Pokémon Obsession

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

The story of Jirarudan, the foolish art collector who tried to capture the great god Lugia, and the influences that brought him to that point. Started in 2001 and posted here for its 20th anniversary. Contains material that may be upsetting to some readers, such as the death of a parent, betrayal, growing up too fast, and loss of innocence. Please read at your own risk. Also yes I'm aware the first chapters could use some punching up but I'll revise when the whole thing is done. As it stands, enjoy 20 years of writing development!




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obsession: a persistent disturbing preoccupation with an often unreasonable idea or feeling...


Why do I do it? What is it about Collecting that keeps me in its clutches? Is it as simple as greed?

I doubt that. If it was pure greed, I would not feel like this. No, it is an addiction.

Every time I think about it, I lose a little bit of my humanity. Someday I shall be completely at its mercy, unable to connect with any aspect of the man I once was.

Perhaps you think me harmless, despite my disconnection. I ask you, would a harmless man have done what I did? I do not know which of us is the bigger fool, you, for thinking such things, or me, for allowing myself to become this.


Perhaps I should begin from the beginning. My earliest memory is a simple enough one. I was looking through my mother's heirloom chest with her, and came across a small envelope. With her permission, I opened it.

The contents of that envelope changed my life forever.

Inside was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Even in the dim light of the attic, it shone with its full magnificence and splendor.

Entranced, I turned my eyes towards my mother, who smiled. "That's the Ancient Mew card, dear. You can have it if you want. But be careful with it, it's very valuable."

If it was important enough to merit a warning, I knew it had to be very special. From that moment on, it was, and still remains, my most treasured possession.


My mother was a wonderful woman. She was tall, with a shock of emerald hair, and eyes that reflected the universe. She was a healer, studying the restorative powers of herbs and plants, and the entire world respected her.

Except my hometown. We lived far from any respectable place, on a the distant shore, where such mysterious practices were considered to be the domain of lesser people. Her potions and elixirs were effective, to be sure, but the townspeople always regarded us with scorn. During the day, they would turn their backs on us and curse us when we left, but at night, they would sneak out and purchase her wares. Hypocrites. I learned very young to be distrusting.

Mother was the opposite. She told me that everyone has good within them, but I did not believe her. Oh, mother, how you would recant if you saw me now! But I digress...

When I was but eight years of age, Mother took ill. She sent for my father, who lived apart from us, and warned me that she may leave me soon. One day, she called me to her bedside, and removed the red ring from her finger. "Jirarudan," she addressed me, "this ring has been in my family for many years, and I want you to have it." She put it gently in my outstretched palm, and smiled weakly. "Jiri, when you feel alone, clutch the ring, and I'll be there."

My eyes widened in shock. She was dying, and this was her way of telling me. It was no longer a possibility, but a cold fact.

"Jiri, dear," she continued, "I want you to know something, and carry it with you forever." Her voice was getting fainter, and her eyes drooped shut. I lay down next to her and hugged her. "You've always been my shining star," she whispered.

"I'll be your angel."

And with that, she was gone.

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

I stayed with her for hours, my young mind unable to comprehend life without her. Finally, I came to the conclusion that it was simply a bad dream, and if I went to sleep, I would awaken in the true world, and she would be there, and everything would be all right. So I curled up and slept for what I later discovered was two days.

When I awoke, I was in my own bed, and my first reaction was joy. I was right, it was only a dream. But then I heard voices outside my room.

"He's going to have to live with his father from now on." "Oh yes, the poor thing. But maybe now, he can grow up right."

If they saw me now, they, too, would recant.

I curled up into a ball, clutching the ring to my chest. Mother, you told me you'd be there for me. Where were you when I needed you the most? My hands shook, and I choked back sobs, for I feared what would happen if the women outside heard me.


I spent the night like that, sobbing quietly to myself, with the ring to my heart. Early in the morning, I heard someone at the door. My father had arrived.

As the door to my room opened, I ducked down into the covers and pretended to be asleep.

"I can wait," he said. Slowly, I opened my eyes and peeked out. He smiled, and knelt down at the bedside. "Jiri, I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier. My work kept me away until now. I'm just...sorry I didn't get a chance to say goodbye to her."

"Papa..." was the only word I could say. I tried to hold them back, but the tears flowed freely now. He took me in his arms and stroked the back of my head, whispering softly to me. And only then could I return to sleep.

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

I tried to attend her funeral, which was held in the backyard of our simple home, but I could not bear the sight. My mother, who had been as exuberant and lively as ever just a short time before, being lowered into the ground...it was far too much for me to take. Again, I took refuge in my room, and again I held the ring to my chest.

Certain rituals, especially to a broken mind, provide comfort. But mine was quickly leading to frustration. She told me she would be there for me. So where was she? I needed her more than ever before and she was not here! Distraught, I pounded the cabinet as hard as I could.

A flash of gold, and the card fell to the ground.


I know I said earlier that the Ancient Mew card is my most valued possession. That is because I do not consider the ring to be mine, but rather still belonging to my mother. Even after all these years--lifetimes in themselves--her presence remains with me.

However, I am positive that, had she lived to see who I am today, she would want nothing to do with me.


I stared at that card for a long time, not moving to pick it up, just observing it where it lay, taking in all the details. Gradually, my hand crept out to retrieve it; but I was interrupted by my father's entrance to my room.

"Jiri..."

I averted my gaze, fixated on the card. But I wasn't looking at it, not really.

"You know, tomorrow I'm going back to Seafoam...you'll be coming with me..."

*...mother, where are you? You told me you'd be here...*

"You may want to say goodbye. The...burial is...already over..."

*...you didn't lie to me, did you? Mother, you promised me...*

I didn't hear most of what he said. I managed to catch that he loved me, and that he'd help me gather my things, and that I should say farewell to my friends--foolish man, I have no friends, don't you know that?

The image of the card was growing fainter, my father's voice more distant. I was withdrawing, and soon I would be gone entirely.

*...mother, please, I need you now...*

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

...i have never liked the water...

from my earliest memories, the water has been my downfall...

right now i can feel the water around me, pulling me farther and farther away from the world, and I can feel the white wings around me, just like before...

...like before...

mother never really did believe me...she clung to her belief of there being good in us all...in her world, she never believed that someone could do something like that...

...perhaps her world was like this...

...they held me down, beneath the water...i struggled in vain, out of reflex. they were going to kill me, i knew that, and gave in.

and then i saw it. white wings coming to me. i knew not if it was a demon or an angel, but it was coming to take me away from there, far away.

the great bird calmed me, took me in its wings as the breath left me, and I could feel the world melting away. death had no fear for me, not as long as this creature held me.

there was silence, and peace, and warmth, and stillness...

and then the world returned.

i was no longer beneath the waves, in the wings of the white bird. instead, i was in the chair by the fireplace, a blanket wrapped around me. for a brief second, i thought i had imagined it, but then i felt the water still on my skin.

mother told me there were many spirits of the water, but my tale of a white bird perplexed her. perhaps i had imagined it after all, imagined the safety it provided, the respite from a cruel world.

despite this, i have kept the image of the bird in my heart. perhaps one day i shall see it again, if only in a dream.

i am beginning to awaken. there is a calm about this place, as different as it is from the world beneath the waves. so this is where father has taken me; this is my new home.

it is like the water. this time, there will be no white bird to save me.

When I came to, in my father's home, the first thing I heard, through the open window, were the waves of the ocean.

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

Despite my thoughts, the sound of the water was soothing, almost like the backdrop to a dream.

But I had had enough of dreams for the time being, at least the sort one has while asleep. My dreams have always been concurrent to my goals.

But I am getting ahead of myself.

I lay in bed for a few more minutes, getting my bearings. I was in Kanto, in Seafoam, at my father's home; that much I knew. I had been here only once before, but too long ago to clearly remember it.

The room was sparse, with a few cardboard boxes stacked against the wall. That was all that remained of what my life had been, just whatever could be brought along.

Only a week ago, my life was untouched. Now I may as well be adrift on the open ocean.

There were voices down the hallway, and I slid out of bed to crawl to the door--having been bedridden for the time I was left me unable to properly walk. I recognized my father's voice, as he spoke to a woman I did not know.

"--don't know, Helen. He's still asleep, so it'll have to wait." My father's voice was even and calm as always.

The woman paused. "I've never seen anything like that...What did you do with that ring of his?"

I gasped, looking around for it. What if he had forgotten it? What if it was lost in the move?

"It's on the desk. Can't have it getting lost in the covers..."

A low sigh escaped from my parted lips, and with shaking legs, I stood, leaning against the wall for support. The desk was only a few steps away by normal measure, but it took my entire focus to reach it. The ring shone, glimmering like the waves of the ocean, as I took it in my hand, clasping it to my chest and sinking to my weary knees. It was back with me now, the treasure that just a short time ago still adorned my mother's hand. My grip around it tightened, and I felt safer.


Seafoam is a small town, despite the crowds that pass through it every year. My father's home and shop were atop a cliff, which was not only necessary for his business but kept us away from the areas people congregated.

I have always valued solitude, even before that. So I was grateful for the silence, the only sounds around being from the hangar. My father was, and I would presume still is, a renowned airship engineer, attracting clientèle from the world over.

Although I did not know it, my future was being set at that very moment.


The next thing I remember was several hours later, the sound of the door opening. At first I did not notice, until I felt someone in the room with me.

"Jiri? Are you here with me now?" My father knelt down to me, resting a hand on my shoulder. "What's that in your hand?"

Reluctantly, I opened my fist, revealing the ring on my palm. In the past hours, it had left an imprint in my skin. Oddly fitting, I thought.

"Gloria's ring..." he whispered, a faint twinge of sadness in his voice. "I thought that was it..."

I tried to say something, but could not find my voice.

"Jiri," he continued, moving his hand to my face and brushing away a tear I did not know had formed. "Jiri, I'm sorry I wasn't there earlier...I wanted to be, but..."

I held up my hand, the one with the mark most evident. There was no need for him to explain.

He took me close, sighing. "Jiri, I want to hear your voice."

Again, I was unable to speak, so I merely shook my head against his chest.

"My beautiful boy..." he muttered as his hand found the back of my head. "My little angel..."

I gasped. I couldn't be an angel, no, not while mother was my angel.

"Jiri? Jiri, what's wrong?"

With a flat tone that surprised even me, I managed to whisper "...mama's gone..."

He nodded. "...yes. I'm sorry."

The ring glimmered in my hand, the light reflected from the waves outside catching it, and I mimicked his nod. "Yes," I echoed, as he picked me up and lay me back in bed.

"You should take it easy," he whispered, tucking the covers around me once more. The ring now shone from the bedside table, its ruby twinkling casting a dance on the ceiling.

I could not listen to his further words, although I was aware he continued to speak. Lying there, the light put me in a trance, and I fell asleep once again, thinking of the ocean.

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

The next few weeks passed, strangely uneventful, given my acclimation. It was most peculiar, for I do not recall anything of those weeks clearly.

I know I spent a great deal of time in my room, looking out the window. Seafoam is a pleasant enough town for others, but for me it was like being in another world.

But the sky...the sky was the same, and it brought comfort. The sky would be always as it was at home. And it was safe, as home had been, as the wings of the white bird had been.

I would see it again, where the sky met the ocean. But that day would be a long way off, and I still had much to happen in my life.


One thing I know only from the stories of my father and his assistant Helen was that I would do things that startled the both of them greatly. I have no memory of this incident, but he would tell me that I insisted on drawing angels. I do not doubt him, as I dreamed of angels and white wings nearly every night.

After a particularly disturbing day, to hear him tell it, wherein I had locked myself in my room and covered every inch of paper with images of angels, he decided something had to change.

Hoping to play on my artistic nature, he began taking me to his workshop. He would show me sketches and models of the ships he was constructing, and how they were made. I took to them quickly; it seems I was eager for an outlet.

This part I remember with considerably more clarity than the weeks before it.

Most of the patrons came to know me by name, but did not pay me much mind. But I learned to read people from my dealings with them. I could tell much about a person from the things I saw. Most people were the idle rich, those wishing to show off their wealth with a custom-made token from the famous airship engineer Corbin.

But one man stood out from the rest. He had a regal bearing, and an air of eternal calm, as though he knew how to take exactly what he wanted from life. He would smile kindly at me during his conversations with my father and the other engineers, but we had never spoken until one day.

Had that day never come, I cannot imagine where fate would have taken me.

Father had set up a station for me to work on my drawings, and I had an idea for that day's project. I would sketch my Ancient Mew card; see if I could capture its essence on paper.

I had barely gotten set up when I heard a sharp gasp from behind me. The regal man was there, wide green eyes fixated on the card. "M...my boy!" he stammered. "Wherever did you get that card?"

I looked at it, then at him. "My mother gave it to me," I said simply as I returned to the picture.

"I see...You know, it's not often that you see one of those, much less in the hands of one as young as you."

"Not often," I repeated, only to find his extended hand between me and the paper.

"My name is Asaph," he introduced.

"Jirarudan." I shook his hand firmly and tried to turn my attention back to the picture.

"Do you think I...could get a closer look?" That calm of his was rapidly fading, so I nodded.

"Be careful with it," I added, very close to my mother's own tone when she had issued such a warning to me.

He turned the thin card over in his hands, the gold sheet and gemstones glinting in the half-light. "Incredible. Do you know where she got this?"

"From her parents, I presume." My short answers sufficed for most people, but I could tell Asaph wanted to know more. "She only told me that it was a family heirloom."

A slow nod of his head. "I see..."

I started shading in a part I had already drawn. "Why do you take such interest in it?"

He set the card back next to me and drew himself up to full height, like a regal speaker about to deliver an address. "Well, my boy, I...am a Collector."

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

A Collector... I had heard of such people before, those who lived their lives for artifacts of the ancient world. The idea had intrigued me in mention, but I had not paid it much mind past that. But now I had to know more.

"A Collector..." I repeated softly, evidently enough to cause him to duck down to my level.

"Yes..." he smiled gently, meeting my gaze.

Eye contact was intensely uncomfortable for me at that time, so I looked away, back at the card. "...what do you know of this?" I asked him, running my finger over the thin gold sheet.

His smile broadened and his eyes danced. "I'm surprised your mother hasn't told you yet."

"...mother isn't here," I whispered, but evidently he did not hear me.

"It's a remarkable relic, really. There's only been a few on the market in recent years..." He paused to clear his throat before continuing. "Many years ago, that picture was found on the wall of an ancient building, deep in the jungle. One of the explorers who found it that day made a painting of it, but found that he could not capture the brilliant gold sheen of the original. So he hired a goldsmith and a jeweler to make these cards, and gave them to everyone involved in the expedition. There were over two hundred people who took part, so the cards are just common enough that people 'discover' them in their heirlooms, and rare and fine enough that people will pay dearly for them."

I looked at him out of the corner of my eye, still focused on the card. "Mama said it was in her family for many years. She told me it was called Ancient Mew."

"Yes, yes, that's what people have taken to calling it."

He still seemed excited by his find, but was calming, so I turned to look at him again. "...Tell me more."

"...more?" His eyebrows raised elegantly. "What did you have in mind, my boy?"

I looked back at the card, running my finger down the jeweled face. "...what does the writing say?"

"Hmm..." He put his hand to his face as though lost in thought. "It's based on a game they found around the same area, but I'm really not certain what it says. I'm sure some cursory research could be done to find out, though."

For the time, that was good enough for me. I later found out, but that is neither here nor there for the continuation of my tale.


Asaph was enthralling, regaling me with tales of his own treasures, and I listened, enraptured, to every word. But then he was called away to check on some specifications for his ship, leaving me to absorb everything he had told me.

A slow smile spread across my face, although at the time I did not know why.

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

I could not wait to speak to him again. That night and the following morning, I was quite frustrated. Speaking with Asaph had been as though I was shown another world, brighter than this, but his departure me shoved back into the grey tones of reality.

It felt different with him. He spoke of things so distant and strange, but in such a way that felt as though I had known them my entire life, and I craved more.

Eagerly, I sat at the desk my father had set up for me, and waited for Asaph to arrive. I was so excited that I could not work on the sketch from the day before, though my Mew card lay before me, glimmering in the light from the entryway.

