the narrative are feeding off of each other. Not when you feel like this.

The waitress comes back and sets down your food. Words are said. You don’t really pay attention.

“I’m sorry. That was rude. I know the last thing you want right now is probably more school, but trust me: it helps. I wasn’t doing too well before I went. Life sucked, didn’t understand who I was. A few years at the academy turned me around. I like to imagine I’m doing pretty well right now.”

“I’m glad it helped you.”

There’s a sandwich in front of you. It would be awkward to explain why you’re not eating this and she was very, very nice to buy it for you. You take a bite. It’s actually pretty good. Perks of being on the sea. The magikarp was probably swimming this morning. It’s still fried and you can imagine the shape of the fish stuck on top of your stomach. Doesn’t sound like Rachel’s moved to touch her food, though.

“Look. I know that you don’t want to talk about it but—”

{If we’re going to do this, and I’d really rather not, let’s not do it where people can hear.}

She sighs, aloud. “I’m not as good at that as you are, but I’ll try.” {You’re not doing well. Second time this week. At least. Can get help before leave. Therapy. Training. Battle practice. Friends. Scared to send you into wild now.}

You take another bite to hide your scowl.

{You going to stop me?}

“Cuicatl, I am worried. Am I wrong to be?”

That is patently unfair. What are you supposed to say to that? Say yes and you’re saying she’s crazy. No and you’re admitting she’s right.

“Worried about what?”

You hear her eat a little of her sandwich. Probably buying some time.

“It’s lonely out there. I know. I lasted for all of three weeks in the woods before I decided it wasn’t for me. If you don’t have a support network and aren’t in a good place going in, you’re not going to be able to handle bad feelings well when they come. And they will come.”

‘Will come.’ Like they’re not here. Like they haven’t been here. Like they aren’t the core of who you are.

“I have Pixie.”

She groans. “Your entire emotional support system is a narcissistic fox? That’s your argument?”

And her. And kind of Kekoa when he isn’t being a dick. Not that you can blame him. Pixie started panicking about a male human bleeding from the crotch and now you understand that the dick was you all along. No wonder he hates you.

Rachel has a point. In a better, fairer world you’d even agree with her. But in this one you can’t.

“Compromise: I meet with your friend at the end of the first island. When I know what I’m in for.”

Your phone buzzes in your pocket.

“Deal. Just sent you my number. Feel free to message me when you have signal if you need to talk.”

You start to pick at your fries. They’re decent. Not as good as the bread or fish. And you aren’t obligated to eat them. But your traitorous fingers start wandering and looking for something to do. You’re quiet for long enough that your phone buzzes again, a reminder that you’ve ignored the message for two minutes.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

That takes a second. What is she doing, in normal people words?

“Food. Talking. You’re busy, you don’t have to—”

“Obviously.” If she was condescending before, now she’s biting. Like she wants you to shut up and go away even if her words say the opposite. “If I didn’t want to do this I could just put it at the bottom of my long, long to-do list. But this is important to me. You’re important to me.”

You only really hear ‘long, long to-do list’ as a spear of guilt impales you right through your overstuffed guts. Right. You’re not only wasting someone’s time, you’re wasting the time of someone important.

You stand up and pull out your cane. She rises to meet you can hear the faint sound bills landing on the table. “Thank you, then. I’ll be on my way.”

You start to walk and she keeps pace. “Where are you going?”

“Pokémon Center.” Probably not a lie. Unless you decide to go somewhere else.

“Good, it’s on my way. Let me come with you.”

How do you say no? How do you say no so that she’ll let you just walk away and give fate a few more chances to take you away? You don’t think you can. She’s perceptive and oddly committed. You let her guide you and obey all the traffic laws in silence. Because there’s nothing you can say that will get you what you want. That will get her to leave you alone.

You take the time to put your happy face back on. Physical things. Rolling your shoulders back. Smiling as much as you can manage. Trying to take lighter steps even though your legs still feel like lead. Singing a nursery rhyme in your head and then quietly humming it, even though Rachel might notice. Trying to spread the smile throughout your whole body. Breathing different. You’ve had practice. Years of it.

Your happy face likes things. Dreams about things. Laughs spontaneously. Thinks she’ll survive the New Fire. Hopes she’ll survive the New Fire. She has friends. Used to have family, but she honestly doesn’t dwell on that. Likes her showers as cold as she can stand them. Cuddles dragons. Sometimes she even thinks people like her.

She isn’t a fat, useless atlikauitl one day away from killing herself.

You don’t know if she’s real. You read once that “we are what we pretend to be.” You’d like to think that’s true. Because you like her. She’s what you should have been. Someday you might even be her. But, no, you think the quote was wrong. There’s what we pretend to be and what we are.

The doors open in front of you and you walk in. Rachel’s footsteps don’t follow. You turn your head just enough that the woman will know she’s being acknowledged.

“You going to be alright?”

“Yes,” you say.

You almost mean it.

 

[Persephone]

As promised, here’s a summary of 1.5:

The chapter opens with an extended scene of Cuicatl interacting with her brother, Achcauhtli, after school one day. He complains about a headache similar to the migraines his sister gets. After offering to stay and taking care of some chores, she flies away on Alice the hydreigon for a weekend trip in the mountains.

When she returns, she finds out that her brother died of meningitis while she was gone.

The story skips to the present, where Cuicatl drops off Pixie after her bout with Kekoa. The nurse says that Pixie will be fine within 24 hours, but Kekoa will need a talk about excessive force before he slips up and gets into real trouble.

Cuicatl wanders the streets of Hau’oli alone and in a depressive haze until she comes to the waterfront. There she breaks down over her chronic depression that predated Achcauhtli’s death, her guilt over losing him, and her loneliness with her mother’s pokémon and her brother gone. She ultimately decides that she does not want to die.

Rachel finds her shortly after. They go to lunch, where Cuicatl struggles with her eating disorder before ultimately managing to get a full meal down. Rachel reassures her that early losses are nothing to worry about. Temporarily bolstered by food, kindness, and catharsis, Cuicatl returns to the pokémon center and tells Kekoa that he had nothing to apologize for.



Normal 1.6: Through the City of Fire
Pixie

October 7th, 2019

You hear one of the humans talking to everyone and no one. She turns towards your cage and unlocks it before reaching in to pull you out. After she runs a forepaw along your side she seems to decide that you’re okay. Reality disappears in a flash of red.

What is this?

…

Is this place a place or not?

…

How would you know?

…

Who is you?

…

There were just thoughts.

…

What are thoughts?

…

This.

…

There was something before.

…

What is ‘befor

Reality reappears. You shake yourself off and breathe before pulling yourself in.

This is.

You are.

Skysong moves to pick you up and you let her. Her grip misses the mark a little bit before you correct it and it feels like it could slip at any moment, but it’s warm and pleasant while it lasts.

“Hey, Pix,” she says. The words come from her chest beside you and her mouth above you at about the same time.

She doesn’t sound angry. She smells like almost all of the feelings at once, but anger is not the main one.

You don’t quite know why, but it doesn’t seem like she hates you.

“They feed you yet today?”

Did they? You aren’t sure. That depends on how long you weren’t.

“Not hungry,” you answer.

Skysong hums and the noise reverberates through her and into you. “Alright. I’m going to eat some toast or something. Then I’ve got a meeting at the VStar building. We’re getting our first assignment today. Should be on the trail in three, maybe four more days.” She resumes humming. You aren’t sure if you’re supposed to speak over it or not. “I was thinking, maybe instead of battling we could take a few days to teach you to be a better guide fox. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, of course.”

“Want to,” you yip.

“Good,” she says. Then she bends down slowly before relaxing her grip. You take the hint and jump to the ground. “We’ll start on the way back from the meeting.”

*​

“Toast,” Skysong explains between bites, is the result of humans grinding up strange berries that are always dry, tossing small sick animals in, throwing it all in a fire, taking it out and letting it cool, and then throwing it all in a fire again. It seems like far too much effort for something that doesn’t look or smell good. But then she puts on a paste that comes out of milk when you attack it. It is odd that even adult humans keep drinking milk. Then again, they are very weak and probably need all of the help they can get. And the paste smells good, too. Even if you are too strong and adult to want any.

*​

Reality resumes in the blessed cold of inside. You could have walked with Skysong through the metal forest with burning air and hard black rivers, but she wants help later and you can’t do any good if you are literally melted.

The other two humans in her pack are present, the still-wounded Bloodrage and the annoying frog owner Growlsleeper. There is also a new and as-yet-nameless adult male human. Before you can crawl up on the big flat climbing structure to get a good look at Nameless, Skysong pulls you back towards her and starts petting you. Her heart doesn’t sound like Nameless is a threat, so you can put off your exploration until after the petting stops.

“Looks like you’ve had a busy week. Kekoa and Cuicatl, congrats on your Class III. Most trainers stop there, but if you want to go higher, we’ll gladly help you,” Nameless says in a way that makes it sound like teeth are bared. Not in the “threat” or “happy” sense, but in the “I want to make you think I am not a threat” one humans sometimes use. The scent is always the giveaway. It is strange that humans express so much through their glands but then are not able to smell it. Like they were designed to not understand each other.

Humans must be very lonely.

“Genesis, good job on the Class II. Enjoy your time off from studying, but I would try to get the Class III when you’re back. It will let you take better paying missions later on.”

“I, um, okay,” Growlsleeper stammers out. “Thank you?”

Sometimes you think Growlsleeper is almost smart enough to not understand human communications. Like Skysong! She told you that humans make no sense and she can’t explain them to you because she just cheats and uses her mind. She’s nice so she did try to answer a few questions before she finally had to give up.

“No problemo,” Nameless responds before clapping his hands together to create a weak shockwave attack. Your ears flick back and Skysong flinches under you. She should work on that. It makes her very easy to take out at the start of a fight. You will help her fix this problem. Maybe roar in her ear at random times until she stops reacting. “Now! I have an important announcement to make, drumroll please,” he starts banging his forepaws on the board really quickly. You glance up to Skysong and inquiry growl. Is the climbing structure a threat? You know some wood that smells dead is actually alive and moves and should be killed so that it is dead for real.

{Not a threat.}

Oh. Just another inexplicable human thing.

“At the break of dawn Wednesday we’ll pick you up and take you to a secret journey starting ritual—”

“Mantine ride.” Bloodrage yawns and makes no effort to slow or quiet it. “It’s a mantine ride. All over the forums.”

“Well. We’ll see on Wednesday—”

“That’s actually the problem,” Bloodrage interjects. “Because one of us won’t be seeing anything and I want to make sure that you’ve at least thought about that before dawn Wednesday.”

Skysong’s hand stops and she moves to cross her legs under you, forcing you to move to the edge of the seat before she abruptly stops. {Sorry.} Then she moves her legs back to how they were. You take a second to make sure that everything has settled again before you quietly yawn an apology and curl back up. She resumes petting you. As she should.

“…I will look into it. If there is a problem with our secret journey starter we’ll find something else for her to do.”

Your trainer’s paw lifts just a bit, one claw curled back and pointed down like a snake about to strike down. “Thank you,” she says, and her claw falls back in line with the rest and ruffles your headfur.

“No problem. We’re going to drop you off in Heahea around noon. Pick you up thirty-five days later at North Shores. We’ll text you more info on that when the date comes closer.”

Bloodrage leans forward and you can hear his hands pressing down on the table, causing the whole thing to creak and shift. “Anything else we need to here or could this have just been a five line email?”

“You want to know what you’ll be catching, right?”

“Of course!” Growlsleeper says.

“Your main goal is paras. They can be caught in Brooklet Hill and Alolan Rainforests NPP after you’ve beaten the trial there. Invasive little buggers, but they’re useful in medicine. Catch limit is five a trainer and you should each be able to catch five. You can sell them to us at twenty each.”

“Not as much money as orientation implied,” Bloodrage says.

“Well, that brings me to your secondary mission: castform. There are a few in the Alolan Rainforests preserve and the season on them just opened up. We’ll buy them from you for $1000. Limit’s one a trainer but don’t be too worried if you can’t reach that. I’d be impressed if you got one between you.”

“Now we’re talking.”

“Glad to hear it. Between the two, you can either go straight north and take on the normal trial in Kuahiwi or loop east and try to take on the fire trial and grass trials as well, maybe even face off with the Kahuna at the end. It’s ambitious, but it’s been done before.”

They say more words. It’s boring. You decide to ask Skysong a question you thought of earlier. “What’s a mantine?”.

“Pixie,” Skysong hisses. Her heart is beating faster. Threat? Is the mantine a threat?

“There a problem, miss?” Nameless asks.

“No, sir. Pixie just got a little excited. Can I go into the hall to calm her down?”

“A-OK with me. I’m sure Kekoa or Genesis can fill you in later.”

“I will!” Growlsleeper chimes in.

Skysong bares her teeth and nods. “Thank you.” She starts to stand so you jump up and follow her out.

“What’s a mantine?” you bark again as soon as the door is closed.

Skysong sighs. “After we finish guide training, we’re going to work harder on telepathy.”

You hop up into her lap as she sits down on a long climbing structure that’s only a little bit taller than you are.

“Why?”

“Because people don’t like it when pokémon are loud when people—when humans are talking. And if you’re wearing a guide harness it’s really important that you’re quiet when humans are talking.”

You swat your tails at her. “Humans are boring.”

“I know.” She ruffles your headfur before really scratching your cheek and you lean into the wonderful petting. “Humans also have good things that we both want. We have to be nice to them.”

“I can hunt,” you offer.

Skysong laughs in her high pitch windy way. “Great. Now, can you make blankets?”

“I’m better than blankets.”

“Clothing?”

You stretch out before curling into a ball on her lap. She’s clearly trying to drag this out, so you can afford to get comfortable.

“Falsefur is unnecessary. Sea level is already hot.”

She stops petting you, leaving her forepaw awkwardly hovering above your neck, a finger in striking position again.

“I’m thinking that… well, you might be getting some teammates on Akala. But only for maybe two weeks! Then I’ll let them go and you can be my only pokémon again.”

You lift your head and make eye contact. Challenging her. Even if she can’t see it. “Why?”

She leans back onto her forelegs and her head droops until her chin brushes against the base of her neck.

“I have to catch the paras anyway. I could immediately hand them over to VStar, but I think they might be useful in the trial. Assuming we go straight north. I can’t see why we wouldn’t. If we go the long way then, uh, how do you feel about getting lit on fire?”

You huff, “I’d like to see someone try.”

She bares her teeth in either absolute fear or joyous recognition of your power. “Right. I, um, it would make me feel better if we got a water-type friend for that one.”

“No,” you whine. “Fire turns ice into water and then water hurts fire. I win.”

Why is she already trying to replace you? You’ve been a good fox! She’s not going to leave you. She can’t. You’re being nice and everything! Ice foxes are better than fish (they can’t even breathe on land, much less fight there!) and she’s smart for a human so she has to know that, right? Why is she acting like she doesn’t get it. Like she doesn’t love you.

“Just think about it, okay? I will pick up pokémon for two, three weeks at a time if I need them. If you treat them well, I’ll let you veto any permanent teammates you want.” She starts to get up before you can figure out a response. “And you know what bats are, right?”

Yes. You used to sit at the edge of a hole in the mountain and wait for thinwings to fly out in a giant swarm and then you would fire up sharp icicles and sometimes you’d knock one down and eat it.

“Well, mantine are like giant bats that live in the water. Since you wanted to know.”

*​

You still aren’t entirely sure if Skysong is going to abandon you for a fish, but she has started treating you properly. First, she took you to a store that smelled like many, many other pokémon and got you a harness. You didn’t think you wanted falsefur, but the harness is sky blue with white curvy lettering and it matches your eyes and fur and it is perfect. You will wear it until it breaks and then scream until you are given one that is even better.

Then there was practice inside of a giant building with lots of humans that was thankfully kept cool. And then more practice on a road that was not cool. It took you some time to catch on, but now you are an almost perfect guide fox pretty much all of the time. Even if Skysong did reprimand you when there was this big black moon ring eevee and you had to protect your trainer. Apparently, you are not supposed to protect her when you are wearing the harness. Even from eevee. And you are not supposed to roar at the giant metal boxes humans send down the hard black rivers, even if they are going very fast and being very loud near your very vulnerable human. And one time people were walking very close to your trainer and you almost got stepped on so you jumped in front of Skysong and then she kicked you. She apologized. You weren’t hurt: no human could hurt you. It was fine.

Now you are being rewarded for the excellent job that you did!

Rewarded outside. Which is bad. But there is at least something to hide from the sun under, even if for some utterly unknowable reason Skysong is only keeping her legs in the shade.

Growlsleeper walks back up to you and sets some things down on the structure you’re resting under. “That’s your chocolate, my leppa and,” she bends down under the table and places a small cup down beside you. “Pixie’s vanilla.”

Growsleeper sits down, also only putting her legs in the shade. You approach the cup and sniff it. It feels cold. Smells strange. A little like the paste on Skysong’s toast. Food?

{Yes, food.} Skysong messages. You hadn’t even meant to ask her.

Okay. Food. You stick your tongue out and let the very tip of it sink into the paste. It doesn’t taste like snow. Thicker. A little more solid. It’s familiar, like—oh like the strange floating icicles that showed up right before Thirdborn and Fifthborn got lost. The icicles tasted very good. They were very mean but pretty weak. You start taking very big licks out of the icicle corpse in front of you before it starts melting in the unbearable heat. Pretty soon there is nothing left to lick up and you sit down, your mouth and throat and belly suitably cold. Skysong loves you! Probably.

“Leppa?” Skysong asks. It takes you a second to realize that she isn’t talking to you.

“Oh, yeah, they’re these really sweet berries. Kind of small—”

“I know what leppa berries are. Never heard of them on ice cream.”

There’s a moment of silence above you. Growsleeper crosses her legs and you have to duck to avoid getting hit by her paw.

“Right. It’s actually super common? Like, leppa, chocolate, and vanilla. Except no one actually gets leppa…”

“Hmm.” Skysong scrapes her hollowed-out-claw against the edge of the wood pulp. “Only one place in the village that had ice cream. Owner made it from scratch. Don’t think she sold leppa, but I could’ve just missed it. Never liked the berries’ taste, anyway.”

“Chocolate?” Growlsleeper asks.

“Hmm?”

“Sorry. Just. You led by stating my flavor as a question and uh. Yeah. Kinda thought that. Nevermind.”

Skysong laughs. Was there something funny? A threat? Humans are very strange.

“It’s fine. Honestly just wanted to see how American chocolate holds up.” Growlsleeper’s legs uncross and again you have to dodge a paw.

“How does it?”

Skysong laughs again. Shorter this time. “It doesn’t. As for the vanilla, I read online that vulpix like white foods and I also wasn’t sure what flavors she can and can’t eat. Dog stomach, you know?”

You are not a dog. You do not have a “dog stomach.” You have a fox stomach. But you are wearing the collar so you should not point this out now. No. You will wait and then make your grievances known. Probably by hiding her white stick while she’s asleep. She hates it when you do that.

“How did you know that vanilla ice cream is white?” Growlsleeper asks? Accuses? Both?

“You know most blind people weren’t born blind, right?”

Another swinging kick from Growlsleeper! How dare she?

“I didn’t know that.”

There are a few more desperate scrapings of a claw on wood pulp above you before something gets pushed across the structure.

“I was, though. It’s not the cataracts. I just leave those because my brother said they make me look like a wizard.”

Growlsleeper giggles. Skysong joins in. It’s short but you’re not sure if they’re arguing or not anymore.

“Anyway. Colors. I don’t see them, but other people think they’re important. That means that they’re important for me to know.”

“Okay. But how do you figure out what color things are?”

“I ask people. Or read it in books.”

“Oh.” You think about asking what books are. But then you remember earlier and how Skysong doesn’t like you interrupting so you don’t. Like a very good fox she should love. “I can tell you what color clothes are, if you need help now.”

Skysong’s legs start to shift and you stand up to get out of the way. She abruptly pauses. {Crossing legs.} And then she finishes, legs crossed just above the paws. Nice gesture but it would be better if it came earlier. {It’s reflex. Sorry. Don’t think about it in advance.}

“Thank you. I don’t think I will be buying clothes for a while, though.”

It is very, very warm in the shade. You puff out air and shake yourself off, sending shards of ice clattering to the ground. You get down and roll in them, relieved to feel cold outside of your body.

“Oh. Yeah. I, uh, I meant when clothes break.”

“Break?”

“Y’know? Tears and stains and stuff.”

“I can sew small ones back together.”

Your gorgeous fur is a prison of fire. But you are a good fox wearing a beautiful harness. You will not misbehave until the harness comes off.

“You can sew?”

“You can’t?”

This is boring. What even is sewing? And your ice shards are almost all melted. Now you’re hot and wet and this is maybe the worst thing to ever happen to you.

“You really can’t sew? No one ever taught you?”

“No. That’s not … okay I guess there are a lot of girls who know how, but it’s not really expected or anything?”

“Huh.” There’s a long-bodied mammal at the edge of the clearing. Yungoos! That’s what Grasseyes called it. Should you tell Skysong about it? You will if it gets closer. They’re known to steal food from the bowls of very good foxes. “It’s one of the first things girls are taught in Anahuac. I just assumed…”

Growlsleeper’s voice gets quiet. “Bad for girls over there?”

“Sort of. Girls have options.” You see Skysong’s leg twitch at the edge of your vision, but she stops herself before it moves. “But boys have better ones.”

Interesting. Humans are patriarchal. That makes Bloodrage the leader of the pack. Does that mean you have to take orders from him? You hope not.

“That’s sort of how it works here. Well, same opportunities. But boys get the best ones because xerneas made them stronger and smarter than us.”

The heat has almost fully evaporated the water on you. Now you are only very, very hot. You accidentally flick a tail against Skysong. She ignores it.

“Kekoa’s smarter than me?”

You flick another tail on accident.

{Yes?}

You whimper in heat-related pain and Skysong seems to get your meaning. She fiddles with her belt and takes your pokéball out.

“I didn’t say—”

“Yeah. You did. If boys are all smarter than girls.”

Growlsleeper doesn’t respond as Skysong leans down and reaches out to you. She runs her hands through your fur more than is probably needed to take the harness off. Not that you’re complaining.

“I like to think I’m smart. Smarter than him.” She finishes unhooking the last strap and pulls the harness off in one motion. Maybe a little too roughly. Then she reaches for the sweet nothingness of your pokéball. “But everyone keeps telling me I’m not. Maybe I’m wrong.”

{You can tell me aloud if you’re hot. Even in your harness.}

You bristle and start to growl right before you un-become.

Now she tells you.

*​

You reform on Skysong’s bed. A quick sniff and glance confirms that both of the other pack members are present, but neither of their pokémon are. Interesting scent though. You turn towards it and take a few small steps forward, nose to the ground. There it is! On Skysong’s pillow. It’s… salt? Like the ocean? Why did she throw her pillow into the sea? Even by human standards that is very strange.

Bloodrage makes harsh throat air. “Well, now that you girls are done with your shopping spree, can we get back to business?”

“Just bought a harness…” Growlsleeper mumbles.

Bloodrage ignores her and Skysong doesn’t say anything at all. “Any objections to just heading up Routes 4 and 5 to North Point? Sure, we could go a little out of the way to Royale Avenue but then we’d be cutting it close for castform catching.”

“I’m fine going straight north,” Skysong says before baring her teeth and tilting her head. Uh oh. “How was your excessive force lecture, by the way?”

Bloodrage glares. “Next time you want to be a sore loser, please don’t drag me into it.”

“Or what? You’ll beat me up. And get another talk? Almost worth it.”

“You’re right.” Bloodrage puts his paws together and there’s a sharp breaking sound. “It almost would be.”

There’s a fit of coughing from right above you. Growlsleeper.

“I’m also fine going north. We want to talk about tents and stuff tonight?”

Bloodrage lifts his glare a little bit and crosses his arms. Skysong frowns. Did she want to challenge him? Even though she is female and would lose, since male humans are smarter and stronger? The stalemate breaks. Bloodrage kicks his hindlegs up into his bed and lies down in it, staring at the platform above him.

“Still more road shit to discuss. One night in Heahea. Anyone insist on staying longer?”

“I’m fine,” Growlsleeper says quickly enough that the words blend into each other.

Skysong shrugs. You flick a tail at her to remind her that she is within petting distance of you and is not petting you. She reacts incorrectly by reaching into the harness bag.

“Okay. With that settled, three nights on Route 4.”

“Why,” Skysong asks as she rummages around the bag. “We could do it in one day and not sleep on the trail at all.”

She finally finds what she’s looking for and pulls out—a brush! Not a human one but one for very beautiful fur. Like yours! You hop up on her lap and she takes a second to feel where you are before she starts brushing.

“Says the—” Bloodrage sighs and says nothing as Skysong brushes your mane. “I want to know if the gear works. It’s also a chance to train and maybe capture some pokémon before the trial gets too close. I’ve thought this through. Trust me.”

You press your cheek into the bristles and feel them slide past you and down your neck and side. You immediately turn around and press your other cheek against the brush before she has a chance to take it away.

“Is there still enough time if we do that?”

Bloodrage shifts onto his side to look at your trainer. “Yeah. Thirty-five nights. One in Heahea. Three on Route 4. Three in Paniola. Four on the lower part of Route 5. Three at Brooklet Hill. Six on the upper part of Route 5. Up to fourteen for training, trial, and castform catching. Whatever’s left at North Shores.”

Skysong sets the brush down and you reflexively rush towards her hand and snap your teeth down a hair away from her skin. The betrayal! She looks at you like she’s annoyed and. Oh no. Maybe she thinks you’re going to bite and kill her and now she hates you and is going to get rid of you as soon as she can.

Your trainer sighs and stands up. “More brushing later, Pix. And Kekoa? Your plan’s good enough for now. We can talk more after my shower.”

*​

When humans lick themselves clean they insist on being surrounded by very hot water that makes all the air around the grooming site get very hot as well. You’ve learned to keep your distance and wait on Skysong’s soft bed for her return. She vocalizes under the water. Something about a “witch” and a sky snake. You could easily kill sky snakes. Snakes hate cold. Birds hate cold. They would run the second they saw you but they wouldn’t because you would sneak up on them so stealthily that they wouldn’t see you so they’d die and you would eat them.

She comes out a little bit later hair damp and her body smelling odd (humans apparently lick something with a very strong scent before licking themselves clean). When she sits down you note that she’s cold. Not embraced by lingering heat. Very strange.

“Now,” Skysong says. “Logistics. Let’s start with food.”

“I have a list,” Bloodrage responds. “Mostly freeze-dried and canned stuff that lasts a long time and can be cooked on a camp stove. Ideally it wouldn’t require cooking at all.”

Skysong shakes her head. “No. Too expensive.”

“Two-thirds discount on camping gear for the first month. Applies to most camping food.”

Skysong leans back and folds her arms. “And the discount gets cut in half later. Besides, preservation isn’t an issue.”

Bloodrage rolls his eyes. “Now, if you don’t remember you agreed to a seven-day segment on the trail. No refrigerators there.”

“Depends on your definition of refrigerator.” You get pulled up rather aggressively onto your trainer’s lap.

Yes. You are a refrigerator. The cutest refrigerator. Also, hiding inside of refrigerators is very fun.

Bloodrage crosses his arms to match Skysong. “By the time you get to the end of a day of hiking you won’t want to cook.”

“All I’d have to do is warm stuff up. Not very hard.”

“Like?”

“Beans, cheese, and vegetables on a tortilla. Cooked in advance and warmed up when needed.”

“Can I jump in?” Growlsleeper asks.

“Go ahead.”

“I think I vote for Kekoa’s plan? I don’t want to eat the same thing everyday. And backpacking food sounds exciting.”

Skysong practically hisses as she exhales air. “Fine. See if I care.”

*​

“What are the stars like?”

You look up at Skysong.

“What?”

“My—my brother used to tell me what stars were out, and what he’d learned about them in school. Then I’d share any songs I’d learned about the stars and their stories and we’d just sit there for a while. Sometimes talking about life. Sometimes not. I was hoping… forget it.”

You don’t understand. But you’ll do it if it will make her love you.

“Not many stars. Human lights are too bright.”

“Oh.” She sounds disappointed.

“There are lots and lots of stars on the mountain.”

She lowers a hand and you press your muzzle into it. “Do you have stories about the stars?”

“When the ninetales were stolen by the moon, the rainbow kept sending stars to win us back. And then the moon added some of her own… now there are a lot of them.”

Another hand drops down and she presses both against you, one on each side of your face. A finger from each rubs against your ears. “Do the individual stars have stories? Or the groups of them?”

“Yes.”

“When we get away from the city, can you tell me some of them? I’d love that.”

Love!

“Yes!”

 

[Persephone]

Normal 1.7: A White Muk
Genesis

October 11, 2019

You aren’t sure what you were expecting to feel. But calm? That never occurred to you.

There’s wind in your hair and you know that your locks are only held in place by the weight of the water in them. You closed your eyes a long time ago because water droplets kept flying into them. And you’re standing up on the back of a pokémon on the high seas with giant waves beside you and you feel nothing at all. You almost want to laugh but that would break the moment. So you’re just grinning like a madwoman as water rushes by beneath you and wind beside you. Hours in the temple every week of your life and somehow? Somehow this is the closest you’ve ever been to Xerneas.

“FUCK!”

The peace shatters. You turn around and the mantine beneath you groans. “Oh. No! Not a command. Stay forward.” The mantine purrs again and you keep moving at a noticeably slower pace. You glance back over your shoulder without shifting your weight and accidentally giving an order. Kekoa’s in the water, a receding splotch of orange with his mantine and the guide beside him. The guide looks at you and whistles; your mantine swerves away from the biggest waves and comes to a stop.

Kekoa struggles to get back on his pokémon and then slips off again while trying to get into the harness. It’s mean but you giggle. He can’t hear you anyway. A thought comes to you, a meaner one, and your smile starts to strain your muscles. You practice the line in your head, refining it and thinking of all the variations for when he finally gets on his mantine and comes over towards you with the guide.

He stops right beside you, the guide drifting in somewhere behind. Kekoa frowns. “What are you so happy about?”

“I just love this time of year, y’know?”

He glances up at you. While he’s really hooked up to the harness and you’re standing you absolutely tower above him. More than usual, anyway. “Really?”

“Yeah. I like watching the fall.”

Kekoa just stares at you. For long enough that your mantine gets a little restless and raises a flipper up before splashing it down. The impact sends water straight into his face. He blinks and reaches up to wipe the seaspray off.

“At least I’m trying to do tricks. You’re just gliding along like an idiot.”

Something wells up in you. Something so foreign you don’t quite have a word for it. “Oh yeah?” You get down and start pulling the straps onto your legs until you match his position. “I was just warming up.” This is dangerous. You know it’s dangerous. And yet you’re too calm, too… something to care.

Kekoa taps twice on the harness and his mantine takes off. You follow suit and then go back to gripping the harness’s handlebars for dear life as you quickly reach your comfortable speed. Kekoa’s going much faster ahead of you and starting to head up the slopes. Two more knocks on the pokémon’s back; your hand flies back to the grips right before you go faster than you’ve gone before. Kekoa does a short jump off the slope in front of you and starts rushing back down. Can you do better? Another two knocks says yes. A slap of water in your face makes you realize that you totally forgot to close your eyes. Your hand rises and you almost knock once—slow down—but it quickly flies back to the grip. No. No slowing down. You don’t want to accelerate like that again. You blink rapidly, holding your head down and letting your hair fall in front of it in like a solid wet curtain in a vain attempt to keep more water from coming in. It works okay. You’re probably good to go.

The speed is really something. Every time there’s a crease on the surface your body lifts up and then comes crashing down. Your hands are already getting tired and you haven’t even tried to jump yet. You smile. If you’re going to do this, you’d better do it soon. A hard lean to the side sends you sailing right onto the face of the wave. It takes you most of the way there to realize that you’re screaming out some sort of primal war cry. Right as you start to process that there’s a moment of stillness and you realize that you’re entirely out of the water.

You come crashing back down a second later, another jolt coursing through your body. But you hold on even though you can barely feel your hands anymore, just some generalized pain at the end of your arms. You lean left and mantine follows. A tilt right sends you back up the slope—and you tilt left. No. time to push your limits. You take a deep breath. And then another one. Then you lean right for a fraction of a second, long enough for the mantine to react. Then you shut your eyes and start yelling, yelling to scare the sea or Kekoa or your fears. You feel weightless for a little longer this time before gravity reasserts itself.

Your reaction is faster. One down. One up. One down. One up. One down. One up, roaring again to make sure the wave knows who conquers it. This time you keep your eyes open. It seems you went higher this time. Whether that’s real or it just looks higher because you saw it, who knows? Does it matter?

You can feel the bones in your hand and their lock on the grip. You think your feet are slipping in the harness’s boots. Your knees have taken far more impacts than they’re used too. It doesn’t matter. You lean left and ride on.

*​

Everything is sore, your hands most of all. Yet for some utterly baffling reason you’re still smiling like a kid at a candy store by the time you get to land. It almost feels bad to take the ugly and awkward-fitting life jacket off, and not just because your fingers struggle with the buckles way more than they did a few hours ago.

Kekoa takes his off rather quickly and gets his phone and sandals from the waterproof bag. Without talking to you. Probably still mad that he fell five times and you only fell once (and honestly it was kind of fun once the shock wore off). You stagger back towards the guide’s mantine to return the life jacket and pick up your stuff. He hasn’t actually taken his jacket off yet. And he’s watching you as you approach. Which. Attention. Why? Why attention? Can he not?

“Hey, um, just dropping this off.” Which he knows. Of course.

He takes it as a cue to start talking. “You were pretty great out there.”

“I. What? I just did a flip and fell off.”

The guide laughs. “Okay, maybe not great. But it looked like you were having fun. Sounded like it too.”

You glance aside. Kekoa’s face is buried in his phone. No help. Or hurt. What should you do?

Your choice is made for you: “We could give you a job if you wanted it.” What. “Twelve bucks an hour. On the surf almost every day. Could be way worse.”

You have to consciously close your mouth. Your toes shift in the sand and you don’t bother to stop that. “But I’m not good at it.” Wait should you be arguing against it? Would it be lying if you didn’t point it out or.

“Oh, we can teach you how to do it. Can’t teach you how to love it. We can give you a stipend as you learn if money’s a problem right now.”

You almost keep arguing. But you don’t. If it takes Mom time to come around a job could be good. And it’s fun. But maybe you shouldn’t drop out of your journey without thinking about it?

“Hey, it’s fine if you can’t take it now. Just give us a call if you want it. Tell them Eric rec’d you.”

“Thanks,” you tell Eric. Because you don’t know what else to say. You pick up your phone and flip flops and drop the jacket before heading to Kekoa.

He glances up at you and then goes back to his phone. “Kiwi’s already at the Pokémon Center. Let’s get lunch there and then split up for the afternoon.

Under the tight shirt his pecs are way bigger than you were expecting. He’s not that buff anywhere else; his arms are actually kind of skinny. Kekoa looks up and glares at you. Oh. Yeah. You kind of are being gross. “Yeah, sure, sounds good.”

There’s a bit of silence. Right up until the concrete stairs rising out of the sand. “You taking the job?” Kekoa asks.

The streets are pretty enough. Cobblestone roads with clean concrete sidewalks. A mix of upscale boutiques and smaller touristy stores with surfboards and leis and inflatable sharpedo in the windows. You know he asked you a question but you still take a moment to look at the world before you answer.

“I don’t know. Maybe?”

You come to a stop at a crosswalk. The red hand is up but there’s not traffic. Kekoa looks at you with an unreadable face and then keeps walking into the street.

*​

You peed an hour ago but you’re still staring at the ceiling. The phone clock says it’s only 1:47. You’ve barely had three hours of sleep and you should get more because tomorrow is going to be a long, long day and you’re tired now.

Not that the tiredness is helping you actually get rest. You’ve snuggled up under the covers, counted 120 wooloo rolling down the hill, closed your eyes and focused on the darkness, said the Resurrection Plea fifty times… nothing’s worked. And now you’re getting worked up because nothing’s worked.

Maybe you need fresh air? Is it safe, though? You know you’re near the beach, near Tidesong, but this isn’t your side of town. You really only came over this far to visit Aunt Diana and you never walked here. Or never went too far outside at night. Was that because it was unsafe? Or because you just didn’t want to?

Well. You also didn’t have a pokémon then. Maybe you should take Sir Bubbles out on a walk. He is nocturnal after all. Yeah. Yeah, you’ll do that. Just for a little bit. Then it’s right back to sleep for you and right back to the pool for Sir Bubbles. You slowly roll out, wincing at the creaking noises the bed makes. Right above Cuicatl. And she’s probably really sensitive to that. Your feet hit the ground with a thud after you leave the ladder a step early you glance at her in a panic. She’s somehow still asleep. But her vulpix is very much awake and looking at you like you just killed her entire family. “Sorry,” you whisper.

Thankfully you’re already in a t-shirt, skirt, and leggings since you’re sleeping near a boy. You really just have to grab your purse on the way out the door. And then the door booms shut behind you. Of course.

*​

The streets are as dead as the halls and pool were. There’s one restaurant—a bar maybe—two blocks down with lights shining from it and a few people milling outside. Nobody between you and the water. You pull Sir Bubbles a little tighter to your chest and start walking to the coast. There’s a faint breeze, enough to make you a little bit cold. You glance up: the skies are cloudy and you can’t see any stars. Oh. Not great weather for a night walk. At least it’s not rain—you aren’t going to finish that thought. No wood to knock on.

Alright. Quick walk. Just the couple blocks to the edge of the beach. The same shops look almost ominous when the light only reaches into the display shelves with rope necklaces and tombstones and sharpedo silhouettes in the place of leis and surfboards and pool toys. You find yourself picking up the pace reflexively. It’s still fine. One car rolls past and turns on to a side street in front of you. It keeps moving so you relax. It’s too quiet. There should be birdsong or people or something beyond the rolling of the waves.

By the time you’ve worked yourself up enough that you don’t feel even a little bit tired you’ve made it to the plaza by the beach. There’s a short concrete wall to lean on and it’s wide enough to set Sir Bubbles down on. Let him look at the water. Not fresh water but he might not know that. And you can always withdraw him if he does make a run for it.

He doesn’t. He does look at you with his wide, expressive eyes for a fraction of a second before turning back to the ocean. After a second he wiggles and deflates a little bit as he lowers himself down to the railing. You giggle to yourself. He’s so cute. Wouldn’t have thought a frog could be but here you are.

Here. You. Are.

The thought isn’t depressing. Calming, maybe. Takes the anxiety and giddiness away in an instant.

Here you are halfway across town and a world away from where you were a month ago. For now. Your mother can be moody but she loves you. She’ll realize it was all a misunderstanding and come around. If she can find it in herself to visit Exodus once a month, she can find it in herself to forgive you. Still. Being with Sir Bubbles. The mantine riding. The job offer. You giggle again. It’s hard to imagine telling Mom that you’re going to be a surfer girl from now on. Would she even know what to say?

No. You couldn’t accept it. They’d spend all that time training you and then you’d just go back to the other side of town. But it was fun. Might be worth trying to get lessons once everything goes back to normal. It is exercise. At least your body feels like it was exercise. And it’s not manly like basketball or corrupting like cheerleading so Mom shouldn’t have a problem with it.

The wind picks up enough that you can hear it. Nope nope nope. Time to go back to your warm bed. After dropping Sir Bubbles off in the–is it a heated pool? Should it be? You didn’t catch him in a heated pond. Huh. You should do some more reading. Probably need to know it for your Class III anyway.

Oh. Right. Your Class III. That test that Cuicatl spent almost a week studying for. You should probably research for that on the trail but. You didn’t bring a guidebook. Were you supposed to? Can Cuicatl and Kekoa just fill you in on the important stuff? Is that cheating?

No. Not now. These are tomorrow thoughts. Or at least bed thoughts. You scoop Sir Bubbles back into your arms and turn around.

*​

“You been in it?”

You do your best to blink the sleep out of your eyes before turning to Kekoa. Why did you agree to leave before dawn? “Hmm?”

“The hotel? You been in it?” Kekoa asks.

Oh. Right. The Tidesong. Big white building made of limestone or marble or whatever. Even the pavement’s made of something similar. It’s right in front of you, can’t miss it. Unless you’re asleep.

“Yes.”

“And is it just as pretty on the inside?”

It is. The lobby is six or seven stories high and has a series of beautiful waterfall-type fountains curving around it with canals and bridges on the floor. Always some lovely music echoing through it too. Grand Hano’s bigger but Tidesong’s probably prettier. Even if you’d never say that to Dad’s face.

You turn around and see Cuicatl’s vulpix staring ahead. She’s about five feet in front of her trainer facing the big white building with her tails drooping.

It probably reminds her of home.

*​

It’s not that much farther to the gate of Route 4. And it is a very literal gate, ten feet tall and made of sticks and rope with a wooden sign dangling from the top. Is this how all routes start?

Kekoa just keeps walking through with no fanfare. You say a silent prayer for luck as you pass through. You might need it.

The start of the route is classic Alola with palm trees and broad-leaf rainforest plants. Then once you’re… five minutes? Ten minutes? A half hour? Honestly you’re too tired to think about much more than putting one foot in front of the other. Once you’re some ways in the plants just die. There’s grass on the forest floor, a few shrubs, even a small fern tree or two. But the tall trees bigger around than you are dead, their bark coated in black, charred ruin.

It’s quieter than you thought a forest would be. Or a route. And in the first however long it is until Kekoa steps off the path to take a break you only see a couple hoot-hoot flying home for the day and a few rattata scurrying along the path. It’s light now so maybe that will wake more stuff up?

*​

Daylight does not wake much more stuff up. A few pikipek, especially around dawn. But as the day wears on and your eyelids get heavier there just isn’t that much going on around you. Cuicatl’s going kind of slow but she’s blind and you don’t really want to go fast so it’s all fine with you.

“What’s it like around us?” she asks from up front.

“Burnt as shit.”

“Controlled burn? Forest fire?”

“Blacephalon attack six weeks ago,” he answers.

You hear Cuicatl almost trip over something—again—before she steadies herself and moves on. “What’s a blacephalon?”

Kekoa sighs. In the dramatic way. “Oh, where to start… so three years back this billionaire chick broke a hole in reality and a bunch of monsters came through. And kept coming through. The bitch is safe in Japan, if you’re wondering. Never going to get at trial. Thousands of deaths and she gets off with less punishment than I’d get for walking past her house.”

You’re pretty sure it hasn’t been thousands. High hundreds maybe. But that’s a bad fight to pick. “Lusamine was sick,” you say instead. “Maybe even possessed.”

Kekoa whirls around to face you. Cuicatl keeps walking for a few seconds before she realizes that the footsteps have stopped. “Who says that? The psychologists she hired?” A step forward. “The politicians she bribed?” A step forward. “Grow up.” He’s staring up at you now, close enough that you can see the sweat rivers on his face and feel his breath. “She was no more fucked in the head than any other asshole with a billion dollars and no real work to do.”

You never met Lusamine. Or her kids (although they’re supposedly nice). His tone still stirs something inside of you. Like you’re the one being attacked. “I choose to see the best in people.”

He actually laughs. Not real laughter. A quick, mocking “hah!”

“Oh man, must be nice being the kid of millionaires, huh?”

Billionaire, actually. Again, not the fight to pick.

“You don’t know me.” Your voice is flat. And… colder than you knew you could make it. You should stop. Draw in someone else to tell Kekoa he’s being rude again. “Cuicatl, you have anything to add?”

“I don’t know the details but I will side with Kekoa here.”

“Eyy, high five—uh, I mean… can I just touch your hand?” Cuicatl holds her hand out and Kekoa slaps it. You’re still registering that she’s on his side? Why? You thought she disliked him?

“I’ve never understood why you let your merchants get away with so much,” Cuicatl answers your unspoken question. “We have businessmen in Anahuac. No billionaires. If someone did that well they’d give the money to the community or the priests or the treasury. The rich serve the people. Not the other way around.” She sounds very proud. Like she built the system herself.

