Chapter 7: Flowers and Millennia
Sheila the flower girl ran away after Gracidea flowers suddenly bloomed from her lush hair. That was the moment when Luca realized: she is a Shaymin, isn't she? They have read that flowers bloom on Shaymin's grass-like furs when they sense gratitude, and in hindsight, what she told them about her family also matches Shaymin's supposed migratory habit.
When the pair follow the direction she fled to, they find a small cottage in the middle of a field of pink Gracidea, even more radiant and fragrant than those she carried in her basket. Combee and Beautifly flit about from one blossom to another. This must be where she lives.
Luca knocks on the door. "Sheila? Are you there?"
A small cough comes from behind the door. "I'm sorry, I don't feel well…."
"Young Shaymin, my apologies for surprising you," says Alfa from behind Luca.
At once, the door opens wide: Sheila, absolutely flustered, her hair is still covered with flowers. "With all due respect, how could you spill my identity in front of this… this…!" She makes frantic gestures at Luca.
Luca gapes at first, but soon her reaction clicks in them and they say, as careful as they can, "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me. I also know this is Arceus, and I've met Mesprit too. It's fine, I promise."
Sheila looks at Luca, then at Alfa again. Alfa nods to confirm what she heard. She fidgets with her hair and at last says, "I-If Lord Arceus says so. Uh…. Sorry for running away suddenly, and… I'm happy to do my duty, my Lord. Then, w-would you like to come inside?"
"I'm afraid I have to refuse your kind offer; I wish to spend as much time as possible taking in the sight of this meadow," replies Alfa – another flower blooms on Sheila's hair. He places his hand on Luca's shoulder. "But perhaps the Child of Light here would enjoy the opportunity to speak with one of the Shaymin."
With that, Luca now finds themself alone with Sheila in her cottage, just as initially planned before Alfa showed up. It's a small place with sparse furniture, even the table where they sit at now only has one chair paired with it and Sheila had to bring in a stool from the kitchen so both of them can sit. While it lacks grandeur, however, it has greenery filling every corner instead and sunlight shines through the window on the ceiling.
"So… Child of Light?"
Luca chokes on their herbal tea. Upon regaining composure, they say, "Please don't start calling me that too. I have a name: Luca."
"What? You don't like it?" asks Sheila.
"No, no, no way. Absolutely not," asserts Luca with a scowl. "But he is oddly stubborn about it. I think he willfully ignores me whenever I protest."
"Oh…." Sheila leans back in her chair, her hands carefully snipping off the flowers that grew from her hair. As she works, she wonders, "Maybe it's because you have the same name as his wife."
For the second time, Luca chokes on their tea. "Wife? That oddball has a
wife?"
"Who are you calling an oddball?" protests Sheila. "And it's
had. His wife passed away millennia ago."
Wife. They never considered it before, but thinking about it, maybe it shouldn't be that surprising. Alfa is ancient – the person with the longest history in the world. Having a spouse or two isn't odd in such a massive timescale. But what kind of being would be his match?
"He never told you that?" asks Sheila while plucking the next flower within reach.
Luca shakes their head; the only thing they know for certain is Alfa's stubborn refusal to call them by name. "Who… or what kind of person was his wife?"
"Well, I only know of stories passed down in my family too." Sheila twirls her hair around her finger. "It's said that the Esteemed Lady loved flowers and took a great liking to my ancestors, and that's why we were granted the ability to take on human form like them. Apparently it's the Lord's way of saying we're chosen and special."
After removing another flower, she leans forward and whispers, "As for
who… say, have you ever heard of Mew?"
"The super rare Pokémon said to carry the genes of all Pokémon?"
"That's a very… modernistic take, but
fine, close enough," says Sheila with a shrug. "If the Great Lord was the soil, so the story goes, then the Esteemed Lady was the seed of the tree we call the world. She was the
first Mew, and every other Mew are mere branches of hers. And not just that – since she was the original seed, other living beings also descended from her, including the myriad of plants and humanity."
Ah, of course his wife was the universal ancestor of all beings. The god and the source of all creations – literally a match made in Heaven. Last month, Luca would have questioned the concept of a being that gave birth to all life, but here they are now.