Hours I waited, not moving from that spot. The swirls of work around me went unnoticed, the sounds and sweat of the factory passing me by, until finally he entered. Instead of heading off to speak with one of the engineers as he usually did, he immediately looked in my direction, and his face lit up to see that I was indeed present.

I smiled at him, the only thing I could think to do, and he approached me. "Young master Jirarudan, how does the day find you today?" he asked.

"Quite well, and you?"

He placed a hand on my shoulder, and I did not struggle away as I did from others who did the same. "Very well, now that I'm here. I was looking forward to seeing you again." A warm smile settled on his face, and he leaned down to whisper to me. "I could hardly wait to come here today. We have much to talk about, don't we?"

I nodded. "I think so, yes. I could hardly wait for you to arrive," I confessed, hoping that my expression conveyed my thoughts as well as the words I spoke. "I dreamed of what tales you might tell me."

"Very well then!" he proclaimed, pulling a chair over from against the wall and setting it near my own. "Tell me, my boy, have you ever heard the tale of the Eye of Dawn?"


We spoke for hours; or rather he did, and I listened with utmost attention. Several times I noticed my father watching us, but he did not disturb us until nearly an hour to close, when he took Asaph into the factory proper with him. But I was satisfied, at least momentarily. Asaph's stories had left me in a near-trance, as though my mind had left my body and was ensconced in the legends of which he spoke. With a tired smile, I slumped down in my chair and closed my eyes, letting the etherealness that still hung in the air linger as long as I could.

For a brief moment, I thought I heard my mother call my name. But I opened my eyes and it was only Helen.

"Jiri?" she repeated, leaning down to my level. "Your father told me to come get you. He has something he wants to ask you."

Reluctantly I slid off the chair and away from the desk, feeling as though I was abandoning a part of myself. I was pleased to notice that Asaph was in my father's office, but even his presence could not alleviate the feeling that I had been torn from a dream world. My father gestured for me to sit down and I did, and the weight of the world forced me into place.

Asaph's hand closed lightly around my shoulder and I felt slightly better, but not enough to make a difference.

"Jiri, as you know," my father began, "my work keeps me very busy. I'm not able to spend the time with you that you need."

I nodded absently, not really caring what he said.

"I know how much you love art, and when I saw you and Asaph hit it off, well..." His voice cracked as he spoke, and he paused to clear his throat. "Jiri...I've spoken with Asaph, and we came up with an idea I think you'll like."

Looking back, I may not have considered it if my father had said it. But he yielded the floor to Asaph to finish the thought. Asaph squeezed my shoulder to get my attention, and smiled at me when I looked up at him. "Jiri...how would you like to spend some time with me?"

I have no clear memory of the moment immediately following his words, as I am fairly certain that I blacked out for a split second. I grabbed his hand--hard, I recall, as he winced slightly--and jolted up from the chair to face him. "I would love it!" I blurted. "I...I would love to!"

In the background, my father continued, something about socializing me or some such rot. But I didn't care.

We made plans to meet in three days time, when Asaph would take me to the Viridian museum. The days between were the longest in my life.

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

Fun fact, I wrote part of this chapter during a visit to the Art Institute of Chicago in 2005

​

On the appointed day, I awoke before dawn, although Asaph was not to fetch me until nine. My sleep the night before had been restless, and I'd dreamed of a city of brilliant green. As the light of day gradually lightened my room, I imagined what wonders the day held for me. I had never been to Viridian, of course, and pictured it as the glistening emerald set into the land that people described it as.

The night before I had laid out the finest clothes I had. At the time, I thought them exquisite apparel, but looking back I can only shake my head at how simple my tastes were. Mass-produced cotton and twill are a far cry to the sumptuous hand-woven silks I was to become accustomed to.

A white bird landed on my windowsill, but it wasn't the one I dreamed of.



I hurried through breakfast, being careful not to get anything on my clothing, and waited at the door for Asaph. Shortly after nine am, I saw his personal craft--one of my father's custom dual-rotor helicopters; the proper airship he had commissioned was still in production--land at the docking port outside the factory. Out of courtesy, I waited until he knocked to open the door.

He was an elegant sight, in a green greatcoat that brought out the glimmer in his blue eyes, the eyes that lit up when he greeted me. "Are you ready?" he asked me, and when I nodded my assent he brought a hand to my shoulder and let it rest for a moment as he looked me up and down. "You look very distinguished today," he said, and I smiled.

In the next room, my father, who had already opened the factory for the day but was waiting in the house for my departure, looked on. "Asaph, I want to thank you again," he called, and Asaph nodded. "Have everything?" he asked me, and I nodded to him as well. "Enjoy the museum!" he called, having to return to work. I was glad to be rid of him, even though I would be without him for the entire day.

Asaph and I sat in the middle section of his ship, as a chauffeur took the controls. It was about a half-hour ride from Seafoam to Viridian, and in that time Asaph told me more tales of the world's treasures, including a sculpture from an ancient age that the museum had recently acquired. He was quite eager to see it in person, although he seemed disappointed that he was unable to possess it.

We docked on the roof of the museum, among other ships. I recognized my father's seal on many of them, particularly the finer crafts.

There was a spiral staircase leading down, nothing particularly notable about it except that it lead to the grand entryway, which was a remarkable thing. Marble columns--that had been excavated from ancient ruins, Asaph told me--framed the doors, which were glass and tinted dark.

He held the door for me, and I held my breath upon entering, only to release it the second I entered, for I was greeted by a marvelous sight. One hand held out as though in welcome, a statue of a warrior woman, hair cascading down her shoulders and other hand held on the hilt of her sword as if to say that she was the guardian of the treasures within, stood in the foyer. I could not help but raise my hand to return her gesture of welcome.

Once he had bought our tickets, Asaph smiled at me. "Now, shall we explore?"

I nodded emphatically.



We took our time, dawdling at various masterpieces, with Asaph explaining technique and the histories of the artists to me.

I listened enraptured through the hours, and finally we reached the sculpture he had mentioned on the way. It stood on a pedestal, the centerpiece of a room. He gasped, taken in by the soft features of the statue's subject; a young woman with a Jigglypuff and a basket of flowers.

I found it nothing special. Admittedly it was lifelike, with the pokémon looking as though it would burst into song, but the mood did not strike me as it did Asaph. Instead I occupied myself with the nearby statue of a Gengar that had supposedly belonged to a master trainer ages ago.

"Asaph?" The voice from behind us was sharp yet dignified. He turned, I did not.

"Lucrezia!" he exclaimed, extricating himself from the sculpture and greeting the newcomer.

I wondered if I should involve myself. If I ignored them, I would seem rude, but same if I approached them outright. So I remained where I was and listened intently with my back turned.

"How did the Moreo turn out?" Asaph asked her. I would discover later that he was speaking of an artist.

"Oh, so-so," Lucrezia admitted. "I wound up trading it in for a Hidcomb."

"Hidcomb was an overrated drunken bastard," a third voice interrupted, that of a man younger than either of them. They ignored him.

After a few minutes of discussion of names I had never heard of, during which time I turned my attention to a statue of an ivory butterfly alighting on a silver flower, Asaph returned to me and rested a hand on my shoulder. "How about you go on to the next room without me? Lucrezia and I have some business to discuss, and I know you're eager to keep going."

I nodded. "I didn't want to say anything."

"You've been a very good boy about it," he smiled, his hand falling back to his side. "You're a very patient young man."

Returning his smile, I nodded my head and continued into the next room.

I didn't notice it at first, as the paintings nearest me had my immediate attention, but when I turned to the far wall, it was as though everything around me ceased to exist.

There before me was the most brilliant and beautiful and terrifying thing I'd ever seen. To other lives, it would not have had such a profound effect, but to me it was as though the rest of the world had dropped away and existence was defined entirely by paint on canvas. She was beautiful, in a white robe that matched her flawless wings with every feather defined and looked as they could begin motion at any moment. Her hand extended in assistance, she bore a look of sorrow that the man she wished to help was unaware of her presence, a look that broke my heart to behold. Whatever was left of the world was walled up as the words /I'll be your angel/ resonated through my mind.

My knees gave out, and I was vaguely aware that I somehow was able to find purchase on the seat in the center of the room.

Nothing I had ever seen before could compare. It was at once the ideal and the dread as every detail of the painting sunk into me, filling me as nothing had before. I existed, the painting existed, and there was nothing else.



A faint cracking at the shell of the world, and a hand came to rest on my shoulder. "Beautiful, isn't she?" the man from before asked, and the spell was gone.

Instinctively, I pulled away, to the end of the bench, and he chuckled. "Shy? That's all right."

My view disrupted, I could only stare at the floor, and even the details of that escaped me.

"You're Corbin's boy, aren't you?" the man continued. "I've heard about you. My mother does frequent business with him." When he realized that I was not going to reply, he kept on. "I've never found the art world to be all that interesting myself, but I suppose it has its charm."

He was harsh, his manner cold, his words without feel to them. Or perhaps that was how the world was; I couldn't tell the difference. I edged away from him an inch at a time and I don't think he noticed, for he continued on about things I didn't care about.

I could feel the blankness around me, the empty world breaking and forming and I hated it. I wanted out, to lose myself in the picture that I couldn't bring myself to look at. I wanted the angels, the spirits and the wonder and I couldn't find them; I couldn't bear to see them again.

I'm not sure at what point he left, but when Asaph came to retrieve me, he was gone.



There were two dining rooms in the museum. The first was a simple café, and I started to turn to go into it, but Asaph cleared his throat to catch my attention. "We don't go to places like that," he told me, directing me to the more formal restaurant.

At our booth, he squeezed my hand. "So, I see that painting spoke to you."

I nodded slowly, the angels still dancing in my mind. "Yes..." was my simple, distracted answer.

"You know, there's going to be a Tonio exhibit in Goldenrod in a few months if you'd like to see it."

"That's nice..." I muttered, twining my free hand's fingers in loops in the thin chain that held my mother's ring around my throat.

"Isn't it though?" he asked and I surmised it was meant to be rhetorical. "Some of those pieces have never left Kanto before. I know it's not far, but it's still impressive."

I nodded again, a million miles away.

"Jiri, are you having a good time?"

My head picked up. "Um? Yes, yes I am. Why do you ask?"

He smiled warmly. "You seem so distant. Lost in thought?"

"Yes..." Again I fingered the necklace chain.

He took a sip of a drink that I hadn't noticed him order. "Tell me about that ring," he said, and it was neither a request nor a demand.

"It was my mother's," I told him. Unlike when he had asked about my Mew card, I offered no further information.

He shook his head, smiling sadly, and whispered something in a language I did not recognize. "Your father told me about her," he continued. "I'm so sorry."

I tucked the chain back under my shirt. "I'd rather not speak of that now."

"I understand," he assured.



We returned to Seafoam later that night, after exploring the rest of the museum. It was early evening, but I was exhausted, my divine experience had indeed weakened my constitution. My father accepted me from Asaph and took me upstairs, where I fell asleep and dreamed of angels.

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

Although that day had been divine, time has no respect for such things, and life found itself as it always was. And once again, I found myself caught in boredom's snare. The world seemed so much dimmer and duller after beholding such wonders that it was rare for something to hold my attention for very long. Even Asaph was absent, his life taking him overseas for several weeks.

One morning I came down for breakfast, and my father greeted me in the kitchen, the smell of fried eggs heavy in the air. "Jiri," he welcomed with a hand on my shoulder, "I'm taking the day off. How about you and me do something?"

I shrugged, partially noncommittal, partially to extricate his hand. "I presume you had something in mind."

"Well, let's see..." he thought aloud, putting a slice of toast on a plate next to an apple half and the aforementioned eggs. "We could go shopping, we could go swimming...Oh! I know!" He snapped his fingers, handing me the plate with his other hand. "How about we play some chess?"

I took my seat at the kitchen table. "All right," I agreed. It was better than nothing, I reasoned.

"All right, how about after breakfast?" The eagerness in his voice was rather annoying.

"If you want," was my short reply.

He frowned. "When you're around Asaph, you just come alive. What happens to that spark, Jiri?"

I shrugged, saying nothing, and starting on my breakfast.

Sitting across from me, he tousled my hair. "Come on...something's gotta bring you out of your shell. You know, we could take the chessboard down to the beach and get some sun while we play. Wanna do that?"

"No, not especially."

He sighed heavily, looking away briefly. "Oh, right, right, your accident..."

I stared blankly at him before asking him what he meant by that.

"Your mother told me about when she found you face-down in the pond," he replied, laying his hands on the table.

He couldn't even get something as major as my near-drowning right. "That's not how it happened," I corrected.

He leaned in. "Oh?"

Prompting me. He was waiting for me to fill the silence, and I gave in. "They held me under. It wasn't an accident. They wanted me dead."

He was still for a moment, then he nodded. "Jiri, you know, your mother saw the whole thing. She told me that they tried to throw you in, but you fainted. They got scared and ran off. I know what they did was inexcusable, but..." He trailed off. "What reason would anyone have to try to kill you, anyway?"

"Because of Mother." It was so simple and he couldn't grasp it.

"O...kayyyy..." He drew the word out, looking confused. "It was really that strong even after all that time? I knew there was animosity there, but it's really that bad?"

Did he have to be such an enigma? "What do you mean 'after all that time'?"

"You know, about your grandfather?" he prodded.

I shook my head. "I don't know what you're talking about." Why did he have to be like this?

"Oh, she...she never told you about that? That's strange..." He paused, no doubt wondering if he should reveal the secret. And of course he continued. "Your grandfather was the mayor of the town, and he decided against having the town be a stop on a train route. The townspeople were convinced that the town would have thrived had the train stopped there, and it got so bad that he was forced to resign. I guess some people never got over that."

The lies the man could tell. "That isn't true," I insisted.

"No, no, it's true. Why, what did she tell you?"

He wasn't worth my time. I shoved my plate aside and left the table, heading back up to my room.



I came back down a short time later, hoping that my father had given up and returned to work, but this was not to be. In my absence, he had set up the chessboard on the living room coffee table, and arranged a chair at the end opposite the couch. His audacity astounded me.

"Jiri! Want to play that chess game now?" he asked, coming out from the kitchen.

I wasn't going to win, I figured. "All right, I suppose," I sighed, taking a seat in the chair.

He took his place on the couch. "Which side do you want?"

"It doesn't matter."

"All right then." He adjusted the board so that the white pieces were facing me. "You'll start off. Know how to play?"

"Of course." Mother had taught me once during a thunderstorm, but we had only played that one time. I remembered all the moves, but could not formulate a strategy or anything advanced. But I was not about to let that man talk down to me.

"Good! We'll say, what, half an hour allotment per turn?"

I moved my first piece, the Queen's Knight, without a word, and turned my attention more to the pieces themselves. White like the feathers of the bird. But that just lead to thoughts of our earlier conversation.

Maybe he was telling the truth. But that would mean that there was no white bird, wouldn't it? That there was mother, and nothing else.

And I could not accept that, for reasons I could not fathom. I knew in my heart, as much as I loved my mother, that the bird had saved me.

It puzzled even me, that I would resist his idea so much, but I knew my memory was true.

"So," he said, breaking my line of thought, "I haven't gotten a chance to sit down and talk with you about your trip to Viridian. How was it?"

I shrugged, slightly disturbed by the sudden intrusion. "I liked it."

He smiled at me. Even with my gaze leveled at the chessboard I could tell. "It's been ages since I was at the museum. A lot of my clients went to some party they had there a few months ago."

Why did he insist on telling me things that I couldn't care less about? "It was nice," I offered, hoping it would make him silent.

"See anything good?" he asked. "I like the silver room, myself..."

I nodded. "That was nice...I liked the statues..." There was no way I was going to tell him about the angel.

A few moves later, he spoke again. "You know...there's something I've wanted to talk to you about for a while." He paused, thinking of how to phrase it. "Recently, Helen and I have...gotten closer. We've been dating for about a year now."

I suppose it was obvious from the way they acted around each other, but hearing a confirmation was still quite interesting. Helen was a good woman, very kind to me, and she never spoke down to me like he did. "Oh?" was still all I could say to his statement.