“Yeah, well, that’s why you don’t have any food.”

Crap. Shouldn’t have said that. Couldn’t have. You. You wouldn’t. You’re a good person. And you’re not a racist!

Kekoa stares at you, mouth hanging open a little. Crap. You were mean enough that he’s shocked. Eventually Cuicatl kicks one foot behind the other and spins around in one fluid motion before she starts walking down the trail in silence.

*​

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Kekoa grins. “Hey, don’t worry. Kiwi won’t peek.”

“What’s going on?” Kiw—Cuicatl asks.

“Oh, the only toilet in camp is just a seat on the hillside. No outhouse or anything. Hell, not even a back.”

You make eye contact with him for a second before glancing away. “You sound way too happy about this.”

He sticks out his hand. “Hey, you don’t look at mine, I don’t look at yours. Deal?”

“Deal—” he pulls his hand away right before you can shake it.

“Psyche.”

“Girls,” Cuicatl says, “I know you love each other but if you can keep your hands to yourselves while I’m around—”

Kekoa crosses his arms and takes a step back so he can properly glare at. Glare at the blind girl. He turns on you. “What are you giggling about?”

“Nothing,” you answer. Right before an idea hits you! You start walking up the hill to the toilet, letting Sir Bubbles out as you walk. “Sir Bubbles! Use hypnosis on anyone who looks this way!” He croaks, which honestly could mean anything, and you keep on moving, basking in your brilliance.

*​

There’s a row of stumps arranged around a weird metal ring half-buried in the ground. Cuicatl and Kekoa are sitting on two of them when you arrive so you sit on a third that forms a roughly equidistant triangle for optimal socialization. That is how you’re supposed to sit, right? Or were you supposed to sit between them?

Kekoa tosses you a white bag. You aren’t good at catching things so it sails right past you. You stand up, pick up the bag, and sit back down. Thankfully he doesn’t throw anything else at you.

“Freeze-dried potato salad. Just pour in some water, shake and, voila, instant haole food.”

You follow his lead. Pour in about a third—about half of your water bottle and shake it for about thirty seconds. Then you pull out the spoon in your mess kit. The smell hits you before you even see it. It’s not rotten. Just… it’s hard to describe. And the looks. A few clumps of white powder in a soupy liquid. You take another thirty seconds to shake that out and at the end it’s better, but not good. The smell only got worse. You take a moment to look at the other two. Kekoa has a look on his face that you’ve never seen before. Cuicatl is negotiating with her vulpix; the fox has her fur fluffed up in alarm and her eyes are wide open in shock.

“It’s okay,” Cuicatl whispers. “You don’t have to do it.” She stands up and starts walking to you before dropping her sealed white bag in your lap. “Here. Wouldn’t want you to starve or anything.”

“You know,” Kekoa follows up a bit too loudly, “we have to pack out what we don’t eat. If you don’t want that to explode all over the inside of your backpack…”

You look down at the bag. The bags. This is fine. You can do this. You put a spoon in and take it out with your eyes closed. It goes into your mouth and. The taste is bad. Like chugging a white muk. Not that you’ve done that. You can still guess how it would taste since smell and taste are linked. It is those two, right? Might be touch and taste. And if the taste is bad the texture is somehow worse. Grains of sand in a watery goop.

You swallow it down and vow to never do a racism again.

 

[Persephone]

Normal 1.8: The Rules
Cuicatl

2012

Achcauhtli is staying after for some sports game, your dad is out of town, and your godmother will want help making tortillas or doing laundry so you walk over to her house alone. Not that it bothers you as much as your brother and everyone else seem to think it does. It’s just a certain number of steps. A number you don’t even count anymore. Your feet just know the path. The heat and humidity and the rough stone roads and the hills bother you more.

You’re interrupted halfway through by a burst of wind behind you. “Hello?” Adult? Pokémon? Car? What are you dealing with here?

There’s a low hiss and a deep grumble in response. You wait for the translation to pop into your mind.

It never does.

A dark-type. Like mandibuzz. Except far, far bigger. You can feel hot breath hitting your face, the left side of your abdomen, your right elbow. The breath smells like meat. Carnivore. Big carnivore. Big carnivore that approached a small disabled target while she was alone. Does this count as a combat death? Would it count if you hit it? Somehow the thought brings you out of paralysis and you ram your small fist into the belly of the giant beast.

You manage to bust open your knuckles. The carnivore doesn’t make any noise at all. Oh well. You tried. It was a battle. Now you get to meet Mom. It could be worse. Even if part of your gut is still clenched up and you’re crying for reasons you don’t quite understand.

Two rough, scaly limbs rap themselves around you and you can feel two streams of breath on your back. Its chest pushes against you. The warm, rough chest that you tried to punch. Probably has your blood on it mixed in with the creature’s other prey.

Then you fly. Your stomach drops and you almost vomit. You reflexively hug the giant monster. Maybe you scream. For a moment you don’t exist; there’s just panic and awe where a girl’s mind used to be.

She’s bringing you somewhere else. Why? Where? Is she afraid someone would see? Are there even any pokémon in the village that could fight something like this? You’ve heard rumors that a great warrior lived here once, but you’ve never met him. Some of the kids in school don’t even believe he was real.

The dragon lowers and your stomach lurches up. This time you do puke. And then dry heave when you hit the ground. It’s fine. You’re probably in the nest of a giant murder beast but it’s fine. It’ll all be over soon. Just keep it together and you’ll be fine.

{Why is she bleeding?}

The voice is in your head. Only in your head. Your brother can do that but then you both kind of blur together for a bit. You can do it with a slightly smaller headache and less blurring. You’ve never met anyone else who could do it.

There’s a noise that sounds like metal rubbing on metal and the soft thud of something crashing into the dirt. You cover your ears on reflex.

Even with your ears covered you can hear the low groan followed by a long whine. You don’t know exactly what it’s saying, but you can guess. “That’s not my fault, she punched me.” Were you supposed to be intact for this? Whatever this is? Why? Do the pokémon predators have rituals like the humans do?

{You can stop shaking. You aren’t being hunted. We just wanted to talk.}

“A-about what?” you stammer out. Your voice is shaking. You realize a moment later that your body is too.

{How much have you been told about your mother?}

You blink on reflex. “I… not much? She died when I was born. And she was from...” The enemy. The northern cowards. The bloodbags. Whatever the playground calls them this week. “Not here,” you settle on. Wait. You forgot, “She had green hair.”

You can feel and smell and hear the predator’s breath coming down on you but the voice is silent. {That’s less than we had hoped.} He sounds sad. Why? {Allow me to properly introduce myself. I am Renfield. Your mother captured and raised me. Your… escort is Alice. I can assure you that she’s harmless.}

Harmless? She’s giant, tough, powerful, and clearly a carnivore.

Renfield sighs inside of your mind. {Correction: While Alice is not harmless, she won’t hurt you or your brother.} The beast—Alice—whines again. Renfield ignores her and continues on. {If that tangent is over, we did wish to speak with you. Your father has kept you very isolated. We did not know if you had even inherited your mother’s powers until today.}

“She was…?” A witch? Is there a better term?

{Americans call you psychics. And yes, she was. Your telepathy is almost identical to hers.}

Wait. “My what?”

There’s another pause in the conversation. Alice fills it by leaning closer and running one of her scaly arms along yours. You freeze up and let it happen. Better than being eaten.

{Perhaps I can allow your mother to show you. She archived memories before her demise. I can share them with you now.}

Mom left memories? You can sort of imagine how it would work. You saw some things from your brother’s body while you were blurred once. But it was horribly disorienting and painful and…

{You don’t have to accept today. They won’t decay.}

You have no idea what’s happening so you swallow and nod and pray for survival while bracing for imminent death.

*​

October 2019

You never sleep well your first night in a new place. Your godmother’s home, hotel rooms, impromptu shelters in the mountains—doesn’t matter. Achca—he was always better at that than you.

The rain isn’t helping tonight. Ordinarily it’s soothing; you love it when you can time your naps so they line up with rain showers. As a young girl you loved rain naps so much your father disciplined you with a cactus spike for being lazy. Even though it wasn’t your fault you lived in a rainforest! Okay, technically five centimeters of rainfall short of a rainforest. In any case he only disciplined you once since you quickly got the point: you should only take rain naps when he’s really busy or out of town.

Rain is good for sleeping. But someone (Kekoa) laid the tarp wrong and now you’re lying down in a centimeter or two of water on the edge of the tent. Maybe Genesis is dry, snoring away on her inflatable mat. Kekoa said you’d only need two mats for the tent. He sounded certain of it. And you’d let him have his way because he talked down to you when you tried to dispute it. Anyway. Genesis is lying down, arms spread out a little to the sides on a mat. He probably has one. You got pushed to the edge of the crowded tent, lying on your side pressed against the wet fabric but still sometimes touching Genesis’s arm. Your only consolations are that Pix doesn’t seem to mind as she purrs away on top of you. Kekoa isn’t sleeping either. You can tell. Enough years sharing a room with—it taught you the signs.

You take stock. This sucks. Nothing to be done. How do you minimize the suck that future Cuicatl has to endure? Start with clothes. Kekoa whined “I’m the one carrying this, y’know,” when you were packing and maybe you got a bit too prideful. You have three sets of clothes: sleepwear for sleep; a quechquemitl, tank top, and thin trousers for hiking; and a tunic and leggings for formal occasions. The sleepwear is going to be wet and unless the rain stops and you can talk Kekoa into staying in camp for a while you won’t have a good chance to dry it. That probably means mildew if you stuff it into a plastic bag and leave it in a dark pack all day. You don’t want to sleep in mildew. You aren’t tracking in the trail scents of the hiking clothes into your tent because that’s how you end up sharing a bed with a rattata. You could just sleep in your more formal stuff. It’s still reasonably comfy but the tunic was a gift from your godmother so you don’t want to ruin it if it rains again. Or get vulpix fur on it. You don’t deserve Pix but there are some things you don’t want taken from you, even by her.

A yawn escapes your lips. Tired. Solutions later. Try to sleep.

You relax and meditate.

At some point it works.

*​

“Get out.”

You yawn and stretch your body out, loving the feeling. “Won’t look. Promise,” you grumble.

“Out. Not big enough to change in here with you,” Genesis says.

“Yeah, fine.” Another, slightly less nice yawn that still leaves you with a grin. “Whatever.”

The tent isn’t familiar yet. Your fingers still struggle to find the zipper out to the rain fly, your boots, the first zipper again so you can close it, the zipper out of the rain fly, and then the rain fly zipper again. Maybe it would be easier if you were fully awake.

Pixie follows at some point, noticeable as a wave of cold air sometimes sliding by your ankle. “Good morning, friend.” She huffs in response. You smile when you get the translation. “Oh, come on, it’s not even that hot out.” You get one good stretch in and then settle, pressing your weight down as far into the earth as it can go. She doesn’t answer in that time. “You want to take me to the toilet?”

The air currents start moving a little. She’s difficult to follow without the leash because her footsteps are nearly silent. Your only saving grace is that she doesn’t try particularly hard to avoid stepping on fallen leaves and twigs. She might even be making a game out of dominating as many as she can. It wouldn’t be out of character. Got to show the icky leaves who’s boss.

Eventually Pix stops moving and your boots fall on concrete. “Thanks, girl.” She barks. You hold out your arms and feel for the door. Is there more than one door? Like, girl and boy doors? There’s only one toilet inside with a metallic sink outside and you feel a lock, so it doesn’t matter much.

What does matter is that this latrine smells awful. And it feels so cramped. It’s hard to explain it to sighted people but you can tell when you’re in a very tight spice. You hate it. Always have. Especially if all the textures are either cold metal or wood so rough that you’re worried about splinters. The less said about the smell the better.

You finish your business as quickly as possible, thoroughly wash your hands, and walk a comfortable distance in the general direction of camp. Then you stop and crouch down, holding a hand outstretched. “I think a very good guide fox has earned some scratches.”

Pixie practically teleports to you and starts rubbing her scent glands against your palm while you dig your fingers into her chin. She pushes her head down and you move on to cupping her cheek with one hand and scratching her ears with the other. Then she starts moving in circles and you just hold a hand unmoving, letting her continuously scratch her back, head, and tails in an endless loop. You’d think she’d get dizzy but she goes for a full minute or two before slowing down and collapsing in a heap.

You gently scoop her up into your arms and hug her to your chest. She’s relaxed, occasionally twitching a tail or pressing one of her legs against you and squirming for a better view. Close enough you can feel her heartbeat and so much of her glorious fur pressed against your arms. She’s a lot like Searah, but cold.

A pause and a flood of panic.

No. It’s fine. You’ll see her soon. Even a trained heatmor is 250,000 Quatchli, or $10,000, tops. Today is a decent day. Don’t ruin it.

You squeeze Pix tight enough that she whines a little before relaxing. Right. Is not a stress ball. Is a fox.

*​

Dried pink apricorns aren’t terrible. You get the whole pack down before Pixie finishes her bowl.

“You like those things?” Kekoa asks.

“Yeah. Used to love them as a kid. Haven’t had them in years. Not as good as I remember.”

He walks over to you and shoves something into your hand. Genesis belatedly follows. Your muscles tighten and your breathing picks up a little. It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s fine. Just apricorns. Fills your belly. Almost no fat at all. Keeps you from overeating later. Wins all around. It’s fine. It’s fine. You can relax. Slowly. Breathe. Slowly. Eat. The. Apricorns. You. Sad. Excuse. For. A. Human. Being.

You reach into Kekoa’s bag and pull a few out while the narrative starts stirring into gear in the background. It’s fine. You’re in nature. It’s fine. Seven years from now when the world ends you’ll barely remember this at all.

*​

“Okay, so if neither of you two wants to capture a mudbray then—”

Kekoa clears his throat. He then continues to speak with what you’re pretty sure is an exaggerated Galarian accent. Even your mental translation adds the bad accent. “I hereby establish The Rules Of The Trail. Rule #1: Shut up, Jennifer.”

There’s a period of silence. The footsteps continue. You really hate it when they just stop without telling you. They’re much faster than you are since they can just look down and see if there are rocks or tree roots and you have to use a hiking stick to feel that out so you do need the chances to catch up but the exclusion bothers you.

“Rule #2,” Genesis says in an accent that again makes it through your gift. And accents never filter in. You’re pretty sure they’ve never even heard your real accent because Kekoa definitely would’ve given you shit. “Shut up, Kekoa.” The accent drops from both the real-time Galarian and the slightly delayed Nahuatl translation. “See, I can do that too.”

“Rule #3: Shut up Kiwi.” Kekoa proclaims.

You make a show of groaning. “What did I do?”

“Nothing personal, just needed to complete the set.” You open your mouth and he cuts you off. “Unless, I’m invoking Rule #3, in which case, yeah, it is personal.”

You sigh, bite your tongue, and count down. Not worth pressing this. It’ll just make you upset. “Okay. Fine. Whatever. And Genesis? I’d rather we not get a mudsdale. You ever walked on a horse trail?”

She’s quiet for long enough that you accept that she isn’t one of the “horse girls” that upper class American girls were often stereotyped as being. Fascinating to discover what is and isn’t true about this country after years of hearing the Anahuac view on it (i.e. degenerate misogynist racist genocidal madmen who crush their lower classes) and the American film version (pretty much the same thing).

“No, never been on a horse trail. Why?”

“Well,” you start. “If it’s rained recently mudsdale turn the entire trail into mud. And they are big enough that I mean the entire trail.” Your foot catches on a rock and you hold in a curse. It’s fine. Get over it. Barely even hurts. Kekoa snickers behind you so it must have been a visible stumble. Asshole. “Now, that wouldn’t be so bad. Everyone steps in mud eventually—”

“That what your mommy told you?” Kekoa asks.

Your blood goes cold. No. Don’t dignify him with a physical reaction. “No. But I heard your mom shoved you in mud to make you cleaner.” Does that joke even make sense? He doesn’t respond so it either does or really, really doesn’t. Time to plow on regardless. “Horses shit. A lot. All of them. Rapidash, zebstrika, mudsdale—doesn’t matter. They shit. Everywhere. In large amounts. Then they mix that shit in with the mud that, again, is the entire trail.”

“Oh,” Genesis responds. “That’s, uh.”

“Yeah. So let’s not. Not everyone here grew up bathing in that shit, right?”

“Rule #3, Kiwi,” Kekoa finally responds.

“Aw, is someone mommy’s little girl?” It’s a low blow and he’ll hate you for it. But he already hates you and if he wants to drag your dead mother into this, he can deal with the consequences.

“Rule #4: Get new jokes.”

“Because ‘Kiwi’ is still a laugh every time, right?”

He doesn’t answer that.

*​

Lunch is decent. Small trail mix bags. Nuts and dried fruit. A lot of dried fruit. No chocolate, either. Not that you need chocolate, but it does give more of an incentive to eat it. But those pinap berries, right? Those are good. Sort of. Texture’s weird when dry. Not like the fresh ones at home. Ugh. It’s decent. That’s what you mean. The nuts have a lot of fat but even if you stuck the whole bag right on your stomach it’s not too much of an addition.

“Hey, Cuicatl?” Genesis asks.

“Hmm?”

“Could I borrow, I mean, could I take some kibble at meals? Just a few pieces. I can, um, I can help pay for it once you need some more.”

You take the bag back out from your pack. Pixie’s feet pitter over and you pour her a few more pieces out of guilt. “Yeah, come get it.”

She does and walks away. Is it for Sir Bubbles? Is she going to eat it?

Doesn’t really matter. Just add it to the list of weird American shit.

*​

Your voice dances and you want to move your body with it. How long has it been since you were in the cuicacalli? Would’ve been right before THIS. IS. A. GOOD. DAY. How many times is he going to come up on your good day? You correct your pitch back up and move back through the wordless song. Does that translate?

“Rule #5: No Pirates of the Caribbean,” Kekoa says.

You keep on singing. It is good music. And it’s upbeat enough that it can almost silence your feelings.

“Going to throw in a Rule #3 for good measure now.”

You break off the song. “Well, you brought it up.”

He’d asked whether Aztec gold could make you immortal. You’d started humming, and then singing by way of answer. You’re pretty sure the answer is no, though. A female pirate could die in childbirth and later come back as an undead skeleton pirate at the end of the world, but the Black Pearl crew was way too male for that. Or maybe they were all like Kekoa. You won’t judge.

“Yes, I started it. And I’m ending it. Keep singing and I will trip you.”

Well, screw him. You have a very pretty voice. And nice hair. And maybe you’re a fat disgusting waste of humanity but you’re very proud of those two things.

“Shit!”

You catch yourself on the way down and your pack isn’t heavy enough to cause serious problems. You can still feel a cut on your thigh and your hands aren’t feeling too good either. Can’t tell if that’s just the shock of hitting the rocks on the trail or something worse. More than that, it had rained last night. The whole trail is coated in mud and now you are too. Pixie won’t want to cuddle you and damn him you need her.

But you deserved it. For the mama’s girl dig. And just in general you deserve a few trips here and there. Remind you of your place. Might make you prettier. You almost just drop down and collapse into the mud and let your face hit the earth and wallow there forever. They could just hike faster and

“Kekoa, what the hell?”

Did she just… swear? You hear her move towards you and throw her pack off before bending down. At least, you hear her knees crack and feel the moving wind so you assume she bent down. She should probably get her knees checked out. She’s, what, fifteen?

“Well, she’ll always remember that this is the day we established Rule Fucking Four,” he answers.

You feel a hand brush against your elbow. “Need help?

Yeah. More than she can give. You swallow it down. The cuicacalli taught you acting alongside song and dance and legends. Time to act. Not happy. Indignant? Scowl a little. Show no real pain.

“Nah, I’m fine.” You push yourself up and make a show of brushing your hands off on your equally muddy shorts. You glance over your shoulder and deepen your scowl. “And it should be ‘this is the day we almost established Rule Fucking Four.’ Which is still a terrible joke. Two out of ten.” That’s the end of that. Now you can go in silence. Manage your steps. Maybe hum a little bit; you doubt he tries that again if Genesis is on your side. He has to have some shame, right? Eventually you let the humming rise up in pitch. You’re happy. Still a little annoyed, but happy. That’s what a normal person would feel in this situation, right?

Keep your face on. Don’t cry. You’ll spiral downward if you cry. No one wants to see that.

*​

Dinner is supposedly eggs and potatoes. You don’t remember either having sand in them. Definitely more tolerable than the “potato salad” or “spaghetti marinara” from yesterday. Getting food into your mouth is usually an uphill battle and you count on your stomach showing up to fight for what your muscles need. Even its turned traitor now.

Fine. Whatever. You let Kekoa pick this shit because the man had a plan and you’re some blind kid but now you’re putting your foot down. And since the self-loathing rose back to anger when Pix wouldn’t cuddle you until a very awkward shower under a sixty-centimeter-tall, low pressure water spicket, well, he’s in for it.

“We aren’t doing this again.”

“Agreed,” Genesis adds. Lovely. Starts with Kekoa cornered.

“In Paniola we pick up rice, noodles, whatever. Find seasoning if we can. Keep dried fruit if you two want it. Cut and cook vegetables ahead of time. Toss in nuts or beans or canned meat or whatever for protein.”

Kekoa doesn’t challenge it. Instead he takes another bite of food and carefully chews it for far too long before swallowing. Power move. Ugh. Men. Him. “First, this is why I insisted on spending two nights on the trail. So we could detect problems like this in advance.” Is he really taking credit for this? Why is he being such an asshole, anyway? Do you care? “Second, I can probably win a battle or two and get cheap lunches in town. Take way more condiment and seasoning packets than I should. Helps if Jennifer gives me cover here. There, spice problem solved.”

“I’m glad you agree—”

“Third,” he interrupts. “How do you plan on keeping your vegetables cold? Ice packs are heavy as fuck and melt in a day.”

{Pix, shoot an ice shard at him. Keep it a little weak.}

You can hear the attack and Kekoa’s surprisingly muted swearing. “I told you before,” you answer with a low, measured voice, “that Pixie is a very good fox and can take care of that.

“Still heavier than I want to deal with.”

“Then I can keep it in my pack,” you say.

He laughs. “Oh, like hell you will. You’re, what, ninety pounds sopping wet?” You don’t actually know how heavy a pound is but the telepathic translation puts it in kilograms. You really hate it when he’s right. “No,” he continues, “you’ll carry it for half a day, complain about your back breaking, and then put it in my pack.”

“I’ll take it,” Genesis says. “I’m bigger than you and I’m not carrying much so it shouldn’t be too hard.”

Kekoa doesn’t answer. He just gets up and walks away. The water turns on. He’s washing his dishes. Which reminds you that you still have way, way too much left to eat.

*​

There’s another ‘thunk’ sound behind you followed by a short roll. Fourth this morning. You hate it but you really need to do something about it for your sanity’s sake.

“Rule #5: Keep your water bottle in your pack when you aren’t drinking. Sorry, Gen.”

She sighs. “That annoying?”

“Kind of. Sorry. You’re tossing it up and trying to catch it, right?”

“Yeah,” she responds. Kekoa is being mercifully quiet.

“Maybe you could use a rock or twig or something less loud?”

“Oh. Yeah! That would work. Thanks.”

Why is she thanking you? You told her off.

“What’s it like out there, anyway?”

“Uh. Still kind of burnt? A little more greenery, though. I think there’s a highway nearby.”

You’d heard the road. Not busy enough that you’d call it a highway. There’s also a river somewhere near the trail. More pokémon sounds, too. So that description is about what you’d expected. “Getting close to Paniola, then?”

“Should be another or hour or two,” Kekoa answers. You decide to kill the conversation now that he’s joined. You’re in a decent mood today.

*​

Your lunch is interrupted by a long, howling whine going up and down in pitch like a passing ambulance.

“Pix!”

There are loud, rushed footsteps and a “Crap!” said like a curse beside you.

“Jennifer, what the hell!” Kekoa yells.

Pixie keeps screaming.

“Pix!” you yell louder just to be heard. That seems to shut her up, although she grumbles afterward.

{Was helping!]

{I’m sure you were.} “Kekoa, what just happened?”

He stands up and starts pacing. “An eevee showed up to eat the kibble Jennifer put out, your vulpix started screaming bloody murder, the eevee ran away, Jennifer picked up her poliwag and ran into the forest after it.”

It’s not a good idea to run off into unfamiliar woods, even if there aren’t any predators worth worrying about.

“I’m going after her. If I call to you, call back.” And then he’s gone. Into the woods. Without asking permission.

Hypocrite.

“Hey, Pix. Want some food?”

She dutifully trots over, her surface thoughts full of rage words and eevee. You scoop out some of the spam. The flavor’s okay. Interesting, even. Texture isn’t the best. Maybe it’d be better if you had a chance to cook it. In any case, Pixie seems to like it.

“I wasn’t going to catch the eevee, you know?”

She hisses between bites. {No eevee allowed.}

“Why, though? Even if I don’t own it?”

Her surface thoughts are a jumble of unrelated words. Not useful. Jealousy, maybe?

“I agree. They aren’t the best. One of the teachers at my school had one and…” How much self-awareness does she have? You think it’s safe to bet on ‘none at all.’ “She was very pretty, but incredibly stuck-up. Only wanted to talk about herself and make everyone appreciate how cute she was. Thought she owned the world. But she wasn’t even that pretty so she was just silly. I’d never want to train one.” That seems to calm her. She even purrs a little. “Besides, vulpix are the best foxes and I am very smart for a human so I know not to leave one for an eevee.” You try to pour as much disgust as possible into those words. She seems to buy it. And having a clear job to do as a trained guide fox and portable ice-maker down the line should calm her down a bit. Hopefully even make her willing to have teammates.

It’s taking your partners a while to come back. Was there any predator you forgot about? You’d thought bewear and stoutland usually didn’t attack humans. Sylveon, maybe? Do they hunt people? Genesis would know better than to tug on pretty ribbons, right?

…right?

No. No she wouldn’t. Kekoa probably would, though.

You’re pretty sure that Pix fell asleep on your lap at some point. You keep gently stroking her fur. She’s so soft. And even if she’s sometimes a literal and figurative bitch at least she has a personality. Besides, your mom’s starter was also kind of a pain in her later years. At least to you. And Renfield. Maybe swanna are only kind to the people they imprint on? No. You remember that Mom gave you the memory of her first meeting with ‘Chovsky. He wasn’t any better back then.

Still, it might hint at a strategy: Find a bird egg, when it hatches make sure it imprints on you. Emphasize to Pixie how unkind it would be to take a child away from its mother. Profit?

It’s definitely not your worst idea. Way better than the “coat a grimer in flour, put it in a refrigerator for a few hours, tell Pix it’s another vulpix” plan you toyed with back in Hau’oli.

There’s a distant “marco.” You nudge Pix awake and move to put your pack on.

“Hey, can you go to the tree line and use roar for as long as you can?”

She clearly pours everything she has into it and it’s very adorable and you already love her more than you love yourself, even if that’s not a very high bar to clear.

*​

It hasn’t rained in the half-day since you got to Paniola. When you take Pixie out for her midnight pee you figure that there might be stars in the sky. “Can you tell me about a star tonight?”

She huffs before a trickle streams onto something offending her.

“Glistening’s Star. Many new stars recently. Ancestors. The brightest is Glistening’s. The star appeared after she died.”

That’s probably the space station. Not that she needs to know that. Might not believe it. If ninetales can’t go to space, then mere humans definitely couldn’t figure it out.

“Did it now? Can you tell me about Glistening?”

“My mother’s mother’s sibling. Died before I was born. Never met her. Had the prettiest coat on the mountain. So pretty the Moon had to put it in the sky.”

“Wow.”

“I got mine from her.”

“Except yours is prettier, right?”

“Probably.”

“Way prettier than an eevee’s.” She hisses, offended that you even compared them. “Come over here.” She trots over and you scoop her into your arms. “I’m never going to leave you. Ever.”

Pixie huffs but doesn’t call you a liar. It’s progress. You’ll take it.

 

[Persephone]

Spoiler: Content Notice - Contains Spoilers for the Chapter

Natural disasters, child neglect, transphobia.

Normal 1.9: Did It Hurt?
Kekoa

2015

It’s kinda boring outside the window. Going into Minamo you either wind up on the land side (like your brother is two rows up and across the aisle) or just staring at water and the occasional island until the very, very end. None of the fun of watching big things go from tiny back to big. It’s probably why Mom’s ignoring it entirely and reading something on her phone.

Eventually there are ships, then rainforest, and then buildings. That’s the other kind of boring thing about Minamo: it’s a lot like Heahea or Konikoni. Just bigger. Maybe even bigger than Hau’oli. Your grandmother says that Hoenn is maybe the closest thing in the world to Alola so it must be really boring being stationed there. Nothing new to explore.

The plane touches down with a slight jolt and slows to a stop. Then it spends forever waiting to go to the airport. Then you have to stay in your seat for forever as everyone in front of you (which is pretty much the entire plane) gets out. And then you can finally walk down the aisle and through the weird tunnel and then go to the bathroom and then go through the rest of the airport to the exit. To Dad.

You beat Jabari to him. By a lot. Like he isn’t even trying. Dad wraps you into a hug and picks you up. You were wondering if he could still do that since you’re pretty big now.

“There’s my darling little girl.”

“Dad…” you whine. He knows you hate being called that. Too old.

“Right,” he says while setting you down. He walks over to Jabari. “I suppose now that you’re an adult you just want a handshake, right?”

He smiles weakly. “I’ll, uh, take a hug.”

He gets one.

*​

Less than two days after you arrived, Dad gets called away. He said it was an emergency. Hopefully it’ll be over before you have to go home on Sunday. You barely got to see him at all.

“There’s enough money on the shelf for lunch and dinner. I should be back by nine if the ferries are on time. You shouldn’t be out then—that’s pushing Allana’s bedtime. If there’s an emergency—”

“Call you. I know,” Jabari says while rolling his eyes.

Hine steps towards him and reaches up to put a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll just be in Tokusane. I can take the first ferry back if anything comes up. Promise you’ll call?”

Jabari nods. “Promise.”

Hine gives some final pointers, hugs you, and finally steps outside.

Jabari closes the door and slowly turns back to you. “Want to watch something you probably shouldn’t?” You nod. Of course you do! “Good. Don’t tell mom.” He digs through his bag, pulls out a VCR, and puts it into the player beneath the hotel room’s TV.

The movie starts with a bunch of men with guns watching a cage. With something alive in it. Something with big claws that pulls one of the men in. Then there’s awful screaming (human and pokémon) and yelling and gunfire.

The screen pauses. Jabari turns to you. “Sure you can handle this?”

“Of course.” Wait, when did the blanket get pulled up to your neck?

“Alright…”

The rest of the movie isn’t as scary. Until the end. And some of the fossil pokémon look really, really cool! You’d read about them in books and some books even had pictures but it’s really great to actually see all of your favorites moving. And hunting. Tyrantrum is incredible! And the aurorus are super, super pretty. Tyrantrum’s still your favorite, though. Always has been. Always will be.

No feathers though. That’s kind of weird. And weren’t tyrantrum scavengers?

At some point it starts raining really hard but Jabari just turns the volume up and everything’s fine again. Except when the tyrantrum kills the pyroclaptors and roars at the end, an alarm goes off. At first you think it’s just in the movie but then Jabari turns the screen off and it’s still going.

You turn to your brother. He stands up and starts walking to the door. “Stay here. I’ll figure out what’s happening.”

*​

Jabari comes back a few very long minutes later. He rushes to the counter, stuffs the cash in his pocket and then moves to his bag. “Something’s up. They’re moving everyone to a shelter. Put your shoes on. We’re going.”

“You called Mom?” This sounds like an emergency.

He shakes his head. “Tried. Phones are down. Probably best that she doesn’t come here if they’re sending everyone to a bomb shelter.”

“Bomb?”

“Not a bomb. Something else. They wouldn’t say.” Jabari stuffs some more money from his bag into his pocket and speedwalks to the door. “Put your shoes on. Follow me.”

The entire hotel is in the halls. Many people, especially the old ones, are waiting in a massive clump of bodies by the elevator. Jabari presses through them and you follow close behind to avoid getting cut off as the parted crowd smushes back together. The staircase is also busy, but less so. Not so crowded that you’re being crushed but definitely crowded enough that the echoes through the cold, plain shaft are almost as loud as your heart.

Darkness. You almost fall on the steps as you figure out where your feet should go. Then some light comes back. It’s not as bright but it’ll do. Jabari keeps going without so much as a glance back and you struggle to keep up as he goes two or even three steps at a time on his stupid long grownup legs.

The emergency exit leads outside. There are cars on the streets but they’re all stuck in place. Some have angry drivers adding their honks to the blaring alarms and shouts and sound of footsteps and nervous people. Others just sit abandoned, the owners deciding that it was worth trying to walk through the mass of hundreds—thousands?— millions?—billions?—of people. More people than you’ve ever seen.

None of that’s what really catches your attention, though. That’s the heat and the light. It’s blinding from above and you have to bring a hand over your eyes just to see anything. The heat is like the feeling of burning sun on your skin at the beach except it pierces past the skin and it also feels like your hair is on fire and your blood is boiling. Jabari presses on and you have to almost run to catch up. At first you can do it, but soon you’re soaked sweat and you’re panting like you just ran for an entire recess in the heat.

A small tremor comes through the ground like when the mining company sets off dynamite down in the valley. Something crashes to the ground in the distance. It joins the sounds of moving earth and alarms and pokémon and people and cars. You see Jabari mouth a word with an expression that you’ve never seen before on his face. “What?” you shout.

That catches his attention. He looks at you, shakes his head, and grabs your arm. Then he ducks into a side street and starts running. Except that there are too many people on the streets. Some are still in shock as the second, bigger earthquake passes by. But some are moving. With you, against you, perpendicular, everything. It slows you down until Jabari’s not running so much as slipping through people at varying speeds and jerking you along.

It’s not just sweat and heat anymore. You feel… less. Like there should be more you in you. And you want to sit down and drink water and nap. But he keeps pulling with a slightly weaker grip. Eventually the pavement beneath your feet starts to actually burn your soles through your shoes and Jabari rushes to the strips of green at the edge of the street along with everyone else.

You finally see the shelter. Or what you think is the shelter. Big and gray. What you can’t see are the gates behind the crowd of people pressing in. All in the same situation as you. Or worse. An old woman collapses a few feet away and you move to help before Jabari pulls you in.

She isn’t the last person to collapse in the heat as you slowly get closer to the shade and cold. One woman’s scarf catches on fire. So do a few buildings. Maybe. It could’ve been a dream. Sometimes you shut your eyes and open them again when Jabari pulls you or the earth moves a little bit stronger than the last time. At some point you stop sweating. That’s probably good, right?

There’s another quake. Far, far stronger than anything that came before it. Some of the taller towers tremble and there are crashing sounds and fire hydrants and pipes spewing water across the entire road. It hisses like oil in a frying pan. Another rumble matches the last, this time above you right before the sky bursts open and quenches the heat. It isn’t welcome. The raindrops feel like bullets as they hit your skin and it only barely wakes you up. The rain leaves actual ripples in the pavement because the asphalt is that soft and the water’s impact that hard.

A loud voice comes from the shelter. Looping over and over again. Your Japanese is only good enough to catch the word “rain” and “closed.” Jabari pulls you tighter and he’s shaking or you’re shaking or the ground is. Maybe all three.

He strokes his hand through your hair and you almost tell him off. But it’s just so hard to care. “It’s going to be okay,” he whispers over and over again like he believes it. You know he’s lying; you’re eleven and you’re smarter than you were when you were ten. You close your eyes and breathe, aware of the trembling and the roars and the burns and the bullets but not really feeling any of them.

This is the end.

It’s time to go to sleep.

“Good night, Jabari.”

*​

There was a dream. You know there was a dream but you just miss it as your eyes open. White. The world is white. The room is white, at least. Almost blindingly so. You try to sit up but can’t quite find the energy. Because as everything in your body starts responding to you again you realize that everything in your body, inside and out, hurts.

You don’t know how long you spend alone. Thoughtless. Existing. Staring at the white ceiling. Eventually you must fall back asleep because you wake up again with a nurse over you. She shines a light over your eyes, feels your heartbeat, asks you in heavily accented Galarian if you can speak. You try and a dry croak comes out. You shake your head instead.

There are more questions. You fall asleep. There are more nurses. You fall asleep. Eventually you wake up and there’s not a nurse there present. But Jabari is. Badly sunburnt. An arm in a sling. Alive.

You push yourself up to the very limited extent that you can and he rapidly stands and waves an arm. “Hey, don’t push yourself.”

Jabari’s here. Alive. Alone. A thought crashes into your heart. Two thoughts. “Mom? Dad?” you whisper, ignoring the pain in your throat.

He freezes and breaks eye contact, arms crossed. “Tokusane was hit pretty bad. The island’s built on an old reef. Parts of it collapsed into the sea. We don’t know yet. But Mom’s smart so I’m sure she found a way through...” He sounds like he believes it. He looks like he doesn’t. “Dad’s ship went down. He still could’ve survived. There are stories about wild pokémon bringing people to shore.”

You hear it. You understand it. You don’t quite feel it. Not yet.

He seems to notice and moves to reassure you, voice low and comforting. “Phone lines aren’t working in most places. The rest are emergency only. And there are still a lot of emergencies popping up. Even after…”

You would later learn what happened. Volcanic eruptions. Rogue waves. Sunstroke. Hail and lightning. Fires. Entire islands sinking into the sea. Landsides swallowing towns. Jabari didn’t tell you that then. You didn’t need to know. He just sat down on the edge of your bed and stroked your hair when the feelings came and you finally started to cry.

*​

The house feels so much emptier with only two people in it. Quieter too. Jabari cooks, cleans, and does the adult stuff. Sometimes he’s at work. It’s still the summer. No school. Sometimes Kanoa comes over but you never want to play.

Jabari’s here now. You aren’t alone. Might as well be. He reads the paper and drinks his coffee and you finish up your toast and eggs in silence. They’re not as good as Mom made them. And she usually talked to you about your day or fussed with your hair even when you’d rather she didn’t.

Now you’d rather she did.

Two weeks since you got home. Five since the burning light and piercing rain. The longest and shortest weeks of your life.

Jabari puts the paper down and looks at you. He doesn’t talk. For ages. You finally put your toast down and clasp your hands. Meeting his gaze. Waiting for something. You aren’t sure what.

“I’m joining the army,” he says. And the silence shatters. You hear the words. You repeat them to yourself over and over again, figuring out what they mean. What they mean for you. “What happened in Hoenn? Bad people did that. Woke up some gods. Killed hundreds of thousands. Killed Mom. Killed Dad. And there are other bad people like them all over the place. Remember that blizzard in Unova? Or that cruise ship that got lost near California? All bad people. Bad people trying to control gods. And they’ll just keep doing it unless someone stops them.”

You don’t know if any of that’s true. You vaguely remember Mom watching a video of some snowstorm on the TV. He says it like it’s true. It’s not what you care about.

“What about me?” you ask so quietly you’re not sure you said it at all.

He breaks eye contact and looks at the refrigerator magnets behind you. “I’m sorry, but this was never going to work. I’m eighteen!” His voice cracks and his eyes hide fear and for a moment he doesn’t look much older than you. “I don’t know how to raise a kid. I’d just screw it up and leave you worse off for it.”

“Then what happens now?”

He stops looking at the refrigerator and pushes his seat back to stand. “The government will find an adult who can take care of you. It’ll be better that way. Trust me.”

You want to hug him. You want to hit him. Say goodbye before he leaves. Make sure he never does.

In the end you just sit in silence until he goes upstairs.

*​

October 14, 2019

It’s not the same Paniola you knew, but it’s pretty close. The grocery store Miss Smith probably still runs if she hasn’t died or retired. The arts store Mr. Palakiko owned. You tried to learn the ukulele there one summer until you both admitted that it wasn’t to be. You’re almost tempted to step into that one. You stop yourself at the door. You don’t want to talk about who you’ve become or find out if he still runs it and, if not, what that means. At least you could seek out Kanoa. See if she still lives in the same house when she isn’t up giving trials in the jungle. Ask her all about her new life. But then they’d ask you about yours.

No. You won’t seek anyone out. The Paniola in your memories can stay just the way it is.

The butcher shop on the corner of Puna and Ekolu is still there but it has a new name. The playground down Ekolu Avenue is similar enough that if you close your eyes and think with your arms and legs you can almost remember how to get from one end of the playset to the other as quickly as possible if you’re being chased. Or chasing. Sometimes both. You’d always thought of it as its own island and ocean. Now it’s some cramped little boat on a tiny puddle of wood chips.

The Pokémon Center finally updated to a more modern design from its old wooden exterior, the unofficial theme of the town. You learned in school that it was to preserve the paniola heritage of this part of Akala. Now you’re pretty certain it’s a tourist thing. An effective one, too, judging by the kind of people on the streets.

The neighborhood has some differences. The yards and spaces between houses used to be much bigger. Probably. Maybe that’s just a consequence of growing up. Or maybe there are more houses.

You reach the end of the road and see it. Is it the same? The same as it was when your parents brought a baby home? The same as it was when the same child walked out of the door with a strange haole man in a suit? You don’t know. Can’t tell. There’s a fence out back. That’s new. The walls are the general color of what you remembered and the driveway is on the right side. But if you were shown ten random houses in Paniola you’re not entirely sure you’d have been able to pick this one out as your own.

What does it mean if you can’t?

The silence is shattered. “Thought I’d find you here.”

You grimace and turn. There he is. Like he was, but different. Crew cut. Muscles. A sleeveless jacket like a fucking prick.

“Jabari.” You try to keep your tone neutral. For your own benefit. You don’t want your homecoming ruined.

“Allana,” he replies. Smiling. Like he’s a fucking genius. Grow up. “You cut your hair.”

“So did you.”

You half expect an actual tumbleweed to blow by. It is Paniola Town, after all, and it’s close enough to high noon.

“Heard you were on a journey,” he says. The smile is still there. Gods he can’t read the room.

“Yes.”

The smile falters. “And, I, uh, I heard it from a coworker. Wish you would’ve called me. I could’ve helped.”

“You definitely could’ve helped,” you agree in as deadpan a voice as you can manage.

“So, uh,” he’s finally caught the nervousness. It’s almost humorous, seeing some ripped vet looking like a schoolboy asking if his crush likes him. “Why not?”

“Forgot about it.” Not entirely a lie. He had slipped your mind until you were in VStar orientation and almost shit yourself when you remembered he took a job there after he left the army. He offered to adopt you then but you had found friends in your new home. And you’d never be able to trust him again. Or forgive him.

The smile sort of returns and he uncrosses his arms for the first time and sticks his hands into his pockets. “Oh. Well, I got you a gift. Sort of. It’s an egg right now and I thought it would be easier to give it to you once you reach the trial site’s center. Probably won’t be ready to really put in work for a few trials but I think you’ll like it.”

“Already have a team planned out.”

He shakes his head and chuckles. “Oh, I think this will convince you to change your plans.” You step to the side and walk past him. He falls in step. “Want to get lunch or something? Heroes Café is still open. My treat.”

You honestly don’t remember Jabari being this dense. You do remember him being fucking giant but you’d hoped that he would’ve shrunk like everything else in this town. But he didn’t. Even when you’re halfway to powerwalking he’s just going a little bit faster than normal. Damn him. “My name is Kekoa. Not Allana.”

He stumbles. You plow on without so much as looking at him. “Why?”

“Because Allana is a girl’s name.”

Your head is angled down towards your feet but you can guess what his face looks like. Mouth slightly open and eyes a little wide at first before the mouth closes and the eyes go much, much wider. “Oh.” Mouth tilts back and the tongue tests out a dozen words before it finally settles. “You could’ve told me I had a brother, y’know?” You ignore him. “Hey, can we stop walking and talk? This seems—”

You stop. But you don’t turn around. He doesn’t deserve that. “Did it hurt?”

“What—”

“Did it hurt? To give the egg? Was there sacrifice?”