No, they should still question it, for that's how knowledge can progress. These stories don't have to be literal. They never have to. Although it's now harder to argue from that perspective after meeting Alfa.
They cast their gaze outside the window, where the meadow is in full view. Now they realize, Alfa always showed keen interest in technological advancement before, but since arriving at Floaroma he has only been looking at the flowers and disregarding everything else. His late wife must be the reason why.
Huh? Is the oddball feeling wistful? Why should they care? Something about it nags at them. They take out their journal and jot down everything they heard. Once done, they say, "I think I should go back to him now. Thanks for the stories."
"Aw, you don't want to hear more about the Shaymin? Maybe another story of ours?" asks Sheila.
"Sorry, I'd love to, but maybe next time." As Luca finishes their tea, they add, "By the way, what tea is this? I love the sweet scent."
"Gracidea tea. Goes for 350 per pack. It can also heal status conditions for Pokémon," answers Sheila with her flower girl smile.
"…You're selling it."
"Naturally. Support a local business! Folklorists are supposed to do that, right?" She winks outrageously.
"I'm not sure what image of folklorists you have in your… no, never mind," mumbles Luca. They relent, however; tea leaves are easier to keep than fresh flowers.
Soon enough, Luca finds themself wandering in the vast meadow, looking for where their companion has gone. The weather is clear, and the brightness is almost blinding. If they look down, they can clearly see the flowers and the wild Pokémon frolicking between them.
Did the meadow look like this too back when the first Mew was still alive? Full of life and colors? It's easy to see how one can fall in love with this. Perhaps back then Sinnoh even had a warmer climate, allowing more life to flourish.
Their shadow on the ground has grown taller when they finally find Alfa dozing off under a tree at the outskirts of the meadow. For once he is alone, with no Pokémon gathering around him.
"Welcome back, Child of Light," he says upon noticing Luca's approaching footsteps.
"Don't move from your spot," says Luca. They sit down a short distance away from the man and begin taking out their sketchbook and pencils.
"You changed your mind," remarks Alfa.
"Yeah."
"Did something happen?"
They don't answer. Their focus is now on the sketchbook and the model before them. On the paper, they shape his cheeks, his nose, his flowing long hair. They replicate the light as reflected by their subject's ivory radiance. Only when they start polishing the sketch that they speak, "I met Professor Linden at the Ruins of Alph in Johto several years ago, he found me sketching the ruins like this and asked if I'd like to help him in his folklore works. I accepted, and that was the beginning of my journey with him."
A stray line; they erase it and put it back in place. "Traveling with the Professor made me interested in his works too. Especially, I became interested in the reasons and emotions behind the stories from the past. How did those stories come to be? What shaped them into the form we know today? Eventually, I started wanting to depict those in my art too, instead of only drawing what is in front of me. It hasn't been easy though."
They look up at Alfa – his red eyes reflect sunlight like cold jewels. "Today I was reminded, you are basically the oldest interviewee I have ever met. You are the person with the most stories, and now you are my oldest drawing subject too. But…." They look back down at their sketch, but their pencil doesn't move. "Well, I still can't stop seeing you as the oddball that turned everything I knew upside down too. Is that fine?"
Alfa gives a slow nod. "That is, indeed, fine. I am not a human like you, and never will be." He tilts his head. "I rather enjoy your presence, in any case."
"One day," says Luca, peeking from behind the sketchbook, "I want to draw you again after knowing more about you and your life."
"Learning about myself may take longer than a lifetime for you."
"Then I just need to do what I can." Luca's hand starts moving again, giving the sketch a finishing touch. "As long as I can leave something of you behind, I've done my part as a folklorist. Someone will pick up my trail, like when I picked up Professor Linden's."
Hearing that, a smile slips into Alfa's expression. "You are correct. That neverending chain of progress is what I adore about the mortals."
"More than the flowers of this meadow?"
"Who knows?"
When they finish the sketch, Alfa takes a look at it. "I didn't know I could be that beautiful. Thank you, Child of Light." His words sound like hyperbole, but a part of them agrees with the sentiment: so he can be a beautiful subject too. They start looking forward to tomorrow a little more, and the next time they will draw their traveling companion.