"Yeah..." He smiled at me, patting my hand as I made a move. I waited for him to finish before completing it. "Just wanted to let you know in case you saw us kissing or something."

And I couldn't have figured it out on my own? Putting aside the fact that I hadn't yet, it was unlikely to traumatize me. My parents had been divorced for several years, it was only natural that at least one of them would find a new partner. Why did he insist on treating me like an imbecile? "All right," I said, nodding to myself.

His attention back on the game, we continued in near silence, for which I was extremely grateful. Soon, the game was over, and again he ruffled my hair in that way he had. "That was fun. You know, you're a pretty good player."

I pointed to the board. "But you won."

"I know, but you put up quite the fight." He smiled, and I suppose it was meant to be warm. "You could be quite the master if you keep it up."

Fine, anything to get him to stop this forced socialization. "I'm going to my room," I said, and he didn't stop me.

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

While my home life may have been less than ideal, my life with Asaph continued to blossom. He told me frequently how impressed he was with me, how much I was growing with him. I noticed differences too, that I was more outgoing, more eager for even the everyday things. My drawings were getting better, I thought, probably due to my increased focus.

Asaph was the best thing that had happened to me in a long time, and I was grateful to have met him.

It was the duty and expectation that a man of his station present a distinguished manner to the rest of society, so he and my father decided that he would instruct me in the ways of gentlemen. Why my father was interested in such a thing, I still do not know. I can only suppose it was to represent the money his factory made, but we did not live like society people, not like Asaph.

In addition to comportment, he had begun teaching me languages, both past and present, and I was thriving under his tutelage. "You're quite the polyglot," he told me one day as he tousled my hair, and was surprised that I knew what the word meant.

He called me a prodigy, something I felt was a bit too lofty. I was simply a good student, that was all. Of course, looking back on it, I realize I may have sold myself short in that regard.



One day we were on our way to another museum, one across the seas in Hoenn, and I went to him and asked him how he came to have such a charmed life. "I think I've been very fortunate," he told me, looking out the window of his ship at the ocean waters below. "My family was quite wealthy, and I took an early interest in the finer things in life. I always loved art, and vowed to surround myself with the world's treasures." He smiled at me and gestured for me to come closer, which I did. His hand came to rest on my shoulder. "I'm grateful that I've found someone to share these things with, Jiri. I never thought I'd find a protégé like you. Truly I've been blessed."

I smiled back at him, resting my hand on his. "I'm glad I found you. My life would be so boring without something like our excursions to fill it."

He chuckled. "You're a good boy, Jiri. A very good boy." That said, he moved from the window to the chair of his ship, which was finally completed. Being a C-Class, it consisted of two rooms; the control room in which we presently stood, and the entrance, which was slightly lower and had a lift to reach it. "It should be about an hour before we reach Lilycove. What say we have a lesson in the meantime?"



We were in Lilycove before I knew it, and we would be staying the night, so we set up the hotel arrangements first. Waiting in the hall of the grand hotel made me feel like a prince. This was the sort of place my father would never go, with the gilt and the glamour and the opulent grandeur that he so avoided. Not like Asaph, he was in his element in such a palatial place.

On our way up to the room, with the bellhop handling our bags, Asaph took my hand in his and gave it a squeeze. "Is this your first night away from home, Jiri?" he asked.

"First time without one of my parents," I said. Mother and I had taken a few overnight trips, nothing really outstanding.

He nodded. "I hope I make a good host for you."

Once in the room, he tipped the bellhop generously, and then we were alone. I sat on the end of one of the two twin beds and looked up at Asaph. "Shall we head to the museum now?"

A smile crossed his face, creasing the lines by his eyes. "We should relax first. It was a long trip, and the museum will be there after we've rested up. Here, I've got something for you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a candy, which he unwrapped and pushed into my mouth. The taste of butterscotch dissolved onto my tongue. "Is that good?"

"Yes, yes, you just surprised me." I swallowed deeply, the sweet confection heavy in my mouth. "It's very good. Did you get it in Seafoam?"

He chuckled to himself, discarding the wrapper. "My boy, there's so much you know, but so much you have yet to learn." And I knew he wasn't talking about the candy, but for the life of me I couldn't figure out what he meant.

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

In those times, I fully believed the childhood adage that I could be anything I wanted. The problem was that there was nothing I wanted to do in life.

Until the day Asaph took me to Mandarin.

It was a few weeks after our excursion to Lilycove. We hadn't seen each other since, and he greeted me with a demonstrative embrace that nearly squeezed the wind from me. We were outside my father's factory, with the hot air of machinery emanating from the open doors. A breeze blew inland from across the sea as Asaph took me to his ship, his greying blond hair waving slightly as we boarded. My father waved goodbye as we took off, soaring over the cliffs and to the open ocean. I watched the factory become a small dot on the horizon before turning to Asaph.

"Where are we going today?" I asked him. It didn't really matter to me; any trip I took with him was bound to be full of wonders.

"Mandarin Island. Ever been?"

I shook my head. I'd never been to the Orange region at all, nor do I think I would ever have were it not for his interventions.

"Oh, it's delightful. The museum is running a special exhibit of historical interest to the area. Some of that primitive art is really incredible." He smiled and came to stand next to me, running his fingers through my hair. "It promises to be an eventful day."

Little did I know how right he would prove to be.



Mandarin Island had a bustling port, but the rest of the city was relatively relaxed. We landed at a pier on a quiet side of the land--Asaph had paid extra for a ship that could land in water--and headed directly to the museum. It was a large building, unassuming, looking more like a university than a repository for ancient treasures.

Within the hallowed halls, we quickly found the special display room. Native music greeted us on the breeze, piped in softly over the sound system. Asaph gasped, spotting a large stone statue, and herded me over to it. "Jiri, doll, look at this!" he whispered, his hand on my shoulder.

I read the museum's summary of the piece, noting that it was thought to be over five thousand years old. "It's certainly ancient," I said, nearly kicking myself for the obviousness of the statement.

But Asaph didn't notice. "Isn't it lovely? The curves and lines are so playful, one would think it was done recently!"

"What is it?" I asked him. It looked like a lump to me. Of course, I was naive then.

"Why Jiri, you don't see it? It's a woman! Notice the wide curving hips and the full breasts?"

I shook my head. "No, sorry."

"Well, it is a little abstract," he admitted, patting my shoulder. "Want to move on?"

"Oh yes."

The next object was a tablet, and Asaph told me it was written in the language of the Shamouti Islanders. This was not the one I was to acquire later in life, but it was similar. Asaph was familiar with some of the Orange languages, and was pointing out the words he knew. I learned "Aqu'hala", which meant "mainland", or more literally, "land without water".

We looked in awe at several more objects, both artistic and mundane, before happening upon some small carvings. They were ancient, but still shone with lustre and life. They were of birds, the Legendary Birds, it said.

The largest one looked familiar, and it took me a second before I realized it was the white bird.



Of course, I couldn't tell Asaph, what would he say? But how I wanted to! My stomach was twirling about, and I'm positive that my face conveyed my shock. My white bird, finally back to me after all this!

According to the summary, the creature was known as Lugia. I finally had a name to go with my beautiful bird! I took a deep breath, noting that I was becoming light headed. I expected a more dramatic reaction from myself, especially after what had happened in Viridian, but as it was, I felt elated. How dare my father tell me that the white bird was a dream? I had evidence it existed, or at least that someone else had seen it.

"Oh, you certainly like those, don't you?" Asaph asked, tousling my hair once again. "They say that the Legendary Birds of the Orange region are special, more so than the same species from other regions."

"Tell me about the one in the middle." It wasn't a request, it was a demand, and I regretted my tone the moment I said it.

"Lugia? Well..." He brought his hand to his mouth and paused. "Honestly I don't know that much about it. I know it's said to live at the bottom of the ocean, and is considered sacred to many of the islands in Orange. But that's about it."

I nodded absentmindedly, staring at the figure. It was pulling me in, not in the way the angel painting had done, but in a way that made me positively giddy.

"Jiri, are you well? You're breathing awfully strangely..."

Damn. My youthful enthusiasm had gotten away from me there, and I exhaled slowly to calm myself. My behaviour went against Asaph's comportment training, and I was sorry for that. "I apologize. I just got a bit...excited."

He laughed. "The art world can do that to a person. Why, it's done it to me before, especially in my first years as a Collector."

A Collector...

At that point, everything in my life settled into place. I knew what my future had to be. "Asaph!" I addressed sharply, again regretting how stern I sounded. "I want to be a Collector too," I blurted out, prompting a giggle from a nearby woman at my bluntness. But I didn't care.

One may think that I wanted Lugia at such a young age, but that is not the case. I wanted the treasures, the stuff of legends.

Asaph raised an eyebrow at me, a thin smirk on his lips. "You want to be a Collector?" he repeated.

"Yes!" I added an unspoken 'with all my heart'.

"Jiri, I..." He looked away, pensive for a moment, then back at me with a sharp turn of his head. "All right! I can teach you the basics, and if you want to continue on, I can teach you that too!" He looked so happy, like he was about to burst into joyous tears, and he dabbed at his eyes with a silk handkerchief. "Jiri, I'm so proud of you..."

In those fleeting moments, my life was set before me. I smiled to myself.

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

After that, things moved slowly at first. Asaph began teaching me some art history along with my usual language study, which I soaked up like the proverbial sponge. I found myself far more interested in the creations of the ancient world and those of the Renaissance than those of the modern world, although that had more to do with the quality of individual artists than anything else. I never cared for abstractions, as my reaction to the statue in Mandarin had shown. Things had to show what they meant, or I would pass them by.

One day, Asaph announced that I must have a new outfit, for we would be attending a party at the end of the week. He told me that my museum clothes would not suffice, that I must be dressed the part of the aspiring young Collector that I now was. He gave my father a short list of some suitable designers, but as expected, my father was unable to take me. In return, he gave Asaph some money and told him to purchase what he saw fit. So Asaph and I traveled to a boutique in Viridian, where he bought me a magnificent lavender greatcoat in the finest fabrics. When he saw me in it the first time, he gasped and said that I was a heavenly sight.

Finally, the day of the party arrived. I donned the garment once more and waited at the airship dock for Asaph. It was summer's end, and the wind blowing through my hair had a faint chill as well at the salt smell it usually carried.

Suddenly, a hand rested on my shoulder, and I instinctively pulled away. "You're awfully jumpy today," my father said. "Are you sure you're ready to go to a fancy party?"

I stepped away from him. Anyone would be jumpy if a hand appeared on their shoulder without warning, and he was a fool to assume otherwise. "Of course I am."

"Do you know what goes on at these parties?"

One thing to understand is that my father was never told that it was a Collector party. Asaph had said to keep that a secret, and I knew why. Father would not understand how much it meant to me, nor would he understand why I felt it my destiny. In response to his question, I shook my head. "People will be making society connections there. It's going to be a lot of talk, I think."

He chuckled, and his hand found my shoulder again, against my wishes, but I let it stay there anyway. "I'll never understand why people find those so interesting. Well, if you get bored, Asaph will probably be willing to bring you back. Or you can see Viridian; it's a beautiful city."

"It is," I agreed. I liked it a well sight better than Seafoam, what I had seen of it, anyway. Seafoam, for all the crowds, was a rather dingy town that gave itself body and soul to the ocean.

Asaph's ship arrived then, and I was glad to go.



We landed at a crowded dock in the yard of a mansion, and trekked the few hundred feet to the elaborate doorway, where we were greeted by a doorman. As I had been taught by Asaph, I passed the man a tip as he held the door, and he smiled.

"This party is really rather casual," Asaph muttered to me as we entered. "At the parties of note, they'll have someone announcing you as you come in." But I hardly paid him any mind, although I did fancy the image.

The mansion's entryway was very posh, with classical columns rising over modern checked marble floors that reflected the declining sun from out the window. We were led to a larger room that I assumed was the ballroom. All around were people, and all in their finery. They discussed art mostly, tossing around names I had never heard and prices that made me gasp.

Of course, Asaph was in his element. It was like a whirlwind, the way he introduced me to so many people. Many of them knew me as "Corbin's son", which of course I despised. I regret to say that I remember very little detail, as I was quite overwhelmed. I recall being passed around from person to person like a curiosity, a young boy who already had his life set before him, even though I knew the attendees themselves had been determined that early.

After a time, Asaph spotted the woman we had met at the Viridian Museum, Lucrezia, and left me to talk with her. With him gone, I sighed. This whole endeavor was quite overwhelming, and I found my head spinning from all the excitement. I knew I had to brave these excursions in the future, to make connections and to expand my horizons, but for now, I was still a beginner, so I ducked into the sitting room when no one was looking.

I thought I was alone at first until I heard a girl giggling. "That's it! Now jump!" she said to something, so I looked around. There, kneeling on the floor behind the couch, was a girl probably a few years older than myself. Before her was a pokémon I'd only seen in books, a Ralts. It was jumping at something in her hand, which she held aloft and wiggled. She laughed, and handed it the treat anyway, which it promptly devoured.

I couldn't help but laugh myself, although I wasn't sure why.

At the sound, she and the Ralts turned to face me, her curly blonde hair twisting with her action. "Oh, I didn't know anyone else was in here. My parents aren't looking for me already, are they?" she asked, with a tone indicating that she thought it was far too soon.

I shook my head. "Not that I know of. Sorry to disturb you. Would you rather I leave you alone?"

She stood, and the Ralts ran in front of her. "No, that's ok. It's good to see someone younger around here." With a smile, she held out her hand. "I'm Veronica."

Frankly, I was unsure of what to do. Should I shake her hand or kiss it? Should I bow? Kneel? I took a moment to decide, during which time I took her hand and raised it a little, looking to her for cues. She smiled at me, but otherwise did nothing, so I settled on drawing the offered hand closer and making eye contact. "Jirarudan."

"Interesting name," she said as I let go of her hand. "So who are you with?"

"Me? I'm here with Asaph. Do you know him?"

"I think my parents have done business with him...not sure. I know I've heard the name, though." She grabbed my hand again. "I didn't introduce you to Ralts!" And with that, she pulled me down to the ground, where her pokémon waited. "Ralts, this is Ji...um...no, I've got it, Jira--"

"Jiri is fine," I assured her. "I know, it's a mouthful."

"This is Jiri," she finished with a laugh, and her Ralts laughed too. "Jiri, this is Ralts. I got her for my birthday last month. She's from Hoenn!"

"So I hear. Aren't they pretty rare?"

She nodded. "They're psychic, and people say they can sense emotions. But this one just seems to sense when I've got treats." As if on cue, Ralts went up on tiptoe with arms extended, begging for something. "Oh fine, here's another one." Veronica took another treat from her purse and gave it to the Ralts, who nibbled on it happily. "Now that she's pacified, want to sit down?"

"Oh, all right." I stood first and offered my hand to Veronica, who took it with a slightly coy look. We moved to the couch and I noticed that she sat very ladylike, with her back straight and her legs crossed at the ankle. I had to watch my own posture, remembering what Asaph had taught me in his comportment lessons. Ralts played at her feet, amusing itself with the elaborate lines on the rug beneath us.

"So..." Veronica started after a brief silence, "how do you know Asaph?"

"He's one of my father's patrons. We got to talking one day and I found him fascinating." I had hoped that she wouldn't ask further, but of course she did.

"Oh? What does your father do? Is he an artist?"

I shook my head, reluctant to talk about the man. "He makes ships," was all the information I offered.

"Ooh, sounds exotic. That must take you all over the place! So where are you from?" She leaned in, intrigued.

"I'm just from Kanto. Little town, though, far to the east. But now I live in Seafoam."

"Seafoam's nice. We go there sometimes in the winter. I'm from here in Viridian, myself. It's nice too." She paused. "I probably sound like a complete idiot, don't I? 'That's nice, that's nice'."

I laughed, probably a bit too loud given my manner. But I was starting to relax. "It's all right, I'm not the best at conversation myself." After a moment, I added "Veronica? Are you going to be a Collector too, then?"