“Kekoa, trust me I—”

“No, then.” You take a deep breath and turn around to look him in the eye. “I’m going to be blunt because you can’t catch a hint. You had a chance to give me the best gift I’d ever been given. You blew it. Went off an ocean away to kill anyone and everyone if it would make you feel better. Maybe it did. I didn’t get that chance. No one gave a shit about how I was feeling.”

You keep looking up to his eyes and do your best to ignore the horrible blurs at the periphery of yours. And the height difference. Is that what you would’ve been like? Would that be your height, your face, your body if the universe hadn’t shit on you?

He breaks your gaze and looks at his feet. Is that shame? It should be. “Al—Kekoa. I know. I was… young. Reckless. Immature. I did the wrong thing. But I’m back now. You’re on the trail and I was hoping… that…”

Now you’ve seen it. A man drown on dry land.

You won’t throw him a line.

“No,” you cut him off “Maybe someday when you’ve given enough that you feel a fraction of what you’ve put me through, then we can talk. But right now…” you try to swallow and realize that he’s not the only one drowning. “Right now you don’t have a brother.”

At least, that’s what you meant to say. The knife you meant to stab right into his heart. But it missed. The words were whispered under sobs and the blade slipped and stabbed you instead.

You start running. He doesn’t follow.

Damn him.

Eventually you stop. Not at the Center but at the playground. It’s a school day and there’s no one there but you.

You find your way to a tire swing you remember curling up inside of, your back curved along the bottom and your legs were pressed out so that your shoes dug into the top. Jabari once ran into the swing going as fast as he could. It knocked you into the air but you pressed your back into the tread and braced your legs and you didn’t fall out. Didn’t even get sick. Your parents—plural, Dad was home—chewed him out.

Both of you snuck out that night so he could do it again and again and again until you finally did get knocked out and ripped your skin open on the woodchips. He didn’t take you back, just stayed there and pulled out a first aid kit and pulled out the chips that remained, swabbed down the wound, and covered as much as he could before he ran out of bandages. Then he sat down and told you stories about past wars and heroes and kingdoms and he listened to your stories about dinosaurs and princesses. At some point you fell asleep or he took you back or something. You can’t remember how it ended or even how your parents reacted. It’s just an island of memory in a sea of moments lost to time.

How many moments? For every hour you remember how many have you lost? How many slip away every day? Every month? Every year? There was a moment back in August when you realized that you didn’t remember your preschool teachers name and you couldn’t ask your parents because they were dead and you didn’t have the number of anyone who still lived here and Jabari—

Jabari was gone. Not dead, just gone. You had his number, sure. You could never call it. Still can’t. Because you relied on him and he broke your trust. Broke you. He doesn’t deserve another chance.

And you lied to him back there. It doesn’t matter what he gives. How much he hurts. He could blast his fucking brains out in front of you for all you care. It wouldn’t undo what he did. He’s not your brother anymore. He never will be again.

But you hope he tries. You hope he suffers. You hope he’s filled with shame for every waking hour of every day until his soul ascends Lanakila. Because he deserves it.

Damn. Him.

*​

You drag yourself into the Pokémon Center cafeteria hunched down and walking with short, heavy steps.

“Hey,” Jennifer calls and waves. “Where have you been?”

You get your chili and sit down at the table in silence. Near silence. You don’t bother putting the bowl down gently and a little sloshes out.

“Who pissed you off today?” Kiwi asks.

You take a deep breath. Is she trying to help? Or is she mocking you while you’re down and can’t retaliate because you’re in public and she’s a sympathetic blind girl?

You go neutral. “You have any older siblings?”

Jennifer shakes her head even though the question wasn’t even aimed at her. “Two younger. One brother, one sister. Why?”

You ignore that question.

Kiwi feels around for her napkin and wipes her lips. “One brother. A few minutes older than me. Does that count?”

Something clicks. You smile and start to speak, even though some desperate part of your mind knows you shouldn’t. “Can he see?”

Kiwi fidgets. “He’s sighted, yeah.”

You pause and take a breath, emotional pain swelling and subsiding all at once. Sometimes you need to push your head above the surface and breathe. Sometimes you need to push someone else down to do that. Everyone else does it when they need to. Hell, she does it to you non-stop with her girl jokes. Can't say she doesn't deserve it.

“Well, that explains a lot. Let me guess: your brother was the darling child your mom mentored in her trade while you just had to learn shit from the radio. Eventually you got fed up and fled to Alola to show that, hey, you could make it too. Except you get here and you suck ass just like everyone thought and now you’re too embarrassed to go home and tell everyone they were right.”

“Kekoa,” Genesis hisses.

Kiwi just looks down and folds her hands in her lap. When she speaks her voice is low and even. “You should stop talking now.”

A threat? You raise an eyebrow. “Or what? You’ll cry because you can’t handle the truth?”

She closes her eyes. And taps a finger on her thigh. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Deep breath. Her mouth opens partway and closes.

“Hey, uh, let’s maybe calm down?” Genesis pleads. “I saw that the fast food place down the street has $1.50 ice cream. Surely the wallet can take that, right?”

“I’m not hungry, Genesis.” Kiwi opens her eyes and looks just past your shoulder. Damn. For being blind her glare game is good. “No, Kekoa. Let me clarify: You need to stop talking before I shove my foot all the way up your little trans vagina.”

The wound in your heart explodes and you lose your breath. How did she know? Was it just that obvious? Does she know? Is this another ‘you’re a girl’ ‘joke?’ Do you care? No. No, she doesn’t get to hit you in a weak point like that when she knows you’re upset.

“I bet no one even cares that you’re gone. Probably glad that someone else is burdened with you.”

Kiwi scowls. “Have I told you about Alice?”

Genesis finally snaps out of her stupor and stands up. She wraps a hand around Kiwi’s shoulder and gently pulls. “Let’s not keep doing this. Cuicatl, let’s go upstairs. Kekoa? You started this. Don’t be back before midnight.”

You don’t bother pressing. You already told the damn tourist off. With any luck she’ll go back to her own country and only literally rip hearts open.

 

[Persephone]

Spoiler: Content Notice - Contains Spoilers for the Chapter

Eating disorders, generalized self hatred.

Normal 1.10: Negotiations
Cuicatl

October 18, 2019

You were only on Route 5 for three days but after a mix of freeze dried, dehydrated, and canned foods you’re perfectly happy to wolf down whatever the Brooklet Hill Pokémon Center’s serving. Even if it’s stir fry that you could probably do better. Doesn’t matter. You aren’t cooking it. Hiking brings more hunger than usual and tomorrow you have work to do.

“Has Kiwi’s vulpix smelled a paras?” Kekoa asks.

The food was labeled as ‘spicy’ and it barely counts as flavorful. Might be a little habanero, definitely no ghost peppers. To say nothing of the pokémon-derived spices your dad sometimes brought home on special occasions. And you know you aren’t too abnormal on this because Achi had a way higher tolerance than you.

“Has your vulpix smelled a paras?” Genesis asks.

It takes you a few seconds to drink some water, swirl food around and swallow. “Sort of. Took her to an herbal medicine shop in Heahea. They had paras mushrooms.” The shopkeeper had said they’d buy a mushroom for fifty. Not twenty for the whole pokémon. VStar’s ripping you off. It’s infuriating but at least it explains why Rachel pretended to care about you. And you do owe her for the meal. And for Pixie. You’ll suck it up and turn in your paras for twenty apiece at the end of Akala.

“She says yes,” Genesis says.

“Good,” Kekoa responds. “She going to lead us out into the great unknown tomorrow?”

Genesis sighs. “Are we really doing this?”

Neither of you answer.

“Okay, fine. You going to help find paras?”

You shake your head. And chew. And swallow. “I’ll see if Pixie is fine helping you on Wednesday. Tomorrow I have things I need to do alone.”

*​

You wake up before your alarm. That doesn’t tell you what time it is. Midnight, 7:29, could be anything. You grab your phone and roll out of bed. Pixie’s footsteps dutifully pitter patter after you. Once you’re in the bathroom you shut the door, get on the toilet, and press the home button on the phone. “What time is it?” you whisper.

“3:43 A.M.” it responds in not a whisper. Great. Just great. You thought you’d figured out how to turn the volume down but apparently not.

Tomorrow is Acatl. A pretty good day for what you need to do. Acatl is ruled by Chalchihuitlicue, goddess of lakes and streams and shaper of your soul. You’ll be rooting around in a spring all day. It’s great timing.

Should you give the goddess an offering? You don’t think Chalchihuitlicue takes blood; at least, her live sacrifices are drowned. And usually younger than you which is kind of messed up. You want the sun to rise and the rains to come as much as anyone else, but that can be done with volunteers and war captives, right? And Chalchihuitlicue is maybe the best goddess; she can’t actually require that. Someone got it wrong somewhere along the line. Probably explains the drought.

Offerings.

No blood.

You could get in the water and hold your breath for a very long time. Problem is that you’re not a particularly good swimmer. You can tread water for a bit, but you’ve never spent much time in pools or ponds. If you die you wouldn’t catch any paras; at most you’d get a single ghost-type out of it. Not worth it.

Cloth? You haven’t sewed anything since you got here. No money for fabric, no time to do it. Well, you’d thought there wouldn’t be time. Turns out that when you get to a campsite in the afternoon there’s usually a block of time that Pixie won’t fill. Late-day sun is hard on her. Poor girl. As if on cue you hear a soft thump on the counter beside you and a chirrup as she settles down. Probably into the sink. In a few minutes she’ll inevitably pretend not to understand you when you ask her to get out so that you can wash your hands. You’ll just turn the water on a tiny bit and wait for her to hiss and scamper away.

Sacrifice, right?

You yawn and stretch until your soul reenters your body. Meh. You’ll figure that out in the morning. Now you need to wash your hands. You stand up and idly hope that Pix has caught on to what you’re about to do.

She hasn’t.

*​

There’s the sound of splashing beneath you as you walk out of the shallows. You rub your feet in the grass until they’re dry enough they probably won’t blister before putting your shoes back. No blood this morning. Just prayer and fasting in the Western, self-starvation sense. Maybe some of the food at breakfast was unseasoned enough to count as fasting to the gods. You’ve heard the jokes about American cuisine and they aren’t really wrong. But the fasting isn’t for the gods, is it?

Shut up. Today is a lucky day. Don’t waste it.

“Come on, Pix. Let’s find us a paras.” She’s been quiet. No complaints or questions at all. It’s not like her.

The weather is pretty nice. The morning sun warms without burning and there are fewer insects than you’d thought there would be. Hopefully that doesn’t apply to the one insect you want to find. More than anything the sound of waterfalls in every direction reminds you of Alice’s home when the snowbanks started to melt and the water all ran down the slopes into the valley below. There’s so little you miss about home and yet it always seems to reach out and snag you back.

It takes Pixie a long time to smell anything. Over an hour for sure. Long enough that combined with the silence it could make a girl start to wonder. “I really hope we find all five,” you say to no one in particular. “Because otherwise I’ll have to find another bug for the next trial. And if I can’t sell that one I’ll probably just keep it on the team. Wouldn’t be so bad having more friends, no?”

Pixie’s tracking skills immediately improve.

*​

“Harrumph.” {Stop.} You stop in your tracks.

“Sure this is the one?”

A sneeze. {Of course.}

“Thank you, Pixie. Baby doll eyes for a second, if you will.”

The attack doesn’t make a sound. You can’t be sure if she’s doing it or not but it’s not too important to the capture. You crouch down.

“Hello there, little guy.”. You push the thought into the whisper and try to bring some of the tone with it. There’s no response. “Yes, I can let you understand me. And I can understand you.”

There’s a high pitched chitter and a hiss. {We will fight!} rings in your head in a feminine voice.

Your smile fades for a moment before you bring it back into place, behind your spore-blocking facemask. Where she can’t see it. But the cuicalli taught you to act how you want to sound and you’ll take any possible advantage you can get. “Why?”

{You’re going to eat us!}

You sigh. “No, I’m not. And I can prove it.” You switch to telepathic messaging to Pixie. {Ice shard. Be very gentle.} The attack doesn’t sound gentle and there’s a screech of pain from the bushes. Wouldn’t put it past Pix to go for the kill here. Whenever you get a second permanent team member capture is going to get so much easier. Focus. Clear thoughts. Clear feelings. Acting time. Stern with a hint of compassion. “Now that I’ve shown that I could kill you, I won’t. I have medicine for your wounds here if you want to come out.”

Nothing. Nothing for long enough that you start to think the bug died. Then there’s an audible rustling and the clattering of spindly legs on the ground as the paras comes right up to you. Very carefully, making sure to keep your eyes locked shut in case the paras tries to shoot out spores in your face, you pull out a potion and spray it at the paras.

{What is that?} the paras asks. Her voice is much more upbeat than before despite being hurt.

“Healing potion. We have better medicine back in our nests. That’s actually why I’m here,” you say.

{Go on.}

“I don’t want to eat you. But I do want one of your mushrooms. Just one. In return, I will spend several nights protecting you, feeding you, healing you, and making sure that you know how to fight. I will also give you the chance to battle a much stronger opponent than you’re used to, one that won’t ever kill or eat you and just wants to see how strong you are. Then I’ll drop you back off here or in a forest up north or, if you want, with another human. That way you come back stronger, closer to evolution, and with some great stories to tell the other paras.”

{Are you human?} the bug asks.

“Yes,” you respond. “Why?”

{We did not think humans could talk with their minds.}

“Some of us can. Also, I’m sorry if this is rude, but why do you call yourself ‘we?’” Alice never really went that route.

{Because there is an insect and two mushrooms in us!} the paras explains.

You process that. “And you’re still willing to part with a mushroom?”

{Yes! Especially if we grow stronger! There can only be one mushroom and one insect when we grow.}

“That makes sense.” Sort of like Alice. Although ellas kept ellas’s other self. Sort of. “Is there anything else you would like to know?”

{What is your cold mammal? We’ve never seen one!}

“She’s a vulpix.” You reach down to scratch her and she accepts. Would’ve been awkward if she shut you down. It does show that however upset she is she’s still not mad enough to reject scratches. “They live high up on mountains where all of the water is frozen into snow. She is my other pokémon. I am going to keep her forever.”

The last part is more for Pix’s benefit than the paras’s.

{Are you going to put me in one of those strange circles?}

You nod. “Sometimes. When I’m walking long distances and I don’t think you could keep up. I do have very long legs, after all.” Hah. Never thought that you’d say that. “And I’ll let you sleep in the circle at night so predators can’t get you. The rest of the time I will let you out to eat, explore, train, and learn.”

She pauses to consider that. {And will you give us a name?}

You smile. You aren’t entirely sure why she’s so on board with this. She probably isn’t smart enough to pull a long con to kill you. And if you do die to a mouthful of stun spores, well, at least you’ll have some idea how Achcauhtli felt. Except getting betrayed by a paras has to hurt less than being abandoned by your sister and mental roommate when you needed her the most. So, no, you still won’t have any clue what you put him through you despicable piece of shit.

You press the feelings aside and smile. “Of course. Let’s go with…” you swallow and try really, really hard to make sure that the Nahuatl word comes through and not its meaning. “…Ce.”

The paras screeches. In your head. Outside of your head it’s more of a weird bubbling sound. You feel her move up onto your shoe and wrap her pincers around your ankle in an insect hug. {So cool! Pokémon-human with ice mammal and healing potions gave us a name!}

Wasn’t she worried about you eating her a second ago? Gods above and below, pokémon are weird. “Do you have any friends who might want to come with us? I’m looking for up to four more… insects.” Insects. Not ‘of you’ because who knows what that means to her.

{…four… more…} There’s a long silence. {Yes! There’s one down the river in a sharp bush and one in a big-tooth mammal burrow and one in some tall grass up the river and one behind a vertical river!}

Even your gift isn’t quite sure what to make of that.

*​

Kekoa and Genesis are downstairs eating dinner. It was surprisingly easy to convince them to leave you up here; Genesis backed off immediately when you said you were fasting. She didn’t even “translate” Kekoa’s mocking question-answers. An utterly irrational part of your brain, the one that made you fat, is disappointed that she didn’t put up more of a fight.

While you may not be eating today, you still have pokémon to feed. Moss mix and lettuce leaves were much cheaper than Pixie’s kibble had led you to expect. Judging by the happy bubbling noises below your bed the paras seem very pleased with your purchase. A cheap mat and some slightly damp newspaper make up your impromptu paras shelter, which also seems to be oddly beloved.

At least, beloved by most. The fox in your lap isn’t pleased with it, even after a very thorough brushing. You even offered to give her a bath with your shampoo but she hasn’t yet decided if she’s okay with that. Since you could talk Seerah into taking baths and heatmor are less vain (and more drownable) than vulpix you’d figured it would be an easy sell. Honestly, you’re half convinced that she really does want it but she’s just denying everything to spite you.

Foolish girl. Mimicking her trainer in all the worst ways.

Dry shampoo. Once you have the money and need to buy a new bottle you’ll take that approach. She might agree more readily. Assuming you ever have the money. VStar’s ripping you off and you aren’t sure if shampoo is covered by the league subsidy.

There’s a task at hand and you really don’t want to spiral out on the trail. Not now, at least. It might make Kekoa think you care about his petty bullshit. Fine, sure, whatever, you should’ve told him that you were going to kick his nuts so hard they popped out his asshole. Really, you just can’t find it in yourself to feel sorry for him. Maybe he’s been through some shit. Maybe he wakes up everyday and hates his own body. Tough. You’ve been through the same and don’t rip into anyone who tries to help. Not when it’s so much easier to just shake your head and run away and leave the pain on the girl who deserves it.

Plan. You had a plan not to spiral. Heh. Dumb enough that you can’t even stick to your own plan to convince yourself that you aren’t stupid. So, yeah, grand idea. Psychic linkage. Let your pokémon understand each other. Might help Pixie actually grow to like her companions. Or at least humble her a little. Maybe. A girl can hope. And you might as well do it when you can tank a couple days of headaches.

You start to sing. The words don’t matter so long as they’re words. For some reason your subconscious went with country. Not usually your style but they were playing it downstairs yesterday and it got stuck in your head. It’ll do. Even if it confuses your pokémon as they try to figure out why you’re telling them about the time you destroyed some boy’s car.

You lie down, close your eyes, and reach out. Every word makes links between you and anything that can hear it. Six pings. Five below, one right on top of you. With a little bit of effort you reach out to the one on top and hold a link. Then you scan the ones below. One connection is easier than the others. More open, more experience in using that link. You reach out and feel a triangle of energy linking you, Ce, and Pixie. One verse and a chorus left to do. As the song winds down you try and relax, loosening up physically and mentally. It’s what you’re supposed to do to make shots hurt less and maybe that applies here.

You drag out the final word, take a quick breath, and snap the triangle into place. It immediately feels like something massive struck you right on the forehead and the pain comes in steady waves, front to back. Back to front. Front to back. Back to front. You try to focus on the rhythm and not the substance. Because holy fuck why did you do this to yourself? Even with his help you were still bedridden for a week when you did your last team connection.

Front to back. Back to front. Front to back. Back to front. You’re aware of Pixie and Ce talking. To you. to each other. You ignore it. You’re a tiny boat on the waves. Front to back. Back to front. Front to back. It’s not getting better. Maybe even worse with every wave.

At some point the pain becomes too much and you fall into the depths of rest and silence.

In your dreams you drown as your sister watches on.

*​

By morning the rocking has broken into a thousand tiny waves whizzing around your skull. It’s not at all better. You tell Genesis that, no, you can’t eat because you’re pretty sure that you’re going to vomit if you try to do anything and, yes, she’s welcome to borrow Pixie to find paras to her own.

You could really use someone taking half of your dumb psychic headaches now, but you went and let half your brain die so that’s on you. As usual.

Genesis comes back and sets down something with a small but unbearably large clattering sound. “I got you water and a banana and some crackers,” she whispers. “Kekoa’s heading out today but I’m going to stay back and watch over you. Make sure that everything’s alright.”

You really want to tell her to go straight to hell. Delaying an adventure to look after a sick friend? Does she think she’s better than you? Because she’s right. She’s normal, even. Most people would do this. Almost everyone. You’re the tiny, hideous exception to the rule.

Eventually she coaxes you into eating a banana. You immediately stumble into the bathroom and throw it up. Between this and yesterday she’d be justified in thinking you were bulimic. Which you aren’t. You want to be pretty. Or at least less ugly. But even you can tell that there’s absolutely nothing beautiful about the act of upchucking your partially digested food.

Genesis tries again in the afternoon. Or what’s probably in the afternoon. Impossible to tell with how much you’ve been in and out of consciousness. You get a few sips of water and a cracker down. That just tells your stomach that it’s eating time again and suddenly you have raging hunger complimenting the shootout in your head.

Kekoa slams the door open because of course he does. Has it been that long already? Wait, how long would it even take Pixie to find some paras if she knew that they wouldn’t be teammates of hers and success meant getting out of the heat faster. You had been very clear that Kekoa and Genesis were ditching their bugs.

The fox jumps up onto the bed and curls up on your chest. Ugh. She’s heavy enough that it’s noticeable and her tails are in your face and make breathing a little harder. It would still be wrong to kick her off. You’re lucky to have her and you’re not going to hate her for being annoying while she’s here because then maybe you’ll be a bitch and she’ll die and, bam, congrats, that’s how you’ll remember her forever.

At least she’s cold. That’s nice. And with the food and soda that Genesis eventually got you to choke down you’re less miserable than you were this morning. Still overwhelmed by pain and you want to cry but better.

You’ve shut out other minds to spare you even more pain. You don’t bother telling Pixie as she yaps on, no doubt about the many injustices she’s suffered since you last saw each other. You smile and whisper “Poor, poor girl.” She huffs in satisfaction and turns around so that her nose rests on your neck.

*​

When you wake up there are long, spindly legs wrapped around your head.

Something primal takes over. You don’t scream. You don’t even breathe. Or move. You just stay still and silent like the spider might think you’re a rock. Slap it? Another part of your brain wakes up. Wait, don’t you have Pix for this? Where is—

You open up the psychic link and feel the pain of ripped-off duct tape. (A feeling you got second hand from your brother. Still aren’t entirely sure of the context there.) A quick location ping tells you that both Ce and Pixie are very, very close to you. You reach up and gently move Ce from your face to your chest.

“Hello, friends,” you whisper.

{Hello! Did that help?!} Ce very loudly answers through the link. Second order of business once you get better is teaching that girl (those girls?) how to use her (their? ellas’s?) inside-the-head voice.

“A little,” you lie. “But it messes with my breathing.”

{Eep! We’re so sorry—}

“It’s fine. How’d you get the idea anyway?”

Apology words flash through the surface of Pix’s mind. Dammit. Should’ve known.

You run a finger along Ce’s head. Hard enough to be an effective scratch, not so hard that she’s likely to be hurt by it. Screw this, you’ll figure things out tomorrow. She might move your cane in the morning but you doubt Pix comes up with anything worse over the course of a few hours.

*​

Someone jostles you awake. Pix hisses at them and Ce starts clicking her mandibles together. “Stand down. It’s fine,” you groan. Probably fine, anyway.

“Hey,” Genesis says. “How are you feeling?”

You take stock. “Okay-ish. Probably won’t leave the room this morning. Might later.”

“Good!” She pauses. You hear her feet shift. What’s the bad news? “So, um, the nurse does want to talk to you—.”

“No,” you reply. You know damn well why you have a headache. No need to bring in some doctor to tell you that, shocker, you’re blind and fat. And you really don’t want the authorities to know about your gift. Your father thought would be very bad. You smile to change topics and deflect. “Thank you for yesterday, by the way.”

“Oh, no problem. But I will need Pixie today?” She states like it’s a question.

{Pixie, you up for it?}

She barks. Yes, she is. Probably desperate to redeem herself. You’ll tell her that you’ll always love her no matter what once she comes back. For now the guilt and fear might increase her performance. She deserves some of it anyway.

“Yes, she’s ready to help.”

Genesis must’ve already been dressed and ready to go because she rolls out just a few minutes later.

You steadily get to your feet so you can at least brush your teeth. Once you take the first step the vertigo hits. Both arms fly out and you steadily crouch down. The world is rocking around you and if you just balance a little bit better you might hand on. The sloshing steadily slows. You sit back in bed. Your mouth feels gross but you’ll have to wait to fix that.

*​

You’re very rudely woken up for the third time. Gunshots. Before you can properly panic you notice that there’s music between the shots. Very loud music.

Just an action movie. Being played very loudly. In your room. While you have a headache.

“Kekoa,” you growl. “Turn that down.”

“Hmm? Sorry can’t hear you,” he answers.

{Hey, Ce, mind chasing him around?}

{Of course!}

You can’t actually hear her move but you can hear Kekoa’s footsteps and swearing before the television turns back off and you’re left alone with a worsened headache.

“Come back, Ce.” You hear her dutifully scuttle over. You lay an arm down so she can crawl up it and lie on your chest because she was a very brave and good girl(s(?)). Kekoa crashes down onto the bed across from you a second later. Now to deal with the thing that needs dealt with, even though you’d rather not until your headache is just a little bit calmer. “Kekoa, what the fuck?”

He huffs. “If I’m stuck inside watching your ass, I at least want to have some fun.”

“Not what I’m talking about.” You gently move Ce from your chest to your lap and sit up. Bottom bunk is low enough that your feet can touch the ground while you sit. “I meant, ‘Kekoa, why the fuck have you been an asshole to me the entire time we’ve known each other?’”

“Because you’ve been outing me and poking at my dysphoria, apparently knowingly, the whole damn time.”

It’s very difficult to keep your voice level as your mind and soul rock on the waves. “Kekoa, I only did that because you were already being an asshole.” You can hear him open his mouth so you move right on to cut him off. “De-escalation.” You take a deep breath and miraculously he doesn’t but in. “If we’re trapped in a loop of hurting each other more and more, we should just stop hurting each other.”

You hear him shift around. “Explain.”

You release part of the deep breath you took. Then you take another. “You—” No, start with what he gains. “I stop misgendering you and don’t out you to anyone else. I don’t sic my pokémon on you. In exchange, you don’t physically hurt me—and that includes what you just did—and you don’t bring up my family. Ever.” Ideally, you’d take care of the Kiwi thing but it’s honestly rather hard to be hurt by it when it’s just so childish. Besides, you doubt he’d agree to everything and you’d rather have the physical things stop.

He doesn’t answer. You stroke Ce between the mushrooms because you get the most bubbling when you scratch there. One paras reaches out from under the bed and pokes your ankle. You aren’t about to ask aloud if he wants anything so you’ll just wait for him to speak.

“Okay,” he finally says. “I’ll take the deal.”

 

[Persephone]

Normal 1.11: Local, I Hope
Kekoa

2018

“Should’ve brought a jacket,” you mutter.

Manollo scoffs. “Fucking told you. Colder here than anywhere else in the islands.”

Certainly colder than anywhere on Akala. And you would know. You went to six different schools there ranging from North Point to Konikoni. You thought it was tolerable here. Turns out that daytime on the coast is different from night at the base of Mauna Lanakila.

“What are you even taking me to?” You leave unsaid: ‘And why is it worth sneaking out and maybe getting kicked out of yet another home?’

“Almost there. You’ll see.”

True to his word, you do see once you get to the top of the next hill. A gathering of maybe a hundred people holding flickering lights in front of the mountain’s lift system. As you get closer you realize something else: a lot of those people are wearing black and red clothing. Most are covering part of their face, even the ones who aren’t wearing skull colors. Shit. You glare at Manollo. It’s not that you oppose the skulls on principle, you’ve just had some bad run-ins. Being kanaka won’t necessarily save you from a rowdy teenager who’s heard one side of a story and wanted to kick someone’s ass.

Manollo waves you off and comes to a halt at the edge of the group. You reluctantly stop and stand beside him. Just look like you belong here. Someone in a full, old-school skull uniform comes up to you and hands you a candle. You reach out your hand and take it so that you don’t look too unsure of what you’re doing. The man lights it and moves onto Manollo.

Before you can whisper-ask what you just walked into the few hushed voices in the crowd are silenced. You can see someone climb up the steps towards the lift at the front of the crowd. Black crop top, short shorts, and long multicolor hair. Yeah, you recognize her. Hard not to.

Plumeria turns to face the crowd. Then she just sits down on the top step. When she speaks, her voice carries very well. “Once Pele and Nāmaka had shaped the world, the Sun and Moon looked down and found it empty and themselves lonely. Together in their divine knowledge and power they created man. But the Sun grew fearful as his creation multiplied and innovated. He cast them down the slope of Mauna Lanakila until they arrived on the earth. That was still too close for the Sun and he refused to shine on the islands so that the humans would die in the darkness.

“Nu’u, ancestor of our people, appealed to the masses and calmed their fears. They used what little they had to build altars and provide sacrifices to the gods. Five gods answered. Tapu Bulu provided the wood for a fleet of canoes. Tapu Lele provided knowledge of how to build them. Tapu Fini provided knowledge of the seas. Tapu Koko provided the courage and resolve to make the long voyage ahead of them. As for the Moon, she provided a map to guide mankind across the waters.

“In time, the Moon could no longer stand to see her children living in exile. She provided the descendants of Nu’u with a path back across the sea to the seat of the heavens. When the Sun saw mankind return he was outraged and the Moon grew distraught. But clever Tapu Lele had a plan. As the Sun descended the slopes of the Mauna to smite his children, they offered him a gift, not of gold or fruit or blood, but of song and dance. They told the Sun of their lives in exile. They told the Sun of their journeys across the waters. They told the Sun of their love for him, the Moon, the Tapus, and the earth itself. They told of sorrow and joy, war and peace, love and hate. The Sun was moved. Without a word he turned around and rose back up the mauna.”

“The Sun entrusted the earth into our care. The Moon gave us a future in the heavens. Her oracle birds guide our souls to this point. The children of Poli’ahu take us the rest of the way so that the Moon may take us into her wings and usher us into our next adventure.”

Plumeria pauses and rises to her feet. You blink in surprise. You’ve heard the story enough but her charisma and the mauna behind her added new meaning and sucked you into the story until the cold and skulls ceased to exist. “So it was.” The words hang over the assembly until the faint echoes stop and silence reigns. No one dares break it until she does. You don’t even breathe.

“The rest of mankind came to our garden. They poisoned the roots of our plants and our spirits. They conquered our kingdom. They subjugated our proud people and made us strangers in our own lands. That did not satisfy them. They built telescopes on Pele’s mountain to study our stars. That did not satisfy them. They built a throne above our ancient altar, at the point where the heavens meet the earth. Where our father banished us and our mother welcomes us. They installed an ali’i of their own. That did not satisfy them. No, they could not merely have our mother’s home. They had to subjugate our mother as well. This will not satisfy them. They will take and take and take to fill the void in their hearts where alola should be.” She pauses again and inhales. “WILL WE LET THEM TAKE MORE?”

A cry of cheers, “NO!”s, swears, and seemingly pointless screaming rises from the crowd. You’re pretty sure that you get caught up in it but you can’t even hear what you’re saying.

Plumeria raises her hand and the noise abruptly stops. “Damn right we won’t.”

*​

October 25th, 2019

The Route 5 Trainer’s Stop doesn’t have the uniformity of a Pokémon Center. It’s just a long, wooden building with a wooden porch running the distance. There’s a normal-looking house across from it made of brick and wood and a few tiny cabins are down the hill out back. Much better than a doctor’s office with some bedrooms.

You walk into the main building. It’s split into three parts. Something like a dining room to the left and a small shop through the right. There’s only one attendant, female, haole, probably early 20s, staffing the desk.

“Welcome to the Trainer’s Stop. You looking to spend the night?”

You step up because Kiwi can’t read paperwork and Jennifer will just idle forever and shift nervously and pretend like she’s got no social power at all. Plus sometimes you feel like you’re the only one with a clue what’s going on. “Yeah. Looking to stay two nights.”

The receptionist starts typing. “Just the three of you?”

“Yes.”

“Alright.” She stops typing and gives you a smile that looks more fake than not. “May I see your trainer cards?” You hesitate but then hand yours over. The name isn’t yours anymore. The picture has longer hair. Maybe she’ll reject it. Hopefully she’ll reject it. Can’t be this boy in front of her.

She doesn’t.

“You’ll be in Cabins 3 and 4. Shower tokens are good for about five minutes. Cleaning supplies are in the closet, make sure to clean up your cabins before you leave. Are any of you willing to help cook?”

Kiwi raises her hand like a preschooler. “I am.”

The receptionist looks at her for a long time. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve done all of my family’s cooking for years. Yes, I’m sure.” Huh. She has a decent glare game. Cataracts probably help a little since it’s damn hard to keep eye contact with her. Not that you’d give her the satisfaction of knowing that.

“Alright. Uh, report here at 4 P.M., 6 A.M. and 11 A.M.” Her cheeriness returns as she speaks. “Anyone willing to clean up before or after meals?”

“I’ll take after. Genesis can take before.” Not interested in getting up early.

“Alright. Genesis, please come up a half hour before meals. Breakfast is at eight, lunch at one, dinner at 6. There’s usually something around the fire pit at 9 P.M if you’re interested. I’ll let Uffe and Eleanor explain more at dinner.”

*​

The cabin’s small, just a six-by-six entry area with a desk and a sink and then a tight bedroom with two small beds. Perks of being a boy: you get the place to yourself for two days while Jenny and Kiwi have to share a bedroom not much bigger than the tent.

You set your stuff down and pull a towel off the rack. Now that you’re in civilization your first priorities are getting a shower and washing your clothes. Yeah, you’re a guy now but you aren’t in a rush to give up basic hygiene.

There are trumbeak singing nearby. Should you let Hekeli out while you shower? There are talonflame here and she never had to deal with those on Ula’Ula. Would she know what to do? No, you’ll let her out later when you can watch her uninterrupted. You aren’t going to lose your only pokémon.

Shower time. Now, the eternal question: which shower to use? Are your clothes too tight? Would anyone notice if you went in the men’s side? Are you willing to risk getting caught alone and feminine in a room full of stronger guys? Girl’s side isn’t much better. You hate it but if you raised your voice up a little you could 100% pass as a butch lesbian. No, the problem there is the aftermath. The little validation to dysphoria. The reminder that even on your best day you still look like a girl and you know it. If you got caught you have no idea how you’d start explaining the choice to Jennifer. You probably wouldn’t. Might punch her. And you’ve agreed to stop doing that sort of thing. Or maybe you haven’t. The agreement was only between you and Cuicatl.

You step into the men’s room and dart back towards the showers. No one here. No need to panic. You still close the curtain, strip, turn the shower on, get in as fast as you possibly can. You take a quicker shower than you want. Partially out of fear, partially because it’s really not the best idea to dwell under water as it runs over your many curves.

*​

An older kanaka couple come around to the table. You stop eating and Genesis follows. Kiwi very belatedly does as well. “New faces in camp, I see,” the man says.

“Yeah,” you answer before Jenny can fuck it up. “Just got here this afternoon. My name’s Kekoa, that’s Genesis, and that’s Cuicatl.”

The woman smiles. “Yes, I’ve already met Miss Ichtaca. She has some wonderful recipes she’s offered to show me tomorrow.”

Kiwi awkwardly shifts. “Right. Thank you again for letting me cook. Sorry if I slowed it down…”

“Hush dear. The pleasure was all mine. Oh, I forgot my manners! My name is Eleanor and this is my husband Uffe. We’re the hosts of the camp.”

“Hi, nice to meet you,” Jennifer says. “Is the dining room usually this, um, empty or…?”

Uffe sighs. “No. Usually this is peak season. But there was the blacepholon back in August when a lot of the kids who started after the school year in Hau’oli finished up Melemele and would’ve come to Akala. Scared ‘em off to Ula’Ula. Couple of trainers at the end of their challenge, a handful of VStar folks, and a few late starters but it’s been a quiet month.

You move on before Jennifer can fuck up and dig into the VStar point. “That’s a shame. Always liked Akala.”

He smiles. “Well, you’ve got good taste then. So, what’cha planning to do tomorrow? We like to make sure that everyone’s doing something productive while they’re here. Your friend’s gonna be in the kitchen but I don’t reckon’ you two are going to join her.”

Jennifer shakes her head. “No. Um. I can, um. I don’t know. What needs done?”

“Oh, bathhouse always needs cleaned. Or dishes. Or laundry. Or any number of things. Work just keeps piling up around here,” Eleanor answers.

You interrupt before that conversation can spiral into a million rounds of ‘oh, no, I couldn’t possibly, please, you pick.’

“I heard that there were grubbin nearby. I would like to look for one, if you would let me.”

Uffe smiles. “Of course. Darn bugs keep eating the roots in the garden. Now, you have a way to find a grubbin or are we going to have to do this the old way?”

You inhale. Moment of faith. How closely is Kiwi going to hew to the spirit of the agreement. “Kiwi’s vulpix fought a grubbin back in Hau’oli, right?” You remember. You watched it. She got her ass kicked and continued a long, inglorious tradition.

“Yes,” Kiwi responds.

“Can I borrow her tomorrow?”

She shakes her head. “No.” Wait. What? Is she going to fucking fight you on this?

“Why not?”

She grins. Her dumb sly grin that says she’s about to do something. In front of adults? Really?

“Because Kiwi doesn’t own a vulpix. Cuicatl does and she might if you ask real nicely.”

Why? Why does she have to bring that up, context free, in front of fucking authority figures? They’ll get the wrong idea and she knows it. So much for the goddamn truce. But you need the grubbin. You’ll figure out how to get revenge later.

“Cuicatl, can I borrow your vulpix tomorrow?”

Her unbearable smile gets even wider and she rapidly shakes her head. “See, that wasn’t too hard, was it?”

You almost flip her off, adults be damned.

*​

“How’d your friend get a keokeo?” Uffe asks. His voice is gruff but there’s a kindness underneath it. Like your grandfather before he passed.

“Starter. Gift from some rich breeder.”

Pixie—and isn’t that a shitty name—knows she’s being talked about and occasionally pulls her nose up from the ground to make sure that only nice things are being said about her. Uffe always shoots a smile her way and she purrs and looks back down.

“Local, I’d hope?”

You shake your head. “No. She’s some tourist from Anahuac here because her Mom was some bigshot back in the day and she has dreams of glory or whatever.”

He gives you a strange look. Not quite sympathy. “I meant ‘did she get it from a local breeder.’ As a joke.”

“Oh.” Pixie paused for a moment and you almost trip over her by accident. She looks at you like apologies are demanded and you offer them profusely because you’re not a monster. “Wait. Do they even breed keokeo here?”

Uffe shrugs and starts walking again when Pixie does. “One breeder down the road has a male ninetales paired with a glaceon. Don’t think anyone’s got a female on Akala.” Pixie lowers her tails and sniffs the ground and for a second you think that maybe she’s found something. Then she props a leg up, pees, and moves on.

“Mr. Radcliffe, right? He’s the ice-type trainer?”

You get a smile in response. “Yes. You live around here?”

“Sort of. Grew up in Paniola Town. He came down sometimes around the solstice. Seemed nice enough.”

His smile grows wider. “He absolutely is. Gentlest soul in these parts.” Uffe stops walking and turns to you. “Sorry if this is too personal, but it doesn’t sound like you like your partner much.” You shake your head. “Then why travel with her? It’s a big commitment to spend months in close quarters with somebody.”

You don’t want to tell him you work for VStar. He seems cool and you don’t regret your path—you did what you had to do to break another system—but maybe he wouldn’t get it. “Weird coincidences. Might ditch her at the end of the island. We’ll see.”

“Alright, then.” You meet his gaze and find that he’s looking you over. For a second you wonder if he read you but then he looks away. Not angry. Or disgusted. But intrigued. “Tell me more about your partner then. You said she’s got a famous mom?”

“Sort of.” She had mentioned that her mom was a trainer. Maybe. Pretty sure you wouldn’t have just made that up. And it explains why Miss Bell gives a solitary shit about her.

“You catch her last name?”

“Ichtaca. Her mom’s Unovan though so it could be anything.”

He nods. “Makes sense. Rare starter and all. I take it she has all the other advantages her mom could give. TMs, a pokédex, top-tier camping gear, personal training in battle strategy?”

You laugh. And then catch yourself. He seems to like this tourist bitch for some reason. And you want him to like you. “No. None of that. Apparently. Didn’t have any gear. Sucks at battling.”

Pixie barks and wags her tails. She points her snout down before glancing up at you and then pointing her snout down again.

“Well, that’s your cue. Send out your pokémon and dig.”

It’s hard to tell if you’re shoveling too fast or not fast enough. You don’t want to let the grubbin get away but you also don’t want to accidentally push a shovel through its shell and kill it. Not that you’re sure you could. Pokémon are tough. “Slow down a bit,” Uffe eventually says. “You’re at the depth they usually hang out. Just scrape a little off.”

You see yellow. That’s good enough for you. in one motion you jump backwards and cast the shovel aside. “Hekeli, echoed voice!”

Your pikipek stirs to life and fires a shockwave into the hole. Rather than dig deeper the grubbin slowly unburies itself and lifts its head to the sky just in time to take the second hit right to the face. It doesn’t seem to care and a cloud of dirt rockets into the sky a moment later. Hekeli dodges the earth and throws out another shockwave. This time the grubbin really seems to feel it and you think you can see it retreating a little bit into the ground. That won’t do.

You reach into your pocket, prime the pokéball, and throw it. There’s a flash of red light as it connects and the grubbin is sucked in. A small ‘thud’ as it falls deeper into the hard earth. Then shaking. And a click. You caught your second pokémon!

Uffe claps. Too fast to be ironic. “Congratulations.” And that feels good. Being praised for something by an adult. A kānaka maoli adult. How long has it been? Two years? Three? Probably Mr. Perkins. Seventh grade at whatever middle school you were in that semester.

“Just a grubbin.” You say. Can’t let your ego get too big over a bug. However much you want it.

“Yeah. But someday it’ll be a vikavolt. And I’ve never heard anyone say ‘just a vikavolt.’ Congrats on the first step to an awesome insect.”

“Yeah.” You’re beaming. You shouldn’t be but it feels nice. Hekeli warbles and lands on your shoulder. You give her headpats. She did a good job. She can stay out on the walk back to the shop. And you’ll see if you can find her some worms at a decent price. Although maybe you shouldn’t be rewarding her with bugs right now. That could end badly.

Uffe starts walking back to his home. You follow. “Now, not to rain on your parade or anything, because that was great and you should be proud, but there’s something else we should talk about.”

You frown but keep pace. “Go on.”

“Your partner. Now, I might be off base, but,” he waves his hands in front of him, “just hear me out. Teenage girl comes from Anahuac. Unstable, theocratic, impoverished country that people have been streaming out of sense the 80s. She comes alone with no money. Or experience. Or resources. Says that her mom is someone famous from The States. Won’t specify who her mom is and the rest of the story doesn’t check out. Now, she could be telling the truth. Or.” He looks at you and gauges your expression for a moment. “Or she’s a refugee who just got out of hell, knows no one here, and is telling stories to impress the only people she’s met.”

You grimace. Yeah. Maybe. It wouldn’t change anything. “She still came to our country when she has her own.”

He hums for a moment. Not quite answering but still conveying disapproval. “What causes a person to get up and move across an ocean to a strange place with strange people and no guarantee of food, shelter, or safety? How bad does your life have to be when that’s your best option?” Uffe sighs. “I get it. I was a radical when I was your age. Still am. But she doesn’t sound like a monster. Just sounds like she needs Alola. Lower and uppercase.”

“Not obligated to give that to tourists,” you mutter. Radical? He claims to be a radical? While coddling settlers he’s never even met?

“You’re not obligated to,” he responds, somewhat exasperated. “But I think you’re looking at a potential friend and automatically thinking the worst of her.” You’ve finally reach Uffe’s home. He extends a hand to you and you shake it. Reflexively. Not sure if you would’ve still done it if you’d had time to think about it. “Just some advice from a man who’s been there. You don’t need to take it. Congratulations again on the grubbin.”

He’s holding the shovel. You forgot about the shovel. Why’d you let him carry it when you were the one using it? “Thank you for your help.”