She looked away for just a moment, then back at me with brown eyes bright. "Well, both my parents are...so I guess I am. But for now, no one talks to me at parties 'cause I'm only twelve."

Was there some reluctance there? I quickly forgot it. "This is my first party, and everyone was treating me like a curiosity since I'm only nine."

"Nine, really? You act so much older...but then, you do look young." She tilted her head at me. "So why do you want to be a Collector anyway?"

"Well..." I smiled, more to myself than to her. "The world fascinates me. I want to know the mysteries of the planet. And what better way than to surround myself with articles of distinction?" It sounded like something Asaph would say, or tell me to say, but I didn't care. I couldn't tell her about the white bird, at least not right away. Besides, it was truth, if not wrapped in a shell of peculiarity.

"Mm." It was a noncommital noise, and she looked as though she was thinking about something. "I've always loved the art world. Have you been to the Viridian Museum?"

"Oh yes, I was there a few months ago with Asaph. It was...breathtaking." Angels flitted through my mind as I remembered the painting that had so possessed me. "What's your favorite part?"

"I like the silver room, myself," she said as she bent to pick up her Ralts. "My parents have a set just like one that's on exhibit. I think it was made by the same crafter. Yours?"

"I like the paintings," I admitted. "Especially the Neo-Classical era ones. I thought they did the best job of conveying emotion." My reaction would never cross my lips.

She petted her Ralts, scratching in between the horns, to which Ralts sighed happily and nuzzled her hand. "So do you have any pokémon? I've just got this one here."

I shook my head. "No, can't say that training ever interested me."

"You don't have to be a trainer, you can just own them. Like I'm no trainer." She laughed. "I'd make a horrible trainer."

"No, I still don't think I'd like one." My father had several, to assist in the factory. Mostly Machamps for transport and construction aid, and some strong fire types to heat the metal to where it was malleable. But I had never wanted one for myself, and thoughts of Lugia were a long time off.

"Well, they're not for everyone. Ralts keeps me more than occupied, anyway." She stood, still holding the creature. "Well, I think I'd best be heading back out there. My parents are probably looking for me by now. It was nice meeting you, Jiri."

I nodded. "I should probably return to the party as well. Asaph is probably tearing the place apart trying to find me." Following her to the door, I opened it for her.

"Oh, a gentleman." She giggled again. "Well, like I said, it was nice meeting you. I hope I see you again. Will you be at the opening in Saffron next month?"

"I hadn't heard about that. I might be." I would have to ask Asaph about that.

"I'll look for you there, then!" And with that, she scampered off, Ralts in hand.



I occupied myself with idle conversation with people I didn't care for the rest of the night, untl the party's end when Asaph, who I hadn't seen in hours, found me and asked me if I was ready to return to Seafoam. I told him I was, but in truth, the dull day-to-day of that town would only depress me.

When we were walking back to the ship, Asaph asked me if I had enjoyed myself, and I thought of Veronica and said yes.

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

I'm back! In this chapter, Jiri overhears an uncomfortable conversation. This was originally slated to be much longer but I ended up chopping it into a few chapters on its own.​

Asaph had told me over the past few weeks that soon he would make a new acquisition, so when he called me one evening to tell me that he finally had the item in his possession, I could scarcely contain my excitement. He would pick me up early the next morning and take me to his mansion, which lay just over the Seafoam bridge on the mainland. I had never been invited there before; all my meetings with him were either here or some place he would take me in his ship, so I wondered what sorts of things I would see in his own collection.

What would my future collection hold? What wonders of the world would I come to someday possess? I pushed such questions to the back of my mind as I lay in bed, trying in vain to sleep. My window was closed, as it was getting colder outside, so I could not hear the ocean that night. But with the absence of the sea breeze to which I'd become accustomed, a dull silence spread across my room, and I found sleeping to be difficult. Eventually, lulled by promises of what the awakening day would bring, I finally drifted off.

I rose early, with the sun, and I could hear my father down the hall. It was rare of me to wake before the factory opened, so I dawdled in my room and waited for the hallway to fall silent before heading to wash up.

The greatcoat that Asaph had gotten me was off being cleaned, so I attired myself in simpler clothes. Black slacks and a plain green dress shirt felt so common compared with what I had seen at the party, but I figured it was good enough for private company.

Satisfied for the time being, I went downstairs, keeping as quiet as I could. I could hear my father talking in the kitchen, and I assumed it was to Helen, since she was the only one who would come into the house.

"When I heard you were sick, I assumed the worst," he said. That's right, Helen had been absent the past few days.

"You big worrywart," she teased. "It's just a cold."

I was about to join them in the kitchen when he continued. "I was thinking about Gloria. She used to expose herself to all kinds of weird stuff and then try to cure it. That's what wound up killing her, in fact. She found something she couldn't cure."

It took me a moment, during which time I didn't move, and everything fell apart. Had he just said what I thought he said? As the world slowly reassembled itself, I concluded that he had. But rather than shake and cry as I would have before, I grabbed the thing closest to me and beat it firmly against the back of the couch. The book in my hands, some tome on engineering, shifted sharply with each impact, causing the cover to pinch against my fingers. But I didn't care. How dare he? How DARE he?

I heard the sound of his voice saying my name, but I didn't care to look. I didn't want to see him, not now, not ever again, so I threw the book as hard as I could in the direction of the voice, grabbed my shoes from the entryway, and ran out the door.

The sun was rising behind me as I stormed away from the factory. As soon as I was positive that he wasn't following me, I stopped to put on my shoes, tying them with sharp pulling movements that made them too tight for my feet. But I wasn't about to do it again, so I kept walking as much as they hurt.

I figured I would stay on the road until the bridge, and then wait for Asaph's car. There would be very little traffic heading into Seafoam this time of day; most of the scant vehicles on the road were heading further inland for a day of work.

"Stupid roads," I muttered, pausing to brush sand off my shoes. It seemed that even separated from the shoreline, the sand found a way to annoy. With every step I heard the telltale crunch of the cursed grit against pavement, and I swore under my breath at the sound. It seemed to increase with each move I made, until finally I was stomping in a circle, a long, loud shout escaping me.

What was he thinking? How could he say something like that? What kind of an idiot was he? He *wasn't* thinking, that had to be it! He never thought about what he did! He didn't care about me or anything! He didn't CARE!

Words failed me, and I continued to scream my rage at him with base sounds. I must have been quite the sight--calling out and flailing around, kicking at the ground and nearly falling over from the effort as the sun crept up over the city.

Finally, my body had taken all it could, and I found myself on the ground, staring out at the road, with one hand over my knees and the other balled up at my side, hitting the sandy road lightly every few seconds. Someone across the street came to their door to see what had caused all the noise, but I didn't move. I saw her watching me for a second, out of the corner of my eye, before going back in her house and leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I sat like that, my back to the cement wall separating the beach from the main road. It was only on the eastern side of town; the tourists preferred their views unfettered. My clothes were covered in sand. What would Asaph think? I couldn't face him looking like this, he'd be horrified. But I couldn't go back to the house either, that was simply out of the question. So I remained there for a while, sitting by the side of the road in a little ball.

A car stopped near me eventually, but I hardly noticed it until the door opened and a man stepped out. "Jiri? Young master Jirarudan, what are you doing out here?"

When I realized that he was talking to me, I looked up hazily and immediately regretted it. "Asaph..."

He knelt down to me. "What happened? You look--"

I raised my hand, wincing to keep tears at bay. I wasn't about to cry like a child in front of him. "We should go," I muttered, most undignified, as I pulled myself to my feet and brushed some of the sand off. His hand joined mine, dusting off the side of my pants. He looked up at me, concern evident in his expression, and looked as though he wanted to say something.

Finally, as he stood, he did. "You'll want to get washed up when we get there," he said softly, patting me lightly on the back and ushering me towards the car. His chauffeur, a grey-haired man with a black cap, smiled kindly at me from the front seat.

But before I could take my seat in the rear, someone began speaking. "Is that your kid?"

Asaph and I looked up. The woman who had investigated my outburst earlier was standing in her doorway. "I look after him, yes," he replied. "Why do you ask?"

She spoke to him, but kept her eyes on me, something that made me extremely uncomfortable. "He was out here screamin' and carryin' on about something about half an hour ago. Woke up the whole house."

He glanced down at me for a second. "I see. Well, I apologize. I will speak with him. Thank you for telling me." And with a hand to my shoulder, he nudged me into the car.

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

Yeah I should...I should keep updating this. I have a lot of chapters...
​

We drove on for a while, coming to the main stretch of the city before he said anything. I was afraid that he was going to ask me things I was not ready to discuss, but he simply asked the driver to turn on the radio. The man turned a dial and light classical from a Viridian station filled the air.

The inside of the car was surprisingly modern given the older appearance of the exterior. It had been retrofitted with amenities that the manufacturer could never have imagined. I toyed with one of them, the switch to the windows, for a moment before settling on lowering mine about an inch. The wind in my hair felt like calming fingers, and I relaxed into the back of the seat.

Finally we crossed the bridge marking the Seafoam city limits and entered the surrounding farmland. There were small hamlets dotting the area from here to Viridian, but mostly disconnected houses marked the land.

Asaph's was a reasonable distance from the coast, in an area populated by businesspeople from the cities wishing to live out of the way. The factory got a fair amount of business from such people, since they could afford father's services and would seek means to reach their respective work destinations quickly. His mansion was atop a hill, nestled in a wooded area that sprung up around the building. It was a peaceful looking place, but I scarcely noticed, still consumed with my thoughts.

The car rolled to a stop at the end of the driveway, but it took until the driver opened my door for me to notice. "We're here," he said, but Asaph moved next to him.

"I'll handle it, Igasho," and the man stood down. Asaph put his hand on my shoulder. "We've arrived, Jiri. I want to know what you think of my home."

With fingers like lead, I fumbled with the latch of the seat belt until it released, and took his offered hand as he helped me out of the car. And that was when I finally looked at the structure that loomed over us. It looked more like a palace than an estate, as though it had been brought here from some distant time and place. Each corner bore towers dotted with windows, and the entryway led out to a veranda with the roof held aloft by caryatids. Above was a balcony with a door mirroring the one below it. The whole of it was constructed from rugged stone, making it look as though it had been there for centuries rather than the few years in truth.

Asaph bowed to me, extending an arm towards the building. "Welcome to my humble home, young master Jirarudan," he greeted. "After you."

As I walked through the ornate doorway carved in with an A, Igasho doffed his cap to me, and it was as though I was entering another world. I suppose it looked basically similar to the mansion where I had met Veronica, but being there for me and not for an event brought out the hugeness of the moment. The entrance led to a long hallway, with inlaid marble floors below and long arches above. Further in, there was a stairway to the second story, draped with carpeting in a deep muted red. More immediately, sculptures on pedestals lined the hall, and both looked ancient.

"Do you like it, Jiri?" Asaph asked from behind me.

I turned away from the wonders to face him. "I do! It's beautiful..." But even the beauty of this place was not enough to deliver me from my father's words.

He frowned. "But?"

My temporary reverie broken, I looked at the floor. "I heard my father say something heartless."

"And that's why you were so out of sorts?" I nodded, and he put his hand on my shoulder. My own came up to rest on his. "I'm sorry. Can you tell me what he said?"

"No, I'm afraid not..." I had to hold back a yawn as I spoke.

"Oh, you're all worn out!" he exclaimed. "Would you like to rest a while?"

I thought about it. I did feel exhausted, both mentally and physically, but I would be taking advantage of his hospitality, wouldn't I? In the end, I decided to take him up on it. "If you think that would be all right," I muttered.

"Speak up, Jiri," he said, starting to lead me down the hall. "Gentlemen don't mumble."

"No...I suppose they don't." I wasn't a gentleman yet, but my voice was slightly stronger anyway.

He lead me up the stairs and down another elegant hallway, his leather shoes making a steady beat as he walked. "The guest room is being cleaned. There was an unfortunate incident with one of my servants and a bottle of wood polish, so the room is uninhabitable."

Under ordinary circumstances, I would have laughed, but in my current funk I could only manage a noncommittal noise.

"Anyway," he continued, opening another carved wooden door, "you'll have to rest up in my room. I hope it--oh yes, good, they arranged it nicely. Sometimes they don't get to it until nearly lunch."

I peeked into the room and was greeted by a cozier place than the outside. It was smaller than I would have pictured, with wooden floors and a wooden bed, still exquisitely styled, of course. A thick quilt, probably handmade, was folded at the foot over a fine coverlet in deep purple. Above the bed was a gilded frame holding a brilliant landscape, mirroring the forest view from out the window.

Asaph drew the shades closed. "Is this dark enough?" he asked. "Oh, but you can't sleep like that, you'll get sand all over the sheets." In a moment, he was at the elaborately carved dresser beneath the window, retrieving a nightshirt. "Put this on, I'll wait out here."

I glanced back to the adjoining washroom. "What should I do with what I'm wearing?"

"I'll have Zihna wash them. She should be done by the time you wake up."

Taking the nightshirt from him, I went to the washroom and changed, silent the entire time. When I came back out, the corner of the bed had been turned down for me, and a young woman with dark hair and dark eyes waited for me. Asaph was gone, and the woman said "If you're looking for Sir Asaph, he said he would return to wake you."

"Did he say when?" I asked as I climbed into bed. The sheets were smooth and pleasant.

She went to gather my clothes and emerged a moment later. "I think he'll give you about two hours. By your leave, sir?"

It took me a second to think of what she meant by that. "Oh! You may go." And with a slight bow, she exited, leaving me alone in the dark room. It took me only a few minutes to fall asleep, not needing the sound of the ocean.

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

I was dreaming...

Only bits and pieces do I remember, but what remains could have just as easily been lost had I not heard Asaph's voice cutting through the veil. I started, jolted awake with a gasp, but he steadied me.

He was sitting next to me, pulled up entirely onto the bed, and he put his hand to my chest. "Jiri, it's time to wake up. Kuri's nearly finished with lunch, and she hates to be kept waiting."

I sighed, trying in vain to recover the memories. But what remained was enough. "I dreamt that mama brought me here."

"Oh?" He laid down facing me, head on the pillow, as though we were school chums at a slumber party. "She wanted you to be a Collector?"

"Yes...yes, I think she did."

He smiled. "I'm glad. Your father doesn't understand such things, but I like to think differently of your mother."

"As do I..." I trailed off, thoughts of her still in my mind.

"Are you feeling better?"

"A little," I confessed, then asked without thinking "What were your parents like?"

He blinked, and I hoped he wasn't insulted. But then he laughed, a hearty sound. "My parents? Well, they were quite wealthy, as you know. They were both Collectors themselves; well, they were by the time I was born." He patted my hand, which lay limply next to my head. "They were very upright people, but very...understanding." And he trailed off, looking pensive.

I decided against pressing further, and closed my hand over his.

"Tell me about your mother, Jiri," he whispered, moving a few inches closer. "She must have been wonderful."

Tell him about mama? My mind raced, trying to think of where to begin. "She was...yes, she was wonderful," I echoed, mad at myself for my unoriginality. "She was tall, taller than pa--my father, with long hair, and she carried herself like a woman of the world."

"Like a society woman?"

I shook my head. "Like someone who knew the secrets of creation. She always smiled as though she knew something the rest of us didn't." As I spoke, my memories of her came to life in my mind and I could see her clearly, more so than I could since she'd been gone, and I could feel tears sliding down my face.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to distress you. I was merely curious, that's all." He gave my hand a gentle squeeze. "How are your studies?"

I had been taking remote lessons a few days a week. The work was simple and I always finished it quickly. "Boring," I sniffed, wiping at my eyes.

"Anything you're taking an interest in? It's always good to have a hobby, you know."

Working up a smile, I shifted to face him, my hand still in his. "I like learning about science. How things work and all." People were confusing, even frightening. Hard facts were where I found my comfort. They didn't change, and they couldn't turn against you. But for the time, I could put my faith in Asaph.

He returned the smile as he sat up and released my hand. "A worthwhile endeavor. Always good to appreciate the concrete things in life as well as the artistic. Which reminds me, you're here to see my acquisition, aren't you?"