Uffe laughs. “Oh, I don’t think I did much of anything but go on a walk through the garden. But thank you for the thanks.”

*​

You pass by the girls’ cabin on the way back to yours. Kiwi’s out front in a patch of sunlight with Pixie curled up in the shade, four paras around her, and one sitting on her head like a hat. You have to stop and make sure that, yes, she really does have a paras on her head. Isn’t she worried about spores and shit?

“What are you doing?” you finally ask.

“Meditating,” she answers.

“No, I meant what are you doing with the paras on your head.”

“Meditating. With a paras on my head.”

“Why?”

She frowns. “It’s good for focusing. Don’t you do it?”

Of course you meditate. Sometimes. When you remember. And someone makes you. “But why is the paras on your head?”

“Because she wanted to be closer to the sun.”

The head-paras chirps in response.

Well. There’s your answer. How did she know the paras wanted to be closer to the sun? Why did she agree? Who knows? Certainly not you. And at this point you’d rather not ask.

*​

You settle down in a secluded area near the cabins. After taking a deep breath, you hold out your arm and whistle. Hekeli flies in from gods know where and perches on you a moment later. Alright. Taming time. You prime, aim, and release the pokéball.

The grubbin forms a second later. You deliberately puff yourself up to make yourself larger and throw your voice down in pitch. “Hello, I’m your new—” A string shot hits you right in the face. Hekeli moves and you can hear a fight break out. You half-consciously withdraw the bug and bring a hand to your mouth to assess the damage. Damn it. Webbing everywhere. Is it water soluble? It had better fucking be.

*​

It isn’t. You still to get most of it scrubbed off before the water stops flowing.

*​

“You have something on your mouth,” Jenny says as soon as you sit down. You ignore her bar a simple “mmm-hmm” and look down at your plate. Tacos, rice, and beans. Definitely Kiwi’s thing. You take a testing bite. It’s actually pretty—holy shit your fucking mouth is on fire. You quickly grab your glass and pour down as much water as you can.

“I labeled the ones without chili sauce.”

Before your mouth cools enough that you can retort that, no, you labeled them as “hot” and “mild” not “atomic” and “mild,” Jennifer butts in. “It’s still there, Kekoa. Just little white strands around your mouth.”

Kiwi snorts and almost chokes on her water. You consider flipping her the bird before catching a glimpse of Uffe in your peripheral vision. Blind or not it would’ve been satisfying.

Jenny blinks. “Wait. What did I say?”

Kiwi finishes coughing and waves her hand to dismiss the subject. “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

*

Something licks you on the forehead.

You press yourself up and whirl around to find yourself face to face with a very cute white fox. She barks at you in response. Rather loudly.

“Pix, quiet down!” you hear whispered through the trees. A moment later you watch Kiwi’s cane absolutely brutalize the plants on either side of the path. It’s not that you think people like her should never go on the trail. Just, if they’re going to do shit like that to nature then, yeah, they should stay home.

Kiwi stops a few feet away from you, crouches, and holds out her arms. The ice fox turns around (hitting you in the face with her tails) and dutifully allows herself to be held. Then Kiwi just stands there. Right by you. For an uncomfortable amount of time. You hold your breath because you really don’t want to deal with her right now.

“I know you’re there, Kekoa,” she says. Shit. How? “You know that blind people have super hearing, right?” Ugh. Shit. You’d forgotten about that. She sits down cross-legged when you don’t answer. Her keokeo curls up in her legs and glares at you. In the moonlight Kiwi’s harshest features are softened a bit. Brings her up from a four to a five. “What are you doing awake?” she asks.

“What are you?”

She shakes her head and glares two feet to your right. “I asked first. But I was just going to the bathroom when Pix found you.”

You’re tempted to tell her to fuck off because she has no right to know what you’re doing, but you get the sense that it could get loud and wake up other people and maybe get you banned from these places in the future. “Watching the stars.”

She blinks. Surprise? Normal blinking? Do her blinks even mean anything? “Looking for omens?”

“What? No. Just looking at them.” You hold up a hand and trace the sky even if she can’t see it. “The constellations form a curve and lines. A map. They led my ancestors here.” You press yourself up a little bit so your back isn’t on the ground. “You use them to tell the future and shit?”

It’s hard to tell with the light and the cataracts but you think she rolls her eyes. “I don’t use them. But the priests do.”

“No.” You keep your voice hard. “Your priests use the stars in Anahuac. These are my stars. There’s a difference.”

And it sounds like a tiny difference but it matters. There are so many settlers now that you can barely see your stars on parts of the island. The settlers noticed that so they built telescopes so that they could still see the stars. And even if Kiwi doesn’t plan to stay she’ll still go home and tell her friends who will fucking swarm your home and poison your waters, burn your forests, build on your mountains, and banish your stars. Because they aren’t their waters, their forests, their mountains, or their stars. And when your home is destroyed they’ll just go back to theirs.

Kiwi is silent for a second as she maybe finally gets it. But the moment passes and she shakes her head. “Kekoa, I’m not going to steal your stars.”

You snort. “You already have.” You don’t bother waiting for her to answer. “When Alolans die the murkrow guide them to the base of Mauna Lanakila. And then the ninetales meet with the soul and guide it to the top. To the stars. And then they navigate the stars to their next home. You took a vulpix. You’ve made it harder for me to reach my stars.”

For another moment you think that she finally understands. But then she just looks down and ruffles her keokeo’s ears. “I didn’t take her. She was taken, abandoned, and then I adopted her.” She frowns and scrunches up her face. “Would you rather she be alone, miserable, and off the mountain or loved and cared for off the mountain?”

…

That’s a half-decent point. But it ignores the big picture. “Yeah, but you don’t understand this place. You’re just going to keep doing it over and over again and then go back home with a half dozen sacred pokémon.”

She sighs. Like you’re a child who needs appeased. “I understand where you’re coming from. Really. If you walked into Anahuac and walked out with a hawlucha, axlawful, and pantherma I’d be, well, first off you’d probably be dead.” She laughs nervously. “Treason to take any of them without the tlatoani’s say-so and treason’s the fastest way to wind up staring down your still-beating heart.”

“Holy shit. TMI.”

Kiwi frowns and slouches a little bit. “Sorry. Gallows humor is a big thing in Anahuac. We don’t really hide from death. No point. It won’t just go away if you ignore it.” There’s something there at the end. Real emotion. Sadness? Anger? Both? She moves on before you can fully process it. “Anyway. Yes, I understand what you want. I think that we can make a deal here as well.”

“I’m not compromising on that,” you say as sternly as you can so that she gets the point.

“I said deal. Not a compromise. Deal both people are happy. Compromise neither are.”

You narrow your eyes and try to look into hers, but she’s looking down and away from you. “Go on.”

She sighs again and moves her arms behind her so she can lean back on them. “You can tell what nature’s saying by the winds and stars, right?”

“Among other things.”

{I can listen in a little more directly.}

Holy. Fucking. Shit. Was that—

{In your head? Yeah.}

You glance at her. “Do that again.”

{Again?}

Her lips don’t move. Whatever she’s doing it’s not ventriloquism.

“What is that?”

“I’m psychic,” she says (mercifully aloud). “Language based. I can understand what other people are saying and make myself understood.”

“And you can read my mind?” you ask.

She shakes her head. “Not really. I can tell what words are on the tip of your tongue but nothing deeper. Well. I guess I know what languages people speak. Or at least what language my words are getting translated into.”

“And how do I know that part is real?”

Kiwi turns to look directly at you. “Can you describe my accent, please?”

Her accent? It’s… perfectly neutral. Utterly unremarkable. Nothing you’d ever thought about at all. That’s weird, right? If she grew up in another country.

“I actoly sond like tis.”

You blink. And blink again. “The fuck?”

She laughs. It’s a very good laugh. Is that also an illusion?

“I know, it’s the difference between dirt and sand.” she says with a perfectly neutral accent again. “I can speak a little better if I concentrate, but it never really matters so why bother? As for your other,” unspoken, “question, yes, my voice is naturally like that. Years of music class and singing to myself.”

The bigger picture pieces itself together as the shock wears off. That’s not just a parlor trick. “And you can talk to pokémon?”

Her lips press together for a moment. “Most pokémon. Dark-types give me trouble. Had to learn draconic to properly talk to my mom’s hydreigon.”

Somehow ‘Hold up you can speak to dragons?” isn’t the question you want to ask the most. “That’s how you get along so well with your pokémon. You’re not a savant or anything, you can just talk to them.”

“Pretty much. Doesn’t always help. Some pokémon are jerks. But it does give me an advantage.”

Next follow-up: “What does Hekeli say about me?”

Kiwi shrugs. “You’re okay. She’s very interested in my voice, though, and your battle practice is starting to bore her. Mix training up and play some music around her. Then you should be good. Otherwise, she might defect.” She says that so naturally that you aren’t even sure if it’s a threat. “It isn’t. Just an observation. Oh, I can talk to your grubbin if you want. Worked well enough for the paras.”

“Is that the deal? You get to walk out with whatever so long as I benefit?”

“No, it wasn’t. The deal was that if I plan to put a pokémon on my team for longer than it takes to hand them off to VStar, I have to get the pokémon’s consent before doing so. That way I won’t just take anything from your home. Is that enough respect or…?”

Part of you doesn’t think that it is. She’s an outsider. A tourist. She doesn’t get to take your sacred pokémon. But if you really care about the pokémon you should also respect their choices. And she got a keokeo to trust her. And it’s selfish but she could really, really help you with your own goals. If it breaks the entire damn colonial system you can tolerate one girl taking a few stars.

You stand up. “You said you had to go to the bathroom, right?”

She smiles sheepishly and moves some hair off her forehead. Probably reflex. It was really long at orientation. “Yeah. I was going to have to end this soon if you didn’t.”

You nod, even if she can’t see it, and start walking back to your cabin.

“Good night, Pixie. Good night, Cuicatl.”

 

[Persephone]

CN: Misgendering, deadnaming

Normal 1.12: Partners
Genesis

October 13, 2019

Cuicatl pulls the kibble out of her bag and starts to pour it into her tiny collapsible fox food bowl. You walk up and she pours you a handful without missing a beat. “Thank you,” you say. Then you take it to the edge of the clearing and leave it in a small pile.

Wait. Do eevee even eat kibble? Mom never let you have one. You’d assume they’d eat the same thing as vulpix. But eevee also have weird DNA and look kind of like buneary so maybe they’d prefer carrots?

“Do eevee actually like kibble?” you ask.

“How the fuck would I know,” Kekoa answers as he strolls back into the clearing.

You glare at him. He didn’t need to be mean about that. You take your pack off (its light enough you’d honestly forgotten you were even wearing it) and take out your apricot sausage. It’s basically just slices of apricots with little flakes of nuts and vegetables in it. You remember really liking apricots as a kid but now the taste is… weird. Or maybe they’re just over-processed. Still getting used to eating food that doesn’t really taste like food. The Pokémon Centers are usually good about that and fake is better than inedible but sometimes it catches you. It just feels wrong to put junk into your body.

Kekoa tosses you a packet of crackers. He and Cuicatl have small remoraid cans. You’ll definitely pass on that. Even when you ate meat remoraid always just smelled bad. And that texture. And color. It’s more like grey sludge than food. Even the lab stuff is gross. Apparently your companions disagree and Pixie isn’t above slyly begging for some, even if he—she, even if she hasn’t quite figured out how to slyly beg to a blind girl.

Pixie. Vulpixes. Foxes. You glance back to the kibble pile and—Deer. Of Life. There’s a cute, furry, perfect little bunny fox. Right near you. Easy. Calm. Excitement later. You reach down to your belt and slowly unclip Sir Bubble’s ball. You almost shout “Let’s go make a friend!” but wisely decide not to. Sir Bubbles appears in a flash of red light. And immediately starts yipping at you while thumping his tail on the ground. A finger flies to your lips and you point past him. Sir. Bubbles’ eyes just open a little wider and he sinks a little closer to the ground in response, a faint ribbit accompanying the movement.

Something roars. Well, not a roar exactly. More of a high pitch incessant screech that moves up and down like the world’s worst fire alarm. You recoil and look at the—the vulpix causing it. No! Bad! You glance back. The eevee’s running but not quite out of sight in the burned forest. You reach down and grab Sir Bubbles before taking off in pursuit. Eevee are pokémon, sure, but you’ve got much longer legs. You can do this.

“Water gun, Sir Bubbles!” The frog tries to comply, but the shot goes very wide and the eevee just runs a little bit faster. “No! Stop! I’m trying to catch you.”

You keep pace pretty well and even get close enough to think about tackling. But there’s always a root you have to dodge or the eevee gets yet another second wind or something. You almost prefer it that way. With the wind in your hair, Sir Bubbles in your arms, and an eevee in front of you this is the most fun you’ve had in weeks.

Something catches your eye and you come screeching to a halt. Right into a tree root. Which turns the halt into a fall. You move to catch yourself and narrowly do but. Oh crap. You hastily stand back up and look down at your starter as he awkwardly pulls himself up and tries to recover from 135 pounds of girl falling directly onto him. Eventually he looks back up at you, tears in his wide eyes and—this is just a food ploy, isn’t it? Evil bastard.

There’s another movement at the edge of your vision. You freeze up and reach down for Sir Bubble’s ball. It’s still there. Somehow didn’t get knocked out of your belt. You withdraw him as soon as possible and take ten steps back, doing your best to avoid the roots while looking up.

A giant spider floats between the trees, staring down at you with its almost-human eyes. It—no, she, too big for a male—starts to sink ever lower on her thread. You slowly crouch down, keeping eye contact the whole time, and hold a hand out.

“There you are!” Kekoa shouts somewhere behind you. You almost break eye contact with the spider. “Knew you were stupid, didn’t know you were stupid enough to run right off the fucking trail. Now—holy shit.” His voice drops to a whisper at the end.

“Shh!” He’s being too loud. Might scare her. And she’s almost made it to the ground.

“You’re—you can’t be serious. We need to go. Now.”

You want to break eye contact. Glare back at him and tell him to shut up or leave. For once you know what you’re doing.

The ariados approaches with small, tepid steps. You move your arm just a little bit towards her to make sure she sees it.

“I’m calling Hekeli,” Kekoa hisses.

“Hi, there,” you whisper. “You want scratches?”

The ariados chitters and walks right up to you, stinger close to your heart when you’re crouched down at her level. You bend your arm and guide your hand to a small little chink in the spider’s exoskeleton where the head meets the body. You press a fingernail in and scratch, running it up and down the groove. The spider clicks her mandibles together in contentment and you put a little bit more force into the petting.

“What the actual fuck,” Kekoa says at an appropriately low volume. The ariados takes a step to the side to look at him. He immediately hops back and keeps walking away, putting as much distance as possible between him and the man-sized spider. You suppress a sigh and pat the ariados on the back before rising to your feet.

“Had one as a pet. They’re harmless to humans.”

But not to—you glance out into the forest. It takes you a second to find it but there’s a thin, almost invisible thread running from the web out into the burned woods. The eevee’s on the other end. At night the ariados will follow the line and eat the fox and maybe its entire family. You need to save it.

The ariados has already retreated back to her web and is steadily climbing up it, ignoring you as she rises. “Follow me!” you whisper.

You turn to follow the wire and save your furry future friend. A hand grabs your arm and pulls back. Hard. “No,” Kekoa hisses back. “The eevee’s long gone and we are not going so far off the trail that we can’t hear Kiwi shouting.”

You pout. “The ariados is going to eat it.”

“I thought you liked the things? What do you want to starve it for?”

He’s looking at you like you’re an idiot and it’s your fault and he really wants to be somewhere else right now. “Yeah but…” The image of it. You’re fine if the spider’s eating kibble or even yungoos, but when it’s something cute that feels different. Especially if you could have stopped the death and didn’t. That’s almost like you personally poisoned the eevee and slowly tore it apart.

“Yeah, but…” Kekoa smirks and tilts his head. “Brilliant argument there.”

Screw him. Smug, heartless jerk.

“Shut up.” You start walking back the way he came, sparing the ariados one last glance. She’s already retreated into the chamber at the center of her web.

Once you’re far enough away that Kekoa stops glancing back every few seconds he turns to you with a particularly smug smile on his face. “So. Pet ariados?”

You lock up and almost trip. He snickers. Crap. You revealed something you shouldn’t have. Now, um, play it cool. “Yeah. I had one.”

“Any reason?”

You shrug and do your best to keep your voice level. “Not really.”

For a moment you’re absolutely certain that he knows and is going to hate you forever, but he never follows up. It’s almost worse that way. He could still know and just be lording it over you until he has a better time to strike.

No. Screw him. He doesn’t get to ruin your journey. If only because the ever-present dirt and burned trees and over-processed food and dead eevee beat him to it.

*​

November 2, 2019

Of course it had to rain. Because if Kekoa and Cuicatl are going to play nice something else has to spoil the fun. Not that the hills weren’t already doing that. You stare up at the last switchback. Or what Kekoa tells you is the last switchback. She could definitely be lying about that. You pull the straps on your pack tighter and take off as fast as you can. The surface of the path is slick, more mud than dirt in some places and once or twice you almost feel like you’re going to trip and tumble all the way back down. The thought is sobering enough that you take the last two bends at just a brisk walk. You glance down. Cuicatl’s slowly making her way up with the help of a long branch she found somewhere (she said she didn’t want to get her cane dirty and it wasn’t good for putting weight on anyway). Kekoa’s trailing behind her. You hear wings beat nearby and you turn just in time to see Kekoa’s pikipek land on your shoulder. Cheating little miss. Must be nice to skip the switchbacks and fly straight up.

By the time Cuicatl and Kekoa catch up you’re ready to move on. Cuicatl isn’t. The moment you set off she tells you to stop. She’s panting a little bit. Weird. Her arm and leg muscles are actually kind of distinct. Wouldn’t peg her as an athlete but you’d expected her to be in shape. “You okay?” you ask.

“Asthma,” she huffs out. “Only bad. On climbs. Legs. Are fine.”

“Okay,” you answer. Because what else were you going to say? ‘No, we move right now young lady. You can breathe on your own time.’ Mother actually might. You fight the urge to scrunch up your face and put your hands on your hips and lecture the wind in character. ‘Disgusting. Real women don’t pant like mere animals.’ You actually do whisper that but neither Kekoa nor Cuicatl seems to notice.

You wait in silence as your friend’s breaths slow and deepen. Cuicatl didn’t bother to tie back her hair and its plastered over her face with individual strands reaching down almost all the way to her mouth. You can’t see her eyes at all. Her hair looks longer than usual with the weight of the water straightening out her curls. Kekoa just scowls at you when you look towards her. Right. Water. Clothing. Chest. It’s embarrassing that you thought those were pecs. From what Reverend Patterson said you’d kind of just expected that you’d instantly know when you met someone like her. But you’ve always been slow to figure people out. Lyra would have instantly known.

Cuicatl finally sticks up a finger. “I’m fine.”

You pivot and start walking. The pivot isn’t anywhere nearly as smooth as hers are. She can turn 180 degrees in a single fluid motion and then start walking. You can sort of turn most of that distance in a spin and a step. You still aren’t entirely sure what your back foot should be doing or how fast you’re supposed to spin or when you put both feet down. Can you ask? Would she think it was weird? How did she even learn to do that? Boot camp? It would make sense. Her pivots seem kind of military-like.

“How early do they start military training in Anahuac?” you ask her. That’s not inappropriate, right?

“Depends. Some stuff in early education when you’re six or so. That’s mostly just exercise and some basic pokémon stuff. Progressively more as the years go on. Proper training is at sixteen. Unless you go into the calmecac. Or you’re a girl. Or disabled.”

Oh. Right. Blind girls probably aren’t on the front lines.

“Doesn’t even make sense,” Kekoa mutters. Well, the type of muttering that’s meant for other people to hear. “If pokémon and guns do all the work then why can’t girls fight?”

Cuicatl hums for a moment. “You’re right. It doesn’t make sense. But it does get me out of the draft.”

The right answer is that women were tainted more by Yveltal at the start. If they were to fight on the battlefield they would overflow with sin and corruption. If they survived the war they would only cause tragedy if they went home. Dead children, ruined families, burned homes. Sometimes they even start all new wars. But you can’t really say that. Cuicatl believes in the evil spirits of her homeland and eventually you’ll need to have a talk with her so that she isn’t engulfed in the cocoon at the end of the universe. And Kekoa will need to get the whole crossdressing thing sorted out eventually. But you should probably wait until they like you more before you save their souls. Neither are likely to die in the next week.

…right?

Did you just jinx it?

You enter a forest and the rain dies down a little. Downside is that now there are tree roots in the trail. For you it’s just kind of annoying. But it’ll slow Cuicatl down a lot which also slows you down a lot. And she can’t even use Pixie because it’s raining and with her fur matted down the fox looks very small and extremely upset.

“You have a brother, right?” Kekoa asks.

“Yes,” Cuicatl says.

“Yes,” you say. Near simultaneously.

“Meant Cuicatl there. How old is he?”

“Fifteen. How far do we have to go?”

“Probably ten minutes,” Kekoa answers.

Wait. She’s fifteen. Holy crap. “You’re twins?”

“Yes.”

Wow. Brother-sister twins. Which one’s older? Do they care? You kind of wish you were a twin so that you always had a sibling to play with and talk about things that you’re interested in. You love Levi but he’s way younger than you and Exodus—

Exodus is Exodus and this line of thought is over.

*​

November 3, 2019

“You’re vegetarian, right?” Kekoa asks between mouthfuls of chili. Why ask? He knows you are. It’s come up at every trail meal planning session. You ignore the pointless question in favor of eating your own vegetable soup. “And you want to get an… a rainbowfish?”

Pixie doesn’t bark. She hasn’t caught on to the code yet.

“Yes.”

“But you know they eat meat, right?”

“I do,” you respond.

“And that’s fine with you?”

“It’s all lab meat anyway.”

She scoffs. “Can’t be sure of that. Meat processing plants have been caught lying before.”

You didn’t know that. You do know that your parents tried to give you real meat claiming it was lab meat so many times that you just swore that off, too.

“Every time you’d give your precious rainbowfish some kibble you’d get flashes of a poor little fox on a string.”

That’s…

“Kekoa,” Cuicatl admonishes. She sets down her spoon and glares in his general direction. “I don’t know what’s going on between you but we are not talking shit about foxes.” She glances down. “Isn’t that right, Pix?”

She dutifully grunts at an acceptable indoor volume. Such a good girl.

Kekoa takes a long drink of water and smiles at you in a way that is not at all pleasant. “If you’re going to train a carnivore you should at least be honest about what you’re doing. Just saying.”

She winks at you.

You’re starting to understand why Cuicatl hated her.

*​

November 3, 2019

Kekoa sets her package down on the desk at the back of the room and starts to unzip it.

“What is it?” you ask.

“An egg.”

It’s a darn big egg, then. A little bit bigger than Pixie is. Heavy, too, judging from the way Kekoa carried it.

“How big?” Cuicatl asks.

“Big,” he answers.

“Yeah, but how big?”

Kekoa sighs and walks over to grab her hand. “You want to grope it?”

“You know it.” Once she reaches the egg Cuicatl slowly runs her fingers over it from middle to top to bottom. “It is big.” She steadily presses down her palm and holds it still on the middle. “Feels sturdy. Not too hot. Pretty smooth. Rules out the rocks.”

“It’s heavy but it didn’t feel rock heavy,” Kekoa answers.

Cuicatl nods. “Fish, insects, and amphibians are out. Bird? Lizard? Maybe a dragon given the size. Maybe. Most don’t lay eggs.”

“A mammal?” Both Kekoa and Cuicatl turn to look at you. Was that too stupid? “Some lay eggs.”

“Some do.” Cuicatl goes back to facing the egg. “It would be very big for one. Blissey eggs are about half the size.” Wait are those actual eggs. Fertilized eggs? How? They’re all girls. When people eat them is that murder? Cuicatl holds her hand back out. “Take me back?”

Kekoa helps her get back to her seat. “What’s the judgment, doc?” he asks. Taunts? Praises? Hard to say. You’d thought they’d made up.

“No idea.” Cuicatl sighs. “Druddigon, maybe? I’ve never felt a druddigon egg before but the adults are big enough. Egg’s not warm enough for charizard. I think goodra eggs are sticky but don’t quote me on that. Don’t know if flygon lay eggs. Braviary or mandibuzz maybe. Don’t actually know what krookodile eggs feel like. Grew up too far south of the desert to know. If it’s not from Alola it could be anything. Bunch of weird birds and giant lizards out there.”

Wait hang on did she imply that if she was born further north she would’ve tried to walk right up to a momma krookodile? She isn’t serious, right?

Right?

…right?

Darn it she probably is. How are you supposed to keep everyone alive with stuff like this?

*​

A tall teenage girl in overalls and a worn leather jacket walks into the lobby.

“Which ones of all y’all are looking to challenge my trial?”

She’s the trial captain. It makes sense. She’s dressed kind of outdoorsy. Like she lived on a ranch down in Paniola or something. That works for normal types, right?

You look around. Two preteen kids in the corner raise your hands. You put yours up and your teammates follow. The girl nods her head and walks over to the younger trainers. Oh boy. First trial. It feels real all of a sudden. You’re going to be fighting a—well, you know it’s a normal trial but you’ve honestly never bothered to look up what the totem is. That’s a job for future Genesis. In any case you’re going to fight a giant version of a pokémon with a poliwag.

…maybe you should’ve thought this through earlier. Even if he is a very brave poliwag. Gallantly chickens out like the best. Not at all afraid to be killed in nasty ways. Brave, brave Sir Bubbles.

The captain walks over. “Alright, how many official trails have y’all cleared?”

“None,” Cuicatl answers.

Is that a problem? The captain smiles. Probably not a problem, then.

“Alright. Any days work best for you?”

You glance at your teammates. Do they have any they prefer? You really should’ve talked this over in advance as a group.

“Can I have a few days? I think I need to prepare a little more.” It’s an honest answer. Hopefully she doesn’t hate you.

“Very self-aware.” Compliments? Fake compliments? Did you screw up? “I’ll schedule you for Friday. You two?” She moves on without answering your question.

“Can I do Wednesday?” Cuicatl asks.

“Certainly. And you, sir?”

Well at least you aren’t the only person Kekoa can fool. Or does the captain already know in advance?

“Tomorrow,” Kekoa answers. “And it’s good to see you again, Kanoa.”

The captain, Kanoa, blinks. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I remember you. Meet a lot of people as captain.”

Kekoa tenses and raises up his shoulders before letting out a breath. “I used to go by Allana.”

“Holy shit, Al—wait, what do you go by now?”

“Kekoa.”

“Thanks. Holy shit, Kekoa. How have you been?” She’s still smiling but there’s a trace of something else—sadness or concern, maybe—in her eyes. “You just stopped writing all of a sudden and—” Her eyes narrow. “What happened?”

“Foster care.” Kekoa—Allana—looks up and makes eye contact with Kanoa. “Can we talk about this later? Alone?”

The captain nods. “Lunch? There’s a great Korean place a couple miles down the road. I can give you a ride.”

“Can you pay? I’m broke right now.”

Kanoa’s smile returns.

“I can. You want to head out now?”

Allana stands up. “Don’t see a reason not to.”

They leave. Weird to think of her having friends. Maybe she was nicer in the past. Or maybe someone latched onto her even though she wasn’t good with people. Like… like her.

You turn to Cuicatl.

“I think I need a second pokémon.”

She nods. “Do you know what you want?”

“No.” Because of course you haven’t planned anything. You’d kind of expected that Father would’ve told Mother off by now and invited you back. But here you are. Haven’t received so much as a phone call. Not that they know your phone number. Wait, what if they can’t contact you? Admittedly you haven’t checked your old emails. Or social media. You don’t really want to know what’s being said about you.

“Maybe we should start at a shelter then. Can you check and see if there’s one nearby?”

There is one two miles away. Not a terrible walk all things considered.

*​

It is, all things considered, a terrible walk. Unshaded roads in in the afternoon Alola sun are absolutely miserable. By the time you reach the shelter you’ve probably sweated out all the water in your body. Cuicatl seems a little better, doesn’t look like she’s had an asthma attack or anything, but she’s also drenched.

Shelter looks like a nice enough place. Big fence around it that probably has some outside habitats. You can look into two: one is an aviary with two dartrix and the other is just a normal pen with a midday lycanroc. It looks at you with a regal gaze as you pass before sticking its tongue out and rolling over, apparently wanting you to come over and scratch it through the fence. You wish you could. Maybe you could adopt it? Seems like a good dog. But the meat thing. Or do they eat rocks?

You walk in the door and a bell rings. The inside has sterile white walls with small cages lining them. You see a litten stand up and press his paws against the cage wall. What a cutie.

“Can I help you?”

You turn to the desk. There’s a twenty-something man there. Looking at you. Right.

“I want to adopt a pokémon.”

“Certainly.” He smiles and looks at Cuicatl. “And you?”

There’s no response. She’s facing the far wall away from the receptionist. He can’t see her closed or cloudy eyes.

“She’s just tagging along,” you answer for her.

“Alright. Anything in particular you want?”

You start to shake your head but then catch yourself. “Is the lycanroc out there up for adoption?” Wait. It’s at a shelter. Of course it is. So dumb of you.

If he notices he doesn’t seem to care. “She is.” Yes! “Now, what license do you have?” Oh…

“Class II.”

The receptionist sighs and leans into the desk. “Sorry. Need a IV. Edelgard’s a big softy but most lycanroc don’t take well to new trainers.” …crap.

You turn back to the receptionist. One more question. Even if the… unfortunate meat problem remains you think it’s okay to save one fox to make up for the one you killed. “Any chance you’ve got an eevee?”

He shakes his head. “Sorry. No eevee. We do have a leafeon, though.”

Plant eevee. You would’ve preferred water, fire, or fairy eevee. Wait? Do plant eevee eat meat? Or do they eat plants? Is that kind of cannibalism? Questions for later.

“Can I see it?”

The receptionist smiles. “Certainly. I’ll just need some of your information…”

*​

The leafeon is curled up on the table. It glances at you as you walk in and then quickly resumes licking its paw. Oh. You aren’t too interesting, huh?

“What’s its story?” you ask.

“His name’s Inferno,” the receptionist—his nametag says Alan—says. “Trainer wanted a flareon. His eevee evolved in the forest. He left him here with us.” He hesitates. “That kind of thing happens a lot around the forest.”

A beloved pet until he didn’t turn out exactly how his parents wanted. You can almost hear Exodus spit the words out, taunting you from the sick comfort of her twisted worldview. You should call her eventually. Not today, though. Probably not this week. Or this month. Might get around to it on her birthday. If you remember when that is. You’re pretty sure it’s in May. The fifth? Sounds about right.

You gently extend your hand towards Inferno. He stares at it for a moment before getting up and rubbing his cheek against it. When he moves you catch the scent of freshly cut grass. And he is a little plant doggo with a leaf tail and ears and little blades of grass sticking out everywhere. Kind of cute in his own way. You scratch him under the chin and you think you can hear her purr.

“How hard are leafeon to care for?” you ask.

“They need time in the sun, fruit and nuts. An egg once a week.” Eggs are fine! Nothing dies for them. “Affectionate. But that means that their smell gets all over everything. Trainer included.” Was that a joke? Should you laugh. You do just in case you were supposed to. Wait, does that mean that he thinks you’re laughing at him? “They’re easily housebroken. Reasonably intelligent. Great air filters. My personal favorite eeveelution. But,” he sighs and holds his hands up in (mock) surrender, “I’ve got two at home so I suppose I’m biased.” You stop petting Inferno and he fixes his big red eyes on you. Aww. She’s almost as cute as Pixie. “Can say that they don’t like to fight much. They’ll participate in the big battles, but they won’t really train.”

Well, you don’t really train either. Honestly, you’re just looking for enough power to beat the trial and move on to the next one. You’ll figure that one out when you get to it. “Is he strong enough to take on the first trial?” you ask.

Alan rolls his eyes. Did you mess up? Insult him? “Oh, they’re plenty powerful when they put their mind to it. Good enough to clear the early trials without much work. If you can get him to train then he’ll be good for the later ones, too.”

That’s good enough for you. And he’s very cute. And seems to like you. And you do feel bad for him. Not his fault that he’s a plant instead of a fire fox.

“And they don’t eat meat?”

“They need protein. Eggs or poultry, take your pick.”

Well. He’s close enough to perfect.

*​

Pixie’s buried in the blankets on Cuicatl’s bed when you walk in. Her ears instantly perk up and she rises to her feet. Then she freezes (figuratively and sort of literally) in place, ears back down and tails tensed up. A sort-of-low and sort-of-intimidating growl rings out as she stares down Inferno. The leafeon just sits down and swishes her tail. Cuicatl steps forwards towards her bed, cane in front of her. You think that all Pokémon Center rooms are pretty much the same so someday she’ll get pretty good at this.

“Pix.” It’s not quite a reprimand. Maybe a warning? “That’s Inferno. She’s going to be on Genesis’s team. Not ours.” She sits down on the bed and Pixie stops growling to turn to pout at her trainer. Cuicatl extends a hand but Pixie doesn’t accept the petting. Cuicatl just leans back against the wall, apparently unphased. “You won’t have to work with him or battle alongside him. I will not be caring for him or getting an eevee myself.”

Pixie keeps staring Cuicatl down to no effect. The trainer closes her eyes and almost seems to nod off while sitting down. “Hey, Genesis?”

“Um, yeah?”

She opens her eyes and tilts her head. “Any chance that you’d let Pixie have a battle with your leafeon? No orders from either trainer?”

Ice fox has a type advantage over grass fox. But Adam said that leafeon are really strong and Pixie… isn’t. Maybe it is fair? “Why?” you ask.

“To give a demonstration.”

Cryptic. She probably knows what she’s doing though. Cuicatl’s good with pokémon. Really good.

*​

Inferno shakes himself off and the few ice crystals that hit him go flying away. The field is bathed in red light as Pixie is withdrawn. There are thin lines of blood on the field where the razor leaf attack hit. Cuicatl turns around and starts walking in the direction of the Center.

“Don’t think Pix’ll be much of a problem anymore. Congrats on the new pokémon.”

*​

November 7, 2019

Allana opens up the door and walks in with enough spring in her step that you can already tell what she has to say. “Guess what I just got?” She flashes you her new Normalium-Z in case you had any doubt.

“Congratulations,” Cuicatl replies. She sits up and smirks. “Now be a good lab rattata and tell me what to expect.” What. No. That’s really, really rude. Why?

Allana just rolls her eyes and sits down on her bed. “What, you’re Professor Slowking now?”

“Oh please,” Cuicatl turns up her nose and shuts her eyes. “A dragon doesn’t need a clam to rule.”

“Aren’t you a little small for a dragon?”

“For now.”

Allana rolls her eyes. “And someday you’re going to force me to get off my ass and go on a great quest?”

“You may try to rescue the noble Princess Genesis.” Your heart flutters. Do they have daydreams, too? “But I assure you that you will fail.”

“Why can’t I be a knight?” you ask. You’d always seen yourself as one in your daydreams. Being a princess… was less of a fantasy. “Or at least a knight and a princess.”

“Fine. I, the mighty dragon, am holding knight-slash-princess Genesis captive. And you, Sir Kekoa, will fall like all the rest.” She drops her arms and leans back against the wall. “Seriously, how’d it go?”

“Tell you when you win.”

“Ass.” Cuicatl crashes back down onto her bed and Pixie jumps up in surprise at her feet.

Can you ask to keep… playing? She seems done and you didn’t really understand what was going on. Maybe sometime in the future you can see if you can bring it up.

*​

“You’re seriously going alone?” Cuicatl asks.

“Not alone,” Allana answers. “I’ll have my pokémon.”

“Can’t you just wait two days until I can join you?”

“No. it’s going to rain tonight and castform are rare enough that we need every chance to catch one we can get.”

Cuicatl glares at her. “You’re going into unfamiliar woods alone, at night, in the rain.”

“Yes.” Allana meets her glare. “I am.”

“Why?”

“Because I’d like to know that we’ll be able to eat on the next mission.”

“Already taken care of.” Cuicatl folds her arms and leans back. “You both made $100 from your paras. Soon that will be $180 or $200.”

“Jenny just blew fifty bucks on an eevee.”

“Came from my personal funds.” If she’s going to bash you, you’re free to jump in. “Still over $100 ahead after it.”

Allana walks over to face you. “There are no personal funds until food is secure.”

“In any case,” Cuicatl interjects, “that covers rice, vegetables, pads, tampons, and purification tablets. And there will be more chances to make money next mission.”

“Yeah, well. What about pokéballs?” Allana starts pacing across the room. “What about potions? What about kibble, insects, moss, birdseed and whatever else the pokémon need? What if the tent rips? What if we want a bigger one?” She stops and crouches down in front of Cuicatl’s bed, hands on her thighs. “I will take some risks if it keeps us from having to ask those questions.”

“I’ll go,” you add.

“No,” Allana and Cuicatl say in unison. Allana continues: “You can’t go until you clear the trial.”

Oh. That’s why Cuicatl isn’t going. Not the blindness thing. Because blindness wouldn’t really matter at night.

Cuicatl sighs. “At least take Inferno.”

“What?” Allana asks.

What? Why? Why take him? Why is Cuicatl dragging you back into this?

“Because Pixie will revolt if I send her into a tropical rainforest during a storm, but a leafeon will be comfortable and capable of guiding you around.”

Oh. That actually does make a lot of sense. You nudge Inferno awake and she glances up at you with a look of absolute betrayal in her eyes. Yes. You should’ve let her sleep. You’re a monster. You stroke her cheek to see if that helps redeem you in his eyes.

It does.

“You want to go help…” Her? Him? You don’t want to offend Allana. You don’t want to offend Xerneas. “…my friend. In the rainforest. Tonight.” Inferno keeps staring at you with dull, sleepy eyes before he finally stands up and shakes himself off. His fresh grass scent becomes very powerful before he leaps down and gracefully trots over to Allana. You hear Pixie growl in response and see her ears perk up before her trainer presses them down and begins a thorough petting.

“Just try to stay safe, alright?” Cuicatl asks.

“Heh. Not much point in getting the money if I’m too dead to spend it, right?”

“…right.”

Something in Cuicatl’s expression tells you she’s not entirely convinced.

*​

November 9, 2019

“So… you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

Cuicatl is sprawled out on her bed, one hand petting Pixie and the other hanging over the side. Ce’s resting on her ankles while Pixie’s curled up on her chest glaring at Inferno. Or you. Probably Inferno.

You close your eyes and say a quick prayer for guidance so that you don’t say the wrong thing here. “You can always just retry later on.”

Cuicatl turns her head to (not) look at you. “I got the Z-crystal.”

“Then why are you sad?”

“Headache.”

Again?! She just got one at Brooklet Hill? And is this in the same caliber? You really hope not. The last one looked absolutely miserable and she was hours away from having a nurse give her a checkup however much she insisted he was fine.

“You want an aspirin?” you politely ask as you move to get one.

“Wouldn’t help,” she answers.

She said that last time. At the time you bought the line but since then you realized that she was too poor to afford one before and she didn’t actually know what they are. You’re going to offer her a way to accept it with dignity. After fishing one out of the first aid kit you step into the bathroom to get her a cup of water to take it with. Once you have everything you set the cup down on the floor and slip the aspirin into her dangling hand.

Cuicatl wraps her palm around it and smiles. “Thank you.” She takes the pill. Praise to Xerneas. “This is just a headache, though. Last time was a migraine. Give me a few hours and I’ll be good enough to castform hunt.”

*​

Allana walks in with Inferno trailing behind her. She stops at the door but your leafeon keeps trotting over until she reaches your bed. Then she tenses and jumps up to the top bunk in one movement. You scratch him at the base of his leaf because good jump. She smells like grass after the rain and there’s no mud on her. Allana’s getting better at giving him baths. Wait. “Where’s Cuicatl?”

“Slipped on some mud. Tripped and sprained her ankle.” Oh crap. “Nurse says she should be able to walk on it in a few days. Fully healed in two weeks.”

An unpleasant possibility flashes into your mind. “Did you trip her again?”

“No.” She dips her head and looks away. “I don’t do that stuff anymore.”

It’s been less than three weeks. Is that really enough time to change?

“Uh huh.”

She picks some clothes off of her bed and walks towards the bathroom door. “I saw a castform. Once you clear your trial I know where we should look.” Already thinking about that when your friend is hurt? Allana stops with her hand on the doorknob and lets her fingers slide off as she turns back towards you. “Her pride’s hurt. I don’t need to tell you to be nice but.” She sighs and turns back towards the door. “If I’m being a dick call me out.”

She slides into the bathroom and turns on the shower before you can really process that.

Huh.

Maybe she has changed?

 

[Persephone]

Content Notice: Death/Gore in more detail than previously seen. Parental neglect. Vaguely suicidal ideation but to a much lesser extent than 1.5.

Normal 1.13: Someday You Will Learn

Pixie

Cold air rushes over you as Avalanche stands. When you whine you’re hardly the only one of your siblings to do so. Your mother ignores you all and trots closer to Aurora. Father. He steps back and reveals a strange creature with white fur and a black horn half-buried in the snow. It doesn’t move. Asleep?

Avalanche growls as she approaches Aurora. They press their heads against each other and sniff before she breaks off to look at the creature. She bends down and sniffs a few times before purring in contentment. Then she opens her jaws, lunges down, and rips her teeth into it. Red liquid stains both the creature and Avalanche’s white fur. The smell strikes you a moment later. It’s… wonderful. Warmth in scent form.

“Blood,” Aurora hisses. “It is life. Yours. Others. We take it to live.”

“Like milk?” Thirdborn mews.

Aurora comes closer as Avalanche continues to violently rip into the creature’s flank. Red comes to stain more than just her snout as she rips and pulls at the creature.

“Milk for adults. Not given. We take it. Take it from the dead.”

“Dead?” you ask. “What’s dead?”

Aurora stares into your eyes. “Someday you will learn.”

He turns around and leaves you, your six siblings, the creature, and your bloodstained mother behind.

*​

Avalanche roars and whirls around. You see and feel light move as she shoots a pulse into the darkness. Sharp ice comes back in retaliation. You hear it and duck into the snow and the smell of blood follows you. Yours? No. Not hurt. You dig deeper in defense as the sounds and smells of battle rage above. The snow moves around you as ice shards impale themselves in the snow and your other siblings bury deeper.

The sounds die off. Eventually there is quiet and the deep smell of blood. You hesitantly dig closer to the surface and stick your head out. Avalanche is standing still. You sniffle on accident and she turns around to you. Before you can figure out what to do she presses her snout against yours and sniffs. Apparently satisfied she turns to something else.

Someone else. Fourthborn has an ice shard sticking between her ribs. She’s lying on the ground unmoving in a small puddle of red. Prey. Dead. Fifthborn has a trail of blood leading into her trail but her head surfaces soon after. When she joins you and your siblings on the surface you see that her paw is leaking red.

Avalanche pokes Fourthborn with her snout a few times. No movement. Without a word she picks your brother up in her jaws and walks a few of her body lengths away. There she digs into the snow with her forepaws before depositing your brother, covering him up, and walking back to you. She lies down and looks at Fifthborn before pulling her closer and licking your sister’s paw.

Avalanche never mentions Fourthborn again.

*​

Fifthborn’s paw starts to smell. At first it just smells like blood. Later it starts to smell different. More like the dead bodies Avalanche eats. Eventually she can’t walk on it without crying out in pain.

One day she doesn’t wake up. Avalanche buries her near Fourthborn. No one ever mentions Fifthborn again.

*​

Your tail splits! Now you’re more like Avalanche and Aurora than you were before. Soon all of your siblings’ tails have split. On the day when both of your tails are equally long, Avalanche howls and Aurora comes to her territory. He has no food with him. Your parents nuzzle each other and then Avalanche brings Aurora to each of you in turn and shows him your tails. When they’re done they both purr in pride and happiness.

Aurora thumps his tails on the ground. “Two-tails! Now you will hunt!”