Of course, I had nearly forgotten, and I rose with him. "Yes I am," I said, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed to stand up. The nightshirt I wore must have come to his feet on him, because it fell to the floor plus several more inches on me. I had to pull it up, bunching the fabric in both hands, and he laughed.

"I suppose I should have given you something shorter. Well, I'll go see if she's ready with your clothes." He withdrew from the room, and I sat on the bed, having to pull myself back onto it.

I was getting taller, and indeed, everyone at the factory had said that they could see a difference in me just since I had arrived last spring, but I still felt so small when surrounded by Asaph's opulence. If I was indeed to be a Collector, I would have to familiarize myself with things of elegance. And my clothing would have to be one of the first things to change. What I called my finery was nothing compared even to what Asaph wore to bed. This garment I found myself in, although simple cotton, was softer than anything I owned.

Lost for a moment, I was interrupted by Asaph returning to the room. "We're in luck, she was just headed down the hallway with them!" He patted the stack of neatly folded clothes. "Fresh from the dryer," he said, handing them to me. "I'll be in the hallway. Do hurry, I can't wait to show you my acquisition."

I dressed quickly and headed out of the room, eager to see whatever it was he had to show me. What could it be?

He led me to the back of the house, where a servant opened the door to the backyard. There was a newly-laid water structure there in a clearing. It wasn't very big, but it was large enough to hold an enormous snakelike sea creature. As Asaph drew closer, he raised an arm, and the pokémon lowered its head to him. "Jiri," he said, gently scratching the beast under the chin, "meet Milotic."

I had seen Milotics in books and on television before and was never that impressed, but seeing one in person was breathtaking. It was much more graceful than I had thought, and the pink of its fins seemed to glow in the shaded light. The blue scales on its tail shared that quality, and the creature seemed to be singing softly as Asaph turned his attention back to me.

"What do you think?" he asked me, smiling proudly. "It cost me quite a pretty penny, but I think it was worth it."

"It's lovely," I said, taking a step closer. Milotic reared up and spread the fins on its tail, its song changing note to a harsher key.

He raised his hand and struck the creature, not very hard, but enough to cause a resounding noise. "You don't act like that," he snapped. "Be nice." It slunk back, turning again towards him with its head down. "That's better."

Tentatively, I held my hand up to Milotic's neck. It didn't move, so I patted it quickly and withdrew. It was scaly but smooth, and although my hand hadn't lingered, I got a fair feeling of the beast. "It's nice," I said, words failing me. "But are you sure it's all right to hit it like that?"

He laughed. "Jiri, pokémon are meant to take hits. A little slap from time to time keeps them in line."

I furrowed my brow in thought. "But papa always says to treat pokémon with kindness."

Asaph rested a hand on my shoulder and knelt down to my level. His hand was slick from touching the Milotic. "Jiri, is this the same father who said such unkind things about your mother just this very morning?"

A lump stuck in my throat and I swallowed it down as best I could. "Y...yes, true. But I've heard the same from others...I read an article about the regional champion, and he said--"

He cut me off with a raised hand. "Jiri, Jiri, that's for trainers, and we're not trainers. There's a world of difference between people like that and people like us. Pokémon aren't used for brute force in the world we build, they're like works of art to admire."

This confused me. "So, we keep them and do nothing with them? That doesn't seem fair."

He patted my shoulder again. "Jiri my boy, trainers keep them in stasis until they call them out for a beating. Here, we can give them the proper respect, as one would a great masterpiece." He returned to near Milotic and rubbed under one of the fins. "This beast would go to waste as a battler. It would only result in broken scales and the lack of any market value. One doesn't battle with a work of art; that's just silly."

I thought about that for a few moments. It made sense the way Asaph explained it, but why was such a view unpopular? I asked him.

"Well, people are taken in by the popular culture. They hear about strong battlers and want to emulate them with little regard for common sense." Milotic slowly drew away as he spoke, and he let it go with no acknowledgment. "If more people were like us..." He trailed off, sighing slightly. "But then, I'd hate for our profession to be filled with rank amateurs. Sully our reputation and all that."

That made sense too. I looked back up at Milotic, examining it. Every scale was in place, every fin set finely and gleaming. But as it splashed around in the pond, it met my gaze. Something in its eyes shone darkly, and I stepped back from it. There was in those eyes a glimpse of something wrong, something hideous. Malice? No, something else, something I couldn't discern.

"At any rate," Asaph interjected, disrupting my thoughts, "Kuri's bound to be waiting for us, and we can't keep her." He guided me inside before I could had time to reflect on what I'd seen.

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

(This chapter is so old that the mentions of Tonio predate the character of that name from the Darkrai movie! Aye-yay-yay you'd think I'd be further than I am)​

The opulence of the mansion was a wonder to behold, but yet the feel of the place escaped me as I tried not to think about the Milotic. Was Asaph right? He had to be; his words made so much sense. While it was a work of art, it was also a living thing and would have to be punished for its misdeeds. I supposed that was up to the discretion of the owner.

"Jiri, why do you linger?" Asasph asked. He had stopped outside the dining room and looked back at me from the open door.

"I'm sorry," I said, focusing on the world around me.

He patted me on the back, but he was frowning. "You have to learn to stay in this world. Things can't keep pulling you to distraction.

I could smell the prepared lunch waiting for us inside the room. The aroma was enticing, and beyond my recognition. Unfortunately, it was then that I realized I hadn't had anything to eat yet that day, and my stomach rumbled with the revelation. Embarrassed, I covered my mouth out of reflex and hoped that I hadn't broken any protocol.

But Asaph just laughed, his dour expression from just a few seconds ago gone. "Sounds like we need to do something about that! Have a seat," he said, taking the chair at the head of the table.

The room was like no dining room I'd ever entered. It was long, with a table to match, built to seat at least a dozen. Alone one off-white wall was a lengthy buffet with an elegant silver tea service as the centerpiece, with which a servant was pouring tea into porcelain cups.

Above us on the low-hanging ceiling was a grand chandelier spread out like an opening blossom. It caught the sunlight shimmering in from the window on the far wall, reflecting it through the room with little captured rainbows. It forced a smile to my face, and I tried my best to keep it a reserved one.

I sat at Asaph's right hand, on a high-backed wooden chair with ornate patterns carved in, and a white silken cushion on the seat. The tea was set before us, and I took a sip, finding it too hot for the time being. I was surprised at my ability to remain silent, though. The old me would have cried out or dropped the cup, and I was glad for the change.

Another servant came out of the adjoined kitchen with serving trays, and finally I could put a visual to the luscious scent. A bowl of soup was placed before me, with a spoon that had to be silver peeking out from atop the charger. I looked to Asaph for a sign that I should begin, and he nodded, raising his own spoon to his lips and blowing on the liquid.

I did the same, watching the steam dissipate with my breath, until I was satisfied that it was cool enough, and took a taste. I had never had anything like it before; it was rich with cream and potatoes, but mostly something I couldn't put my finger on. "What is this?" I asked.

"Say it better," Asaph instructed. "You're too blunt."

"Oh, um...on what are we dining? It's delicious, but I can't place it."

He smiled. "It's leek soup. Have you ever had leeks before?"

"I don't think so...but I've heard they're often paired with Farfetch'd. Is that what I smell from the kitchen still?"

"You're very astute. I believe you're right." He looked towards the servant, waiting at the door to the kitchen, and she nodded. "Ah, there you go."

"I've never had that before either." Certainly I had had things like Miltank before, but Farfetch'd was a delicacy, far beyond my thus far unsophisticated palate. I briefly wondered what it would be like before turning my attention back to the bowl before me. "Things sure taste different in a place like this," I mused aloud.

"How do you mean?"

I wasn't entirely sure what I meant, but he had requested a reply. "Things..." I started, waving my hand around. "Things are more...vibrant here. You notice more in an environment like this." Was that what I meant? I decided it was. "And it brings your senses to life, all of them. Right now, taste. I don't think this would be quite the same in any other place," I concluded with a gesture to the remainder of the soup.

His smile turned into a gentle laugh. "I never though of it that way. But I suppose every place has its own aura about it. Personally," he said, leaning in,"I find that food tastes best in museum restaurants. To be in a place like that, so close to the finest works of history, is simply divine. Music sounds better there too--if you ever have the opportunity to go to a museum event with music, you'll be amazed. Even the most familiar of pieces will take on a new life in a setting like that."

"It sounds wonderful..." I whispered, letting the image fill my mind. Vision and memory were certainly more vivid in a place surrounded by treasures such as those. Although the mansions I had been to were opulent, they were also inhabited by personalities, ones that were perhaps too strong. I wanted to see the luxury by myself, not to be seen as the curiosity to which my young age lent itself. Being here with just Asaph was good, and I found myself blessed by our silence.

Soon we were ready for the second course, and the serving girl brought the fragrant salads around. They were simple in construct, with a simple red wine dressing, but the focus was on the meat. I cut a piece and tasted it, and was greeted with something sweeter than I had imagined. "Mmm...I like this."

"I thought you might. What sorts of things do you dine on at home?" Asaph asked.

"Oh..." Having to think about my drab home life in the midst of all this removed me from the situation, and I was none too pleased. "He likes common things. Last night we had hot dogs, and the night before, grilled cheese sandwiches."

"Really." Asaph didn't sound surprised, or much of anything. "With all that money he makes from the factory, he certainly doesn't live like it."

"I know..." I had mused on that subject before, but only in passing.

"What do you think about that?"

I had never come to a conclusion in my brief thoughts. "I don't know what I think. It just happens. Is it really that important?"

"Jiri..." he sighed, "he has the means to enjoy the finer things in life, yet elects not to. I pity people like that. It's like they're living their lives with their eyes closed."

"He's been blinded," I echoed, thinking I was repeating his sentiment, but he corrected me.

"No no, not blinded. That implies that he couldn't help it. Like how some people can't help being poor. But people like your father, they're choosing to live the way they do." He shook his head. "It's a pity that there's still people who do that."

I almost felt sorry for my father in that moment, but then I remembered what he had said that morning. "Um...any further word on that Tonio exhibit? You mentioned it a while ago."

"Of course!" And we were distracted by the mention of the exhibit, and planned to go to Goldenrod to see it.



With lunch finished, we took our leave from the dining room. I was amazed at how well-trained his staff was; the serving girl was already clearing the table before we had even left the room. And when Asaph began to open the door to the hallway, a passing servant reached for it and held it steady. Asaph thanked him with a silent nod of the head, and I did the same. The man nodded back at me, and I smiled to myself. "Asaph?" I asked, close on his heels but keeping a gentlemanly distance, "Have you ever known a Collector to have grown up like I have? You know, out of wealth. Mother lived quite simply, and well, you know."

He continued walking, although at a slower pace. "Honestly no. But that's not to say there haven't been, I just haven't met them. Everyone has to start somewhere, and I'd say with your education, you'll be just fine once you begin your career. That is, if you continue to learn from me and the others."

"Sounds reasonable," I said as he lead me into the sitting room.

The room was about the same size as the dining room, with several huge windows set into the far wall, but they were all covered with sumptuous drapery, and so not letting in much light. I saw the reason for the dimness when I looked around; the walls were home to many paintings, reaching up to the high ceiling in the old manner. I recognized a few artists' styles from the museums and our studies, and wondered for a brief moment if they were originals. But of course they were originals; Asaph wouldn't settle for anything less.

There was a fancy overstuffed couch under the windows, with a long mahogany table before it, upon which was a modern style chess set. Rather than the abstract figures, they were miniature sculptures, and rather than being dressed in medieval European garments as would be typical, they had more modern clothing from the past century. They were no less elegant for it, and were all easily recognizable for what they were. I picked up the knight, which was now a mighty warrior astride a lovely Rapidash, pulled up into a flawless pesade. Although it was made of wood, it was painted in such a way that made the flames on his mount's back seem as though they could burn my hand.

"Marvelous set, isn't it?" Asaph asked. "I bought it some time ago, but haven't found anyone to play against. You know, aside from my staff, and that grows tiring after a while."

I smiled at him, taking a seat on the couch. "Shall we begin?"

He sat next to me and pulled the slender table closer, the pieces rattling on the board but not moving from their designated positions. "You can begin." As I examined the board and pondered what move I should use to open, he asked "Do you play often? This seems like something you'd enjoy."

"I played against my father, but that grew tiring after a while," I deadpanned.

It took him a second before it registered, and he laughed. "You're developing quite the wit. Your father told me that you rarely smiled when we first began our excursions."

"I had nothing really to smile about," I admitted, moving a pawn forward two squares. "My life at that time was far from happy."

"Yes, yes..." He was pensive as he made his move. "There's been long stretches like that in my life...Not the same situations, with your mother and all, but times of darkness. But I've found that times in the dark help you appreciate the light."

I wondered what his experiences had been, but it wasn't the time to ask such things. I remained silent for several turns, focusing on the board in front of me at first, then looking up at the paintings on the wall opposite us. Playing with Asaph reminded me of the time mother had taught me, but now I could think of her without feeling the loss. Perhaps I was maturing, or perhaps it had been sufficient time. But then I remembered what my father had said that morning, and lowered my gaze to the board once again.

I must have been deeper in thought than I was aware, because Asaph brought his hand to mine and told me that it was my turn.

"Oh! Thank you." I flashed him a smile before pondering my rook's position.

"You know...you've been looking at people more. I think it shows a marked improvement from where we began." He rested his hand over mine as I was about to make a move. "Why, you scarcely cast eyes my way when we met, and now even when you're thinking deeply about something, you make the gesture of looking at me when I speak."

I did, didn't I? The more I thought about it, the truer it was. I had been a ball of self-absorption, lost in pity, when I came to Seafoam. But under Asaph's tutelage, I had blossomed.

"But I can't help noticing that you're still upset about something. Is it what happened earlier?"

What did he mean? What my father had said? My father's words no longer mattered, although I would have to return there. Although I lived in the same house, I was a world apart. And I realized I hadn't considered the issue of the Milotic since it happened. Asaph was a good man, and I had no reason to doubt what he told me. Pokémon are meant to take hits, I knew that logically. Seeing it put into practice was unnerving, but I realized he was telling the truth. In both the wild and in captivity, they would do far more damage to each other than a reprimand from a human would.

He gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Still thinking about your move?"

"Oh!" Quickly I moved the piece over which I'd been thinking, regretting the move immediately.

"Ooh...I'm afraid I take your bishop now," he said with a front of sadness but a touch of triumph to back it up.

"You're getting into this, aren't you?" I laughed. Perhaps the younger me would have been insulted by his tone, but now I found only mirth in his dramatics.

"Yes, I suppose I am!" he laughed back, snatching up the piece like a diving bird pulling a fish from the water. We were most undistinguished, but neither of us cared.



Our game continued along similar lines for nearly an hour, with Asaph emerging victorious. He spoke with a servant who had walked in as I rearranged the pieces in their proper positions, and after a few minutes, returned to sit beside me on the couch.

"Jiri, it occurs to me that you didn't answer my question."

I looked up. "Question? Oh, about being upset?"

"Yes...you've seemed so distant off and on today."

Settling back in my seat, I put my hands behind my head and smiled at him. "No, I think everything's all right." And I meant it. My thoughts from earlier had been settled, and I felt better.

"I'm glad. You know, you'll have to return to Seafoam eventually."

With a groan, I told him "I know. I think I'll be ready for it."

"How will you deal with your father?"

I waved my hand dismissively. "It's easy to avoid him; he stays in the factory most of the day. In a while this will blow over."

"Are you certain?" There was concern in his voice. "You did make a bit of a scene earlier, and that was without his presence."

It was true, as much as I hated to think of it. "It was a momentary lapse. I hardly slept last night, and it affected my reasoning." Which was also true, at least the part about my hours.

He chuckled. "There's been times where I've been so pulled into the trail of some item or another, I have to be reminded to sleep. You know, it happened when I got Milotic. I stayed up until all hours just watching it swim."

That made me feel even better. He did care for it, otherwise he wouldn't have done something like that. "That's a lovely image."

"Yes..." After a moment of silence, he pulled himself to his feet and held out his hand. "Jiri, would you like to see more of my home?"

I accepted his offer, and he began introducing me to the paintings in the sitting room in great detail.