*​

Hunting is boring. You just sit beneath a hole in the rock that you really want to explore but Avalanche says no and she would just pick you up in her mouth if you tried so you don’t. Eventually the sky goes dark. You’re still waiting. Then the sky goes even darker and Avalanche barks and starts spraying cold air upwards. Small winged creatures fall down and Aurora dashes out to intercept and shake all of them in his jaws. By the time the cloud passes the ground is littered with bodies the same size as yours.

Avalanche steps up to one and rips into it. As she chews she makes eye contact with you and gestures towards one of the corpses on the ground. You cautiously approach it and take a few sniffs. There’s heat radiating from it. Very cautiously you sink your teeth into it and feel the warm metallic life flow into your mouth. You close your jaws, pull back, shake, and swallow.

If this is what hunting feels for the predator you can understand why the redcrests took your siblings away.

You drown the thought in another bite and the taste of blood.

*​

When your third tail starts to bud Avalanche lets you split up to find prey. The pairs are new every time with Avalanche herself supervising one. Today she’s with you. She keeps one tail wrapped around all of yours. Sometimes she moves a little too fast and you have to run as hard as you can to keep up and sometimes it doesn’t matter because your tails still slip from hers anyway. That gets her attention and she skids to a stop before waiting on you to catch up. When she starts again she goes slow enough that you can match her pace and sometimes accidentally lean into her as you walk. Until she stops and it’s your turn to abruptly break.

Before you can protest she pushes you down into the snow. Redcrests? No. She pushes herself down lower a moment later. She’s either hiding or stalking and the nine-tales don’t hide. Why would they? Her heartbeat’s calm, too. As yours slows in turn you dig a little closer to her and press into her side. She’s projecting more cold than usual. Even inside her fur there’s very little warmth to be had.

She moves. You almost get kicked as she rushes out of the snow and starts blasting light out at something. Her departure kicks up enough snow that you can stand up and sort of watch as she fights a strange floating icicle. The prey blasts out shot after shot of ice but none of it makes a difference to Avalanche; she’s the coldest thing on the entire mountain and nothing can touch her.

Eventually the monster turns to flee. It doesn’t matter. Avalanche takes it out with one well-aimed shot to the back. It slowly collapses piece by piece as gravity comes back to the corpse. When everything’s done there’s a pile of sludge left where the beast’s shadow was. Avalanche sniffs it and then barks to summon you over. When you arrive you realize that there’s no blood. The whole puddle is homogenous: no interesting sights or smells stand out. In your peripheral vision you see Avalanche bend down and lick from the body. You do the same.

It’s not blood. It’s thicker. You can’t taste as many minerals. More like fat than meat. It’s very dense and it tastes very wonderful. You don’t quite have a word for the taste. A little bit like the berries Aurora brought up once from a trip down to the base. Your tongue is too small. You want to lick it up faster. Avalanche’s pace is almost casual compared to your tongue’s rapid strokes. Why? Does she not—

Your head lights up in pain. Attack? No. No blood. Avalanche doesn’t seem worried. As you bury your head in your paws she trots over and picks you up in her mouth. You feel a purr shake through her and into you. Why? She should be much more panicked. You’re her best kit by far.

When you return home she gently sets you down and you shake yourself off. At some point in the trip your headwound faded to something trivial. Was that her spit? Avalanche sets herself (and you) down and tucks her tails into the snow beneath her without answering. “Those are new. Aurora thinks humans brought them.”

You flick a tail out. “Why?” You’ve heard her thoughts on humans. They used to be a nuisance but a tolerable one. Then they started coming more and more frequently.

“They are easy to kill, high in fat, and taste very good. The assembly thinks they are an offering in exchange for their den on the peak.”

Would that justify the den? You haven’t seen it but it’s supposedly very large and they’ve had to bring lots of supply through the mountain to build it. Plus Avalanche thinks that humans do not belong in the presence of the nine-tails because they are smelly and hairless and stupid and gross. She is very smart so she is almost certainly right.

“Worth it?” you ask.

She shakes herself off. “We gave them a trail. If they stick to it we will not destroy them.”

That seems generous and very reasonable. Exactly what you would expect from Avalanche and Aurora and the nine-tails.

*​

Firstborn and Seventhborn return before dark. But when Avalanche would usually cover all of you up in her tails and pull you close for the night Secondborn and Thirdborn are nowhere to be seen. Avalanche paces back and forth with increasing fury as the sun sets and the moon rises on the horizon. Eventually she stops, stamps her feet and howls. She resumes pacing until Aurora arrives.

Your parents have a very terse conversation. It’s difficult to make out much of it over the typical mountain wind. When it’s over Aurora sets off in a different direction than he came. Avalanche resumes pacing for much of the night. You try to stay awake. There’s a sense of dread over you and your siblings and you need to know what’s going on. But you’re just a two-tails and at some point you dig a little deeper into the snow and sleep.

*​

You wake up to the sound of something very large being dragged through the snow. Once you’re out of your burrow you make out something furry and strange looking (and smelling) staring back at you. There are bloody wounds on its side and one of its arms seems to be entirely gone.

Avalanche is cautiously circling it. “You’re sure?” she asks. Aurora barks with confidence.

With bared teeth Avalanche turns from you and faces the body head on before unleashing the brightest and longest moonblast you’ve ever seen. For a few seconds there’s daylight on the mountain before the light fades and only a charred, bloody, remains. Without a sound Avalanche walks over, lifts a leg, and scent marks it.

Aurora takes the creature away.

“What was that?” Firstborn quietly asks.

“A warning.”

Avalanche walks back to you and your siblings and wraps you up in her tails. Is this it? Are you supposed to sleep now? Where are Secondborn and Thirdborn?

Seventhborn makes your questions known and Avalanche growls before uncurling and going back to pacing in her rut in the snow. “Dead. Avenged.” She stops and glares back at her children before coming forward and sitting down a body length away. After a long, mournful whine to the moon she pauses. When she speaks again it’s in the tone of the ancient stories.

“The Mountain never changes. The Mountain never grows. There will never be more space than there was when I was born. Two nine-tails make a litter. The Mountain never changes. The Mountain never grows. When the nine-tails die they must leave behind one hair each so that there is enough food and space to go around.”

She looks down from the moon and back at you. “There are three of you now. I will allow only one more loss. The Mountain never changes. The Mountain never grows. I may only keep two.”

“What if none of us die?” you ask.

Avalanche shakes her head and sweeps her tails around you before settling down and pressing you into the snow for the remainder of the night.

*​

The next morning’s excursion takes you past a snowy cavern. The day before you and your siblings would have walked as close to the edge as you could before Avalanche growled and pulled you back or fear of the yawning chasm finally won out. Today you all cling to the rock wall a few body lengths away, no one daring to put space between them and the firm surface.

It would be very easy to get pushed down here.

Accidents happen, after all.

*​

You hear the footfalls and grunts of a strange creature long before you can see it through the storm. Avalanche stands tense with her tails over her children as the sounds gradually become louder. First you can see a strange outline between Avalanche’s tails, a little bit like a redcrest but far larger and without any claws. Most of his body covered in black fur but you can sometimes see dark brown skin underneath.

“Holy shit,” it vocalizes once it sees Avalanche. The two stare at each other for a dozen breaths before Avalanche turns around and gently picks you up in her jaws. She whips a tail at the newcomer as she walks past and the creature belatedly staggers after her. What is he? What is this adventure for? Why did Avalanche choose you?

The storm steadily dissipates and the air grows warmer. At first it’s pleasant like being under Avalanche’s tails. Then it starts to become very warm like blood. Eventually it is painfully warm in a way that you’ve never experienced at all before.

At this point Avalanche gently sets you down and watches as the strange bipedal creature staggers after her before crashing his hindquarters down on a rock and breathing deeply. “Thanks,” he mutters.

For a few heartbeats Avalanche stares at him in silence. Then she starts trotting back up the mountain, out of the terrible warm. You dutifully follow before she whirls around and growls at you with her teeth bared. You take a step back. What? What is she doing. When she starts moving again you follow with the same result.

The creature slowly stands. “Oh. You, uh, want me to catch it?”

She barks in affirmation and starts bolting up the hill. You start running as a crashing sound echoes behind you but Avalanche turns and shakes her fur. A colorful barrier materializes in front of her and you crash right into it.

“Makuhita, use arm thrust!”

Loud footfalls ring out behind you and you dart to the side while hugging the barrier. You glance behind you and see a large urine-colored creature lumbering after you. He’s slow which buys you precious seconds. Behind the barrier Avalanche makes no further attempts to climb the mountain.

“Why?!” you scream at her. “Help!”

You break away from the barrier to avoid getting cornered between it and a rock. You’re still outpacing the beast but you’re starting to feel warm in your lungs and your fur and everywhere else. You catch a glance of Avalanche and see the dispassionate eyes of a predator staring back.

Oh no.

This is what happens when three vulpix remain.

For a moment you pause in shock. You barely start walking in time to avoid a powerful punch sending up snow and earth behind you. Then you start running again. “Seventhborn is the youngest! Firstborn is a terrible hunter! Leave one of them!” She doesn’t answer. Her eyes don’t change.

Maybe this is a test. Yes, you have a chance to prove your worth by fighting two strange creatures at once and winning (although one doesn’t seem to be doing much at all). You pivot and unleash as much snow as you can while you’re tired and in burning air. It’s too little. After it’s all done the smaller creature just wipes its face off and resumes charging you.

No. You’ll need to weaken him. You turn around and rush the creature. It lunges, you dive, and as you sail past you slap all of your tails against him fast enough that the air cracks. Your eyes widen under the pain of the impact in your tails but you keep going. You have to. There’s no time. With a furious growl you turn around and unleash a barrage of ice at the creature. This time there’s so much less. He doesn’t even flinch.

No.

You see the impact coming but between pain and despair you don’t do anything to block it. Something cracks in your chest and there’s warmth under the skin. Did he rupture something? Do you care? You glance up to Avalanche and give one last mewl pleading for help. For a moment her expression breaks and you see your mother, not a hunter. Then she turns around and slowly starts walking back up as the barrier falls.

No.

The creature descends again. You feel two, three more blows each followed by cracking and warmth in your body but none of it hurts more than what you just saw.

Eventually the attacks stop and the world disappears in bloodstained light.

*​

The rainforest is far hotter and wetter than anywhere else you’ve been before and it’s terrible and you hate it but Skysong insists on walking straight into an ambush by a very strong pokémon and you will do what you can to keep her from dying so that she owes you her life and can never abandon you.

You still have the harness on when you, Skysong, and Snowhair walk into a clearing with a small set of platforms in it. Snowhair takes your trainer’s hand and leads her to one of the small ones. “Sit,” she says, and sit Skysong awkwardly does. Then she bends over and unclips your harness before bringing herself upright again.

“It’s fine if you want into your ball, Pix. No fights for a bit.”

You sit down and growl. An ambush predator will strike when she least expects it. It is very important for you to remain visible so that her enemies fear for their lives and stay away.

Snowhair claps her hands. “You ready to begin?”

“Yes,” Skysong replies. Like she’s not only ready to get attacked by a monster but looking forward to it.

“Now, for my trial we…” Snowhair’s eyes go wide and you can hear her say a human anger expression quietly enough that maybe Skysong didn’t catch it. “Uh, you heard of chess?”

“Heard of it, never played.”

Her opponent, the so-called-captain, drums her paw on the platform. “Well, then I can’t expect you to play it from memory. Shoot, should’ve thought of this earlier.”

“We can just say that I won and no one will know the difference?” Skysong suggests in a higher pitch than usual, like she’s appealing for special treatment from her mother. Except Snowhair isn’t her mother. They smell very different from each other and this “captain” is far too young.

“Tempting but no. Wait.” The captain bares her teeth. “I might if you tell me what’s up with Kekoa.”

Skysong moves her shoulders in an act of submission. “He was being a dick. He’s slowly being less of a dick. What exactly do you want to know?”

“A lot,” Snowhair answers before breaking into a laugh. “You might want to withdraw your vulpix. This could take a bit.”

You roar. No! She will not use clever tricks to attack Skysong when she least expects it! You refuse to grant the underhanded monster what she—

*​

Where are you?

What is you?

Memories.

What are memor—

*​

“Confuse Ray!” Skysong yells. You blink and look around. There’s a giant white human-like thing in the center of the clearing. Looks sick. The dumb mushroom bugs must have done their job and now you will strike the final blow. Just as soon as you can move your eyes. Why are you this slow? Did the pokéball do this? You can feel your head moving and the energy coming but the fluffman is terribly fast and has leaves spread out by his eyes before you can even fire off the attack. Why is it so, so fast?

{Trick room. Also got in a nasty plot boost. Don’t let him hit you.}

Right as you get the message orange orbs appear in front of the fluffman. You desperately run away as fast as your very slow body can take you. Out of the corner of your eye you see the fluffman flinch right before the orbs start to fly. You dive down and put yourself as close to the ground as possible in case they fly high. They don’t. One strikes right behind you and before you can think you’re blasted through the air at normal speed.

“Pixie!” Skysong calls. No. No no no no no no no no no. You can’t fail her and lose without getting a single hit in. With as much willpower as you can muster you pulse a spectral light from your body. Fluffman turns to look at you right as the attack launches. Yes! You remember what Skysong told you and puff up to cool the air. Then with a mighty scream you launch a barrage of icicles straight through fluffman’s stupid leaves. Skysong makes little lightning with her fingers. “Now roar!”

Roar! You can do the roars! The sound takes longer to come but when it does you let as much out as you can to tell the fluffman that you are way scarier than it and honestly it should just run away before it gets eaten. It doesn’t quite work. Fluffman does blink repeatedly and even stumbles over itself and crashes to the ground and you get a wonderful opportunity to pelt it with even more ice shards. You even hit fluffman right in the face as it glares up at you. Then—

Fire. Your head is on fire. No, your mind is on fire. Or broken. Or on fire and broken. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts so much and you want to die or at least curl up into a ball and stay still until—

Skysong screams. You slowly and shakily stand and find her curled up on the ground with her paws squeezing her head and her body curled up.

…

You couldn’t save her.

…

What now?

…

Should you put her down?

…

You don’t want her to slowly die from the rot.

…

Is there even a wound?

…

Matriarch’s going to kill you.

…

Do you let her?

…

The fluffman walks over. For a moment you consider trying to get one last ice shard in its eye to spite it in the end. But your head hurts too much. Just thinking about it breaks you. No. Nothing to do. When your legs give out and you hit the ground your eyes are already closed.

Just get it over with.

No one ever loved you anyway.

And why would they?

You were never good for anything.

The killing blow never comes. At some point Skysong stops screaming but her ragged, harsh breaths and the smell of saltwater tell you that she’s still alive. You open an eye and turn to see the fluffman holding her head in its lap and gently stroking a paw through her hair.

{Who taught you?} he finally asks. You get the message but it’s distorted and echoey. Nothing like absolute clarity of Skysong’s.

Skysong pulls herself up and holds her upper body in the air with her arms. Her breaths are slowing but only barely.

“A.. reuniclus…” she eventually says between breaths. “Sort… of… self… taught.”

The fluffman levitates a berry up to Skysong’s mouth. {Eat it. Good for psychic pain.}

She slowly lifts up a hand and presses the berry into her mouth. It’s a messy process with juice leaking down to the ground and all over her face.

{Inefficient link. Constantly sending signals. Should’ve had a valve.}

“Valve?”

Fluffman sighs. {May I access your powers and show you?}

Skysong half-chokes and half-laughs. “Couldn’t stop you.”

{But may I?}

“Go ahead,” she says before closing her eyes and lowering herself to the ground.

{Is there another pokémon in the link.}

“Yeah,” Skysong mumbles. “Give me a second.”

Loudspore materializes beside you. She seems healthy. Why? You are her strongest team member and should have been trusted to finish the match.

Something tugs at your mind. No, that’s what the first attack felt like this. This time it feels like something is pushing into it. Not like an attack. Sort of like an attack? It’s over very quickly. You blink. The mind pain is gone now. You blink again. What?

“Yeah, I did.” Skysong says to no one. To the fluffman? Why did you stop getting those messages. You inquiry growl and she turns her head a few degrees towards you. “Try to push it into the link, Pix.”

Into the link? To Loudspore. You think “Why are you healthy?” and also think about Loudspore and Skysong.

The former starts chittering and you belatedly get the answer. “…fought yet!”

Oh.

She was the ace Skysong trusted to finish the match.

You see something float through the air in your peripheral vision. A strange glowing stone. Your tails involuntarily tense like you’re in the presence of a ghost.

Fluffman takes the rock and presses it into Skysong’s hand. Your trainer looks up with a startled expression on her face.

“But… I lost. I didn’t earn it.”

The pokémon waves its hand. “Would have if you weren’t interrupted.”

At last she shakily gets to her feet. You stand up and start to trot over when you see her reach for her pokéballs. “Good work, Pix. We’ll talk more later.”

*​

“Now, which pokémon did you wish to transfer?” the healer asks.

Skysong reaches down to her belt to fulfill her promise. She takes off one, two, three, four pokéballs and hands them to the healer. “These”

WAIT.

You growl in protest and she glances down on you. {Explain later} enters your mind. No! No! She promised to get rid of all the bugs when the trial was done.

“Alright, we’re all set. Anything else you need from me?”

Skysong shakes her head. “No. Thank you.”

“Congrats on winning your first Z-Crystal,” the nurse says with teeth bared.

“Thank you.” For a moment your trainer. flashes her teeth before turning around and letting her face relax. “Lead me outside, Pix?” Skysong asks/commands. You will so that you can properly berate her without any other humans becoming upset. Once you’re outside she sits down on the steps.

You yip, growl, and roar in rapid succession. She only sighs in response.

“You promised!”

Skysong hangs her head low. “I did.”

“You broke the promise!”

She closes her eyes. “Ce asked to stay with me.”

You thump all of your tails on the ground. “Unacceptable!” You thump them again. “How dare you?!”

Her expression hardens. “Pix, I promised you that there would be no more friends if the trial went well. It didn’t.”

You glare at her and keep hissing. No. She’s going to replace you imminently. Fine. You’ll spite her back. See how the oath breaker likes it. Now, what revenge will you take? Obviously you’ll kill Loudspore. Maybe pee in Skysong’s mouth? It worked for Hummy.

Skysong sighs and reaches for her belt. “Don’t kill her,” she mutters right before Loudspore appears.

You turn and roar at her and she reflexively skitters back and protects her head with her pincers. {W-what did I do?}

“I’m sorry,” Skysong says. “I told you that I’d keep you if Pixie approved. She doesn’t.”

Loudspore lowers a claw and chitters nervously. {Please?} She finally asks. {I like her. I like you. I want to stay.}

You growl as deeply as you can before shouting {No!} with the link open. She cannot stay. That brings Skysong to two pokémon. Two is far too close to three. And when Skysong has to leave someone behind she’ll leave you.

Just like everyone else.

“I’m not going to replace you,” Skysong lies. “Ce is very good at capturing things and she’s very upbeat and makes me smile. You are more challenging.” You growl. You are not challenging. You are a very well-behaved fox. She just waves a paw. “In a good way. You keep me on my toes. And you’re very cute and soft and a great guide fox. I can’t replace one of you with the other. That’s not how it works.”

That is exactly how it works. It’s how it’s always worked and how it will always work.

Skysong lowers her gaze. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. As she should be. Breaking promises. “I’m sorry, Ce, but I told Pix this would be temporary. If she doesn’t want to change…”

You bark despite not being sure exactly where this is going. You want the bug gone.

“…then I’ll still do my best to get you a new trainer. But I can’t let you stay.”

Loudspore doesn’t say anything for a long time. At last she shoots you a final wary look and walks over to Skysong’s leg. She wraps her pincers around your trainer’s ankles and receives gentle strokes between her mushrooms in return. Is this it? Did you win?

No one answers you for long enough that outside becomes unbearably warm. At last Skysong stands up and withdraws Loudspore.

“I hope you’re happy.”

You are.

*​

Skysong swallows for no apparent reason. “And in the meantime she likes moist, dark places. And scratches between the mushrooms. And pop music. She loves her moss mixes but she thinks fallen leaves and cattails are almost as good.”

The man on the screen nods sympathetically but he’s been steadily less sympathetic as the conversation has worn on.

“We know,” he says. “We’ve cared for a lot of paras.”

“You’ll get her a new trainer as soon as you can, right?” Skysong asks even though you’re pretty sure that she’s asked it at least once before.

“Yes,” the man responds. “We will.”

Skysong lowers her head and her icky grass-colored hair falls in her face. “Okay,” she finally whispers-cries. “I’ll send the ball over.”

There’s some awkward fumbling but eventually the ball disappears in a flash of red. Did you do it? Is she finally gone?

Skysong shuts off the monitor while the man is still speaking and walks away. You press against her leg and she gently pushes you away before walking on.

*​

You trail behind Bloodrage and Skysong, periodically stopping to scent mark something so you can help lead them out later. You aren’t talking to Skysong and she isn’t talking to you. The forest is a little bit cooler at night, even if the air feels altogether too much like rain. Ugh. Your fur gets weighed down when it is wet and you look smaller and less intimidating and it is absolutely terrible. Just like the rest of your day.

“Genesis said you have a headache,” Bloodrage says.

“Already gone.”

Several more steps are taken. Bloodrage flicks on a lightbeam to compensate for the darkening sky.

“You want to talk about the trial?” he asks.

“No.”

The only sounds are those of the forest. Rustling trees, bigbeak songs, and the cries of dozens of pokémon you don’t recognize. You feel a drop of water hit your tails. Clearly a fluke. You feel another. Just a shaking tree. A big droplet hits you right on the nose. You growl in frustration. You are far too lovely and powerful and important to stand in the rain!

Bloodrage abruptly holds out an arm and Skysong walks right into it. Then he takes off running with a sharp whistle. His bigbeak soars down from the trees to join him.

“Kekoa, wait!” Skysong shouts before lifting her white stick and running after him. You take off in response. She moves rather well for being blind, even though there are a lot of tree roots on the—you see it happen but you’re powerless to stop it. Her paw finally hit one of the roots and for a moment she stops entirely. Then her body keeps flying forward while her paw is stuck behind the root.

She hits the ground with a thud and stays down.

Bloodrage is still off ahead. You can hear him give commands and hear something else retaliate with bursts of something. You sit down and try to lick some of the water out of your fur. Skysong can take care of herself.

She doesn’t move but she’s still breathing. Crying even.

Should you help? She did betray you. But if you help her now she might realize how valuable you are and kick out Loudspore for good. Worth the risk. You steadily plod over and gently extend a paw to her back.

She screams with intensity and anger you’ve never heard from her before. She tells a crocodile (?) in the earth (?) exactly what procreative acts he needs to perform. Some involve defecation.

Human reproduction is very disturbing.

Bloodrage arrives around the time that Skysong’s scream breaks into rapid, shallow breaths and occasional gasps and moans. Her eyes are overflowing with saltwater. Did you cause this? You step back. Best not to test your luck now.

“What happened?” Bloodrage asks. He doesn’t receive an answer beyond an explosion of mucus from her nose and an absent-minded paw movement to wipe it off. Ew.

She slowly calms down with progressively deeper and less frequent breaths. Then she’s quiet for several heartbeats. “I tripped,” she finally answers.

“Can you walk?” Bloodrage asks as he crouches down.

“Yes.” She sniffles. “Not too bad. Just.”

“Let me help.” Bloodrage locks paws with Skysong and slowly pulls her up. For a moment she keeps one foot held above the ground while leaning into Bloodrage before she slowly lowers it and winces. “Hey, it’s—”

“I can walk on it,” Skysong replies in a dull, low voice.

For a second it looks like Bloodrage is going to argue with your idiot liar trainer before he just sighs and starts moving forward. You take the lead and track the familiar scents back out of the forest.

 

[Persephone]

Normal 1.14: Mother and Sister
Egg

You awaken trapped and comfortable.

Something in you knows that you should get out. Escape. Be free. Free from what? The liquid around you is very pleasant. You hear sounds outside. High pitched and soothing. Mother! She is why you must get out.

You raise your head and bash your tooth against the wall. Then you do it again. And again. Mother is there. She will hear you and help. Eventually. She does not help but she does stop encouraging you. Odd. Your tooth strikes the wall again and the shell cracks. Another hit and it crumbles. You press your head out through the hole and into the

You don’t know what this is. A new sense!

You survey your surroundings and find her. Two hers. They smell like hers. One is very big and adult colored. Mother! You rush towards her and squeak so she knows that you are here and hers and that you love her very much. She reaches down one of her absolutely massive arms and holds out her claws and you press your head into them Her claws feel very soft. Wait what do most claws feel like? You press a claw into your face. Yes, hers are much softer.

“Hello,” Mother says. “Who are you?”

“Your daughter!” Obviously. “I just hatched!”

She extends her other claw down to scratch you because she loves you and will look out for you until you are as big as she is.

“And I’m your Mother?”

“Yes!”

She ruffles the feathers on your head. “You’re very soft,” she comments. Your sister huffs beside you. “Just like you, Pixie,” Mother adds.

Your sister’s name is Pixie! “What’s my name?” you ask.

“Hmmmmm.” She hums/roars a little bit. It’s very melodic and pretty and you’re upset when she stops. “Your Dad will be here later. I think he’ll want to name you.”

“Why?”

“Because…” She trails off and doesn’t finish the thought. “He wanted to raise you.”

You thump your tail on the ground. “But you’re my Mother!”

She shakes her head and her beautiful green feathers move with her. “I’ll still be around. But he’ll do most of the work.”

You hiss. “Unfair! You’re raising Pixie!”

Pixie harrumphs in agreement. It’s a very strange sound.

“Yes. Your Father is also caring for other pokémon.”

“But you’re taking care of my sister! Why not me? I’m a girl. You’re a girl. It makes sense.”

Her claws twitch up and nearly out of reach. You can still press your head into them if you stand up as tall as you can. “Why do you think Pixie’s your sister?”

“Because she’s the same color and size as me.”

You notice that Mother’s eyes are very pretty. Not like Pixie’s. There’s some color in them but it’s hidden behind a white pattern. Mother presses her claw against your body and scratches you from your head to the tip of your tail. Then she brings the claw back up and flicks the egg liquid off.

“I should get you a bath and a checkup before your Dad gets here.” She bends down and picks you up before cradling you in her giant arms. It is very warm and safe and you love her and she loves you. “Pix, can you guide me downstairs?”

Your sister shakes herself off with a wave of—cold air?—and starts walking forward with one tail held back against Mother’s leg. Huh. Pixie has multiple tails. Unfair! You only have one.

Mother opens up a clever barrier from her cave into—Another cave?! Then she walks down the tunnel until she reaches—Another another cave??!! And this one feels weird and has strange sounds. You want to explore it but Mother tightens her grip on you. Then the cave stops and the wall slides open into—Another another another cave???!!! How deep underground were you? Or were you near the surface and you’ve just been going deeper? Why does Mother live underground in the first place?

“Don’t live here,” she whispers. “Just staying here for a few days. Also, it’s not a cave. Closer to a hollowed out tree.” Woah. That’s a really, really big tree.

Mother takes you into a big cavern with a female adult leaning on a big wooden ridge. Mother and Sister walk over to the other adult. “Hi,” Mother says. “She just hatched and I think she needs a checkup?”

She gently places you down on the ridge. The other adult looks you over. “No problem. Let me call a nurse.”

Other adult picks up a strange shiny rock and vocalizes into it. Another adult female, a “nurse,” comes over and frowns. Teeth have been shown! Challenge? Mother reaches out and gently runs a claw along your back. No challenge.

“Can I have a name, please?” Nurse asks.

“Cuicatl Ichtaca.”

It would be weird if other adults who she was not the mother of called her Mother. It was very clever of Mother to come up with something else to be called.

“Mmhmm. Do you know what this pokémon is?”

Mother shakes her head. Is she dirty? Has an attacker latched onto her? Is she breaking the spine of prey? What is the head shake for? “She speaks a language similar to Upper Draconic. Otherwise, no clue. Hatched from a mystery egg a friend was given.”

There’s a brief silence.

“Do you understand Draconic?”

“Lower and Upper Draconic. They’re different languages.”

Nurse bites her lip. Surrender? An attempt to draw her own blood so that other predators and scavengers come to her under the mistaken impression that she is wounded, thus allowing her to kill them without having to hunt them down? Provides food and reduces competition all at once. Genius. Almost on Mother’s level.

“Can I put that in your file? Dragons are a pain to treat and I’m sure nurses would appreciate it if they could talk to the pokémon and tell it what’s going on.”

“Just because I can speak to dragons doesn’t mean they listen to me,” Mother says. “I can try but I make no promises.”

“I get it. Please wait here while I get a pokédex. I want to figure out what species she is before I do anything else.” Immediately after she starts walking away she turns around to look at Mother. “Are you just guessing she’s female or can you tell?”

“Upper Draconic is very gendered. She uses female pronouns.”

“Okay.” Nurse smells distressed, deferential, confused. Attack? Mother puts a claw under your chin and scratches you really hard and it’s wonderful. Wait, were you going to attack something? Nurse comes back with a strange flat rock. She points it towards you and a voice comes out.

Tyrunt, the Royal Heir Pokémon. Unregistered. Rock-dragon type. Prone to angry outbursts. Approach with caution.

The rock can talk! Should you attack it? Neither Mother nor Sister nor nurse move to fight it. You decide to simply watch for now.

Nurse makes a strange grunting sound. Attack? Mother taps your head. Is strange. Probably means should not attack. “What license do you have?”

“Class III.”

She bites her lip again because no prey have shown up to be eaten.

“Has she imprinted on you?”

“I think so. She says I’m her mother.” She is!

“Do you know what license Mr. Mahi’ai has?”

Mother blankly stares forward and slowly shakes her head. “Who?”

“Kekoa?”

Mother blinks very dramatically because sand or an insect attacked her only weak point like a coward. “Class III. Sorry.”

Nurse drives her claws onto a stone in a strange sequence. Eventually she nods her head and speaks while still looking down. “Could you withdraw your vulpix and come back with me?”

“I didn’t bring my cane…”

That provokes a dramatic and prolonged exhale. “Can you withdraw it once it guides you back? Vulpix have a reputation for causing trouble.”

Pixie whines on the floor. You don’t know why but there might be a threat so you also start roaring too and your sister almost immediately stops and stares at you with her tails pressed down and ears slicked back. Mother slowly and pointedly exhales like Nurse did. “Do you think you can do that, Pix?”

Your sister very softly barks.

“Perfect.”

Nurse tries to pick you up and you move to bite her before she pulls back. “Can you carry her?” she asks Mother. “She’s being aggressive.” Wow. She’s scared of your bite and you only have one tooth. Soon you will be unstoppable.

Mother gently cradles you and you go behind the dividing stone into Nurse’s den. With the unneeded assistance of Nurse and Pixie, Mother sets you down on a large slab high in the air. She fumbles with something at her waste and there’s a red flash of light. You stop hearing sister’s heartbeat a moment later.

Did Mother kill her?!

{No.} Mother messages you. In your mind! How?! {She’s just gone for a moment. I will bring her back later.}

MOTHER CAN RAISE THE DEAD?!?!

Nurse puts a wet and warm leaf over your head. It feels like the egg. You press into it and she brings it down your body. Then she rinses the leaf off and does it again. “I asked about the licenses,” she says during her second rinse, “because if she’s imprinted on you she only requires a Class III. But if she hasn’t she’d require a Class IV.”

“You’re saying Kekoa can’t own her?” Mother asks.

Nurse nods right before she presses the leaf down on you. “Not legally. You could still be her legal owner while letting Kekoa do most of the caregiving.”

“I don’t think she, I mean the pokémon, wants that,” Mother says. “I asked her about that earlier and she got very upset.”

It’s hard to follow the conversation when only Mother makes sense and you can only sort of tell what Nurse means from her tone and actions. You think that Mother is laying out a case for claiming you from Father, though, which is very good. Mother is Mother. Father can help.

Nurse moves the leaf away and takes out a strange shiny object. She flicks a claw against it and a stream of very warm air comes out. You lean into it and watch as it causes the feathers it hits to press down and ripple out. Very warm! Can you nap under this? Does Mother have one? Can she use it maybe every day several times a day?

“You can work that out later,” Nurse says over the hum of the air. “Any questions on caring for her?”

“What does she eat?” Mother asks.

That’s silly! The same thing she eats, of course. Just regurgitated. Nurse turns the heavenly air off and you hiss at her. Mother presses her claws into your back and that shifts your attention because the pressure is really nice. Nurse bares her teeth. “Good question. Can I go get the pokédex?”

“Yes,” Mother says as she moves her claws to ruffle the feathers on your head. Is annoying! And maybe also kind of fun. Will decide after the scritches conclude.

Nurse starts walking away. “Raw or cooked meat is the short answer. Maybe the occasional insect mix or bone tossed in. She’ll move on to full carcasses as she grows up.” She grabs the talking stone and walks back. “Longer answer is that until she grows her first set of teeth it’ll need to be ground up for her. I think. And she might only take it regurgitated. I’m going to have to call someone off the islands to verify that. Hopefully the egg yolk will keep her full for a few more hours.”

“How often will she need fed?” Mother asks. “I know hydreigon eat once a week but…”

What is a hydreigon and will you get a chance to kill one? They might taste good.

“Again,” Nurse spreads her lips thin with just a little bit of teeth showing. “Let me check with someone who’s cared for a tyrunt before. With any luck I’ll have the information in a few hours.”

*​

The door to Mother’s den slams open. “Cuicatl Ichtaca, I need you to tell Jennifer that we could use a fuckton of money right about now.”

You look up as two angry adults, both larger than Mother, walk in. Both are wet. One is walking in quick, heavy steps while the other stays back and moves delicately. Why are their three adults? There should only be two.

Mother sighs and picks you up into the air. Your resurrected sister immediately rushes in to fill the space on Mother’s lap you were occupying. “Your egg hatched, Kekoa.”

The angry one, Father, moves over and puts his face uncomfortably close to you. “Some kind of a bird?”

“Sort of. The nurse’s pokédex said she was a tyrunt.”

Father closes his eyes and practically hisses before stomping off. “Fuck me.”

Mother coughs. “She, um. They imprint. Like birds.”

Father stops and looks back at you and Mother. “She imprinted on you?”

“Yeah.” You can feel Mother’s pulse pick up as she lowers you down to the middle of her folded legs, ignoring your sister’s hissing. She begrudgingly makes room but continues to glare at you. “She did.”

“Fuck me.” Father’s limbs are shaking and his breath is heavy. He turns to face the entry to the den where the third human stands. “Jennifer, can you give us a minute here.”

She slowly turns around. “Yeah, um, I’ll be out with Sir Bubbles if you need me.”

When the portal closes Father slowly and deliberately sits down on a wooden platform with bedding on it. “Keep her,” he says.

“What? That’s… a lot.”

Father sighs. “I owe you for the shit I did earlier.”

Mother stops scratching you and places her hands on her legs. “You don’t owe me that much.”

“Cuicatl.” Father leans forward and looks at Mother with a terrifying intensity. “I need you to swear to keep this secret.”

Mother bares her teeth for a moment before leaning down, touching the ground with a claw, and bringing it back to her mouth. “I swear in the name of Huitzilopochtili to never tell another soul without your permission.”

Father slowly relaxes. “I’ve been lying about my parents. They’re dead. I lived in an orphanage.”

“I’m sorry,” Mother instantly replies.

“Don’t be.” Father snickers. “You didn’t kill them.”

Mother exhales and runs a claw through her head feathers. “I meant that I know what it’s like.”

Father tilts his head and looks intensely at Mother. Not out of rage but concern or wariness.

“You want to talk about it?”

“No,” Mother says very quietly.

“Okay.” Father takes a deep breath. “Anyways, my brother and I watched Jurassic Park right before everything went to shit. Then once the storm cleared and the death certificates were signed my brother fucked off to the mainland to punch a god or something. Left me behind.” Mother is silent. For a few heartbeats so is Father. “I got a letter or a call once a week for a little bit. Then once a month. Then once a year. Then not at all.” His voice cracks. Is he injured? He looks down and shifts his legs. “He came back a few months ago. Tracked me down in Paniola. Thinks everything’s fucking fine and we can just go back to the way things were before.”

“But you can’t,” Mother adds.

Father nods. “But we can’t.” His face is already very wet but you swear that a little more flows down it. “I can’t take the tyrunt. That tells him the debt’s paid and we can go back to the way things were before...” He trails off.

Mother gently lifts herself up and pushes you and Pixie off of her legs. “Hug?”

Father walks across the room and embraces Mother in his very long arms. They stand still for several breaths in the center of the den before Father backs away with a muttered, “Thanks.”

“You want to cuddle? You can see Mother raise up her arms to her chest and tilt her head to the side.

Father walks back to his bedding and sits down. “Not now.”

“Okay.” Mother steps back and slowly lowers herself onto the bedding. Pixie rushes onto her and you settle for leaning against her leg. It will be your turn later and you will move her then. “I suppose she needs a name.”

“Yeah,” Father sighs and leans back onto his bedding. “Just don’t name her Chompy.”

“I was thinking Mitzcocotonaz, actually.”

Father pops his head up a little. “What’s that mean.”

“She will dismember you.”

He flops his head back down. “Fucking metal.”

“Fucking metal,” Mother solemnly agrees.

It is an excellent name. You will honor it by dismembering many things.

Mother tilts her head and feathers spill onto her face “Now, what were you saying about Genesis?”

You perk up. This is your chance to find out more about the strange third human. The Genesis.

“We caught a castform. She wants to keep it,” Father says in a low and monotonous voice.

Neither says anything for a moment. Father shifts in his nest and Mother starts petting your sister. “That’s a lot of money,” she finally says.

What is money? Can it be killed? If so, why isn’t she excited about an abundance of prey?

“Tell me about it.” Father sits back up and starts speaking louder. “That’s a new tent, a full resupply of potions and pokéballs, a backpack, and as much food as we need.”

Mother’s face scrunches up. “We have $180 in the bank, right?”

“Yeah.”

She stops petting your sister and starts scratching the side of your head with two of her claws. You lean into it and gently growl with affection. “We definitely won’t starve. Other supplies could stretch things.”

Other supplies? Nest-building stuff? Water? Rocks that shoot out warm air? Those are very important. Something rumbles in your gut. Time to poop. Where? You reach up and gently tug on Mother’s arm. She starts and looks down at you. “Hey. Uh, need anything?”

“Where do I poop?” you ask.

She bares her teeth and stands. Your sister jumps down to the floor as she does. “Kekoa, mind helping me outside? Coco needs to go.” Who is Coco—oh, you are Coco!

*​

Outside is warm and moist and absolutely wonderful and you don’t know why Mother and Father live inside of a tree when they could be out here. And water is coming down from above you! How! You stare up to investigate it but no answers appear. What were you here for? Oh, right. “Where do I poop?” you ask Mother.

“Anywhere on the green plants.”

There are many green plants. So many places to poop! You walk forward and defecate on some green plants just like Mother told you to. Right after you step away Pixie steps up, pops a leg, and pees right where you just went before huffing and walking back to Mother near the tree and out of the water.

Should you follow her? You glance up at the sky again and it lights up and roars in response. You rush back to Mother for protection and she brings you back inside the safety of the tree.

*​

“As it turns out not many places have hatched tyrunt,” Nurse says. “A few hatchlings in Shanghai but they’ve classified the details. The parks in San Diego and Panama are closed at this hour. Finally got ahold of a safari in Dubai.” Mother nods slowly and Nurse continues. “They’re hardier than I’d feared and Alola’s climate is good for them. Until she starts teething you should mainly feed her regurgitated poultry.”

Mother’s mouth twists and she tilts her head to the side. “Teething?”

“Yup.” Nurse starts rummaging through strange white leaves on her desk until she finally settles on one. “Just like human babies. In a few weeks she’ll start biting everything she can wrap her jaws around.”

Neither party speaks for a while. You take the opportunity to look around at the strange cave. It takes you a few sweeps of the room but you finally find the warm air tablet. You tense up and prepare to run over to it when Mother resumes speaking. “I guess I should have expected that.”

Wait. Her tone is wrong. Are they talking about you? Is she disappointed in you? Why? You love her and she loves you. For a moment you wonder if you want the question answered but then you decide to ask it aloud anyway. Mother starts before calming down and pressing a few claws into your feathers. When she speaks again it’s different somehow. Less clear. More like you talk. Except some of the sounds are wrong. You can’t really explain it. “Not disappointed,” she says. “Just working out some logistics.”

“What are logistics?”

She pauses before answering in the same strange way. “When and where to hunt.”

That makes a lot of sense!

Mother bares her teeth and switches back to her smooth way of talking. “Sorry. She just wanted to know what we were talking about. Any advice on getting through teething?”

Nurse grimaces and pushes her hands together so that the claws interlock. “Thick gloves and a firm hand? I’ve never worked with tyrunt but that’s the answer I give for everything else.”

“Very, very thick gloves,” Mother says with the same solemnity with which she declared your name to be fucking metal. Whatever metal means.

“Well,” Nurse says. “Maybe.” She ruffles through a few more leaves. “Tyrunt have a strong bite but it’s proportional to their size. A young tyrunt isn’t exactly crushing steel.” She bares her teeth and leans back. “Besides, being able to talk to her in a way she understands is a big deal. If she listens.”

A claw runs through your headfeathers. “She’s been a very good listener so far.” You have been!

Nurse gets up and walks over to a strange blocky object. She opens it and a wave of cool air shoots out. Just like Pixie. You jump down to investigate but Nurse closes it again and the air stops. Then she starts walking back and you jump back up to Mother and almost miss and fall because it’s a big jump but she scoops you up and puts you on her lap because she loves you.

“The kitchen staff had some leftover pidove if you want to use it.”

“So…” Mother lowers her claws to the table and crosses her legs. “I need to chew it and spit it out to her?”

“You could use a mortar and pestle for now. Or you could chew it if it helps her learn. We don’t really know much about how that works.”

“But won’t I pass on diseases or something?”

Nurse shakes her head. “The park in Dubai didn’t think so. You’re a modern non-pokémon mammal and she’s a protobird pokémon from sixty-five million years ago. There’s probably not many diseases you could communicate to her.”

“Okay…” Mother sounds reluctant but she does reach out and eventually take a small mass of something vaguely meat-scented. She manipulates the object and pulls out a smaller lump that is definitely meat. Mother slowly brings it to her mouth and chews it. You (successfully!) jump the small distance up onto the big flat surface and hold your mouth up and open so that she can drop the food in. After thoroughly digesting the meat Mother slowly leans forward and you start waving your tail back and forth in anticipation.

“You can spit it at any time,” Nurse says. Mother does. You immediately snap your jaws shut and swallow the food.

It tastes a little strange. You aren’t entirely sure what meat is supposed to taste like but not quite like that. It’s still very good, though.

“Now, there’s one last thing you’ll need to take care of,” Nurse says as Mother stands up. Do you have a pokéball on you?”

“No. We have some upstairs.”

Nurse moves to put the meat container back into the cold rock. “You can do it there. Or you can bring her back down if you want help.”

Mother shakes her head. “I think I can do it.” She pauses. “Will a nest ball work?”

“That’s what I would recommend you use,” Nurse says as she turns back around with bared teeth. “It’s the idea ball for most newborns and hatchlings. Just switch her to a more suitable one when she grows up a bit.”

“Oh.” Mother freezes up. “How quickly do they grow up?”

“Not so fast that we have to discuss it tonight.” Nurse walks over and puts a hand on Mother’s shoulder. “You’ve had a long day. Go up and rest. Long term planning can wait for the morning.”

*​

What?

…

Is this

…

This is an egg.

…

Why are you in an egg again?

*​

You hatch for the second today. Except this time your feathers are dry and Mother’s looking down at you and you’re both in the same places you were in before you were re-egged.

“Why was I in an egg again?” you ask.

“Not egg. More… sleep.” Her face scrunches up and she keeps a single claw extended until she speaks again. “Making you sleep is within my power.”

Red light. Sleep. Returning later. “That’s how you raised Sister from the dead?” you ask.