That night, after a day surrounded by the finest things the world had to offer, I returned to Seafoam. The factory was long closed, and the lights were all off in the house. I noticed the book I had attacked that morning was sitting on the table, pages still in disarray.

But yet it didn't upset me. In fact, I couldn't stop smiling.

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

My father and I hardly spoke at all over the next few days, which suited me just fine. He tried to project his facade of doting parent, but I would never let him get to me. Every time he looked at me, it was with that downcast expression meant to inspire pity. What a fool.

He replaced the book I had ripped, but felt the need to tell me how expensive it had been. It would mean nothing to him to dip into that money he sat upon and never used; there was no use trying to make me feel for something that had been entirely his fault.

In the meantime, I busied myself with my studies. I would never admit it to /him/, but as I had told Asaph, I was beginning to take a shine to science. I decided that if I kept it to myself, it would be an acceptable interest.

My father would have insisted that it was in my blood or something clichéd like that, but the reality was simple. Science is facts, it's the way things are. And facts are constant, staying the same no matter if people see them for what they are or not.

It was like art in so many ways. People will banter about the meanings of the pieces, but the pieces themselves will always be the same, unchanging despite whatever meanings people attribute to them.

And like art, it was beautiful. What a wonder it was to know such things, the secrets of the universe itself! Science is the divine, that which only a few can ever understand, and art is a reflection of that same power.

For his part, my father was busy with work, not only in the factory, but with blueprints. It had been years since his last ship design premiered, and he had been hit by two new ideas, so he had taken to his office in his spare time. He had asked Helen to watch me, but I scarcely needed such a thing, and she agreed. She was a far more connective person than he was, yet we rarely spoke. Perhaps that was part of it, but I didn't want to ruin it.




One time, a telephone call from Asaph brought me out of my room. The only telephone on the second floor was in my father's bedroom, another sign of his irrationality. He insisted that I had to be social, and yet forced me into his world to follow through with that when I wished to have remote contact. It was really no wonder I preferred spending time with Asaph versus speaking to him distantly.

Asaph had traveled overseas, in search of ancient treasure as he always did. No, that's not true, most of his treasures were from the past five hundred years. But this was from a time long passed, longer by far than his normal scope. This quest had taken him to Lopatin, a narrow spit of a region far to the north that brushed against the continent as though the two were hesitant to touch.

I answered the telephone in the living room; better there than in the confined space defined by my father. Asaph greeted me and immediately told me how cold it was there. "And it's very difficult to find a suitable coat in this part of the region," he added.

"Did you make the acquisition?" I asked, smiling genuinely for what seemed like the first time in an eon.

He took in a long breath. This was what he had called for, after all, but he had to have a proper introduction. "Jiri..." he let out, hushed, "it's the most magnificent jewel I've ever had the honor of viewing. And now it's mine...it's mine after so long."

He had told me of the jewel when we first met. The Eye of Dawn, the brilliant pokéball-sized white opal that had once crowned the scepter of a priestess in Tirari...it had been his goal for decades. He rarely spoke of it to me or other Collectors, but when he left to procure it, he was breathless and shivery. Obviously he would never show this side of himself to just anyone, but even so I hoped that I would be calmer in such a situation, even to no one but myself. "I'm glad...it must be stunning."

"I can't wait for you to see it, Jiri. It's...it's perfect. It's the most ideal thing I've ev--" And he stopped mid-word and cleared his throat. "You'll understand when you see it. I could never do it justice."

His voice had dropped to the point where I could scarcely hear it and I had to focus entirely to do so. "I look forward to it," I told him softly, in keeping with his tone.

There was silence on the line for a moment, and I wondered if he hadn't been cut off until he resumed speaking, in his normal voice. "So your birthday is this month, isn't it?"

"No, it was last week. You left shortly before it." It had been a small thing without any fuss, hardly worth mentioning.

"...oh." Again he lapsed into silence, this lasting for quite a bit longer. I was about to address him when he continued. "Well, I'm sorry I missed it..."

"It doesn't matter," I dismissed quickly, waving my hand although he wouldn't see it. "I've already told people I was nine anyway."

"You did, I see..." he mused, finally deciding on a simple "You shouldn't do that."

"Pardon?" He confused me sometimes, although he always had a higher purpose for doing so, so I waited.

But his speech was slow and halted. "You...don't want to be older, Jiri. You should stay young for as long as you can. It's...it's really best." He stumbled over the words in a way I'd never heard him do before.

I remained still for several seconds, trying to think of what to say and cursing myself for the delay. "But now I *am* nine, so it doesn't matter, right?"

"No, I-I suppose it doesn't," he admitted, with a pang of reluctance to it.

"...when will you be back in Kanto?" I asked, to clear the air more than anything else.

"Oh yes!" That seemed to snap him out of whatever plagued him. "I'm going to remain here for at least another week. Lopatin is rich in history, and it's been a long time since I've been here, so I'd like to revisit some places. Oh, but when I come back, I'll have a surprise for you."

"For my birthday? You don't have--"

He chuckled. "Oh no, it's just that we'll have a new student joining us shortly. I think you'll get along wonderfully."

I doubted it, but I had to trust him. "That's good to hear."



We spoke for a bit longer before he was called away, and since I was downstairs I decided to make myself some lunch. When I was studying, I could ignore hunger or other needs for far longer than I could when I wasn't absorbed in something.

I opened the refrigerator just as my father rushed in from the factory, scrambling for something on the dining room table. "Have to fi--oh, Jiri! Tell you what, come out and see me in my office when you're done. I've got a client there now, but--here it is!--there's something I want to go over with you." He grabbed the sheaf of papers and ran back out.

Peculiar. Although the factory wasn't without its interests, for him to speak with me out there was unusual of late. At least he recognized that the days were past where I would sit in the corner and attempt to draw, something I was, in retrospect, never very good at. Nevertheless, I returned my attention to finding something edible.

The food in that house was horrid; nothing but the simplest of things. A short time ago I would have eaten it with no issue, but speaking with Asaph at his mansion made me reconsider many things I had previously taken for granted. The thought of eating something as base as a processed hot dog was repugnant to me now, where I had tolerated it not long ago. But that was precisely what I had, microwaved to tastelessness and wrapped in a slice of bleached white bread and adorned with ketchup so sugary that my front teeth stung, something I had never noticed before.

How could my father live like this? No no, how could *I* live like this? I at least knew better.

I choked down the food, finding it barely tolerable while a month ago I'd have eaten it without a thought. I would have to learn to dine like a gentleman if I was to ever become one, I mused as I brushed stray crumbs from my shirt. I had to be presentable before I entered the factory, in case the employees saw me.

But none of them even looked my way for more than a glance. Even with as much as I had changed these past months, as distant as I had been of late, I still escaped their notice as simply another fixture of the factory.

As anticipated, someone was in the office with my father, and through the windowed walls he looked familiar, but I could not place him. Still, his presence made me uncomfortable, the tinge of a painful memory dancing at the corners of my mind.

I occupied myself with thoughts of the future, what my own collection would someday entail. I could almost see it; my treasures surrounding me, filling my mansion at every available space, scaling the walls and perched in the hallways on elegant columns of the finest marble...or was marble too commonplace? I'd have to find a way of setting myself apart from even my fellow Collectors. Well, Asaph could help me with that when it came time. For now I could plan the overarch and fill in the details later.

"--a pleasure dealing with you again," I heard and the words cut through my daydream, trailing shivers down my back and fastening me back in my surroundings.

"As always. Give your mother my best." That was my father as he shook the man's hand in the doorway. "Jiri, come on."

As I stood, the man about to leave looked me up and down, and his thin mouth tightened into a smirk. "Your son is becoming quite the gentleman," he said in a clipped voice, adjusting the line of his black suit, hand nearly obscuring the red insignia over his heart.

I smiled, hoping it was a disarming look to pave over the unsettling feeling I still could not shake, and my father clasped my shoulder. "That's my boy!" he said proudly, and with that the disturbed sense was gone, filled in with revulsion. I wasn't his boy! Well...no, I was, but only in the biological way. He had nothing to do with my path or my future, and he certainly did nothing to encourage me to be a man of the world.

But I in turn did nothing to dislodge his grip.

The man had left, a familiar dash of cologne in his wake. A brief flash in my mind of ivory and silver, and it was gone as suddenly as it had appeared. "He's very perceptive," my father started. "I've told him about you, but to pick up on something like that is pretty impressive."

"It doesn't matter," I said, belatedly aware of how non sequitur that sounded. "You said you had something to tell me."

"Oh, that's right!" He snapped his fingers and headed back towards the office, the implication for me to follow unsaid. I held still for a moment, knowing what he wanted and waiting for him to put it to words, before I realized that he never would.

He was at his desk when I opened the door--of course he had closed it behind him, even though he knew I was behind him. "What is this about?" I asked him, taking the seat across from him before he could extend the invitation. If he was going to be less than polite I would act in kind.

"Well, I've been..." And he stopped, seeming to think about something. "First off, I want to make sure. I've never seen you take an interest in pokémon, so you probably wouldn't go on a trainer's journey next year, right?"

/Or ever/ I mentally added, but confirmed his query. Living things held no passion for me and he should have known that long before asking.

"Ok..." Another pause, this time considerably longer. "I...I was saving some money for you. In case you went on a journey. But since it doesn't look like you will, then I was thinking of giving it to you now."

"Are you now." I looked out the window, towards the factory door. There was a small white bird fluffing itself in the open entryway, craving the heat put off by the factory proper but unwilling to go any further.

"Jiri...tomorrow I'm going to go to the bank and transfer 50,000 p into your account."

It took me a moment. At first I wasn't certain I heard him correctly, or even at all, and was about to ask him to repeat himself, but turning back towards him and seeing his expression told me everything. I had heard him right, he was telling me the truth, he was giving me--

"Jiri?"

"What?" I blurted out, more of a clarification of his statement than a reply to his attention.

"You're so stone-faced, I wasn't sure if you heard me." He chuckled. "I said I'm--"

"Yes!" It was a shout, quite undignified, and I forced myself to keep my composure although my mind was racing. Why would he give me so much money? This was my father after all, the man who never made an effort, the man who always insisted he knew what was best for me and didn't know a thing, and this man was giving me how much? Words failed me and rather than make a further fool of myself, I lapsed into silence.

"Now, I know you're going to be using that money, but there's going to be some limits." He continued on about monthly access and investments and such things, and I nodded furiously at each point. I heard them and processed them but I don't think he knew that.



The next day I accompanied him to the bank early in the morning and watched the transfer take place. All the way back I held the bank receipt showing the total amount, and I thought maybe my father wasn't so bad after all.

But when he returned to the blueprints on the dining room table, the first thing he picked up was that book, and I knew I had been right before.

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

Chapter 4 is kind of his messed up mental state at the time, but it's more or less him zoning out and retreating in his own world. We know more or less how he ends up, so getting him there is a very odd process. I hope you continue to read more!

And what do you know, it's time for another chapter! Here's chapter 19.
​

Asaph had returned, bringing the chill with him as though it had come carefully packaged in the crate with his beloved gem. Snow fell lightly, delicately, as it never had on my hometown. It had always been heavy and deep, and mother and I often had to remain inside for days. This dusting gave the town the feeling of spirits, and the constant shiver that ran through me had little to do with the cold.

That day, as even the faint light from behind thick clouds did nothing to dissipate the pallor of still morning, I dressed in the chilly room. The factory would warm the place; indeed, the house was never as cold as it would be without it due to the everpresent heat from the core furnace, but at this hour it wasn't nearly enough.

Following the scent of breakfast, I found not my father in the kitchen but Helen. "Oh, Jiri!" she chirped, turning a pancake over on the skillet. "I knew you'd be getting up soon, but I wasn't sure exactly when Asaph was coming."

It took me a moment. I had in fact left a note on the counter that I would be meeting with Asaph in the morning, and he usually came to fetch me quite early, but papa never seemed to notice such things. For Helen to do so took me by surprise. "What's that smell?" I asked. There was a strange scent, familiar, but nothing like papa's pancakes.

"Oh, just some of this." She scooped more onto the skillet before handing me a small bottle off the counter. "I brought it from home. It's orange extract, gives the pancakes a little flair."

The bottle was already uncapped and a caricature of oranges wafted around. It was as though someone had created an olfactory sketch of an orange, recognizable, and at once meaning to and not meaning to be one. "How very strange," I must have said, or something like it, because she laughed.

"Strange?" she chuckled, gently retrieving the bottle. "I guess so. I picked it up in college. My roommate was from Trinacria and she loved stuff like this. I thought she overdid it most of the time with all the food, but this is pretty good. Here, try some." In a move quicker than I had thought her capable of, she had torn off a piece and pressed it to my lips.

First was the scent, like an orange perfume, and the taste carried that to the back of my mouth. There was a sharpness around the edges that I didn't recognize, that had the makings of a brilliant contrast, as art critics go on about things like light and shadow. It clung to my palate as though it wanted me to taste every morsel, and would not let go until I did so. I eagerly set into the plate she had put on the counter for me, after a moment remembering to check my composure, but I was pleased that I had kept to my manners.

"So I've heard about your hobby," she said, leaning next to me as the next batch sizzled.

Did she mean collecting? My studies? ...god, please let it be my studies. If my father ever found out about the true direction of my time with Asaph, it would be the end of everything. He had no understanding of the finer things, and Asaph had said that people like that meet people like us with hostility. Slowly I lowered my eyelids and, as calmly as I could, asked "Pardon?"

A gentle smile touched her lips but it did nothing to calm my racing nerves. "Your pictures. Corbin says you're buying up magazines and asking the factory workers to bring in their old ones so you can put the pictures up in your room. You know, I'd like to see that sometime, when you're not getting ready to go somewhere."

I relaxed, letting out a sigh and setting down the fork that my hand had tightened around without my notice. I supposed I was further away from polite society than I wanted to think. Although with my father's ignorance, my chosen path could remain set.

Soon after, there was a knock at the door, and my heart settled. My initial nervousness at Helen's statement, although she had meant nothing of the sort by it, had lingered. "That will be Asaph. I'll be back this evening."

"All right, call if you'll be later than eleven. Corbin says you have an essay to write up."

"I wrote it last night." My remote tutor assigned us essays regularly, and I had done mine on a painting I had taken a shine to. I couldn't possibly study it properly until I saw it in person, but it existed on a distant continent, far beyond my present means, so I had to settle for pictures.

"That was fast. But you're so smart it's no problem for you, is it?" she said as she followed me to the entryway and opened the closet.

"Not usually. It's very simple work." I threw open the door and was immediately disappointed.

Rather than Asaph, his chauffeur Igasho was waiting for me. But, like a gentleman himself, Igasho bowed to me. "Master Asaph is awaiting the arrival of the new student. He sent me to fetch you in his stead."

I nodded. "Thank you. I'll be out in a moment."

As I started to close the door, Helen caught it. "Aren't you going to invite him in?" she asked, handing me my coat. "It's cold out there."

Pausing, I considered this. He hadn't asked to enter, and he had the car. On the other hand, protocol demanded that he not make such a request on his own. A second later I reopened the door. "Would you like to come in?"

Helen smiled. I couldn't see it, but I am positive of it.



The drive was mostly in silence. Although it was nearly eight am, the world was still cast in darkness, and the drive from Seafoam took only half an hour. Sleep tugged at me, although I had been well-rested the night before, and I caught myself nodding off. The soft music from the radio wasn't helping matters any either, with delicate violins as subtle as cobwebs emanating from the speaker.

"Sir," I heard a voice saying; Igasho of course, "we've arrived."

"Of course, of course..." I muttered, shaking my head to clear my mind as the car rolled to a stop.

Inside I was greeted by an attending servant I hadn't met before, who took my coat and leaned down to untie my shoes. Instinctively I pulled back, but he told me that the rain meant I would have to change into slippers, which he lay before me. They were soft and formed and just my size, and I wondered briefly how Asaph knew such a thing until I remembered that he had purchased a great deal of my wardrobe.

"They're in the sitting room," the servant informed me. "Follow me."