She negation growls. “Not death. Sleep.”

You think you understood her meaning. The phrases are simple even if she’s pretending that she can’t pronounce the words. They also make absolutely no sense. Not yet. Maybe they should? You’ll think about it.

Mother extends a hand and you rub your head into it. Being hatched is much better than being unhatched. She reaches down and slowly lowers the strange orb in her hands to the ground. Then she sits back up and pulls a giant leaf made of feathers over her. You avoid being swallowed by it before she finishes pulling it up and lies down. Pixie immediately lunges onto her chest and extends all of her tails over her abdomen. “Let your sister sleep, Pix.”

Oh. It is sleep time! Except not in the egg? You push your sister’s tails aside and rest on Mother’s abdomen. Pixie hisses and glares at you but ultimately just walks around in a tight circle and plops back down so that she’s facing you and her tails are resting on top of her. Interesting. You walk in a tight circle but cannot get your tail on top of your body. Unfair!

*​

Colorful moving images spring up on a rock on the other side of the nesting chamber. If Mother was not giving you and Pixie an abundance of scritches you would go and investigate it up close. For now you can watch from a distance.

Father walks back from the rock and sits down in the middle of the nest. Genesis is on the opposite side with her strange round creature that you are not supposed to attack unless you want to go to sleep and wake up with all of your feathers soaked in water. She also has her Pixie-shaped-plant and a floating white thing that taunts you by staying just out of reach at all times. Someday you will catch it and you will be very satisfied.

Water starts moving on the screen. You stare intently but nothing really changes so you relax a bit and sit down and press into Mother. Then a deep voice starts talking and you have to wildly look around to see where it’s coming from.

“Who’s the narrator?” Mother asks.

“No idea.” Father answers. “Why?”

“He has a very good voice.”

Red dot! There’s a red dot on the stone. You tense to pounce and half-expect Mother to stop you. She doesn’t! You jump off of the nest and charge the stone. Well, charge the tree the stone is on. It’s higher up than you expected. Well, you can still jump—red light everywhere.

*​

This time Mother is staring right at you when you hatch. Same Mother. Same Sister. Same Father. Same extra adult on the nest. Was this—

“Myth,” mother says in her broken, stilted speech. “Story. Red prey is past.”

It takes you a bit to process that. Well, it takes you a bit to figure out what the words even were. Then it takes you another bit to process. Two bits. “Stone is myth-telling?” you finally ask. Mother nods. Okay. Story stone should not be attacked.

The story resumes.

A fish appears and starts chasing the red lights. Unfair! You want to chase them.

There are scenes of prey. Big, proper prey. Adults, mostly. Too big to attack on your own. But then there’s an egg. An egg that rolls all the way down a waterfall and a hill until it comes to rest and—baby prey! You tense up and eye the delicious small baby as adults comes back. You hiss at the adults. They need to stop blocking your hunts.

Finally, thankfully, the baby wanders off on its own. You slowly rise up on your legs and crouch down, tail pressed straight back. Mother says that you can’t attack the story stone but you still want to practice stalking your prey.

“Coco’s about to pounce,” Father says. Mother picks your sleep egg up and holds it at her side, ready to use it. She won’t have to because you’re very good and won’t actually attack the baby in the story. Mother should just be happy that you want to practice so much.

Another baby appears! This one has a wide bony face and is stalking an insect, just like you’re doing. But then it fails and gets peed on by the bug. Ew. Now it will taste gross when you eat it. Well, if you could eat it. Squarefaces are often covered in bug pee. That is the important lesson you will take away from this.

The adults come back. Then the kids get lost again. You tense up and shake out your hips a little as you lower down. “Coco’s doing it again,” Kekoa says.

“And I’m holding her ball.”

She is but she won’t need it. Pixie isn’t stalking the prey but is looking at you with interest. Not that you can figure out what you—

An adult appears on screen. One of your adults! Without any feathers. Strange. You plop back down to watch a proper hunt play out. Except it doesn’t. The babies are cowards who cheat and hide behind wood which an adult could totally get through but doesn’t for some reason. It is very confusing. No, wait! It’s working! The adult has the babies cornered and… and the ground starts shaking as giant cracks open up in it. Adults and babies yell on screen but the sharptooth, you’re called a sharptooth!, keeps pressing the attack like a proper predator until—until the longneck mother whips her tail into the sharptooth and knocks it down into the earth.

No! That’s incredibly unrealistic. The sharptooth would have killed the Mother and all the babies and gone home to nap. Why are your parents watching lies? You turn around to voice your extreme displeasure to Mother.

“I know,” she responds in her rough language. “Is warning. Bad hunting.”

Oh. So the real story is that you shouldn’t hunt near places you could fall. And that you shouldn’t attack young threehorns because many of them have insect pee on them. And that longneck adults are cheaters who sometimes win even though they shouldn’t but the babies are tiny and easy prey. And that you should just rip through roots and wood and kill prey as soon as you can. So many useful lessons!

The adult dies shortly after. That’s another lesson: just wait for the adult to die, then kill the babies.

Your mother turns to face the other adults. “So this is a kids movie, huh?”

Father stares impassively ahead, curling his claws around his hands. Genesis starts at the question and shrugs. “I guess? I, uh, I didn’t really remember that.”

“Rule #12: Jennifer doesn’t get to pick movie night,” Father commands.

“Agreed.”

Genesis snorts and looks away. “Well, sorry I guess.”

The rock turns black. When color returns the baby encounters a giant armored beast with spikes on its back and a tail club. How would you kill that? Is the belly armored? You can’t tell. As long as it is on the rock you will do your best to figure it out.

“Oh, it’s not your fault. It’s not your mother’s fault. Now, you pay attention to old Rooter. It is nobody’s fault. The great circle of life has begun. But see, not all of us arrive at the same time.”

You smell something behind you. A glance shows that there’s strange water near Mother’s eyes. She crosses her arms across her chest and takes long, distorted breaths. Is she under attack? Did more terrible sand strike her eye? Pixie stands up on her hind legs and presses her paws into Mother’s chest. She unfolds an arm and pulls your sister closer. Out of the corner of your eye you see Father look over and immediately look away.

Unsure of what to do, you turn back to look at the story stone. The baby is alone now. It appears to be weak and starving. Almost unconsciously you start to crouch again at the opportunity to—a tail flicks your leg hard and you take off before you can even figure out why you’re running.

Red light engulfs you well before you reach the stone.

 

[Persephone]

Normal 1.15: The Trainer and The Tower
Lila

Once upon a time a powerful trainer named Lila defended a tower in Hoenn.

*​

{Supūn.} The alakzam stands at attention. You wave a hand over the assembled crowd. {Start evacuating. Ask the mart staff in Ever Grande for ethers if you get tired.} He leaves.

“Shida, Hirune.” Your cradily and snorlax look towards you as they materialize. “Shida, use vines to hold the foundation together. Hirune, start shoring up the building with boulders.” You have no idea if that will work. You make sure not to let your pokémon know.

“Den’atsu.” The manectric barks. “Go up the hill and try to draw the bolts towards you.”

Finally you send out Mangurōbu and Opera. Your two first pokémon. “Mangurōbu when you rematerialize push all of the water away from you and off the roof. Opera, I need you to take me up.” Neither object as you withdraw your starter and walk towards Opera. The altaria settles low enough for you to get onto her back before she starts ascending. She’s slower than normal. It takes you a second to realize that altaria wings could get really, really heavy in the rain and you’ve never felt a downpour like this in your life. “Come on, keep going,” you mutter. She gives an adorable war cry and continues to ascend. Slowly ascend. Now she’s not even breaking even. You prime your swampert’s pokéball and lob it onto the roof. A flash of light tells you it was successful and you tell Opera to go down.

There’s a presence in your mind. Something impossibly big is looking right at you. “Protect!” you scream. For a second the red light stands up against the rain. For a second it stands against a hydro pump. For a second you fly back into the wall as the shield breaks.

You use every bit of telekinesis in your body to slow your fall.

You take stock once you hit the ground. The presence is gone. The titans are focused on each other again. Your quick thinking and Opera’s best efforts mean that only most of your ribs are broken. Opera is—oh. A quick press of a button confirms what her neck already told you.

*​

There’s a knock at the door. You don’t say anything. Don’t move. Barely notice it. The door opens anyway and you see a white man in a suit enter. He walks over and sits down in a chair in front of you, between you and your pokéballs.

“It takes guts to teleport into the midst of fighting gods.”

You don’t know where he’s going with this. You let him continue.

“I should thank you. Two-hundred and thirty-six lives were saved.” And four were lost.

No. Far, far more than four.

“So,” the man leans back and clasps his hands. “What comes next for you?”

You open your mouth but the reply dies in your throat. What does come next? It was going to be the League but with four pokémon down you have no chance. No desire. League matches are controlled but you’d always be scared that two would become one.

He smiles. “Nothing?”

Nothing.

“Then may I offer you a job? I believe the International Police could use a daring hero such as you.”

“Not a hero,” you croak out.

He raises an eyebrow. “You put your life at risk to save others.”

You stare at him. He stares at you. Eventually he gets the hint, slides a business card into your hand, and leaves.

It takes a while. Four months, in fact. But eventually you call the number and say yes.

*​

If you’d known seven years ago what you know now you wouldn’t have accepted. Not because of the danger. Quite the opposite, in fact. You’d much rather be fighting UBs than facing your most dreadful opponent of all: meetings.

The other participants—Gladion, the kahunas, Admiral Wilford, and Governor Fisher—are already present when you and Looker teleport in. Selene was probably invited but since she’s always either very early or not attending at all you’re willing to bet that she’s not coming.

Once you’re seated the admiral clears his throat. “Good morning and thank you for coming. I would like to begin this month’s meeting by discussing the recent activity of the Skulls.”

“Must we?” Hapu asks. “They’re small time criminals. I would prefer that we stick to the UBs.”

“They were ‘small time,’” the governor says. “That is no longer the case. Now they’re revolutionaries.” You can’t help but roll your eyes at the seriousness with which he says absurd things. “We’ve found pamphlets that say as much”.

“They’re kids who are mad at the government.” Hapu crosses her arms. “Do we need the military, the police, and the kahunas to go after them now?”

Now, of course, is a time when aliens show up in Alola one to three times a month.

“Especially now,” Admiral Wilford answers while puffing himself up a little and glaring down at the teenage kahuna. The latter doesn’t so much as blink. “They’re testing the waters. Burning buildings. Scaring off tourists. Stealing from trucks carrying construction materials. Who knows what they’ll do if we don’t show them that their actions have consequences?”

“I think we can all agree that no one wants a city taken over again,” Governor Fisher adds.

“You’re playing into Plumeria’s hands.” Oh boy. Gladion’s defending Team Skull after you fought so hard to get him and his Silvally onto the council in the first place. You don’t disagree with him. But he really needs to learn to read the room, manage his reputation, something. “You crack down on them. People get hurt. People get killed. That gives her propaganda and reasons to escalate. You want to really piss off the natives? Kill a bunch of their kids because they broke some shit.”

Red and teal flare around the table. Anger and conviction. You should step in. Or watch. They want to talk about the Skulls they can talk about the Skulls. Yeah. Watching is fine.

“If we let the rebels do whatever they want then we might as well just hurry up and surrender to them.”

Is Plumeria’s approval rating higher than the governor’s? You don’t actually know at this point. Probably not a good idea to ask. But you can quietly look it up under the table. He wins 27 to 23.

The admiral and the governor keep blustering at Gladion and Hapu. The older kahunas stay out of it but from their emotional colors you’re pretty sure that Nanu agrees with the governor and Olivia and Hala side with Hapu. Experience tells you that Looker’s against the Skulls. Counting votes leaves you four to four. Time to tiebreak.

“Can we vote on taking direct and coordinated action against Plumeria as a council?” Formal. Maybe too formal for Hapu and Gladion. Glances are shared. Eventually Nanu shrugs and gives you a ‘sure’ of approval.

Four votes for action, as you predicted. Four votes against plus your own. No need to waste time and resources on some kids with middling pokémon and no idea what they’re doing.

“Well then,” the admiral crosses his arms and actually growls. “Anything else we need to talk about?”

“VStar,” Olivia says in her distinctly kind-but-no-nonsense tone.

“What about them?” the governor asks. “And why talk about them here and not at the ecology board?”

Judging by his emotions you’re pretty sure that Rachel has him wrapped around her finger. You’ll need to have another talk with her. She’s not actually a controller and you can’t punish her just for being an effective lobbyist but sooner or later the wrong person will get too paranoid and you’ll be left to clean up the mess.

“Tapu Lele’s taken notice.”

“As has Tapu Koko,” Hala adds.

“And Fini.”

For a long moment no one dares to speak. There’s an interesting mix of anger and solemn acceptance around the table.

“So what,” the governor finally says. “They’re going to throw another hissy fit and destroy a city if our democratically elected government doesn’t bow to their every whim?”

“That’s possible,” Olivia says in a neutral tone you couldn’t have managed under the circumstances.

“Could they withhold assistance against the UBs?” you ask.

“Also possible.” The Akala kahuna looks towards you with a neutral face masking sadness and anger.

That’s bad. Even with the tapus you’re barely eking out wins and every loss has the potential to snowball if defenders are killed or demoralized. “I think it might be worth appeasing our allies, then.”

“Selene’s beaten Tapu Koko, right?”

“I’ve done what now?” The champion enters the room. Her emotions are a mess and you’re pretty sure she’s got a new scar or two from the last time you saw her. Definitely a little bit paler. Someone else follows her. A woman in a spacesuit with gray skin. You can sort of see her mind’s colors but they’re subtly wrong. Tones you usually don’t see in configurations that don’t make any sense.

The woman outlines a square with her hands. “Alola, people of Alola.”

Selene sits and her guest follows. This is the first time that the champion’s brought someone back from Ultra Space. “Now,” Selene says as she sits down at the head of the table, “I would like to hand off the discussion to my new friend, Soliera.”

Hala starts but gets shut down by a glare from the champ. He takes the message. Whatever was being discussed before can wait for now. Soliera clears her throat. “Good day. I am with the Ultra Recon Squad.” Multiple eyebrows are raised and heads are tiled. No one but Selene seems to actually know what that is. Thankfully the alien gets the hint. “We monitor and police threats in Ultra Space. It gives me no pleasure to inform you that one is heading towards your planet.”

“On top of the UBs?” you ask.

She makes a clicking sound with her tongue. “This is far more serious. There are light-based beings that roam the void. When healthy they are benevolent and freely share their energy with others. They are called necrozma, blinding ones, guiding lights.” She closes her eyes and her voice drops lower. “When they are wounded they seek out new worlds to drain the light from to heal themselves. They can drain countless worlds and still never be content. One took notice of yours after a strange spike in energy four years ago. It should arrive in less than one of your planet’s orbits.”

Of course it would. Because on top of everything else Alola needed a world-ending monster dropped right on top of it. The universe can’t let you keep six pokémon for long.

*​

“Hey! Wait up a sec!” you turn around to see Nanu walking towards you. For once his inside is as grim as the outside. “Molayne wanted to fix up your scanner. New model or whatever”

“Sure,” you pull yours out of your pocket and hand it to him. “Want a ride to his lab?”

“Whatever.”

Supūn ferries him over as you consider your schedule.

*​

The North Point Pokémon Center is close enough to your condo that you can just walk. Might as well since it’s a very nice day. Warm with a mild sea breeze. Gives you some time to glance over the files you have on the new girl. Cuicatl Ichtaca. Long green hair, dark skin, cataracts. Kind of gaunt. Citizen of Anahuac. Two pokémon registered. Vulpix, OT Raphiel Brooks. Tyrunt, OT Cuicatl Ihctaca.

Tyrunt? Really? How? Why?

She has an American mother but is not a citizen. Arrived on a challenge visa September 20, 2019. No official record of her powers. There are a few documents from Anahuac attached. Strange mix of terrible and stellar grades. Legally emancipated from her living father. Deceased mother and twin—oh shit that was three months ago.

You’ve seen the statistics and the reality enough times to know that surviving psychic twins are more likely than not to die within the next year, often by their own hand. It’s concerning to say the least. You’ll need to do a full scan. You’d need permission but as the semiofficial regulator of the Alolan psychic community you’d be the one to semiofficially grant it so—approved. Full scan is semiofficially legal now.

Your mind bushes against hers well before you reach the center. A quick glance shows that she’s on a bench overlooking a golf course and the ocean. Well, if your mind has found hers, she’s probably aware of you so there’s no time to go back into the records.

“Hey, I’m Lila.”

She turns towards you and smiles at an invisible person to your left. “Cuicatl Ichtaca. Good to meet you, ma’am.” Her Galarian is accented. To be expected from someone who arrived a little over a month ago.

“Sir,” you correct on reflex. Her expression wavers and her feelings, slightly obscured behind anti-telepath defenses, shift to shame. You wave off her concerns. She doesn’t notice.

“Are you trans?” she asks.

“Sort of.” You sit down at the bench and glance at the two white pokémon—does that tyrunt have fluffy white down feathers? Anyway. Gender. “Non-binary, I think.” Haven’t had another psychic outright confirm it to you. Not sure what the confirmation would even be worth since minds are internally inconsistent and can change by the minute.

The girl doesn’t say anything. The vulpix on her lap stares at you and the tyrunt behind her on the bench stands up tall to get a better look. Onus is on you to restart the conversation. “Enough about that. You can call me Lila.”

“Cuicatl Ichtaca.” Every time she speaks she sends you a psychic signal. You’d been letting them bounce off your shield but maybe you should actually read one. A few thoughts set up a quarantine.

Wait, did Rachel tell you about your formal job? Because if she only knew she was talking to a cop, well, in this climate you really couldn’t blame her for being terrified. “What were you told you about me?”

“You watch over the psychics on the islands. That’s all.” She starts ruffling the fur on her vulpix’s head. Nervousness? “Did I do something wrong?”

It sends out a signal for you to translate. Her words. In Japanese. No accent. Huh. That’s probably her specialty. You leave up a few mental stopgaps but otherwise let yourself receive the messages. Kid’s not attacking. Looks way more scared of you than you are of her.

She’s done a few things that weren’t ideal. She should’ve reported her powers right off the bat. Rachel might be able to get things smoothed out but in any event it would look too much like the community protecting its own from otherwise neutral laws. Not a great look. Unfortunately, you’re in a position where the best thing for her, you, and the community is for her to just not report it.

“No.” No reason to tell her about all of that. It would scare her and kids can do dumb things when they’re scared. As can adults. “I just like to check in with new psychics on the islands. Welcome them to Alola, talk about options, lay down the rules, the usual.”

She frowns. “Miss Bell said you would talk to me about schools.”

Makes sense. They’d probably be good for her Having a structured, supportive environment is seldom a bad thing.

“Right. There are a few schools on the mainland. Probably one in Anahuac.”

“There is,” she mutters. “They use us as spies.”

Oh. Well. Tiny blind girl might not be the best spy. Too noticeable. But the language filter would help a lot.

“The government doesn’t make psychics do anything here,” you lie. White lie. There’s registration, occasional psych evals, semiofficial supervision, a few laws that Rachel likes to come dangerously close to breaking… and annual talks with CIA and FBI recruiters. The recruitment talks are mandatory but accepting isn’t. The distinction would probably be lost on her anyway.

Wouldn’t matter. She still doesn’t seem to buy it.

“Any particular reason that you aren’t interested?” you ask.

“Money.”

Well. She’ll get along fabulously with Rachel, then. Or they’ll become business rivals and die cordial but mortal enemies.

“School would be free for you.” That one isn’t even a white lie. The government would much rather have psychic kids in one place where they’re easily supervised and sheltered from the worst of poverty during their formative years. Lessons learned from the empath defectors of the Cold War.

“No.” She shakes her head and green locks fall into her face. “I need seven hundred and eighty-one thousand dollars.”

It sounds like a joke but she’s dead serious. You reflexively switch into cop mode. “Why? You on the run from—”

American-born mother. Green hair. Language-based telepathy. Hell, you’re pretty sure you heard somewhere that one of his cousins was blind. You take a deep breath. She has far darker skin than you’d expect. You could still be wrong.

“Any of your ancestors Korean?”

The girl blinks. “My grandmother. Why?”

“My former boss might’ve worked with a relative of yours.” Hard to even call that a white lie when ‘worked with’ means ‘hunted.’ Unsuccessfully hunted, but hunted nevertheless. Probably for the best there. You don’t want to imagine his old boltund trying to take down Zekrom. Anyway, time to bring him into this.

[Can I ask you a question about N?]

[Yes.]​

His absurdly prompt responses stopped surprising you years back. He’s probably slightly precognitive. Truth be told you were already typing your next message out.

[He ever contact his birth relatives?]

Something starts beeping incessantly beside you. Supūn is standing there with the new Ultra Scanner in hand, lights blazing and sounds blaring. You snatch it away from the pokémon and shut it off. Supposedly there’s a UB right on top of you. “Excuse me for a second.”

You get up and walk far enough away from the bench that even with the girl’s blindness-enhanced hearing she won’t be able to overhear you. Then you dial Molayne. He picks up on the third ring.

“Hello. Any problems?” He sounds cheery enough. Something deep inside of you wants to rip into him even more for it.

“I set it off.”

You can hear the awkward swallow over the line. “Okay. Uh, send it back and I’ll see what I can do.” He clearly wants permission to end the call. You won’t give it to him.

“You know I hate it when this happens, right?”

“…I can imagine how you’re feeling, yeah.”

“No. You can’t.”

The Kahunas lied to you. Looker lied to you. Supūn lied to you.

Everyone lied to your face for years and now he pretends to know how you feel.

*​

On May 7, 2014 a wormhole opened near North Point. Two police officers showed up to investigate, prepared to fight whatever demon came through. They found a young woman covered in bruises. She was asked who she was. The asker isn’t in the record. The woman answered in Japanese. A few minutes later she would be translated as saying:

“My name is Lila. I come from Hoenn. I was a powerful trainer who defended a tower.”

There were six pokéballs on her belt. Four were broken. One held a snorlax, the other an alakazam.

The alakzam introduced himself as Supūn. He told the men that his trainer was psychic and Ultra Space with its alien minds slowly eroded theirs. He only kept his sanity because his trainer decided to keep him in his ball as much as possible and rely only on themself and their other pokémon.

Apparently, they found their way out.

The alakzam translated his trainer’s words. The words that they continued to mumble to no one in particular while picking up sand and letting it run through their fingers and onto their tattered, blood-stained clothes. He said they were true. He refused to provide more context. He’d lost some of it himself. And he said then as he would say many more times in the future, “Knowing what they had wouldn’t make them any happier now.”

The child was taken to Tapu Lele. She made them whole by shredding everything that was real and weaving a lie between the words said. A lie that the International Police supported with forged documents and even an actress claiming to be their mother. A lie that conveniently left behind a faller willing to do exactly what the lie’s crafters wanted from them.

Convenient how that worked out.

At first you’d accepted their explanation that you’d fought enough UBs that the aura just rubbed off on you and drove more near. As you learned more and more about them you slowly realized that’s not how things worked. Eventually everything fell apart after you really dug into your documentation.

Now you keep living the lie because what else are you going to do? Abandon the people to alien ambushes because their leaders were manipulative? Doesn’t mean you have to be happy about it. Doesn’t mean you’ll take it when someone rubs it in your face.

*​

You end the call to find a text from Looker.

[Sounds like something he would do. Why?]​

Deep breath. You didn’t come here for N. You didn’t come here for your own demons. You came here to do a wellness check on a child. Everything else can wait a few minutes. {Supūn, I need help doing a silent scan.}

Silent scans are one where the target doesn’t notice. On a trained psychic they’re next to impossible, even with pokémon help. She’s not trained. Rather than smooth walls her defenses are ever moving chainsaws. Most of it will hurt if touched. It’s good combat form. Not good standing form. Leaves holes. You point out one you’d noticed to your alakazam and he forms the link. Alright time to look.

While you have some telepathic power, you’re fundamentally an empath. You don’t look directly at the structure of her mind, just the impressions that things have left. Easiest to do for connections to other people.

It’s immediately obvious what parts used to directly connect to her twin. Differentiated personalities. That’s good. Means they shared less. Makes it easier to cope. Not easy—it still looks like her mind was messily sawed in half and error reports stack up every minute when an old routine doesn’t work. Could’ve been worse, though.

A few slightly atrophied connections. A father figure, an older sister(s?), and a younger one. A mother figure grouped separately from that cluster. That one is particularly strange. Almost like hero worship. Very few meaningful connections but a very clearly felt absence.

Then someone who was probably her actual father. Solid links to her and a bunch of the twin’s old emotional pathways seem to lead there. Oh boy. Some love, a lot of distance, fair bit of pain, and a very serious break around the time of the twin’s death. Then spite. It’s new but it already deeply stains her perception of him.

A few minor ones. Casual friends, teachers, distant pets, maybe a crush. None truly defining in her mental architecture. None terribly missed.

New connections. Ones formed entirely after the loss of the other ones. None that span both periods. Strange. Not calling home at all? Two fairly advanced links to other minds. Her pokémon. Complicated but satisfactory relationships. They give her headaches but probably also cuddles. Good, but not enough to anchor a person with. There’s a third recently broken link. More positive. Fewer headaches. Almost as much love as her starter. Relationship severed against her will. The connection’s become linked to the parent-sister figure clusters. Loss. Less hope of recovery. Were the unknown old connections with pokémon? Possible with her powers.

Two main human links. One has deep rings of annoyance and pain with a sheen of reliance and hope on top. Other is the opposite. Mostly positive with a level of fear and distrust at the surface. Neither is really deep enough to be sustaining.

Rachel. Fear, disappointment, some feelings similar to her parental figures. Authority. Authority that’s failed her a little and helped her a little.

Well. That’s all the new ones. Now for the biggest one. Her impressions of herself.

Bad. Deeply, horribly bad. Years long trails of hate, disgust, disappointment. Small threads and spots of love. Of hope. Recently blunted hope. Feelings turned decidedly darker and dimmer with her twin’s death. Close to ending things. You’re not comfortable adding her to the list of the dead yet but if you were a betting person, well, you wouldn’t bet against it. You’ve seen happy people destroyed by their mind being shattered. She wasn’t happy to begin with.

You close the link and hand the scanner back to your alakazam. He teleports off without a word and you walk back to the bench. Kid’s a little paranoid. Probably because a cop walked off to make a long call after a very odd exchange.

“Hey, sorry, work called. Anyway, I have one last thing to take care of.”

“Okay…”

You really need to stop saying cryptic things and cutting off. Kid’s going to be justifiably terrified of you.

“Tapu Lele,” fuck her, “gives new psychics on the island a z-bracelet. Can I put it on you?”

She smiles a little. Inside and outside. “Okay.”

Fits perfectly without adjustment. That’s rare. Maybe the tapu had already scouted his new subject out herself. Wouldn’t be the first time. “Now, want to try it out?”

“I have a Normalium-Z,” she answers. “Pixie knows roar.”

Of course she already had a plan. Got her first Z-crystal and immediately thought about how she’d use it if she could. Roar’s a good testing move, too. Don’t need to put a pokémon in the way of it. Might piss off some golfers and you’d have to investigate yourself for a noise complaint. Nothing too serious.

“Alright, put the crystal in.” She takes out a smooth black case with one white crystal and seventeen empty spots. Heh. They’re really giving kids full cases. Encouraging them to seek out the hard ones, too.

You guide her hands through the (relatively simple) motions for the normal crystal. Her vulpix lights up and an instant later an ear-piercing shriek rumbles down the cliff. Some people start below. Let them. You remember the first time you used a crystal. Good memory. One of your first fond ones that was actually—Cuicatl collapses to her knees. Right. Shit. Rough on first time users.

You kneel down to help her and when you take her wrist you notice that her pulse is going crazy. She bends over and pukes. Her tyrunt rushes over but you push her aside. Bit rougher than your first time. She got vomit in her hair so you go behind her and hold it back in case she has to throw up again. She does and—seriously what is it with this dinosaur and vomit? At one point her arms give out and you catch her and oh wow you can really feel all of her ribs. Her heart is still trying to shake itself free of its constraints.

Extreme thinness. Self-hatred. Possible poverty? Cause doesn’t matter. You really shouldn’t have given her a Z-crystal. Damn it. Should have noticed.

“Mind if my snorlax carries you?” A weak nod. You send her out and gives the order.

Right after Cuicatl’s safely in the bear’s arms you feel her slip into unconsciousness.

Fuck.

*​

Her heart was still beating and she’d regained consciousness when you dropped her off. A few hours of watching your police scanner and the Center’s called for neither an ambulance nor the police. She’s probably fine.

As fine as a suicidal teenager living in the path of a wanted terrorist and a light-stealing abomination can be, anyway. No. Don’t think about necrozma. Not now. Problem for future Lila. Focus. Good things.

When Supūn brought back the scanner back it didn’t instantly flag you.

That’ll have to do for today.

 

[Persephone]

cn transphobia/ableism



Recap 1

Genesis

So, um, you already know all of this. You know everything. You’re Xerneas. But I’m also allowed to tell you anything, right, and I thought I should work through some stuff before we head off to Ula’Ula.

I guess this begins with Lyra but I would rather not talk about that. You already know it anyway. Maybe begin with VStar? Sounds good. There was a whole orientation thing and I got to meet a bunch of people and they went over stuff that I sort of remember. Pay is low but I suppose I shouldn’t complain given the circumstances. Later got paired with Cuicatl and Allana.

Should I describe them? I want to a little bit. Like I’m talking to a friend. None of mine are talking with me. They don’t have my new phone number. Maybe they wouldn’t want to talk if they did. Most are Lyra’s friends more than mine… Anyways, Cuicatl’s blind and she had really nice green hair but then she cut it and it’s a little less nice. Her eyes still kind of creep me out but she’s really nice and good with pokémon, like her adorable little holy vulpix.

Allana’s… she was probably pretty. I think she’s changing. I’ve seen her inject herself and I think she’s starting to get a little bit of stubble. I don’t know if it’s reversible. I hope it is. Should I throw out her drugs to protect her? I know I’m not supposed to steal things, but you can’t be okay with what she’s doing. I know how this happened, too. She’s angry and kind of controlling so someone probably convinced her she had to be a guy.

It’s really sad.

Then the journey happened. I’m praying for her. Right now, in fact. May she find peace and guidance back onto the right path.

Paths. Journey. Sir Bubbles and I set out to Akala to make money. Still not sure how much money we’re going to need. Haven’t heard from my parents yet. I pray that they accept my apologies soon. I think my punishment so far has been fair.

Oh, I got to ride a mantine on the way to Akala! It was really, really fun. I felt you there. Thank you for creating mantine. And the oceans. And poliwag.

Right. Sir Bubbles and I got attacked by Team Skull. Some nice bystander stepped in and saved us which is good because brave, brave Sir Bubbles boldly ran away right into danger. He’s not very smart but I love him.

I almost got to capture an eevee. But then an ariados got it. I’m not sure how to feel about that. I know you created ariados and they need to eat but it still felt a little wrong seeing it. That’s not insulting your creation, of course! I just don’t understand it right now. I pray for wisdom on that.

I won a trial! Father’s chess games paid off and I got to skip right to fighting the boss, a giant oranguru. Sir Bubbles put it to sleep and then Inferno managed to damage it enough that it gave up and showed me a Z-crystal. That I can’t use yet. I pray for a Z-Ring.

Wait. Inferno! I forgot Inferno. He’s just the cutest little leafeon. Smells like leaves. Loves cuddles. Doesn’t actually do much. Anyway, her old owner was very mean and abandoned her when she didn’t evolve into a flareon. I hope he believes in you so that he can be forgiven. Otherwise it’s ironic. Going to an inferno for abandoning an Inferno.

Which might not be funny. I’m sorry to remind you of the people you can’t save.

Later on I caught my newest team member, Count Cloudy! She’s just the cutest little castform. The best part is that I don’t have to sleep in a tent that’s getting rained on again. Allana’s mad, though. We could have made a bunch of money if I’d turned him over. Cuicatl says that we have enough for food and we already have a tent and clothes and stuff so I don’t see the problem.

So. Um. Yeah. I don’t know how to end this.

I pray for safety on Ula’Ula and luck in catching pokémon and friendship and maybe healing for Cuicatl and insight for Allana?

May my words and deeds bring honor to thy name.



Kekoa

I know this was for logging transition stuff. But. Don’t want to take pics today. Not much different. Got my period last week. Cuicatl says that my voice is a little deeper, but I think she’s just being nice. I guess I smell different? More pimples.

That’s it.

I’ll write about the journey here.

Met Cuicatl and Jennifer. Jenny’s a haole bitch. I treated Cuicatl like one. She’s cool tho. More later.

Went to Akala. Mantine riding sucks. Jenny seemed to like it. Made her more of a bitch. I fucked up on food and had to eat white sludge shit and gritty eggs and potatoes. Otherwise good gear picks.

I went home. To Paniola. Couldn’t make myself talk to Kanoa. Did meet Jabari. He doesn’t get it. Maybe never will. I was mad. Snapped at Cuicatl. She outed me. Met a cool kanaka man on Route 7. Cuicatl talked with me. We buried the hatchet.

Still not entirely sure I should have. She definitely knew I was trans when she misgendered me. Outed me. But she’s here alone and tried to be nice. I’m trying to forgive her. To move on. Even if she doesn’t deserve it. Oh, also she has her own secret. Rather not say in case the cops read this. Still not sure how I feel about it.

Won a trial.

It was hard. Kanoa beat me at chess. Hekeli took out her pikipek with two hits, no damage. Then totem oranguru. Hekeli hits hard. Maybe too hard. Got me a talk about force early on. Don’t know what the nurse was thinking. Pikipek hit as hard as they want. Anyway. She didn’t hit hard enough. Had to rely on Makani. But! The oranguru used trick room. Makani was super fast and bit the totem until it gave up.

Kanoa and I talked some more. She gave me her number. Doesn’t hate me for leaving. Seemed to pity me. Fuck that. I’ll still text her. She seems happy. Trial captain and everything. I owe her a real match when I’m stronger.

I have two pokémon now. Hekeli is still a pikipek but I think she might evolve soon. “Evolve.” Cross the arbitrary line. We don’t really hang out much. I think she likes fights. Cuicatl says that she needs a reason to stay. I hope fighting works.

Makani the grubbin doesn’t really listen to me. Smart enough to bite at stuff attacking him. Prone to spitting string on my face.

Cuicatl thinks it’s fucking hilarious.

…it kind of is…

Oh. Right. One last thing.

My brother tried to give me a fucking tyrunt egg. Because last time we spoke I was in a dinosaur phase. Thing imprinted on Cuicatl. For the best. It’ll piss Jabari off.

God damn that girl is going to have a keokeo and a tyrantrum.

I should tell Sis about her. Figure out if she can be used. Or how we’ll fight her if she’ll stand against us.



Cuicatl

I don’t know if you can hear me. I hope you can.

Please don’t wait. I told you before but I’m worried you ignored me. Go. Please. I could be a while.

I’m on my own journey. Boring compared to yours. No rivers of blood and jaguars. I’m in Alola now. Tried to go to Unova but couldn’t get the visa. It’s tropical and humid here. There are even mountains. It feels more like home than I’d like.

I have a starter. Her name is Pixie. She’s an ice-type vulpix. Incredibly soft, really prideful, less smart than she thinks she is. Reminds me of Alice, just not strong enough to back her words up. Yet. The people here worship ninetales as ice gods. Someday she’ll be really powerful. Not quite hydreigon level but really what is?

There are aliens here. They attack at least once a month. Really strong trainers are sent to catch or kill them. We went through a forest burned in one of those fights. I don’t know if the trainers “won” or “lost.” There’s a difference between knowing that the world may end in a few years and living in a place where it’s happening now. One of my friends here was in Japan when Quetzlcoatl appeared. I wonder how he feels, seeing the wrath of gods and monsters twice in his short life.

I guess I should tell you more about my friends. Kekoa is the one I was talking about. He has a pikipek and a grubbin that don’t really like him. Maybe he can fix it. He was really rude to me for a while. I hit back. I don’t want to talk about that. He’s accepted me for now. I told him about my gifts. I know I shouldn’t have but it felt right at the time. He really cares about his home. Wants the colonizers gone. Can’t blame him. They ruined Anahuac with a treaty. Can you imagine what it would’ve been like if they’d actually taken over? Kekoa’s angry. Hurt. I understand that. Maybe we can help each other.

Then there’s Genesis. She’s kind of the opposite of Kekoa: really sweet seeming but mean at the core. Kekoa’s trans. Genesis follows the deer cult. She’s been misnaming him in her head. I can’t really say anything about it but that’s going to blow up. I’m taking Kekoa’s side when it does. Maybe she’ll learn. Maybe we’ll kick her out. I’d feel a little bad. I don’t think she wants to be here. There’s just nowhere else to go. Hopefully she’ll hate being alone more than she hates being nice.

I had a little paras for a while. Five of them but I really only talked to one. She was kind. A little dull. Thought that everything she saw was the biggest, coolest thing ever. Pixie didn’t like her. She’s very jealous and I think she would’ve killed the poor paras if I hadn’t gotten rid of her. I wanted to make Pixie leave out of spite. But I need her power more than I needed the paras’s.

Power. Two more things I want to talk about.

I got a tyrunt.

Kekoa’s brother… details don’t matter. Don’t know them anyway. The egg was supposed to be Kekoa’s, but the hatchling imprinted on me. Tyrunt imprint! Like birds! And she has super soft down feathers and, um, needs her food regurgitated. Like a bird! And she’s also a dragon! Sort of. Her language is a little like Upper Draconic. How old is that, anyway? I know it’s for myths and I always knew the gods were old but… that’s very, very old. Were they the same gods? Quetzlcoatl wouldn’t have to change for the dinosaurs. Did the others?

If I was at home I would ask a priest questions until he stopped answering. Maybe you can ask Xolotl for me.

I named the tyrunt Mitzcocotonaz, or Coco for short. She’s very smart for her age. Knows about hunting and what parents are supposed to raise her (although she still thinks either she’s a human or I’m a tyrantrum). Is that normal? Tyrantrum are supposed to have been smart and raised their young for a long time. Why would she need that much instinct? Did the people who made her put it there? Remember how in the book of Jurassic Park the pyroclaptors murdered everyone because they only had instinct, not learning? Maybe the scientists had read book and gave her more instincts.

Why give her the murder instincts, though?

Scientist were probably more concerned with whether or not they could give her murder instincts than if they should. Only explanation.

I also got a Z-Ring. Knocked me out to use it. But the strange thing is that it felt… familiar. Second-hand familiar. From someone else’s memories. Couldn’t have been you. Maybe Mom, but I don’t think she ever used Z-Power. Maybe it’s third-hand. Memories that Mom or Renfield took from someone and then gave to me on accident. But who? Who did she know here? Are they still here? Can I meet them?

I guess you want to know how I’m doing. I’m holding on. Barely. Pixie and Coco help. I miss you. I miss Renfield, Alice, and Searah. I miss Mom even though I never got to meet her.

I can’t get you back. Or Mom. But her pokémon…

I don’t care what I have to do. I’m getting them back.

I swear it on your ashes.

 

[Persephone]

Mission Two: Electric​

It is the triumph of civilization that at last communities have obtained such a mastery over natural laws that they drive and control them. The winds, the water, electricity, all aliens that in their wild form were dangerous, are now controlled by human will, and are made useful servants.

-Henry Ward Beecher

​

Electric 2.1: Six
Pixie

11/16/2019 | [-33:03:17]​

You jump into Skysong’s lap as she sits down in front of Matriarch. You can feel the pink eevee’s eyes boring into you but if you get into a fight now your trainer will be mad. So you won’t. Because you’re a very well-behaved fox. You still turn around and stick your tongue out at it before settling down. Let him be jealous of your perch. He isn’t cuddling anyone.

“How was Akala?” Matriarch asks.

“Good. I won a trial.” She scratches your ear and you press your head into her paw with pride. “Got a new pokémon.” You abruptly slink back down and suppress a hiss. “We caught the pokémon we were supposed to.” She sounds a little angry. Why? You helped her find prey. Well, not her prey. Humans sometimes trade their prey with other humans for reasons that you still don’t understand.

Matriarch makes a low throat noise that humans sometimes use to respond to things without speaking. “And how are you holding up?”

“Fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

Skysong’s heart rate is up and you can smell her stress responses start kicking in. Will you get to fight the eevee? Sure, the green eevee cheated so you narrowly lost but you can definitely take this one and show Skysong that you’re much, much better.

“If you say so,” Matriarch concedes. “By the way I don’t think you ever told me why you’re going on a journey.”

“Money.”

Matriarch leans back and her voice shifts to something a touch quieter and softer. “And what’s the money for?”

There’s a pause of several shallow breaths as Skysong’s face scrunches up and her paws clench.

“Some of my Mom’s stuff.”

“Okay.” Matriarch sighs and you can feel her body shift. “If you want to tell me more you can.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Well, if you want help finding things I do have friends in Unova.” Pause. “And the Anahuac pokémon markets.”

Your trainer’s breath catches in her throat and you seize up, ready to blast out ice shards at the smug ugly fox in the corner. Skysong finally lowers her head and exhales.

“If a hydreigon gets sold in Anahuac, can you let me know?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Skysong’s heart rate starts to slow a little. No eevee fight. What a shame.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Matriarch offers again.

“No.”

“Okay.”

Someone drums a paw on the wood above you. Not entirely sure who.

“I’m going to need a Class V license.”

“Maybe,” Matriarch says.

“Tyrunt require—”

“Most pokémon grandfather into the license requirement you obtained them at. The exceptions are mostly just pokémon that don’t recognize their old trainers. I’ll see what I can do about getting the reqs changed, but in the meantime I’m trying to find you a mentor for your IV. Just in case.” More drumming. “You have an idea for your V paper?”

“A draconic dictionary.”

“That’s what I would recommend.”

The rest is boring. The eevee never attacks you and you never get an excuse to attack it.

It will live for now.

[-32:18:15]​

Pale red light rushes all around you before fading, leaving you intact.

Mission accomplished.

“What was that?” Growlsleeper grumbles on the other end of the room.

“Pix and Coco were going at it again.” Skysong sounds tired. Not just because it is night and she is diurnal; you woke her from her sleep because Eggbreath was pressing against you and soiling your precious fur. Skysong gently presses you off and slowly gets to her feet before finding her hooves and stick. “I’ll take her out for a minute.”

Yes! Eggbreath is gone and you get to go outside!

You move a few steps ahead of her and make sure to have very loud steps so that she can follow you because you are a very good guide fox. Eventually you step out into the—it’s raining. Oh no. Thankfully there is a climbing structure under an overhang that you can lead Skysong to so she can sit down and pet you and only you for maybe the rest of the night.

She sits down. You jump on her lap. The headscritches are very half-hearted. Disappointing. You press your head into her hand so that she knows to do better.

“You know,” she says while not petting you harder, “She’s going to be forty times bigger than you someday.”

It takes you a second to convert from her terrible numbers into the correct ones. Forty is forty-four. A good, symmetrical number. “And I’ll be forty-four times stronger.” Or you could just kill her before she gets too much bigger than you. That’s always an option.

Skysong shakes her head. “You’ve seen the movies, right? You know what tyrantrum, sharpteeth, whatever, can do?”

“Fail to kill baby pokémon and then fall into a lake and die?”

That does earn a muted giggle and an ear scratch. “Or kill off a clan of pyroclaptors. Fire-types. She’s good against fire-types.”

“Fire melts ice into water. Fire-types hate water.” How does she keep forgetting that?

“How about the sun? She loves heat and light. You don’t. She can guide me in hot cities.”

On one level you want to object. Badly. Your trainer spends more time in the warm than the cool and this is a chance for Eggbreath to persuade her to leave you. But being offered a reprieve from your worst duties is good. And someday you’ll be cold enough that the heat won’t bother you. You concede with a huff. Eggbreath can die after you evolve and command the blizzards.

Skysong switches to giving you long strokes from your head to the tips of your tails. This is also good petting. You purr so that she knows to do this more often. For a long time she continues. The sounds of the wind and rain are a little like those of snowstorms raging above your den.

It ends right as you’re about to fall asleep. You’re too calm to complain until Skysong picks you up into her arms and stands up. “Please be nice to your sister,” she whispers.

No.

You hiss and squirm out of her arms and start growling the moment you hit the ground.

“No. Not my sister. My sisters are on The Mountain.”

“Oh,” her face falters and her scent shifts. “I didn’t know you had family.”

She says it like she’s sad that you do. Why wouldn’t you? You had to come from somewhere.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She crouches down and offers more scritches with her hand. You don’t take the bait.

“No.” Of course you don’t want to talk about them. Especially the living one.

The one that Avalanche thought was better than you.

[-27:07:41]​

You reappear next to Eggbreath on a long metal strip jutting out into the water. Your trainer immediately bends down and starts putting your harness on. Eggbreath is already in the very short leash that Skysong uses because even she doesn’t trust the demon bird. Once you’re buckled in Skysong gently picks you up and turns you around to look at—

Oh.

The Mountain is right there, looming on the horizon. A pillar of white in a landscape of red rocks and blue skies. “Are we going there?”

“No. This is as close as we’ll get.” She silently strokes your head. “Do you want to?”

Do you? Someday, yes. When you can go back and beat up a whole pack of redcrests and drag the corpses to Avalanche so she knows that she chose wrong. When you’re sure she’ll lick your head and send one of your siblings down in your place, that’s when you’ll return.

Now… you know you can’t face The Mountain and win. Not after it killed so many of your siblings.

“No. Not yet.”

Eggbreath starts wandering off while Skysong’s holding you in one arm and petting you with the other. You shriek alarm to let your trainer know that there is misbehavior afoot. “Thanks,” she mutters in a not-properly-thankful tone. She sets you down somewhat roughly into a patch of sand and calls Eggbreath over. The beast comes running back and nudges her head against Skysong’s leg.

Skysong ruffles her headfeathers before picking up the leash.

The nerve she has.

[-27:06:00]​

“Behave yourselves” is what Skysong said before curling up and falling asleep on the sand.

Eggbreath is not behaving herself. She’s harassed an armored beach spider into its hole and is trying to dig down after it. You’ll let her. When Skysong wakes up you’ll have a long list of the demon’s misbehavior ready to go. She’ll be horrified and immediately send Eggbreath away and then you’ll have time to get any new team members kicked out before she can decide to leave you for them.

There’s a pained cry and shaking sounds. You look over to see the beach spider pinched onto Eggbreath’s nose as she slams her head into a rock to get it off. Your ears perk up. Maybe Eggbreath will get herself killed. Or at least get hurt so badly that Skysong realizes that she’s way too weak to stand alongside you.

The spider lets go and Eggbreath scurries off to find something else to murder.

Your gaze falls upon the green eevee and you reflexively growl. He’s just lying there on your beach. Menacingly. Like he owns it. Like he’s better than you. He isn’t! Eevee are beneath you and Hummy and Rocktosser were wrong to think otherwise. They probably failed their quest because they pushed you away and kept some pathetic little stupid weakling in your place. Maybe they died because the little asshole they kept couldn’t save them from a monster.

Serves them right.

No. You can’t allow the eevee to take naps so close to Skysong. He’s a threat to you and your trainer. You slowly rise up and creep closer to the abomination. Your paws are built for walking silently on snow and sand is close enough. His chest rises and falls as he menacingly breathes in his sleep.

You take a deep breath and unleash the most perfect of slushballs. A perfect hit to the face. The monster’s ears stick straight up and he starts shaking to get it off of him. He turns and you see one eye covered in snow as the other narrows into a glare. The eevee steps forward and the earth falls away as you fly through the air. You skid to a halt as sand blasts into your fur. The eevee—how did it move so fast?—steps over your belly and lies down on top of you. Then his head dips and his eyes close again.

No! You flex all of your muscles and squirm madly to escape. He’s not much bigger than you, this shouldn’t be hard! If only you weren’t on your back. Then you could just press off the ground. And breathe normally without a fat eevee crushing your lungs. After a few glorious minutes of struggle you come to accept that the eevee has cheated too well. You will need to summon help.

You scream.

Just when you think that your mighty roar might go unanswered something rushes into your peripheral vision and slams into the eevee. As the smelly stupid fox gets knocked off you roll over and bare your fangs to meet it. You glance to the side and see—Eggbreath. Huh. The bird holds her mouth wide open and swishes her tail back and forth.

“What’s going on?” Skysong asks.

“The eevee attacked me!”

“Playtime!” Eggbreath says while slapping her tail into the ground.

“Is anyone hurt?”

“No!” Your traitorous ‘sister’ replies.

“Cool.”

Skysong rolls over and puts her head back down on the sand.

Eggbreath growls and lowers herself into a pouncing position. The eevee just stares before turning to look at something on the beach. It’s a small bird. Not even a pokémon. Eevee’s glance is enough to get Eggbreath to notice and she runs off to harass it. Leaving you alone. Which is fine. You can still defend your honor and protect your trainer from the deceptive fox in front of you.

The monstrous plant sits down on his haunches. “Why do you care so much?”

You hiss in response.

“If I did anything to you…”

“You’re trying to steal Skysong!”

He blinks and swishes his leaf from side to side.

“Who?”

You stamp a paw. How dare he play dumb!

“My trainer!”

Slow blink. Leaf swish.

“Why would I want to?”

Because she’s your trainer and you’re the best and that means that she’s the best trainer! Your thoughts come out more as a irritated screech than proper language. He sits down and tucks his legs under him.

“Why would I steal her when I could just join your team?”

“She already has two! One would have to leave.” Obviously. He’s just toying with you now. As he keeps staring at you with his big stupid eyes you start readying another attack.

“You know humans can have six pokémon, right?”

Lies! Terrible lies! He’s trying to get you to let your guard down so he can sneak onto the team and convince Skysong to make you leave. Just like every other eevee. You’re smarter now than you were in the past. You’ll stop him. Kill him if you must.

Eggbreath leaps over and kicks up sand on impact. She immediately dips low to the ground and softly growls while the tip of her tail carves an arc in the sand.

“Play!”

[-26:16:03]​

Skysong grabs her stick and you follow close behind. Eggbreath stirs as if she wants to follow before giving up and settling back into the blankets. Ugly diurnal baby bird. So much better than her. You help without being asked.

Where is she going, anyway? There’s a scent marking station inside of the room.

Outside. She’s going outside and sitting down on a bench. You hop up as she sits down.

“Why are you harassing Inferno?”

Oh. Now you get to tell her everything that the eevee has done.

“He attacked me while I was trying to sleep and then he said mean things and tried to make me stop breathing and she also attacked Eggbreath and she’s going to hurt you someday.”

She presses your ear down before withdrawing her paws. Skysong sighs and folds her arms.

“Pixie, I don’t like it when you try to hurt my other pokémon. Or Kekoa’s. Or Genesis’s.”

“You should. They’re lying to you. Trying to steal you.”

It’s simple, really. How can she not get it? She picked you. That means she’s smart.

“Pix, I’ve told you this before.” She sounds irritated. At the eevee? Good! Skysong is finally getting it. “If you want to stay on the team, then I won’t kick you off. Promise.”

Lies. The others all made promises. They all left you behind in the end.

“Did you get left right after you got jealous and attacked other pokémon?”

You hiss. She may your trainer but she has no right to say those things. “I am not jealous of eevee. I am much better.”

Skysong gives you a thorough headscratching in apology. “Maybe your people left you because you got scared they’d leave you so you started acting out. Made them leave behind ‘mons they cared about. Cost them sleep. They got fed up. Decided you weren’t worth it.” She’s wrong. It’s not so simple. Besides, you tried being nice on The Mountain. Look where that got you. Her hand presses down and gives you a few gentle strokes down your back. “I won’t leave you,” she lies. “Unless you want to be left. You don’t have to fight to stay. Promise.”

There is a way that the promise can hold. “No more pokémon.”

“Why?” She asks like an idiot.

“Won’t have to leave anyone unless there’s a third.”

Her hand pauses in the middle of your back and gently presses down. “But I can have six?” No. That’s not possible. Two. Avalanche kept two. Hummy and Rocktosser and Lightstare and Lowgrowl all kept two. “Genesis already has three, y’know? She’s not leaving any of them.”

That’s a—the green eevee, the spiralfrog, and the shapeshifter. Three. She has three and none of them are trying to kill each other. That’s. No. That. They all had to leave you. Had to. Thought you were worse than eevee. If they could keep you then. Then. You were worse than nothing.

You are worse than nothing.

Skysong flips you onto your back and presses you into her chest. You barely notice. If she’s lying than she’ll leave you. If she’s not then she’ll hate you someday because. Because everyone else has. Why does she pretend to care? What is she planning? She drops you back onto her lap and leans back. Her pets grow slower. It doesn’t matter. You have things to think about.

When you finally look back up she’s asleep and the sun is awake.

 

[Persephone]

Electric 2.2: Worlds That Never Were
Cuicatl

24/3/2010

A low hum of disapproval fills your mind.

{You’re hurt.}

“Yeah, I know.” You scout for your favorite spot with your feet and then sit down. “Thanks for telling me.”

{I warned you about overusing your powers.}

“You did.”

Why does Renfield care? He doesn’t have to deal with your headaches.

{Ah, but I care about you. If you’re hurt, I’m upset.}

“Why care?” you grumble. “Mom’s been dead for years. You could’ve left.”

When Renfield laughs it sounds like bubbles floating to the surface in your mind. Somehow. Maybe he can teach you. {When Danielle found me I was a mere solosis. I cared for nothing. Did nothing. Just sat still in the sunlight and attacked anything that came near. She raised me. Taught me strategy, empathy, history, literature, and music.}

“You can sing?”

More mind bubbles. {Well, she taught me how to appreciate music. She used to sing a lot.} Like you.

“Did she name me for that?” Cuicatl means song. Ichtaca Secret song. Or song of secrets.

Something swishes from side to side at your mind’s edge. No. {As I understand it your father named you. She would have picked… I suppose it doesn’t much matter.}

Right after she died dad went against mom’s wishes? Why? Did they each name one child? More swishing. {No. They could never agree on a name, or even what language the name should be in. I suspect that Danielle would have given names at birth and refused to accept others. As it were… the chance did not present itself.}

You pick up a pebble and roll it in your fingers. It helps you think. “They fought?”

{On occasion, yes.}

Your finger slips and the pebble falls. “Over what?” You reach down. Can’t find the exact pebble. Pick up another one. Coins are better but you aren’t allowed to have them unless you’re going to the store.

{They both loved you, even before you were born. They wanted the best for you but disagreed on what that entailed.}

There’s hesitation in his voice. Half-truths. You want to press him, but he knows what you’re thinking and since he’s not saying more he probably won’t if you challenged him aloud.

“What was my name supposed to be?”

{Child, you have nothing to gain by mourning worlds that never were.}

Mourning worlds that—now he’s just not making sense. On purpose. “Don’t care about worlds. Just want to know what my name was.” You wouldn’t actually use it. Dad would be mad. And your classmates already think you’re the enemy’s child.

Searah saves him with an excited squeal and the plodding of clawed feet. You smile and wave to her. The name can wait. She hugs you by gently placing her front claws onto your shoulders and pressing her warm, fuzzy body against your chest. She’s pretty heavy for her size and you need to press your hands back behind you to stay sitting up. Easier to hug her when you’re lying down.

“Hello, girl.” She backs away and sits down right in front of you before pressing her snout into you and sniffing all over. It’s weird. Freaked you out the first time. Now you think it’s cute. Her tongue flicks out and curls around your neck. “Okay, that’s enough.” You roll your eyes at the heatmor’s angry huff and stick your legs out so she can lie on them. She does.

Her fur is very warm. It’s nice for a cool, cloudy day in the mountains. The moment is simple, perfect. Still just a moment. It must end. Laundry and cooking left to do.

Searah protests as you try to move your legs out from under her. “Noooooooooooo.”

“Sorry, I have work to do.”

“Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine. More cuddles later?} You stroke her back as you slowly get to your feet. Legs aren’t asleep. If you’d stayed any longer they would’ve been.

“Of course. Cuddles later.” Wait. Is Renfield still here?

{Yes,} he thinks / says.

“You can move things with your mind, right?”

{Yes.}

“Then you’re helping me with laundry.”

{Can I come, too?!} Searah asks.

The thought of long claws cutting through cloth crosses your mind. “Not now. I’ll warm up some water later. You can light the fire for that. Or be the fire.”

{Fire!}

“Yes, fire. You’re very good at fire.”

A surge of pride flows into your mind as the heatmor stands up on her hind legs to hug you goodbye. You return it and your sister wanders off to find more bugs to eat.

[-23:03:00]​

You have a plan for surviving this mountain.

First, keep track of your footsteps with a marching cadence. Second, match your breathing to it. Third, keep powering on whenever you trip. Fourth, think of nothing else but your breath and the cadence.

It’s not working very well but you’re still not willing to call it a bad plan. Judging by the sound of Kekoa and Genesis’s breathing they’re doing even worse.

“Break,” Genesis cries out between steps. You hear her lumber off the trail moments before her pack crashes into the ground. You’re happy to pull aside and gulp down water with her.

None of you understood how bad Route 12 was going to be. No shade, constant sunlight, and even the earth itself burns. You’re slowly being baked alive and the paths are all uphill and full of loose rocks. Pixie would help but you can’t keep her out in the heat and Coco… well, she’s still a hatchling. Dragon or not she tires quickly.

The last water bottle gets stowed away. Yet no one asks to end the break. “Maybe we could hike at night,” you suggest. “Less heat.”

“Too dark,” Genesis answers. You attempt to make eye contact, lids as far open as you can get them. “And, um, predators,” she quickly adds.

“I’d rather be awake when the houndoom come,” you reply in the best deadpan you can manage.

She shuts up and Kekoa softly laughs. It reminds you of every other conversation you’ve killed for being too dark, of everyone in town who feared the dragon girl too much to reach out. One day you were the stupid blind girl who kept getting held back or the child of the northern enemy. Then one day you were the baby sister of a hydreigon and everyone else stayed far away and hoped you forgot about everything that came before. Even the new kid who came to town was taught by your classmates to stay far away.

Kekoa breaks the silence. “Not at night. We’d be tired, make mistakes. Early mornings are fine.”

Funny. Right now you’re so tired that you could collapse right now and sleep in the warm sunlight. Maybe never get up.

That means you need to go. Now. Before you actually do stop moving and set up camp away from water.

“Ready to go?” you ask, even though you aren’t ready yourself.

Genesis groans but responds with a “Ready.” Kekoa lifts up his pack and takes a few steps onto the path before saying as much himself.

Breathing. Cadence. Breathing. Cadence. On and on and on.

[-22:18:25]​

Kekoa and Genesis are setting up the tent and suspending the food bag. You’re sitting on what Kekoa insists is the least uncomfortable rock in the campsite running one hand through Coco’s feathers and the other through Pixie’s fur. This isn’t a bad place, all things considered. A stream runs nearby so there’s a small forest with some shade. Sure, it’ll draw predators and prey closer to camp, but most will leave the humans alone. Even the dragons have learned that humans are weak alone but will come back in bigger numbers and with stronger allies. Inferno will probably scare off the stupid and desperate. Not that you’d ever say that aloud with Pixie in earshot.

You’re going to cook today. Or at least warm some stuff up on a tiny stove. Anyone could do it. You certainly don’t want to. Not when your legs are dead and your arms also hurt for some reason. You will. The others are doing their chores. You won’t be deadweight. Not while you’re living out your dreams.

Footsteps approach and someone sits down beside you. Coco, traitor that she is, jumps off your lap and demands pets from her dad. Pixie immediately flicks her tails out to cover the space Coco was sitting.

“You okay?” Kekoa asks. You process the words and belatedly nod. “You don’t look okay.”

Rude.

At least he shuts up before he overstays his welcome.

For a while.

"Can't believe we're doing all this for some rich mainlanders." You tilt your head and angle it in his direction. "Some videos went viral of a pet dedenne. Now all the influencers and wine moms want one."

"Oh." It makes sense. Honestly you thought that people would just use them as generators or something.

You hear Genesis crash down some distance away. "When's dinner?"

Rude.

You stretch out and revel in the pain of a thousand aches. "Can you get me the stove and food?"

[-22:18:17]​

Vegetables and rice are easy enough to warm up. What’s harder is hearing Genesis scrape her bowl clean while you and Kekoa wait for the meat. Even with Pixie’s cooler you still wouldn’t have brought any if Coco didn’t need it. Big health risk. You don’t want to get diarrhea in a place where you have to dig your own toilets. And Coco makes you chew and spit. It’s too close to something else. Having a Z-Ring that can make you puke doesn’t help with that.

You still do it for her. Coco breaks away from her father and thumps her tail on the ground to tell you that she’s present and wants her meal. It’s cute. Even if the rest is gross and makes you feel even grosser.

Pixie flicks a tail against your ankle to tell you that she is also present and would like food. Jealous little shit. You give her about half of your portion of meat. She keeps it cool so it’s her right. Besides, the vegetables are good.

Dinner’s quiet. As usual. Everyone’s tired and hungry.

You wouldn’t mind going to sleep soon. Especially if you’re going to get up early tomorrow.

But you should train.

It’s pretty hot still. Not fair to make Pix exercise.

Yeah. You’ll get some sleep before the tent gets crowded.

[-22:13:38]​

You have to pee but there’s something outside. Somethings. Not talking. Just knocking pebbles around. Making quiet steps. One brushed by the tent a while back. Maybe you should wake Pix up. Maybe you shouldn’t. She would growl. It would either scare away whatever’s outside or start a fight you might not win.

A pokémon makes a soft grunt. Another agrees. Neither gets translated. Dark types? Or was there just no meaning in the sounds? There’s the soft trickling of water—scent marking over Pixie and Inferno, probably—and then the pokémon head out. Manectric? Houndoom? You wait another five, ten, maybe thirty minutes and hear nothing more. Gods you have to pee. Is it safe to go out? You want to wake up Genesis to have Inferno with you. She’s on the opposite side of the tent so that would wake up Kekoa. He’d give you shit.

You slowly start to lift yourself up, earning a soft yip from Pixie as you do so. There’s rustling next to you and you freeze up. Another shift. “You goin’ ow?” Kekoa drearily groans. Genesis starts moving as well.

“Yeah. Can Inferno come with?” The grass-type makes his distinctive leaf swish noise. Yes. You unzip the tent, awkwardly feel for your shoes, and step out into the surprisingly cool air with Coco and two foxes at your heels. After zipping the tent back up you reach for Pix and bring one of her tails to your leg. “Bring me to a rock.”

She starts walking off. Coco bounds away but you’re too focused on peeing to scold her. She barks and starts running towards you, tail dragging behind her and stirring up the gravel.

{New scent!} she says. {Like Sister. And fire!}

Houndoom, then. Inferno won’t do much good if they come back.

Pix flicks your leg. You’re far enough away from the tent and at a good enough place to pee on the rocks. Dry area. Pokémon look for the salt and moisture. If you peed on a plant it might get ripped up. Inferno would be sad. More sad, anyway. Still not sure what his deal is. If you ask you might get close and accidentally take him away from Genesis. It would be unfair.

A small rock falls a few meters away. All three pokémon abruptly stop and look towards it.

{Floating rock.} Pixie says.

“Arms?” you whisper.

{Two.}

Oh. Could be worse. You start walking back to the tent and your pokémon reluctantly follow.

Genesis passes by on the way out. For a moment you consider telling her about the houndoom. You don’t. They’re gone now and she would get scared and freak out and then you would be on edge the whole night for no reason.

Plus, if they did come back and decided to attack, well, there’s probably nothing to be done.

[-22:09:14]​

A bead of sweat hits the bridge of your nose. The cadence and rough breaths continue. One hits your shoulder. Not sweat. Rain. Just a sprinkle. A fat drop hits the top of your head. Another on the shoulder again. Another on—your knee, your back, back again, thigh—they blend together too much to keep track. Thunder. Loud, fast, sharp. Close. Another bolt just a little bit further away. Electric types. Electric types everywhere. You’re on a barren mountain ridge with electric types everywhere. And for once in your life, you’re the tallest thing around.

“There’s a valley to the side,” Kekoa says. “We need to get down.”

He’s right. But. “How steep?”

“Not too bad.”

“I… don’t want to trip and hurt my ankle again.”

“Yeah, well, you want to get electrocuted?”

Genesis slides down—roughly. If she’s struggling while sighted and with long legs—another bolt. Frighteningly close. The roar almost deafens your right ear. The hair on your arms rises up and you run to the side. As if you could dodge lightning. You feel it when your feet hit the incline and you start to slide down on a wave of pebbles. Bend down like your surfing on rocks. Keep going—

The next strike is so close that for a second you can hear nothing but faint ringing.

If you’re fucking deaf on top of everything—the slide breaks as you reflexively twitch and you fall flat on your face. Again. For the second time in two weeks. Don’t care. The rain intensifies and you’re drenched and cold and there are scrapes on your face and you still can’t hear much at all. No. You can hear the thunder again.

Cold comfort.

Maybe someone says something. Maybe they don’t. For a long time you lie face-down as water streams down all around you and thunder continues to rock the mountain. When it finally stops it’s just as fast as it came. A minute later you can count the drops again. Soon there are none at all.

Sharp stone edges meet your hands when you press yourself upright. It’s fine. You’ve faced worse. Just a quick pivot and a small shift to be facing uphill. “Are you alright?” Genesis asks. Voice full of concern.

“Yeah.” Sort of. You’re stronger than you look. Sometimes. Are you? Yes. Not doing this now. “How bad is the climb?”

Gravel shifts as heavy footsteps bound upwards like a capricurl walking on a cliff face. Kekoa probably. He confirms it a moment later. “Climb sucks. Jennifer and I can help you up.”

More footsteps. Far more slips. Genesis finally makes it up with no serious falls but much less grace than Kekoa. You pull the straps on your pack tighter and prepare to climb.

Kekoa does his best to guide you up the slope.

“Root to your right.”

“That patch looks loose. Half-step—shit, are you alright?”

You bite back a curse and steady yourself. The patch was loose and your left foot slipped at a bad angle. It pulses in pain within your boots. Bad, but not quite as bad as in the forest.

“How much left to go?” you demand.

The words are more aggressive in the air than they were in your mind.

“Uh, Jenny, can you see if you can reach her?”

She can. She does. The rest doesn’t hurt too badly. Soon you’re on mostly flat ground.

“’m fine.” Mostly. Fine enough to walk. “Thanks for the help.”

“You sure?” Kekoa’s makes it sound closer to: ‘You aren’t.’ “Looked bad. And that’s the ankle you hurt on Akala, right?”

“Yes. I’m fine. I can walk.”

You aren’t a burden whatever anyone says. The wilderness has always been your home. If you can hold your own anywhere it’s here.

“We can stop at the next campsite. Don’t have to go all the way to ours.”

Can’t he take a hint? You’re fine.

“Whatever,” you respond. “Ready to hike?”

Genesis grunts and Kekoa speaks: “Hike on.”

Cadence and breath. Right foot. Left—right foot. Long, quick strides and gentle steps. It’s fine. You’re fine. You’ve powered through far worse. The humidity is worse. Hot, sticky air that hangs on your skin like a wet blanket you can’t take off. That’s worse. It’s fine. You’re fine. You’re fine. You’re fine.

Kekoa’s footsteps stop and you try to stop. No. You take a step forward and rest on your right foot. Much better.

“I’m calling it here for the day.”

Idiot. “People will notice if we’re late.”

“We’ll be even later if you can’t walk ‘cause you hiked six miles on a bad foot to look tough.”

You want to fight. Insist that you can keep up. Aren’t the weak link. But he’s right. You are. Useless. Might as well admit it.

[-22:08:32]​

“It’s not too swollen,” Kekoa says. “Just keep an ice pack on it.”

“We don’t have—" Pixie. Right.

You reach into your pack and release your pokémon. Coco roars at the air and thumps her tail in case you sent her into a fight. Pixie just swishes a tail against your leg to tell you she’s there. You reach back into the pack and pull out a rubber ball. Once Coco starts growling you toss it off for her to try and murder. Who knows how long it’ll last once she gets real teeth but it’s a nice distraction for now.

“Cool. Call me over if you need anything.”

Kekoa trudges away and you gently pick Pixie up and move her next to your ankle. With another quick movement you drape one of her tails over it. “Can you keep a tail there?”

She grunts and settles down. No complaints about the heat or Coco. Nothing to say at all. You messed up and pressed her too hard too fast. Broke her. As usual. Ankles, brothers, starters, selves. You’re a master at breaking things and a failure at fixing them.

Coco’s small but energetic footsteps come back and the ball drops with a ‘thud’ to the earth. You reach a hand out and hold it right over where you think the ball is. You shoot a finger down in a quick, teasing jab. Oh, this? This old thing? You want me to throw it, huh? Suddenly Coco leaps forward, bats your hand aside, and snatches the ball up in her jaws before running away. Odd. Usually, she just gets excited when you do that. For the best. Ball was coated in spit. Didn’t really want to touch it.

A cramp hits you right in the groin. You wince and awkwardly adjust your good leg in response. The trail hasn’t been good for you. Started eating too much. Period came back. You’d cut back but when you don’t eat and hike too much the world starts rocking and you start making dumb mistakes.

“Mother! Why are—" You silence her with headscritches. “I’m fine, Coco. Just laying an egg.”

She drops down to the ground. “New sister?” …you walked right into that one.

“No. Just an egg. Won’t hatch.”

She doesn’t get up but her tail starts swishing in the dirt. Doesn’t matter. She’ll get bored soon.

“Hey, Genesis!”

It takes her a second before she trots over. And finally answers. Like she couldn’t just call back from across the clearing like a normal person. “What?”

“Can you get me a tampon?”

“I, um, uh, yeah. Sure.”

Why is she embarrassed? She probably gets them most months, too. And she knows that Kekoa’s trans so there aren’t even any biological men here to get grossed out for no reason. Is she actually embarrassed or did you just catch her at a bad time? Ugh. Wish you could see blushes.

Genesis drops the tampon and some new underwear in your lap rather than just handing them to you. “Thanks.” Maybe you could lie down just a little bit longer? No. You like these shorts. Better take care of it now.

*​

“Hey, uh, this is our campsite?” Some kid announces his arrival while you’re still getting changed under the rain fly. Coco reacts to the new voices by slipping under the fly and running out doing her best impression of Pixie’s barks. The fox herself just sighs. {You can talk to me about anything,} you tell her for the third or thirteenth or thirtieth time.

“Sorry! One of us got hurt in the storm so we stopped early,” Genesis says.

“They okay?” Another kid. Female? Or maybe just very young. Or both.

“Just tripped. I’m fine!” you announce as you leave the tent. It’s not the best line for making an entrance but it works. “I think there’s still room for two groups.” Going by clearing echoes, anyway. Most sites seem big enough. It’s a good guess. Satisfied that her mother can deal with the problem, Coco stops barking and runs back to you for praise. You bend down to give her scratches. Pixie butts in a second later for her share. You make sure to give her extra.

Sometimes you swear that you can hear staring. Only question is if they’re staring at you, Coco, or Kekoa. “You blind?” You, then.

“Yes.”

You’re blind and you hurt yourself (again) and he’ll tie the one to the other and he won’t be entirely wrong. Genesis didn’t trip. Neither did Kekoa.

“Cool. Ice-type trainer?”

What? Sure, you have Pix. But Coco’s. Oh.

“No. She’s not an ice-type. Just has white feathers.”

“We haven’t introduced ourselves, have we?” Genesis interjects. “I’m Genesis, she’s Cuicatl,” she says with mostly correct pronunciation, “and… that’s…”

By the suns. She set herself up. Kekoa’s either too far away or too uninterested or too cruel to finish so for a few seconds it just hangs in the air. “I’m Kekoa.”

He had to have noticed, right? Will he say anything? You’d been hoping to push back the Genesis-Kekoa fight until Pix had returned to something close to normal. Gods. Not here. Not with kids watching.

“Cool. You want to battle?” one asks. “I’m Ty. I am an ice-trainer and I want to fight your vulpix.”

Kekoa sighs. “I’ll ref.”

*​

Pixie starts to growl. Eevee. Glaceon. You’re fighting a glaceon. Time to stall and put together a plan.

“How far are you in the challenge, Ty?”

“Two grand trials. Beat Sophocles and heading on to the next. You?”

If you ever had hopes of winning a slugfest they’re gone now. “One trial.”

Ice shard’s as good as useless. Left with three utility moves. Roar, baby-doll eyes, confuse ray. Stalemate? Good for a friendly match on the trail. “Did you grow up near Lanakila, then? That how you got the vulpix?” He seems interested. You can stall. Maybe even get in some baby-doll eyes before the match starts. No. That affects humans, too. He’d notice.

“I’m from Anahuac. I adopted her in Hau’oli.”

Kekoa clears his throat. “I lived near Tapu Village for a bit. Bunch of ice-types there even without climbing.”

Pix has probably readied her opening moves. Time to get the show started. You stretch your mouth into a big, maybe fake-looking smile and clap your hands. “Great! You two can talk about it in a minute. Ty, I accept your challenge!”

Your heart pounds in your chest despite the low stakes. You can win this. Show Pix that she’s better than an ice-type eevee. Or no worse than one. Maybe make her happy.

“Alright. One on one. Don’t hurt each other too badly. Potions ain’t cheap.”

“Snowflake, go for an ice beam!” Snowflake. Oh no. Did he get it as a glaceon? Or was he setting up an Inferno situation? Doesn’t matter. You snap your fingers and think your command as cold air rushes past your feet. Shit. Big hit. Is Pix—

She growls and the cold air stops coming. The confuse ray landed. It givese you a moment to think. You could try baby-doll eyes. But if Snowflake knows ice beam, if that’s its go-to move, then maybe it wouldn’t do much. Two snaps. {Roar into ice shard.}

Most roars are wordless as far as your gift is concerned. This one isn’t. There’s a lot of meaning in the scream. Most of it profane. All of it angry. You can practically feel Pixie baring her teeth and venting days, no, years, of rage at one frozen fox. No, not ‘practically’ feel it, you can feel all that. Connection is too wide. You close your eyes and draw your mind in. The link becomes quieter.

“Come on,” your opponent calls. “Substitute!”

Baby-doll eyes are useless. Confuse ray… you’ll need to break the sub first. {Don’t need to lose your voice. Now,} “Ice shard!”

The scream becomes a hiss as the cold air whips back up. Another surge of cold joins it and Pixie rolls through the gravel. To the side. Not towards you. A dodge. {Keep it up until the fake is gone, then confuse ray.}

You don’t know what happens. Pixie keeps hammering away while cold air rushes to your side of the field. Feels stronger than any of Pixie’s attacks. And through your connection you feel her get weaker and weaker.

“Calling it now,” Kekoa says. “Ty wins.”

Pixie growls in pain / anger but doesn’t keep attacking. You can hear Ty walk over.

“Good play, there. Ordering confuse ray without a word.” If you had given a word he would have just shouted ‘Close your eyes!’ or something else simple and effective.

“Thank you.” You hear Pixie sulk off with dramatically loud steps. Should you praise his glaceon? You should. But Pix is here. How to word this…

In the end, Kekoa saves you. “You wanted to talk about the Mauna, right?”

“Yes! So, like, when you say there are a bunch of ice-types at the base, what are you counting as ‘the base?’” Their voices start drifting away and you take the chance to sit down. Pix immediately jumps on your lap and Coco comes running in from somewhere to lean against your side.

“You did good work, Pixie.” She doesn’t answer. “Need any healing?”

“No.”

“Okay.” You hadn’t felt any wounds on her, anyway. Her fur’s just frozen together. Might not even be a bad thing given how hot everything is here.

[-22:19:50]​

“That, uh, looks really good.” You start and almost tip the stove over. That was the girl in the other group. Forgot her name. And she’s very close to you. When did she get there? You’re not easy to sneak up on.

She starts to stammer out an apology before you cut her off. “It’s fine. Really.” Silence. Well, near-silence. Kekoa’s playing fetch with Coco. The stove’s sizzling. Genesis and the ice-trainer are talking. No. Not silence. Still awkward. “What do you usually eat?”

“Freeze-dried crap.”

“What are you making tonight?”

“Freeze-dried crap.”

Poor thing. “Why? You have ice-types. You can keep real food.” Pixie grunts and plops down beside you. Snuck up on you. Again! At least she has padded feet.

“Wouldn’t that be super heavy?” The girl’s voice is quiet and monotone. Difficult to find emotion in. Hard to tell if she genuinely wants to change or just wants your food for the night.

“Do you have any big pokémon to carry things?”

“Um. I have a trevenant. But she’s really slow. Then Ty trains ice-types that don’t like heat. And Matt has poison-types.” She pauses to find a way to say the obvious. “I don’t want poison on our food.”

Fair complaints. “You have a type as well?” Wait uh. That could be taken the wrong way.

“I train plants.” Okay good. Was thinking about battling and not romance. “You have a theme?”

You flip the vegetables. Or some of them. Hard to make sure you flip them all and that none fall off of the tiny stove. “Sort of? Genesis is making a rain team.” Even if she doesn’t know it yet. “Kekoa’s going for fliers. I like big predators.”

Here comes the silence. The dragon girl silence. Hello, plant girl. Good riddance.

“That’s so cool.” Um. “I mean, dangerous.” What? “But cool.”

“Thanks?” Seriously, what? That’s not supposed to happen. Especially not from plant girl. You press your lips together and stir the pot while you think. “Not as dangerous as you’d think. Most mons could kill you. Some are nice enough to remind you.” You inch a hand towards the stove to feel the heat coming off. Feels like the food’s probably done. Taking the vegetables off the stove gives your brain another moment to catch up. “Plants are also cool I guess?”

Plant girl gives a short, bitter laugh. “They really aren’t. Most of them. My decidueye just evolved and she’s great. Distant. Protective. Still cuddly.”

You rummage through the food bag to find the sliced pidove breasts. Or what passes for pidove breasts here. No idea why they shape it like that when it was all grown in a petri dish. “Huh. Powerful, protective, and cuddly. Sounds like the ideal pokémon.” You make sure to reach out to Pix as you say it. She is powerful, protective, and cuddly. The ideal pokémon. And you love her very much and won’t leave her. The fox presses her head into your hand and accepts the scratches but doesn’t say anything.

“How’d you learn to cook?” the girl asks. Still hungry, it seems.

“Godmother taught me. I did most of it at home. House full of boys, you know?”

“I… no.” She awkwardly shifts. “I don’t think that’s normal? To make children do all the work?”

You scowl and bring your hand away from Pix. Time to use hand sanitizer and put the meat on. “I’m not a child. I’m fifteen.” Almost old enough to train for the army if you weren’t useless.

“I see.” It’s clear that she doesn’t but she’s letting it go because. Your shoulders are tense and your face is twisted. Americans. Judging you and your culture. You take some deep breaths and relax your body. Smile. Doesn’t matter if its fake. She’s just a kid. Don’t lash out. talk about the meal instead.

“This food’s better than what I usually made at home. Don’t think the others would settle for maize gruel.” Even if ātōlli is great with a little honey and the right seasonings. And pinolli was a staple in the old days. Instant food, just add water. Never actually made it. Simple, though, you’d just… ugh can you even get good maize here?

Plant girl coughs. “Can I have your number? For cooking advice. Later.” The last parts are surprisingly quick. Is she embarrassed by something. A crush? Or she doesn’t want you to think she has a crush? It’s kind of adorable either way. Not that you would ever reciprocate. She’s eleven at most and you’re maybe straight? Still working that one out. Not as if anyone would ever court you.

“Yeah, sure. It’s…”

[-21:10:59]​

“Break.” Odd. You’ve barely been hiking ten minutes. And Kekoa usually isn’t the one to call for it. “Long break. Put your packs down.”

Very odd. Not his period, he had that three weeks ago if you’re remembering right. Pixie still found it unsettling. Also you’re going to have to tell Coco why his father is laying an egg in a few weeks. Shit. Not looking forward to that. You were trying to avoid giving The Talk to a tyrannosaur. Still, you drop your pack and you can hear Genesis drop hers.

“Now, Jennifer, can you tell me my name?”

Well. Not how you would’ve handled it. You would’ve waited until Blush Mountain. Not forced the issue when you had to stay close to her for a few days more. Too late now. Here we go.

“I…” Genesis takes a deep breath. “I won’t lie to Xerneas, Allana.”

So much conviction in her tone. So much disrespect in her words. How’d she even remember Kekoa’s old name? You forgot about five minutes later. Not even on purpose.

If the familiar sound of a fist hitting a face is anything to go by, Kekoa has a fantastic arm.

Genesis reals back and sputters. “The heck was that for?” she demands. “I could’ve broken a tooth.”

No. The hit wasn’t nearly strong enough. Or maybe it just sounds louder when you’re the one getting hit?

“And you would have deserved it.” Kekoa doesn’t even sound angry. Smug, yes, but not angry. You take a step back to stay off the battlefield.

“I wasn’t going to use that name for you!” Genesis protests. “You were the one who wanted to know. Not my fault if you don’t like the answer.”

“I have the right to know how my teammates feel about me.” Still even while Genesis rages. Or tries to rage. Her voice is high enough that it’s actually kind of adorable.

“And I have the right not to be judged for my religion! You liberals like tolerance, right?”

Hmm. She may have a point. She’s being an asshole, but you hate it when Americans judge your religion. Then again, if you were being an asshole to them it would be reasonable. You don’t sacrifice non-believers unless they raise arms against your country.

“I don’t tolerate bigots,” Kekoa sneers. He’s getting emotional, too. Good chance this goes back to blows and someone gets hurt.

“Let’s not hurt each other out here,” you ask. “Get to Blush Mountain and then beat each other up?”

“I’m not beating him up!” Genesis exclaims (screeches). “He’s the only one who got violent.”

“Deadnaming is violence.”

As someone who’s been hurt by fists and words, there really is a difference.

“Kekoa goes in front. I go in the middle. Then Genesis.”

“Can’t we just leave her?” Kekoa asks. “She’s the one creating problems.”

“And you’d get in trouble for leaving someone alone in the mountains.”

Kekoa pauses to consider it.

“Fine,” he concedes. “I don’t need to take any more shit on its behalf than I already have.”

“Its?” Genesis asks. “I thought you wanted people to respect genders?”

“That’s enough.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

You have a sinking feeling that things are only going to get worse from here.

 

[Persephone]

Electric 2.3: Gods and Kings
Genesis

[-28:07:15]​

There are two types of museums: the ones filled with dangerous lies spoken into the world by Yveltal and presented as fact, and the ones that actually present facts. The true ones are wonderful! This one has a bunch of pictures of the power plant under construction and a room with a really overly complicated steam-powered device that rings a bell.

The museum says that the Blush Mountain Geothermal Plant is the largest of its kind in the country and third largest in the world. There’s a giant hole in the ground and very hot air comes out and turns water into steam. That spins a rod which… produces electricity somehow. You really tried to understand that part but half the words didn’t make sense. Doesn’t matter. This place makes most of Alola’s energy. It’s weird to think that when you turn a light on steam comes up in Blush Mountain and spins a wheel and then sends electricity down a wire on the ocean floor to another island where it goes into the room and makes... How did lightbulbs work? Internet time! Okay, the internet says that it makes some metal so hot that it starts glowing. Like a metal candle. Ugh. Such a better name. Metal candles and horseless carriages.

Annoying that you had to come alone. Sure, Cuicatl can’t read signs so she might not have liked it. But it’s all renewable power and save the earth and everything so Allana would think it’s cool. She’s not talking to you and you aren’t sure you’d want her here anyways. She did hit you a few days ago. Hard. Just for your beliefs. Honestly, she’s lucky that it stopped hurting by the time you got back to civilization.

It doesn’t matter. Really. Yveltal makes sure that the true believers will be persecuted. If you’re getting attacked, you’re doing something right. Not that it feels good. And then Cuicatl pretty much took his side! Even though he attacked you. Ooh, measured from the seafloor to peak Mt. Hokulani is the tallest mountain on earth. Wait if all of Ula’Ula spreads out from Hokulani does that mean that the entire thing is a mountain? Even the flat parts? Are all of the islands actually mountains? And why is Lanakila the one capped in snow year-round if its shorter? Internet time. Oh. It’s already noon. Lunch time.

Then dedenne hunting.

Here’s hoping that Cuicatl’s in a good mood.

*​

“Hello, Genesis.” You start and glance at Cuicatl. She’s awake and sitting awkwardly on her bed, half-crouching with Coco leaning on her side and Pixie lying beneath her back so that she can’t move. “You’re back early.”

“Yeah. I, um, wanted to see if you wanted to get lunch? And then maybe we could go dedenne hunting together.” Allana isn’t present. Where is she? You shouldn’t ask that. Not when you’re trying to get Cuicatl to like you for a few hours.

She twitches her leg and Pix moves to the side. Coco starts slipping and her trainer barely catches her in time. After pushing the dinosaur upright Cuicatl slips over the side of the bed and stands up. “Sure. Let me just…” Her hand slips to her belt and Coco disappears in a flash of red. A sheepish grin creeps onto Cuicatl’s face. “I don’t trust her table manners.”

*​

The shrill cry of a kricketune sounds off beside you. Cuicatl wipes the sweat off of her brow and brings her phone to her ear. You can hear a woman’s voice come through for almost a minute. Despite the call she never asks you to stop and you keep on going closer to the grassland. Closer to elekid.

There are three pokémon out to help you find one. Coco keeps bolting ahead, thumping her tail on the ground to tell her trainer to catch up, realizing that it won’t happen, running back to you, and then running ahead again. Right now she’s running back for the fourth time. Pixie and Inferno (better name TBD) keep pace with you, Pixie by Cuicatl’s side and Inferno by yours. The foxes have good dog noses and Cuicatl says that tyrunt’s are even better.

Cuicatl lowers the phone and tucks it into her pocket. “Who was it?” you ask.

“Miss Bell.”

Miss… Bell… Hmm. You’re not the best with names but. Wait. You remember her. “The VStar person?”

She nods. “Yes.” Coco rushes off again. “She gave me Pixie.” The fox perks up at the mention of her name but keeps quiet. Right. You vaguely remember that. It got buried in the memories of your first meeting. In fairness a lot of stuff came up and you were very nervous. “What do you think about VStar?” Cuicatl asks you.

“Um.” To be honest you haven’t thought much about them. “It’s cool that they let people like you” and Allana “go on journeys. And give pokémon to people who want one. Like you and Pixie.”

“Hmm.” Her face stays even and her voice is neutral. You still get the impression she disagrees. “We get three hundred dollars for a dedenne. They sell for $1500. VStar gets most of the money. None of the danger.”

“Yeah, well, that’s just how companies work. They need to make a profit so they can exist and pay us at all.”

For a second a flash of… something flashes across her face. Anger? Disappointment? It’s gone in less than a second. “My father was a merchant. Traded with the States. He gave money to the schools. The library. The doctors. When business was bad he’d keep giving. Sometimes wasn’t enough food in the house but he helped everyone else. That was his duty. Your merchants aren’t like that.”

That’s insane. Actually insane. People look out for themselves because no one else will. Like life vests on planes. “So he starved himself to buy a few books?”

Cuicatl gently shakes his head. “I don’t think he ever starved,” she says softly. “Or my brother. I took care of them. That was my duty.”

Your eyes narrow automatically. “So he starved his daughter to make himself look good to everyone else?” Inferno yips beside you. He’s stopped moving, planted his butt down, and is staring at you with wide eyes. Why? Is he scared? …how loud were you just then? A glance at Cuicatl shows that she’s lowered her head. There’s hair over her face but you’re pretty sure you can see a scowl.

“Let’s talk about something else,” she says. Her voice is still quiet. It somehow feels violent. Threatening. Like the tiny blind girl is going to murder you with words. You’re not good with people. At all. But you’re pretty sure that if you keep pressing her she’ll hate you for trying to help her. Like Allana. Then you’d have no one to talk to. Except maybe Exodus.