It was the room where Asaph and I had played chess, to the right of the entryway, and it dawned on me as I was led there that I hadn't given much thought to the new student. It didn't matter, though, since she was waiting just past the doorway.

I knew I had met her before, as one remembers the form of a sculpture. Not wanting to be impolite, I bowed to her, and she held out her hand. "Have you figured out what to do with it?" she asked with a smile before giggling airily.

Oh, that was it! I took her hand and whispered "Miss...Veronica," hoping that she hadn't caught my slight pause. There were so many people to remember, but I was learning them well. I glanced up at Asaph, standing off to the side, and he nodded, so I brushed my lips against the back of her hand and smiled up at her.

"You're learning. But that's good, that's what I'm here for too." Another laugh and she gently pulled her hand back. "Now rise, Sir Jiri."

I had to smile at that. "I'm no sir."

"Your Highness then?"

"I'm no king either."

She leaned in towards me. "Then what are you?"

Asaph touched her shoulder. "The both of you are here to learn. And someday you may associate with kings and nobility as easily as some people associate with their grocers." Reaching over with his other arm, he pulled me in. "Now come, I was introducing Miss Veronica to Madame Remi."

He spoke of one of his first acquisitions, a piece by a painter known for fantasy sequences fashioned so realistically that she was rumored in her lifetime to have the ability to enter new worlds. Veronica seemed taken by the use of color to represent emotion; rather than relying on greys and blues for sadness, Madame Remi had tinted the defeated warriors in white. I had wondered initially if this was to represent their passage as spirits, and Asaph had said that they were very much alive. But then he had stopped and wondered himself if they weren't lost souls just the same.

What had captivated me, however, was the realism. The fighters were as real as seeing people through a television screen, and the forest looked as though someone had shrunk a real one. But the detail that had caught my eye was the bent old man off to the side. He was nearly obscured, standing in a shadow of deep purple as nearly blending in with the ruined walls of the ancient, overgrown building serving as the backdrop. He seemed forlorn, staring at the soldiers with an utterly lost expression.

Veronica had noticed him as well, holding her finger a respectful distance from the canvas as she indicated him. "Was he the one the warriors had fought?" She was correct; Asaph had told me that, but she had figured it out on her own, and so he brightened, but only briefly.

"What makes you say that?" he asked cautiously, not wanting to tip his hand too much.

"He's shaded in green, so I think he may be a forest guardian. But mostly it's the movement on his hands. They're a peculiar color, like she went over them in the faintest red, and they're blurred. Madame Remi didn't make mistakes like that, so it was intentional. He cast some sort of spell on them, and I think it made him lose his mind."

"Lose his mind?" I blurted out. It was a perplexing statement and I felt I had to question it.

Asaph scowled at me but it quickly passed. "Go on, Veronica."

She laughed, and that too dissipated. "His expression. He hadn't intended to hurt them so badly, and I don't think he was entirely there at the time."

"Hmm. Jirarudan, why don't you tell Miss Veronica your conclusion."

"Oh?" Why would he want me to do that? "All right. When I first saw this, I thought as though his powers were beyond his control because he had only just come by them. They're quite new, and so he doesn't know what to do with them."

Veronica's face lit up. "Yes, that makes sense! Look how he's standing among younger plants."

Oh, was he? I hadn't noticed that, and based my assumption on his expression alone.

But Asaph drew us both together, between us and kneeling. "Such brilliant minds you both possess! Such brilliant Collectors you'll be!"



We spent the next several hours similarly discussing and dissecting further works. She was introduced to Milotic, which seemed to have mellowed since I first saw it.

"Does it sing?" Veronica asked, petting it and remarking on the feel of the scales.

"It...hasn't in a few weeks," Asaph admitted with some reluctance. "The water is being heated, and it doesn't seem to like that, but it's a necessity in this climate."

"Well, just the same, I'm glad Ralts lives inside with me."

Asaph seemed quite impressed by her, and in hindsight I believe it was because she understood why keeping it in a pokéball wasn't an option.



Soon it was time for lunch, and I again sat at Asaph's right, Veronica at his left. The serving girl set the plates before us, uncovering them to reveal chicken with what I later learned to be lingonberries, and a bed of whipped potatoes. Veronica said she had had such a dish at the Castle, the poshest establishment in Viridian, and had asked if it could be prepared.

But something was wrong. A cloud of garlic choked nearly everything, and the taste of it in the potatoes was nearly unbearable.

"Pardon me," Asaph said simply, and excused himself from the room, into the kitchen. Veronica and I waited for a moment before either of us spoke, and begun at the same time, as voices behind the door were raised.

"So you're from Seafoam, right?" she asked, clipping my own comment, but it was no loss at all.

"I am. There's not much there if you're not a tourist or a surfer though."

She shook her head with a force that could nearly be described as violent. "Don't you know what lives there? It's amazing!"

"Um..." Such a question confounded me, but she continued without me.

"Articuno, you silly boy! It lives on one of the islands off the coast, but it's been spotted there a bunch of times."

Yet another familiar name...yes, it was one of the Legendary Birds Asaph had spoken of. But that meant it was connected to...I could scarcely believe it. "A...did you say Articuno? The legendary Bird of Ice?"

"Yep! The one and only! Well, it's the prettiest, anyway."

I lived near to a Legendary, moreover one with a link to my Lugia...the very consideration was overwhelming, and I had to take a drink of tea to settle myself. "Beautiful..." I whispered.

"Yes...beautiful. I have to start saying that instead of 'pretty', don't I? But really it's both. Although nothing compared to Cresselia, or Equuorn, or things like that."

I had heard of neither before then, and would later discover that the latter was a unicorn possessing healing powers, native to a region far around the world that I have yet to visit. Now I doubt I ever shall. But I get ahead of myself.

"Sorry. I love the Legendaries..." She grinned conspiratorially, but paused as a woman stomped out of the kitchen, tears running down her face and a high toque clenched in her fist. Asaph followed, silent but quite stern. Once the two had exited into the hallway, Veronica picked up where she left off. "I want one. I want all of them really, but I'd have nowhere to put them. But to have just one...if I had to pick, it'd have to be Cresselia. It's the crescent moon, and absolutely stunning. And they say it brings good dreams and fights the bad ones. Why, you'd never have to worry about nightmares again!" A shout from outside wavered her smile, but she pulled it back again just as swiftly. "Jiri, do you know much about the Legendaries of...oh, where are you from again? Before Seafoam."

"An unpleasant, unimportant place. Nothing worth discussing, and nothing interesting in it." The words tumbled out rapidly and I had to cover my abruptness. She was someone I could tell, at least in moderation. "Veronica...what do you know of Lugia?"

There was silence, and her eyes widened. For a moment I thought I had somehow offended her. There was a lot about Lugia I had yet to discover, and apparently still is. But then she laughed. "It's the moon too, you know, to Ho-Oh's sun. But that's about all they have in common, I think. It lives on the sea floor, but that's really strange for a bird. Wouldn't it need hollow bones to fly? Unless it doesn't have them..." A pause while she took a drink, longer than usual. "I'm sorry. I tend to run at the mouth when I get started on them. That's why I didn't bring them up when we talked before at the party."

"Perfectly all right." I had relaxed at her eagerness. "It's a psychic type, isn't it? Maybe that protects it. Am I to assume no one's ever studied one?"

"There's not a lot known about it. Or really a lot of Legendaries. Just from the old stories, and a lot of those aren't reliable."

"Yes." I smiled, thinking of one of the few things I'd been able to find. "I doubt it can truly cause a forty-day storm merely by flapping." The thought of those majestic wings was enough to cause distraction, though, but I hardly had time for that.

"Personally, I think," she leaned in before continuing, "most of those are deliberate to keep people away. If the Legendaries had such terrible powers, we'd all be in trouble. I think the people who come up with this stuff are just, as they say, blowing smoke."

It made sense. There were many inanimate objects, jewels especially, rumored to be cursed. It would only stand to reason that people would imbue pokémon with such superstitions as well, particularly those ones that less enlightened people would see as holy.

Asaph approached then, so Veronica finished with a quick "Tell me if you see Articuno."

"I will," I smiled. The very idea was thrilling. Logically I knew that it was unlikely; I had spent the past seven months of my life there and never heard a word about the beast, but emotionally I was stricken with excitement.

"I'm sorry for my absence," Asaph said, resuming his seat. "What did you two talk about?"

"Oh nothing," Veronica giggled. "Just shooting the breeze."

"I'm glad you're getting along." He seemed to be back to his old self, smiling kindly at us. "Elma will be preparing a replacement; it should be ready soon. In the meantime we're going to have an impromptu lesson--how to fire an employee."

I saw Kuri again years later, working as a waitress. I doubt she ever worked for society again.



The rest of the day passed in a similar manner to the first part, with Veronica and I unable to continue our conversation. She asked me for my telephone number, but because I would have to speak downstairs, I declined. However, the Tonio event was but a few weeks away, just past the first of the year, and Asaph insisted that we both attend.

Looking for wings of ice yielded nothing, but I watched over the ocean every day just the same.

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

The year ended and the year began, and soon after it was time for the Tonio exhibit. The night before, my father took me to Asaph's place. The drive was horribly boring and terribly embarrassing, as he elected to do so in his pickup truck. Having to take the way there while hearing him blather on about how mature I was becoming was bad enough, but to venture down the long driveway in such a vehicle was nothing short of mortifying. Two servants had already come to the turnaround, and the second we came to a stop in front of them, I threw open the door and scrambled down, instructing them that my bag was in the bed.

At least then I had the cold as an excuse. I brought my hands to my mouth and exhaled over them, although I had thick gloves, as a means of covering as I darted to the door.

My father didn't try to follow me, simply called after me to have a good time, and even that sounded like an insult.



The night passed without incident. Asaph returned from Saffron, we dined late in the evening, and after a pleasant night's sleep in the guest room that was far more opulent than Asaph's personal room, we headed to Viridian to fetch Veronica.

We touched down in a field of snow, powdering out under us in a magnificent ring. A small colony of Nidoran scurried back into the tall grass at the edges, disturbed by the noise and sight of the craft, but they had ample time to have done so before our landing. Silly things.

Veronica awaited us nearby, the same red dress she had worn when we first met poking out from underneath a thick red peacoat. Her parents waited with her--she had described them to me at our previous meeting. Once embarked, I was met by her father, who thrust his hand out simply and insistently. But protocol demanded that I bow first, as he was a social better. Such a misleading term, but there was none other to use.

Impatient man. He grabbed my hand the moment I arose. "So you're Jirarudan." I had to be amused and a bit impressed by the fact that he pronounced it correctly. "Veronica told us so much about you. You're some sort of prodigy, she says." He patted me on the back as he said that and my brief respect faded. "And you're from Seafoam and your father makes ships...you wouldn't be Corbin's boy, would you?"

Would everyone I met ask me that? I nodded hesitantly, trying to make my disapproval at such a question apparent, but he was oblivious.

"I knew it! You've got his strong chin and broad shoulders. My business CEOs use his helicopters. Nothing but top of the line, you know." He thumped me on the back and laughed. "I wouldn't have thought he'd be interested in art. Always seemed so blue-collar to me."

"Franklin, leave the boy alone," Veronica's mother ordered as she fussed with her daughter's coat. "He's obviously not like his father if he's going to a gala like this." She smiled at me, face unnaturally tight. "We'd love to go, but both of us have conferences in the morning. Putting the finishing touches on the summer line by next week will take some long meetings." Turning back to Veronica, she kissed her forehead. "Tell me how it was. Oh, and I took that thing out of your luggage; you don't need that."

"All right, mother..." She returned the kiss, to the cheek, and turned towards me. A porter had taken the bag next to her, something she seemed surprised at when she reached down for it, for her eyes were slightly wide and her mouth was parted.

I held out my hand for her, bowing slightly to kiss her hand when she took it, but I was startled by her father's sudden laugh. "Tierney, I think someone's got designs on our little girl!" And there was the hand impacting with my back again.

Veronica winced for me, grabbing my hand as she turned red. "It's not like that!" she muttered. This man, I figured, had no sense of decorum. I was simply following the rules of society.

"Now now," her mother chided, "Veronica's far too young for that sort of thing. Besides, he looks like a gentleman."

I bowed to her as well. "Madame. I promise that your daughter will have a brilliant and enlightening trip." It sounded sufficient.

Tierney smiled again, but this time something lit up in her eyes. "Oh, how formal," she cooed. "How nice to meet such a distinguished young person. You'll learn a lot from each other, darling. And from Asaph, of course."

Asaph hadn't left the ship yet. But that was all right; he had to program the route to Goldenrod and ensure that we would have transportation from the airship dock to the museum, so he was quite busy.

After further parting words, Veronica and I boarded the ship. She waved as the door sealed shut before her, then scurried to the window to continue as we took off.




It had been a few hours and the sun was starting to descend ever so slightly. Asaph had more calls to make so Veronica and I were alone in the observation room, she watching the ground and I the sky.

It was so beautiful that day, and although I would come to see that glorious view, the heavens surrounding my shell of metal and glass, daily in the future, back then it was far more outstanding. We handily passed through towering cumulus clouds, the vapor trailing against the window like a fine veil.

For what I thought would be a moment, I glanced over at Veronica. She was staring down over the land with an intensity I'd never seen from her, so I moved to her window to see what she saw. But there was nothing there but the Indigo Plateau, the Pokémon League Village that would spring to life once a year now covered with a thin dusting of snow.

"There's nothing down there," I told her simply. "Why are you frowning?"

She pressed a hand to her mouth and shook her head. "You know, they consecrate the competition to Moltres. But where they get the flame is a closely guarded secret."

Another bird I'd heard of in conjunction with Lugia--the passionate flame. But it didn't matter. "Seems like a waste to me."

"...yeah," she whispered, correcting herself with "yes" as Asasph came back in.



Time seemed to pass us by as we spoke of whatever we pleased. Soon enough, the mountains surrounding Goldenrod came into view, and the outlying city soon after. Beyond that the ocean, only a faint ribbon of silver past the steel and green. Moving in to land, it was lost entirely.

As we disembarked and a porter for the airfield took our luggage, Asaph chuckled to himself. "The two of you...what a wonderful experience this is! I envy you, you know. To be young again, to be doing all this for the first time...You're not sullied by those things that hound everyone else, and you won't be."

"What do you mean?" Veronica asked as the chauffeur held the door of the sleek black sedan open. She had to wait for Asaph to take his seat, but instead he turned back to us.

"Most of the people there can't appreciate things like we can," he told us, adjusting his coat almost as an afterthought. "They come because they want to be seen, to have their pictures on the society page. But the two of you aren't like that." That hand suddenly thrust upwards towards the clouds in an oddly dramatic gesture. "You're better than them, you're above them, like stars in the night sky. And you'll outshine them all."

Veronica had laughed when he made the motion, but now she only smiled thoughtfully. "You really think so? I look forward to it. You hear that, Jiri? We're better than them."

"It's a nice feeling," I said, but bit back that his gesture was thoroughly undistinguished. Did this mean we were better than him as well? That was a very nice feeling indeed.




The car wound through the city, past countless houses and apartments inhabited by people who lived unaware of our purpose, of what higher things existed in the world, of what was possible. It was almost sad, but I kept it inside.

Veronica watched out the opposite window, head turned away and hands folded in her lap. Asaph, in the passenger seat, was silent and took deep breaths. He had been speaking of this event for some time and I knew how eagerly he anticipated it. That calm, not just over him but over all of us, was settling and wonderful, and for a moment I thought we could well be the only three people in the world. Or four, if the driver was considered.

Goldenrod's downtown was magnificent, rows of trees adorned in white lights, and the odd storefront still displaying their Christmas decorations. I hadn't dared speak of my holiday, spent with my father trying to force cheer and presents on me. I had gotten him a pair of cufflinks, simply as a gesture of goodwill, and he commented on how they were so ostentatious and he preferred things plain. He later claimed he had been attempting to be playful, but it was too little, too late. But when Helen came in from the factory and he announced he was treating the both of us to fried chicken, it was enough to send me scurrying to my room. Days like that are best unspoken to better people.