You know that if you say anything you might say something wrong, so you don’t say anything at all.

*​

“Well, we’ve made it to the tall grass,” you announce. The plain stretches out in front of you with brown and yellow grasses covering a rugged plain bounded by cliffs on both sides. More grass stretches out below the cliff. Something like, oh, what’s the word… terraces? The things they use for farming in South America? Sounds right. Cuicatl reaches for her pokéball and withdraws Tyrunt. “Uh, weren’t you going to use her to find dedenne?”

She shakes her head as she curls the leash up.. “I was. But she’s never smelled one. And she’d probably scare them away.” As soon as the leash is in her pack and the pack is back on her back she nods with a look of quiet determination. “Hike on.”

Sometimes you can hear stuff rustle around you. Inferno or Pixie lets out a growl once or twice. Never bark to signal that an dedenne’s close. The grass rubs against your arms and it’s starting to get really irritating. Cuicatl’s wearing her poncho and a long skirt and you’re envious. And she gets to trail behind you after you press all the grass out of the way.

“Water break,” she calls. That’s rare. She almost never calls for a break. You stop in acknowledgment and glance back at her as she slowly lowers herself to the ground and sits criss-cross applesauce. She still keeps a hand tightly gripping her dinosaur’s tether. Pixie just curls up beside her.

You slowly lower yourself and pull out a water bottle. Looks like you could be here a while. She doesn’t drink. “You read about primarina?” she asks.

Primarina? The water starters. You’ve definitely heard of them. Seen a few. Can’t say you’ve read that much about them. You shake your head and then catch yourself. “Not really.”

“I thought about getting one,” she says. “They like to sing. Live in groups called ‘choirs.’ I thought it would be fun to sing with a pokémon.” She reaches out and rubs a finger over Pix’s ear. “Didn’t. Glad I didn’t.”

That would’ve been cute. And would’ve meant that Sir Bubbles could have a friend in the pools at night. But this way she has a guide fox so things worked out the way they were supposed to. But why does she want to talk about the seals?

She presses on as if to answer your question. “Now, there’s something else interesting. Every choir has one girl and a lot of guys. The primarina’s the girl. When she dies or leaves a brionne evolves.”

“So then there’s a male primarina?” That is kind of weird. They look very feminine. Wait. She said that every choir has a female primarina. How does that…

“No. The brionne becomes a girl when it evolves. Organs change and everything.”

“You’re joking.” She has to be. That’s impossible. How would it even work?

Cuicatl just shrugs. “Look it up if you want.” On the internet. Full of lies. “Bunch of other ‘mons do it. Basculin, axlawful…” You can see a faint smile form under her hair. “You watched Jurassic Park, right?”

“Sort of. I was asleep where a lot of it.”

She waves her hand through the air. “Your loss. Anyway. In the movie they put poliwag DNA in the tyrantrum. Let it change sex and lay eggs. Because, y’know, poliwag can do that if they want.”

They can what. You reach down and let Sir Bubbles out. He looks up curiously and—oh thank goodness you can’t see eggs. Still a he. Cuicatl goes on, “There was a zoo with a psychic working there. Had him ask some delibird what their sex was because they’d need surgery to tell. Found out that the delibird themselves didn’t know. Just kind of guessed.” That’s an obvious lie. Way too ridiculous to be true. “Then there’s the Aztec gods. We have four big gods. One takes whatever form he wants. Male, female, pokémon, human—doesn’t matter.”

“Well, they aren’t even real,” you insist. Lies from Yveltal. Myths to lead her people astray. Drive them to murder.

You just earn a slow head shake in response. “They don’t care if you believe in them.” Of course they don’t. They aren’t real. That’s incredibly selfish, too. She gets to go to Aztec Heaven but doesn’t want anyone else to go with her. “You think Xerneas created everything right?”

“Yeah…” Yveltal made evil. You don’t think he actually made anything real though. No. Evil is real. Ugh. Doesn’t matter. You know what it means.

“Then if Xerneas made primarina and axlawful and poliwag and delibird, why’d He give humans the tools to do it and then tell them not to? Can’t be wrong or He wouldn’t have done it for pokémon.”

“That’s…” Wrong. Right? “People aren’t animals. Pokémon. Whatever. We aren’t supposed to… do a lot of things that pokémon do. Even if we can.”

“Yeah, yeah.” For a second you can see her bite her lip. “Although there is some Galarian who thinks humans should drink their piss like desert pokémon do.” You regret eating lunch before having this conversation. Has she really… “I’m not convinced,” she says. Your worst fears dissolve. Well. Not your literal worst fears. Figurative worst fears. She sighs and uncrosses her legs. “Just think on it, okay?

“Okay.” You can do that much. Will do that much. If nothing else you have to find an unbiased source to figure out if she’s lying or not. Which she is. Probably. Not that it would matter if she wasn’t. She’s still wrong morally.

“Want to catch some dedenne?”

Ugh. You really don’t want to go back to walking through the grass. “Do you think our pokémon will get the scent soon?”

“Probably already have. Just don’t know what it is.” She grins and glances away. “My fault. Tried to find one in the city. Ran out of time.” Huh. Well, not as if you were trying to find an dedenne. Honestly you were basking in the joys of indoor plumbing and air conditioning as long as you could before it was time to go back on the trail. “But,” she dramatically flips a finger up and raises her voice, “I do have an idea.” Cuicatl brings the finger back down and unlocks her phone before holding it out to you. “Go to the videos. I have thunderstorm sounds saved.”

“Why?” You still do as she asks, flicking into her stored videos. There are a surprising amount. Just from the blurry thumbnails of random objects you’re pretty sure that she took them. “And what are you filming so much?”

“One: dedenne love thunderstorms. Maybe it’ll draw one out.” She pauses and purses her lips. “Or a togedemaru. Or elekid. Or golem. Electabuzz if we’re super unlucky.” Cuicatl starts petting Pixie like she isn’t about to throw herself and the fox into danger. “Two: I like having voices recorded. In case, um,” the darkness slips back onto her face and she turns away from you, “in case something happens.”

You don’t know exactly what happened in her past. From what you’ve heard about Anahuac you don’t even want to imagine. Something bad. Whatever it was. “Hey,” you nudge her shoulder, “you want a hug?”

“Yeah, sure.” You lean in and wrap your arms around her and she gently leans her shoulder into you. Wait, how long should you hold a hug? If it was just a greeting hug you definitely would have let go by now. But this is a ‘friend feels sad and I do not trust myself to say un-sad things’ hug. Clearly longer. Is this good? She isn’t leaning out. Okay. So. Still doing this. She’s using the travel shampoo you recommended. Well, the same one you use. Saving space and all. You like it. Of course you do. It’s yours. Uhhhhhhhh. She leans away and places her arms behind her. Smiling. Faintly but it still counts. Good job! “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” You stop yourself there before you can ruin it. In the distance a bird starts chirping. You have no idea what kind it is.

Cuicatl turns to her ice fox. “Tell me if anything gets close? Flick my ankle if it’s a dedenne, hiss for other stuff.” He huffs in response and slowly gets up on all fours to stare intently into the grass. Cuicatl reaches into her skirt’s pocket (it has pockets!) and pulls out a bag of seeds and nuts. She scatters them into the wind before sitting down. Then she turns to you and tilts her head. “Play whenever.”

“I, uh, this is safe, right?”

She shrugs. That really helps your nerves. “We’ve got Inferno for geodude, Count Cloudy and Sir Bubbles for togedemaru, Pix for dedenne and elekid.” Ah. So she’s assigning everything but the tiny mouse and the actual baby to you. In fairness both of the bigger pokémon have a type advantage against her. And Pixie has all kinds of tricks for the capture. Okay, fine. it’s fair enough. And she doesn’t sound concerned. But—

“Why Sir Bubbles? He’s a water type.” However brave and strong he is he won’t like dodging lightning.

“’cause Count Cloudy will be using ember in dry grass. I want the whole thing watered down.”

That makes a lot of sense. The Count’s embers are still tiny in comparison to Sir Bubbles’ bubbles so it should work out. You steel yourself and let the thunder roll.

*​

The thunder keeps rolling. At some point the sun came out from behind the clouds and you really want to curl up and take a nice nap in the sun on an impromptu grass bad. Cuicatl’s already half there, sprawled out with her head on her backpack and her eyes closed. Not that the eye thing actually matters to her. Why does she ever open them, anyway? It’s weird.

Something big moves the grass in front of you. Heavy, too, from the footsteps. Pixie starts a low hiss and Cuicatl bolts upright. “Graveler or golem. Pixie, use baby doll eyes when it gets closer. Genesis, pelt it with razor leaf, bubble, and water gun once it’s distracted. Be prepared to throw a ball and run.”

“Right.” You turn around to see Inferno already moving into position. You relay orders to Count Cloudy and Sir Bubbles—Sir Bubbles start to run away. You withdraw him for now. Don’t want to deal with that and a battle at the same time. The graveler stops moving just as you can get a good look at it. Mostly gray. Little black and yellow stones jut out from the surface here and there. You can’t see the face but you get the impression that it’s really ugly.

“Any time,” Cuicatl whispers. Right. Dramatic shout or quiet whisper order.

It comes out as a shout.

Inferno flicks her head leaf and begins her assault. Water streams out from the sky, admittedly at a rate closer to a trickle than a torrent. How is this supposed to hurt a solid rock that comes up to your hips? It shouldn’t. It seems to. The graveler makes a cry of pain that sounds like, that is, rocks grinding against each other before awkwardly turning around and lumbering away.

Slowly.

Doesn’t look like its coming back.

Victory!

*​

When you wake up there’s another battle going. Cuicatl’s crouched down behind Pixie while the fox wrestles with a small yellow, with a dedenne! An adorable dedenne! You know you can’t keep everything VStar sends you to get but you wish they didn’t pick such tempting cuties. Inferno and Count Cloudy are currently watching the brawl. Just as you start to move the dedenne jerks and tosses Pixie out of the way. The pupper lands on her feet and starts prepping ice… no. Her eyes are… the dedenne halts and uneasily glances around. Confuse ray.

A ball rolls into your knee. “Can you toss it for me?”

She would have troubles with that. Not that you have too much experience with this. You did it underhanded last time so let’s try that. Just a gentle toss. The dedenne starts turning around and sparks fly around its hand as it sees the pokéball. Then they fade. It all fades to red. The ball shakes. Pixie raises her tails up and prepares an ice shard, probably for real this time. Another shake. You’re holding your breath. Know you’re holding your breath but can’t bring yourself to exhale. Another ball rolls into your foot as Cuicatl prepares for. Click. Capture.

You let out the breath you knew you were holding. The breath and the small shift in posture that comes with it calms you. Not to sleep. All exhaustion was driven out in the, what, forty seconds since you woke up?

“You’re a really deep sleeper,” Cuicatl says, irritation and amusement mixed in her voice. “We’d been going for ages before you noticed.”

“Well, I did wake up when I was needed.”

She rolls her eyes. You think she rolls her eyes? The frosted pattern moves. “That was my third ball.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Thought your snoring might scare off the ‘mons.” Her shoulders roll and she leans back on her hands. “Worked out fine thanks to Pix.” The ice fox puffs up her fur and sits down, tails curled around her. Cuicatl’s smile sinks a little. “If you’re tired we don’t have to stay out. Always tomorrow.”

Tomorrow… Tuesday. Right. “Sorry, it’s a holiday.”

“Well, it’s about to rain…”

Is it? There are a lot more clouds. And the sound of thunder. From beside you. Wait. You reach down and turn the phone off. The battery’s almost dead. Looks like you’re going back one way or another.

“Okay. Day after tomorrow? We’ll still be here right?”

“Yeah. Heading out on the… twenty-ninth? Sorry. Hard to remember three calendars.”

“Three… The American one... The Aztec one…”

“We have two calendars. One for gods. One for farming and business and stuff.”

“Yeah, but, couldn’t you just… adopt the one everyone else uses?”

She sits up and starts getting her things together. “Ours are better. Months have the same number of days.” That’s actually pretty reasonable. You can never remember what days have 30 and which have 31. “What’s the holiday tomorrow?”

“Thanksgiving.” You mirror her and get your pack around. Thankfully there’s not much. “We get together with family and think about what we’re thankful for. Then there’s a parade in Castelia.”

Cuicatl stands up and makes a broad sweeping motion around your impromptu clearing. “Can you get the ball?” You pick it up and slip it into her hand as you stand. “And that’s the genocide one, right?”

“No. It’s more about being thankful for the natives helping us out.”

She gestures towards the rough direction of the Pokémon Center and you set out. Cuicatl follows behind. “Right, then you killed all you could and stole half their land.”

“I think you’ve read a lot of propaganda.” Well, not read. Heard? You did manage to keep your voice very neutral. Good job. She’s wrong but you don’t have to be mean. If you are you might be actually alone on Thanksgiving. And then you’d probably burn down some grass while fighting a togedemaru.

“Just because it’s propaganda doesn’t mean it’s wrong.” You glance back at her. What was that supposed to mean? Of course it’s all lies. That’s what propaganda means. Doesn’t matter if it’s Anahuac or Yveltal herself saying it, all of it’s lies. Well. Okay. The natives did give away a lot of land. And some of it was stolen. But that’s not your fault. And you like being thankful for stuff. Can’t you just do that without making everything political?

*

[-27:11:49]​

What do you have to be thankful for last year?

In hindsight, way less. Should’ve been thankful for a lot more in 2018. Your family, Lyra, good food, a place to stay every night. Sure you were thankful for all of that but… not as much as you should’ve been. You’ll be better at that in 2020. But now you have pokémon to be thankful for! Sir Bubbles, Count Cloudy and Inferno. One of these things is not like the others, one of these things just doesn’t belong.

The Green Knight! Yes! You’ll tell her later. She will be ecstatic.

Sir Bubbles, Count Cloudy, and The Green Knight. Then Cuicatl. She is away from her terrible father and has enough food now. For some reason she still seems sad. Sometimes. Other times she seems really energetic. She’s confusing but you’re thankful for her. Then… well, Allana is a ministry opportunity. The silver lining in your bad situation. And your family’s still alive so you should be thankful for that!

Lyra… no. Not this year. She is on a journey of her own. Maybe you’ll cross paths and she’ll apologize for what she did.

Apologies. Family. You glance at the window and watch the water run down the glass. Another rainstorm. Even if it wasn’t a holiday you couldn’t go dedenne hunting. You turn back to the room. Well, not a room. The small area between sets of doors. Some volleyball courts and outdoor pools past one set, a hallway connecting the pools and lobby down the other. Allana’s in your room and you don’t want to do this with other people around.

You take a deep breath and call your only relative who might listen.

First ring. You can do this. Second ring. You need to do this. It’s the point of the holiday. Third ring. What if they aren’t taking calls today? Someone picks up. “Pine Pass Programs. What can I do for you today?”

Another deep breath. “Hi, I was calling to see if Exodus Gage can talk. I’m her sister, Genesis.”

“Alright, please hold.” Gentle piano and… harp(?) music starts to play. You lean back on the wall and exhale. Exodus. Exodus, Exodus, Exodus. You visited on her birthday five months ago. Haven’t called her since. It’s fine. She’s better now. Much better. You still tense up. Even though she’s across the Pacific and younger than you.

“Hey, Gen.” Her voice comes through. Well, close enough to her voice. You don’t have it memorized. But you still sort of recognize it. Puberty. Changing. Or maybe you just forgot. Bleh. “What’s up?”

You’re alone in a cramped corner of a Pokémon Center because your mom kicked you out for something that isn’t your fault. “Nothing much. How are you?”

“Eh. Have the day off from classes. Decent lunch a while ago.” A while ago?

“What time is it on the mainland?”

“Two-thirty.” Right. Weren’t sure exactly how many hours ahead they were. “So, this a friendly family call or do you want something from me?”

What help could she even give. You shake your head. Focus. Not the issue. “I just wanted to wish you a happy Thanksgiving.”

“Aww, thanks.” You can sort of make out a quiet chuckle on the other end. “’course, probably helps that you got kicked out. What’s the deal with that, by the way? No one’s telling me.”

Do you tell her the truth? Would it matter? There’s nothing she could even do about it, right? Right? Nothing comes to mind. You try again. Darn it, you’re doing this. “Lyra kissed me. I didn’t ask. I didn’t like it. Mom still got mad. Didn’t want Levi to get corrupted.”

“Hmm. That all there is?” She sounds smug. Definitely not supportive. And what’s she getting at.

“Yes. That’s it. I don’t really get it either. Okay, like, I did for a few days but it’s been over two months now.” You aren’t crying. Your voice is breaking for other reasons. You will not cry in front of Exodus. You will not. “Maybe they just think I want to journey or something?” You don’t. It’s sometimes not bad. You’d rather be home.

“Oh, sweetie.” Somehow she sounds even smugger. Yeah. This sounds like Exodus again. “You still don’t get it, do you? It’s almost sad.” She definitely does not sound sad.

You can hang up at any time.

“Get what?”

“Well, for one… no. That’s not mine to tell you. But I don’t think I’ve told you why…”

“No. You haven’t.” The voice cracks stop. You think you sound really cold. Good. She deserves it.

“Yeah, well, if Mom and Dad ever loved us they stopped when Levi was born. They had their heir. We’re just decorations now. And if we don’t act the part they’ll throw us in the trash.”

Delusional. Absolutely delusional. “Exodus, they sent you to therapy for trying to choke their son. You can’t justify that.”

“Heh, you didn’t say I was wrong…”

“And you’re wrong.” Your thumb drifts to the red button that will end the call. It stops just over it. “They still love you. Why else would Mom go all the way to the mainland to visit you?”

“Love, first of all this ain’t therapy. At best it’s discount juvie. Second, it’s been years, okay? I’ve changed.” She sighs into the phone. “I was eight. I made a mistake. I’m sorry. Really. If they loved me, they’d let me out. Give me a chance to make things better.” You can practically see her shaking her head through the phone, crocodile tears in her eyes. “I was like you once. Thought they were just scaring me, heh, scaring me straight.” You don’t get what the joke is. Wait. Ugh. Terrible joke. “They weren’t. I wasn’t the decoration they wanted and they tossed me out of sight.”

“They visit.” Often. At least once a month. More than you’re getting. Plus they call. “Trust me, they do love you. They’re just worried about…” Levi, mostly. Pets too. She probably killed a glameow and an ariados. Probably. You only really put it together after she was sent off. She’s clever. Knows how to hide things. If the housekeeper hadn’t overheard the struggle…

She butts in before you can finish the thought. “That doesn’t mean anything. They only come because they think they’re good parents and that’s what good parents should do. When I talk they don’t listen. Ever. Then they path themselves on the back and leave.” You don’t know how to answer that. So you don’t. “Just be glad they didn’t send you to conversion therapy, okay? A few kids here have been to that. Fucked them up something good.”

“Language.” There’s somebody listening to her conversation, right? And she’s only thirteen. She has no business talking like that.

You fidget and your thumb presses the last quarter inch down onto the end call button. You could call back. You don’t want to.

Instead you slowly slouch down and sit on the radiator. So many lies. Primarina are transvestites. Blood sacrifices keep the sun moving. Your parents don’t love you. Exodus was ever justified.

You put the phone down next to you and lower your head into your hands. You don’t scream. A convenient crack of lightning does it for you. As a kid you heard about temptation. You thought you’d be strong enough to resist. That you would earn your afterlife.

You still will.

It’ll just be harder than you’d anticipated.

 

[Persephone]

Electric 2.4: Spiderwebs and Lost Souls
Kekoa

[-24:08:40]​

Before you take out lunch you kick your boots off and stretch. Downhill was supposed to be easy. Instead it was a thousand controlled, halting steps to keep you from tumbling down. Did bring you to a damn nice lake, though. Perfectly clear water with a few wishiwashi darting below the surface. Mountains reflected in the water. The shit they put on postcards. There’s another group sitting down for lunch about a third of the way around the lake but otherwise you’re alone.

Well, alone with Cuicatl, some Pokémon, and a transphobic piece of shit. Pixie and Coco have already curled up on their trainer as she lies down. Count Cloudy the Pretentious is hovering over the pond, the leafeon is curled up in a sunbeam, and Sir Fucking Bubbles is staring into the water and deciding if he’s man enough to swim in it.

You can see Hekeli flit between branches from time to time. Makani, your grubbin, thankfully ignored you when you sent him out and is busy rooting around in the dirt. Cuicatl told you that your ‘mons would need a reason to stay. Thankfully, he found one on his own. Something changed on Blush Mountain. Not evolution. For the best. Don’t want to deal with Makani the vikavolt quite yet. Might think it’s funny to spit ten thousand volts in your face rather than string. But he seems to get why he should stay. The bug grew up on Akala. Never had a chance of evolving on his own. With you? He can become a terrifying murder bug. Will become a terrifying murder bug.

And the people (and colonizer) are sprawled out in the shade, ignoring the hike the afternoon will bring. Food. You were supposed to pull out food. Canned meat and hummus, raisins that are somehow more dehydrated than usual, and crackers. Bland but cheap and nutritious. Maybe Cuicatl’s thought of something better but she’s never complained. You toss some at the haole thing and gently hand your friend her portion. Then silence. Near-silence. Eating sounds and spitting followed by happy dinosaur noises. Not quite as close to pikipek noises as you’d expect from her feathers and build. Speaking of! You can hear Hekeli’s songs and they’re getting really complex. Plus, her beak is growing out. If she’s not a trumbeak yet she will be soon. Damn shame she won’t be useful in the next trial. Maybe she can come in with a rock smash if the crabrawler you’ll catch later can’t do the job.

You hear barking noises and the sound of snapping twigs behind you. You glance back and—pancham. Two of them bumbling towards you, tripping over tree roots and each other. That means there’s a momma pangora nearby. “Cuicatl,” you say as neutrally as possible, “there are pancham here. Bears. Fighting-types. Momma’s a dark-type.”

The thing beside you makes a dumb “aww” sound and, after a pause, “We aren’t allowed to feed them, right?”

What? No. Gods, no. That’s how you get killed. But if a pangoro’s staring you down you’ll gladly bribe her. Unless she decides she likes your food and wants to take the rest, plus three weak animals and some pokémon. Throw pokéballs, run, and pray? Always an option. Maybe you could trip the asshole and make a break while the pangoro’s eating. No. A bit too harsh. Just a little bit, though.

Cuicatl sits up and gently smiles without showing any teeth. “Hello. Can I help you with anything?”
The pancham stand up on their hind legs and start adorably growling something out. Cuicatl’s just nods and strokes Pixie’s tails with one hand while physically restraining her tyrunt with the other. Girl’s smart enough to know she doesn’t want a fight. At best she loses and her pokémon get hurt. At worst she wins and gets killed by a confused pangoro.

“We’re just passing through on our way north.”

It turns out pancham can make a sound best described as an excited squeak.

“I’m sorry, but you can’t have any. It would make you sick.”

That earns a tiny roar. In the forest something a lot bigger than a twig snaps. For a second Cuicatl’s composure breaks. Then she starts to open her eyes wide and slowly shake her head. “Oh, no. We’re very scared. Terrified. But we’re—poison-types. We eat bad things. Bird shit. It would make you sick.” The sound of snapping branches keeps coming closer. “Promise.”

More squeaks and growls while Cuicatl slowly nods her head. “Not all humans can. Just me. Can’t talk to your—” Heavy breathing at the forest’s edge. A giant bear with a cape of black fur stares down at you. Fuck. Cuicatl recovers much faster than you do. Thank the gods. Her gods. Whichever get you through this. “Well, that’s rude of her. You scared me plenty on your own.” To your friend’s immense credit, it turns out pancham can feel embarrassed by their parents. One of the cubs turns around with a pout and start garbling out something to her mom. The pangoro’s stem twitches in her mouth for a second before her face settles into a smile.

The mother barks at her children, shoots a half-hearted glare at Cuicatl, and heads back the way she came. The pancham clumsily run after her.

No one, pokémon or human, dares to move for several long minutes. In the end Hekeli moves first by dropping down to a nearby branch and making a nervous trill. Cuicatl collapses back down, head hitting her pack, and mumbles some (untranslated) words in Nahuatl that are obviously swears.

“First time meeting a bear without a hydreigon at my back.”

Wait.

What?

“You had a hydreigon?”

She awkwardly shrugs as best she can while lying down with her vulpix on top of her. The tyrunt is still standing where she was, glaring at the forest’s edge. “Mom did. Did I not tell…” She snaps. “That’s right. I was going to threaten to sic her on you in Paniola. You cut me off.” You can feel a little blood come back into your cheeks for the first time since the pangoro drained it out. Just how far did you press her back then? The whole conversation’s a blur. Honestly you only remember her outing you. Sure, you knew that she was mad at you but you’d figured it was just the name thing. Maybe you should apologize. But its damn hard to apologize if you don’t even know what you did wrong. And she wasn’t exactly blameless in that whole fuckup.

Stop. You’re going to say something you’ll regret. Regret after forgetting what you said, anyway. Also, what kind of person just threatens to have their pet dragon eat someone? Cuicatl Ichtaca. Yeah. That’s who. At least her new dragon thinks you’re her father. Probably won’t eat you.

Probably.

“Were you, um, talking to the bears?”

Right. It’s here. And hasn’t been told, apparently. Good call on Cuicatl’s part.

“Yes, I was.”

It awkwardly shifts as its castform drifts closer. “How?”

“I can talk to pokémon,” Cuicatl says like that’s just a perfectly normal thing. Is she going to do the accent trick? Still haven’t quite moved past that. After that you’ve been able to hear a slight accent in your voice but that might just be because that’s how you think she should sound.

“How long?”

“Hmm?”

“How long have you been able to do that?” There’s a hint of betrayal in its voice. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer person.

“Since I was seven. At least. Maybe earlier.”

Coco shakes herself off and plods over to you. How much of this is she following? If it’s just her trainer’s part then does she even understand what the humans are talking about? “Why didn’t you tell us?” the thing asks.

“She told me weeks ago.” It’s rude to Cuicatl. You’ll apologize later. But the look on Jenny’s face makes it absolutely worth it. Even if your friend’s half-snarl ruins the view.

“I don’t tell people if I can help it. Had to tell him to end a dumb fight.”

It wasn’t a dumb fight. She outed you in front of a colossal jackass and you said something that made her think about murder. And if she really wanted to make peace she probably could’ve found another way. Girl’s smart, sometimes.

“Why not tell people?” Its mouth hangs open as she struggles to find words that aren’t its usual level of stupid. “I think it’s cool. And it would help you make friends.”

“N,” you answer for her. “That’s why.”

It’s something you’ve thought about in the last few weeks. Maybe Uffe was right and she’s just another refugee from a collapsing fascist shithole. But she said her mom was from Unova. Someone important from Unova. And her hair has to be natural green. You would’ve noticed her roots by now. Of course, N was Asian. Cuicatl isn’t. Right? How do you do the loud thought thing?

Hey, Cuicatl, was your mom Asian?

{Second person to ask me that in a month.} You flinch more than you’d like to admit. {Can this wait?}

Yeah. It can.

{Cool.}

“The terrorist?” Cuicatl asks, aloud. “Sorry, that was a long time ago. Didn’t follow it.”

“Yeah, the terrorist.” Or freedom fighter. Same difference. ‘course, he went at it wrong. Tried to free the pokémon. Didn’t realize that shitty humans would immediately take them back. You have to take care of the shitty humans first. “They say he could talk to pokémon. Told him that fighting was hell, training is slavery, all that. So he tried to take over Unova.”

“As one does,” Cuicatl says. Her voice is flat but it sounds like a joke. You snort as a sign of support.

“As one does. He failed. Flew away on a fuckoff thunder dragon. Sometimes people spot him but he hasn’t done anything big in years.”

The thing slowly gets to its feet and starts pacing. “But he was wrong. Pokémon benefit from the system. Hilda used her team’s bonds of friendship to defeat him.”

“Hmm.” You turn to Cuicatl and do your best to project your voice in her direction. “Is that right?”

She shrugs. “Sometimes. Coco’s staying close to her parents. Ce wanted food and shelter.” A grimace. Her pace picks up. “Pix likes being appreciated. Pokémon don’t always like it. The social ones like home. Some ‘mons just don’t want to get hurt. Guess neither were right. Not all the way.”

Well, that’s some centrist bullshit. You were expecting better from her. Wait. “If you weren’t staying mum over N, why don’t you tell people?”

Cuicatl pulls her pack to her and puts her arms through the straps. She’s clearly trying to end the conversation by just getting on the trail. For its part the thing has stopped pacing and is just staring at your friend. “Governments. Anahuac would’ve made me a spy, U.S. might deport me and tell Anahuac why.”

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” the transphobe lies.

“Even if you had a filter between your mouth and the place your brain should be, she wouldn’t owe you shit.”

It looks like you punched it again. Or killed a puppy in front of it. Good. You pull on your own pack and get up before withdrawing Makani.

Cuicatl sighs rather loudly. “Can we please be civil? Just for a little bit?”

You snort. For real this time. “Oh, please. Jenny won’t even say my name and you want me to be civil?”

Another sigh as Cuicatl slowly gets to her feet and flicks her cane out. “He has a point, Genesis. If you want to bring him around and save his soul,” you can’t tell if you’re imagining Cuicatl’s cringe or not, “then he has to be willing to talk to you. If you insist on being rude then he’ll never listen and never convert.” {Not that I care about that,} she adds to you alone.

Hey, missionaries fucked over Anahuac, right?

{They tried. We kicked them out centuries ago.}

Good call.

{Thanks.} “Let’s just head out,” she mutters, aloud.

[-24:01:12]​

Cuicatl slowly pivots to ‘look’ around the campsite. “Smells like eucalyptus,” she says. And it does. Pretty strongly, in fact. There’s a big clump of the trees at the edge the clearing. “We could make bug repellant from that and water. Cheap.”

“I’m not lugging more water around than I have to.”

“No,” she looks at you with… disappointment? “We just get the leaves now. Grind out the oil and put that in a bag. Mix with water when you need it.”

That does make sense. Mostly. But. “You know we’re up $600, right? We can buy real bug spray. Even with Alola prices.”

Cuicatl drops her pack and sits down. Her usual routine after arriving at campsites since she can’t set up the tent or hang bags or anything so she’s kind of useless until it’s time to do a few minutes of cooking. “Yes. But. We should also buy another pack or two. More balls and potions. Another tent. Human and pokémon food. Maybe a real pokédex. And I want to make money eventually.”

You turn back to the tent. The poles and fabric that will soon be a tent. Your ugly assistant awkwardly hovers nearby but does move in once you start setting it up. At least its intelligent enough to do some menial labor. “How much money do you really need? Payouts are supposed to increase later on.” Supposed to. Not that you trust VStar one bit. Yours is a marriage of convenience. You need power to save Alola from its false queen, they want you to help them plunder Alola for profit. But nature rebuilds.

All will be well when the kingdom is free.

“Seven hundred and eighty-one thousand dollars.”

The pole you were holding clatters to the ground and you stare at her dumbfounded. You can sort of see the other one doing the same. “Holy shit.” Cuicatl’s looking down at the ground, absently stroking Pixie’s back. “You’re serious?”

“Yes.”

“In deep with the cartels?” Has to be it. You’re pretty sure Anahuac has free healthcare so it can’t be a ‘my brother is dying of cancer’ thing.

That earns a lazy headshake in response. “Nah. They’re more to the north and east.”

“Then what the hell do you need it for?”

“I… I’d r-rather not say.” Is the stutter real? Just something she wanted to communicate? Intentionally or not? Everything she says about her power raises more questions than answers and she rarely gives answers when you ask. Her face tells you what you want to know. Push now and she’ll burst into tears, threaten to murder you, or both. You reach down and pick the pole up. The thing does likewise and you set up camp in silence.

*​

“Can you help me gather the leaves?” Cuicatl finally asks, composed, after the food bag is hung up.

“Look…” A few dollars won’t make a dent in the debt. She can’t even make the money here anyway. At best she walks away with maybe a tenth of it. How do you phrase that without being an asshole here? And since when did you start asking yourself that question? Baby doll eyes. The trick Pixie pulled on you in your first battle with her. She made herself small, vulnerable. Stirred up every damn bit of estrogen in your system. Her trainer’s doing that now. Ugh. Fuck her.

“I know.” She sounds tired. Defeated. Manipulative. “I know. But I’m bored and I want something to do. Can I at least have the leaves?”

*​

She’s still harvesting eucalyptus. It’s a slow process filled with trial, error, and lots of awkwardly moving her hands around in the general direction of the tree. Her pokémon are ignoring the tree she’s groping and staring up another one. There’s a komala sleeping probably ten feet up. The thing hasn’t noticed it yet. Probably. It is being perfectly quiet, just staring down at the grass between its crossed legs.

You’re bored. You could have hekeli fight the komala. Seems cruel, though. Beating up something for just sleeping nearby. Nah. You’ll save her energy for dumbass haole kids in Malie. Still bored. You could cook but that’s literally the only thing Cuicatl does for anyone. And some translations. Maybe more of those now that the thing in on the secret. Eh. Fuck it. You’ll help her. She turns her head a little bit when you approach. “Kekoa, right?”

“Yeah.” You start picking leaves. She has a quart bag in one hand that she’s putting them in. Once you’ve got your first fistful you stick those in with hers.

“Thank you.”

You grunt out something that was maybe supposed to be “no problem” in your head. Wait. Can she understand that? …

Cuicatl, can you understand that?

“Understand what,” she mutters.

“That grunt?”

She rolls her eyes. “You have to at least try, Kekoa.” The bag is gently pressed into your hands and she starts walking back to the campsite. “Going to make dinner now.”

Did you say something wrong? Not say something you should have? Maybe she was just hungry. You turn back to the tree. You can hear footsteps behind you as Cuicatl’s pokémon go to beg for food, the komala forgotten. Should you have told her about it? She does like cuddling her pokémon and komala would be into that. Then again, komala isn’t exactly a killing machine. Might undercut her rep. Her pokémon would have told her about it, right? Seemed to be important to them. More as prey than a potential snuggle buddy. What will happen if or when she catches a prey pokémon? Or when Coco gets big enough to just snap up Pixie in a single gulp? Eh. You can trust her. She’s probably already drilled into the little dino’s heads that foxes are friends, not food.

Komala, on the other hand… definitely food.

Your phone vibrates with a text. You glance at it.

Kanoa.

Your childhood friend. Current trial captain. She has more important things to be doing now. Yeah, you were really, really close years ago, but you’re so different and. When you met back up outside Lush Jungle, she demanded to know where her brother had been. That. You’re better than that. You were supposed to be better than that. Unlike Jabari, you don’t just abandon family for years, whether or not you’re related by blood. And yet.

She should hate you. But she bought you lunch, gave you her number, even apologized to you when you gave her a brief version of where you’d been. And it hurts, watching her repeatedly run back to someone she should hate. Like she just doesn’t get it.

“How is Route 22 goin?”

“*Route 11”

“Finger slipped”

How do you talk to someone you’ve hurt if they don’t want to acknowledge it? She would be better off without you. Right?

“good. signal / battery low. talk later.”

She replies shortly after.

‘kk 😊”

Before your stomach stops turning there are human footsteps behind you. Definitely the thing. Cuicatl would either have the swish of her cane or the patter of pokémon footsteps or both with her. You stand still and stare straight ahead. Maybe it can take a hint. Or at least not see motion. Wait can Coco actually see non-moving stuff? She has to, right? Something to pay more attention to in the future.

“I, um… I wanted…” A deep sigh. You give it a glance over your shoulder. It’s hunched over, staring at its shoes with its hands awkwardly fidgeting against each other at its waist. Like it’s going to confess a middle school crush or some shit. “I wanted to ask if we could meet halfway. Like, you don’t call me by my name so, I dunno, maybe you could make up a nickname or something that isn’t All— that isn’t your old name.”

“No.” You very deliberately go back to picking the leaves. It steps into your peripheral vision but you ignore it.

“I’m just asking to be able to do what you’ve been doing to me for months!” Gods, it’s pouting. Like it’s the victim here. “Just, please…” What a great argument.

Ugh. It won’t go away if you don’t give it anything. And right now you’d rather have her go away than stay 1000% true to your principles. Fine, here goes. “You’ve got your name in Galar. Here? My kingdom. I call you what I want.”

“Your kingdom? Since when are you royalty?” You see her hesitate. “Unless, um, you are…”

You’re not but you’ve met the princess. Dresses in rags. Lives in the same orphanage you wound up in. Sure, she could probably afford better clothes but it’s all the principle of it. Tattered robes on the princess of a tattered kingdom. The girl who spends more time with the dead than the living. Ghosts. The mournful and angry souls of an occupied nation. What was. What lingers. What stands ready for revenge.

You opt to let the leaf bag fall from your hands and give her a real glare. You flick a hand back over your shoulder. “See that? The mountain in the distance? I’m gonna kick out that haole bitch you put on a throne on Mauna Fucking Lanakila. Then I’m tearing the whole place down. Give the palace in Hau’oli to the real queen. Take back my home from assholes like you.”

That just earns a few slow blinks before it brushes a stray blonde hair off its face. “No, you can’t. That would take a vote or something. Not just a battle with an athlete.”

“Hmph. We can’t take back the kingdom with a battle but we could lose it with one? That right?”

It pointedly looks away from you. “It wasn’t a democracy. That was how things worked then.”

You know that well.

*​

In 1888 Elisha Gage strolled into the Palace and challenged the Queen for her throne. He didn’t do it right. He was supposed to first be accepted into the island challenge and then complete it. That would’ve required him being an actual citizen of the kingdom and not some haole leech. The Queen accepted. You don’t know why. He faced the four kahunas and the Queen all in a row to take the throne.

He did that all wrong, too. Bought himself five teams. Brought a different one in to each match, all tailor-made for the win. That wasn’t supposed to happen. No one had ever used more than six pokémon for the royal challenge before. But the rulebook doesn’t say anything about using thirty pokémon! You can imagine his smug face. Like he’s a ref allowing a growlithe to play basketball with an entire country on the line. It also ignored the point. There were no rules in the first place. Just traditions. The people knew what they were supposed to do and they did it. You had a shred of decency.

He won. Barely. Later came out that he’d paid three-point-eight mil in that days’ dollars for his final team. The Queen could’ve told him to go to hell. She didn’t. You don’t know why. He sat on the throne and called in the marines and told them that Alola was part of the U.S. now. All so that some spiderweb dealer could pay less taxes.

Hope he’s happy in hell.

*​

You don’t say any of that. You just stare right into its icy eyes and cross your arms. Hope she’ll be happy in hell with Old Man Gage.

It rolls its shoulders and tries to almost look you in the eyes again. “I… fine. Sure. Not what I wanted to talk about.” You snort. Of course. It thinks its entitled to pick everything it talks about. “I just wanted to say that I was mean to you and I’m sorry… Kekoa.”

“Dinner’s ready!” You blink and turn towards Cuicatl. There’s a half-empty bowl in her lap and she raises another spoonful of food to her lips as you watch. Dinner has clearly been ready for a while. She just wanted to sit back and watch the show. Listen to the show. Did she tell it to do that? Doesn’t really matter. The thing has turned around and is walking over to the food with far too little weight on its shoulders.

Her shoulders. Maybe. Ugh, fine. You’ll at least need to pick another name for her. Jennifer is too close to her real one. Janette? Sounds good.

[-23:16:49]​

It isn’t raining when you step outside. In fact the sky is almost suspiciously clear for this time of the year. Full moon overhead and the clearing is remarkably bright for the middle of the night. Wings stir at the forest’s edge and Hekeli glides over to perch on your shoulder. She’d hear a pangoro coming and a rattata isn’t enough to take her out anymore. It’s safe to leave her out at night.

As you walk away from the tent to pee movement catches your eye. A dark, slender shape rises up near the treeline. It’s almost as tall as you. No, taller. You finally catch the shape of its—her head and the red markings on her chest. Salazzle. You’re being summoned. The salamander drops down on all fours and raises her tail into the air as a signal before slipping into the forest.

It’s hard to follow the fire-type. The trees block out much of the moonlight and there are way more shrubs in your way than there were on Route 12. If Cuicatl hasn’t heard the noise herself her pokémon definitely have. You really hope she doesn’t follow. She’d understand, of course, but she might get sucked in deeper than you’d like right now.

The forest abruptly breaks into a clearing, another campsite from the looks of it, and you see the woman sitting on a log in the middle. Her hair’s shorter and died black but the tank top, tattoos, and baggy pants let you know that you’re dealing with Big Sis. As if the salazzle wasn’t enough of a giveaway. She flicks her hand towards the ground and you sit. Probably too far away. Might have to raise your voice a little bit. Not that you were sounding stealthy before.

“I got your message a few weeks back,” she says. Like it’s just a normal thing that Big Sis reads reports from someone who isn’t even a grunt. Should you respond? She’s supposed to be pretty casual. She’s also the only one doing anything about the False Queen. A hero here in the flesh. One on one. What would you even say? “The Nahua girl’s interesting.” You know that you needed to tell her about Cuicatl. For a moment you still regret bringing Big Sis’s attention to her. “But not what I want to talk about.”

That’s… not what you were expecting. What else did you even say? Damnit you were tired and a little angry when you emailed Manollo. You’ve forgotten half of it. Running problem today. “I almost have two Z-Crystals.” That can’t be what she wanted to hear, it sounds almost pathetic when you say it aloud.

She blinks twice and slouches a bit. “You really don’t know…?” Don’t. Know. What? Plumeria shakes her head and smiles. “Dummy. Genesis is a Gage.”

Genesis is. Gage. Elisha. The Old Man. The Spiderweb Prince. The Kingdom Thief. She’s his spawn.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

You knew she had money before but billionaire heiress? To a family that’s somehow worse than most billionaires? Fuck. Honestly, her being a transphobic piece of shit is now waaaaaay down on the list of things to hate about her. It. Hate about it. Definitely not ‘her’ anymore.

Plumeria dismissively waves her hand through the air and brings you a little bit closer to reality. “You aren’t actually in Skull so I won’t give you orders, but. A suggestion: do whatever you can to keep her on the trail and away from her family.”

“Why?” Everything still feels unreal. The words slip from your mouth before you realize how stupid they are. Big Sis has a reason. She always does.

Her expression doesn’t waver. If she thinks you’re a dummy—she did call you a dummy didn’t she—then she’s not pressing it now. “I don’t need her now. There’s some shit that’s about to go down and we’re laying low. Later?” The smile returns. Less friendly this time. “Yeah, I can find a use for her. Much easier to get her if she isn’t being guarded by daddy.”

A kidnapping. You’d have to gain its trust. Regain its trust. Pretend to be nice. Call it Genesis. Act like its human. A friend, even. It’ll all suck so much. But in the end everything will have been worth it when you see the look on her face.

You nod slowly. “I can do that.”

The Skull Boss slowly gets to her feet and looks—up—to meet you in the eye. Shorter than you’d thought. Never been this close to her before. At the Mauna she always sat above everyone else. Her height’s probably why. The shadows around her shoes move and a gengar rises up behind her. Hekeli cries out in shock and flutters into place in front of you. You call her back and she glides to a branch behind you.

“You’re using one of VStar’s phones, right?”

“Yes.”

She slips her hand into her pocket and holds a flip phone out to you. Should you? Yes. You step closer to Plumeria, defender of Alola, and take it. Your hand almost touches hers. Stupid.

The boss turns around and starts walking towards the edge of the clearing. It’s almost. Heh. You’ve gotten used to Cuicatl’s dumb military-types pivots in place. Kind of weird seeing normal humans turn around. “My number’s saved in there. Tell me if things go to hell.”

“Wait, I.” She turns around and glances at you. Shit. What were you saying? “Does this mean I’m in Skull? For real?”

Plumeria turns back around as her gengar’s shadows rise up to engulf her. “Whatever you want, kid.” When the unnatural blackness fades to normal night Big Sis is gone.

You’re left alone with a pikipek—no, trumbeak, a phone, and a mission.