The sun was already almost gone from the sky as we turned down another street, and Asaph told us we weren't far from the museum. I smiled in anticipation and turned back towards Veronica, who still occupied herself with her view. "This should be exciting," I commented.

She started, shaken from her distraction by the sound of my voice. "It should!" she agreed as she returned the smile. "I'm looking forward to it."

"Wait no longer," Asaph said, hushed.

We looked out again to see the museum beside us, the car slowing to a halt in front of a stone double stairway leading to the giant building. As we fully stopped, I unbuckled my seat belt a moment earlier in my eagerness.

Finally we were out, the chauffeur heading off to fulfil his complete contract with Asaph and check us into the hotel. Most didn't have such services, Asaph said, so we had to know where to look.

Up the stairs we went, past the ancient-looking stone Arcanine flanking the stairwell, through the magnificent glass and steel doors to the lobby. The entry hall wasn't as magnificent as the one in Viridian, but still quite beautiful, with stone columns leading up from the marble floor to the intricately carved ceiling adorned on all sides with a row of white lights. Perhaps left over from the holiday, or perhaps to set the mood for the evening.

People in their finery were already milling around around the coat check. I recognized Lucrezia and the man I had spoken with in the factory not long ago; oh yes, her son. I would have to recall that. As I passed them, I heard her tell him not to talk about his job. At least that would free me up. They would be unlikely to mention my father then.

We turned our coats over to the attendees, and Veronica tucked the tickets in her purse. Finally, Asaph led us past the clusters who merely wished to be seen to the premiere hall.

We were right on time; the doors had just opened and we were among the first in. And I was grateful for that, as it afforded us an unhindered view of the exhibit as it had been arranged. Paintings in a timeline of Tonio's work, encapsulating his earliest known sketches to his final masterworks, wound through the hall and past several dividers. A waiter passed with a tray of wineglasses, and the scent in the air told me that some fine Loirian cuisine was waiting for similar treatment.

I started to examine a painting, but Asaph caught my attention. "Jirarudan, there is someone I want you to meet."

He was standing with a woman who appeared to be in her mid-forties, black hair short-cropped and matching the overall look of her dress. She was shaking Veronica's hand, and turned to me for the same. "Hello," she said in what I could already tell was a very thick accent, "I am Amalie, the artist Tonio's descendant. You care for his work?"

Oh yes, she was the guest of honour. I nodded, although I said "To be honest, I haven't seen many of his works before. Although I've loved what I've seen and I look forward to seeing more tonight."

She smiled and continued to Veronica and me. "It's wonderful seeing young people engaged in art. Everyone wants to be trainers nowadays that it's all they care about. They forget there's more to life."

"Madamoiselle Amalie, did you have a good flight?" Asaph asked, although I was certain that Veronica was about to say something.

"Oh, I'm used to it." When she turned to face him, I saw a red mark on her neck that I hadn't noticed before.

He chuckled. "We're all glad you could attend. He was such a powerful painter, the way he brought the world to life."

"Now Asaph, don't monopolize her," an older woman with a museum identification said with a laugh.

Bowing to the both of them, he excused himself and sheparded us into a corner. "Truth be told, she knows very little of Tonio's work. She doesn't care for the art world herself."

"Is she a trainer then?" Veronica asked, a bit faster than usual.

"Only casually. She made her independent name as a race car driver."

Veronica giggled, dropping her gaze to the floor. "Are we starting soon?"

"Of course." People had started to flood the room, and he took a wineglass from the waiter passing by again.

As we approached the line of servers that had emerged holding silver trays aloft, Asaph spoke to us in a hushed tone. "Now, remember your manners," he reminded us. "No wine; you're too young. Keep to no more than two of each of the hors d’oeurves. It will be light, but you'll be able to order from the hotel when we go there."

Veronica giggled ever so slightly. "We've covered this. There's no need to worry."

He let out a sigh. "This is the first major social event for the both of you. A man frets for his children, or his students in this case." His smile seemed forced. So did his calm. "But I'm sure you'll do fine."

"We will. You forget that she and I met at a society event," I reminded him, leaving out the part that we had been in a room away from the main party.

"Yes, yes...As I said, I know you will both do fine. Any decent artist is nervous before a grand unveiling." He patted us on the backs, a far gentler gesture than Franklin had put us through earlier. "Now go. I'll be watching the both of you through the night, but don't let that hinder you. You must learn independence as well, my little treasures."

Weren't we surrounded by treasures?

She smiled up at him, face devoid of those worry lines that marked his. "We'll find you if there's any problem."

"That's a good girl," he sighed, but perked up almost immediately. "Oh, there's Monsieur Vien. I've been meaning to speak with him. I'll see the both of you later."

After some parting words, he headed off, and so did Veronica, although I was never far from them.



I started my way around the room, making small talk with several of the attendees as I went. I spoke of things I knew and learned of many more, but nothing of Lugia.

The paintings were attractive, but not to my taste. He had come to Kanto to learn the styles here and to teach the technique of his native Loire region, and before then, his works were mostly pastoral scenes; shepherds, farmers, and so on. But before I could delve much into his later works, after his shift in interest, something unusual stood out as I turned a corner.

Owing to Tonio's fascination with the natural history of Kanto, a string of paintings covered the excavation of several fossils from a quarry along the Vermillion coast. That, of course, was the spot where Omanyte was first discovered, and so the museum board had brought in quite a rare specimen to oversee the exhibit. An Omastar watched happily from the corner, a safe distance from the paintings depicting the cautious removal of its ancestors from the cliffs where they had laid interred for millennia.

The parallel between the ancient creature and where it was contained was incredible. Such a clever device! Glass or metal confinement would have only distracted from the openness of the exhibit, so the Omastar was kept in place via a simple force field. My father had books on these sorts of things; although they were impractical for construction, they were quite useful for testing mechanisms.

The note said that the field had been specially calibrated for Omastar's strength and level, and I wondered about the mechanics behind that. What a beautiful thing! The machine's simple elegance far eclipsed anything I had seen in the exhibit.

But I would have to research it later. Now was for the art, and it was indeed a lovely exhibit. Simply not as lovely as the shimmering field that contained the pokémon.

The Omastar waved its appendages at all passersby, some of whom waved back. Veronica did, but Asaph didn't, so neither did I.



After circling the room a few times, I returned to something I had been distracted from earlier. The painting had caught my eye more than the others, a landscape of a north Kanto mining town that would later become Pewter City. This was the turning point in Tonio's career, the small building to the right of center being the beginnings of the Natural History museum. When Tonio traveled through the region, objects of interest unearthed in the mine had only recently been displayed, as a means of attracting minor income to what had otherwise been a place of outside interest only as an overnight stop for travelers heading to Viridian or Cerulean.

Building up the area was a slow process, but the museum endured. And Tonio found his interest there, in the fossils and shells on halfhearted shelves in a dusty building. I couldn't help but consider my finding the Lugia figure in the basement exhibit of a distant museum; even though the parallel ended there, it was amusing just the same.

I examined it for a while, taking in the details of things. While it was the same style as his later works, the difference in subject matter was still jarring. He would do very few works of everyday life after this, instead taken with the world that the regions had been long before human life. And that had no interest for me, for without humans, you have no art. Not that landscapes were any better. So dull and boring. I could see those rolling hills only a few miles inland, with the precision and clarity of my own eyes rather than filtered through someone else.

Art was supposed to be something new. Something special, something sacred, something irregular. To only show what we see every day is a waste.

Someone laughed next to me, and for a moment I thought I had said the last thought out loud. But it was only Amalie, with Lucrezia's son behind her. They were muttering to each other, and likely deluding themselves that they were being subtle. But how obvious it was with his hands on her arms and her neck tilted in the very image of Makoto's famed painting of the Camaranian queen and her knight! Asaph had spoken of the innate sensuality of their posturing, and to see it before me was strange.

As I turned to examine another work, I could hear their words, in her native tongue, and he was quite bad at it. I shook my head. At the age of nine I understood the language better than he could at what had to be over three times that.

She laughed again and said something that I couldn't make out, but unlike him, not for lack of understanding. I was simply too far away by then, and left them to their own devices.




By the time I met up with Veronica again, I was quite exhausted and so was she. She subtly threw out a toothpick that had held a bit of Loirian sausage and cheese as she approached me, and indeed the cuisine had been delectable. But the evening had run together for me, as the art failed to affect me. The most impressive thing I had seen in the time was the containment shield, and overall I was disappointed. I had looked forward to the event, and felt let down.

Asaph, on the other hand, was upbeat and cheerful. "What a fascinating exhibit!" he enthused as he approached, hands clasped in a pose reminiscent of multitudes of portraits of saints in ecstasy. "How incredible! And I was pleased with the both of you. Veronica, Jirarudan; people spoke highly of you both."

"Great..." Veronica muttered, her head drooping. Fortunately we had left the hall by that point and it went unnoticed. She rooted around in her purse for the tickets and it took her far longer than it ought to have to find them.

"The hotel is a block away," Asaph said. "I'll take you there, but then I'll be off to a party. You two can manage on your own, right?"

I nodded, feeling a bit tired myself.

"As I said, you can order room service if you want," he reminded us. "Keep it under 7500p, though."

"Jiri can get something. I'll just go to bed," Veronica sighed.

It was after ten and very cold, wind tearing between the buildings and forcing the three of us to tighten up our coats in unconscious unison. Asaph seemed quite warm once settled, in his new hunter coat from his sojourn to Lopatin. Perhaps I could obtain one, or a better one.

By the time we reached the hotel, we were shivering, Veronica and I hunched over with our hands to our mouths, breathing through our gloves. I could hardly pay attention to my surroundings, although I saw Amalie and Lucrezia's son getting in the elevator a few moments before we arrived there.

On the way up, we warmed up considerably. The hotel was rather old, but had been kept up-to-date with things like heating and power, which was always a wonderful thing. Veronica had perked up a bit from the cold, and was humming something to herself.

"Now," Asaph double-checked as he unlocked the door to our room, "I'll be back in a few hours. You two call the front if you need anything. And you can stay up until I get back, but then I will need to retire for the night."

"We'll be fine. You have fun." Why was I sounding like my father? It was just late, that was all. I'd be far less pithy in the morning.

"Goodnight!" Veronica called after him. He waved as he closed the door, and I swear there was a skip in his step.

I was going to ask Veronica if she wanted anything, but she had already turned away to the washroom. Our bags were in the bedroom, I knew, and I wondered if it was all right for me to retrieve anything from it while she was in the adjoining room. In the end, I stayed in the sitting room to listen to the radio until a few minutes after I heard the shower turn off. Some jazz set from a concert decades earlier in a city I had never been to in a club that no longer existed played, and I realized that I wasn't quite listening to it. I was focused on watching the sky instead, the brilliant lights of the city below giving a new aspect to the cover of dark.

That was the view I would never quite be able to see from my ship later on, that magnificent illumination in the thick of human congregation. But there were so many other things to see that it didn't matter.

Veronica said my name and it broke me from that reverie. Eventually we decided against a late dinner and that we would simply go to bed. After my shower and change, I laid down next to her. "When we get older, this will be quite improper, you realise," I remarked with a chuckle. "But we're still quite young so no one will think it strange."

"...Yeah..." was all she said. She stared at the ceiling for a moment before she turned the light on her side off. "Get that one."

It was unusual for her to be so blunt, but I acquiesced. Hmm, I was more tired than I had thought. I started to drift off, but Veronica was shifting on the mattress. After a few minutes, I'd had enough. "Veronica, please go to sleep."

"I can't." It was simple and direct.

"You're exhausted. You can sleep now."

"I can't...! I can't sleep with the light off! Aah, when's he getting back? Turn the lights on, I'm not tired, I'm not tired! Turn them on!"

"I don't have to do what you tell me." She was being obstinate, her rudeness sudden and unexpected. "If you had any of that wine, Asaph's going to have your head, you know."

Then she grabbed me, and I could feel she was shaking. It was inappropriately hot in there, so I knew it couldn't have been that. "Please...Turn the lights on...I can't stand this..."

Fine, I decided as I pulled myself up to a sitting position, which fortunately she dislodged for. Perhaps Asaph had brought a sleeping mask I could use. I would, with any luck, be asleep when he returned. A click of the lamp later and the room filled with light.

Veronica had turned to the centre of the bed, sitting on her knees. And she was crying. "...thank you..." she said, quiver of her body distorting her voice slightly.

Had that been it? She was upset? "Veronica, I'm sorry...I'm just tired..."

She waved her hand, the corners of her mouth tensing up. "I get so scared at night..."

"Being in a new place can be uncomfortable," I told her, biting back the idea that I was positive my father had said the same thing to me at some point. "But there's nothing to be afraid of. It's only a hotel room."

"I'm not afraid of the dark."

"Oh?" I patted her hand, as had been discussed in one of my comportment lessons, but it seemed far too little a reaction. "Then what--"

She cut me off before I could ask it, but it was unnecessary anyway. "I get so lonely! Being in the dark terrifies me because I can't *see* anyone! I can't see Ralts...Ralts isn't even *here*..." As she was talking, she grabbed my arm. "That thing my mother said she took out of my luggage, it was my night light. I'm twelve years old and I still sleep with a goddamn nightlight..."

"Oh..." There wasn't much else in it. I worked my arm out of her hold, and drew her close so she leaned against me. "Veronica, you can tell me anything..." I knew I couldn't do anything for her, but it was something suitable to say.

"You're a real friend..." she sighed. "I need someone I can go to...God, that sounds like I'm using you or something..." A sniffle before she said anything else. "I'm sorry. I've just been up for way too long. I had to get up at the crack of dawn to get all made over."

"You did? I woke up about an hour before we left."

"No, see, you look nice when you're all dressed up. I look like some fancy doll," she scowled as she ran a hand through her hair. "You look natural. You just brushed your hair, put your suit on, and dashed some cologne on, right? My parents kept on me all morning--Jiri, they hired a makeup artist!"

I furrowed my brow. "I couldn't tell you were even wearing makeup."

"Exactly! Two hours of skin treatment because I have a few pimples." I almost chastized her for her blunt language but decided against it. "Every person there was twelve once...well, except for you, of course..." She suddenly quieted, staring at the mattress, and I noticed tears welling in her eyes.

"Well, you looked lovely today," I assured her as I handed her a tissue from the bedside table. "Miss Amalie has her own visual flaws and she's spoken of as a beauty. She certainly didn't have any trouble making company," I added with what I hoped was a disarming chuckle as I rose from the bed to open the windowshade. She wouldn't be alone, not with a whole city out there.

"Yeah...but that's different. Birthmarks are considered 'exotic.'" She made brief quote marks with her fingers and I had the impression she did it unaware. "Acne's far too common. It's 'normal' so they can't stand it." After wiping her eyes, she laid back again, setting her head on the overstuffed pillow, the action punctuated by a long sigh. "It wouldn't be so bad if they let me get a word in edgewise. They keep treating me like an infant."

I turned off the light and laid down as well, the new falling snow out the window illuminated by the city around us, the streetlights twenty floors below. "My father's the same way," I muttered, despite Asaph's instructions. "Always trying to force me to live by his rules. He thought I wanted to be a trainer! Can you imagine something so inane?"

She shifted position to face the window.

I continued. "Anyway, I'm just glad that I liked these lessons. He didn't give me a choice." I certainly knew I was leaving out key details, but I didn't particularly care.

"Was your mother the same way?"

That took me off guard. Although it was most ungentlemanly of me, I rather enjoyed the tack I had taken. Perhaps an odd thought, but expressing my distaste for him was almost comforting. By that same gesture, the thought of speaking of my mother made me ill at ease. The thought of describing someone so dear to me and wonderful; why would that be such an uncomfortable thought when complaining about someone I hated came with such ease? "What a strange dichotomy," I mused aloud. "I despise my father but I don't mind talking about him as we were. I love my mother but I can't find the words for her."

A chuckle from Veronica's side. "With all your words, you can't find any for her?"

"Hmm?" I yawned.

She yawned as well before saying "most nine-year-olds don't say things like 'dichotomy'."

Smiling, I reached over to pat her shoulder, but she had already fallen asleep. I remained awake for a bit after, considering the day, but was asleep before Asaph returned.