bluesidra
Mood
- Pronouns
- she/her
- Partners
-
Ok, so major spoiler warning for 26 years ago, but I really really desperately need your feedback on this chapter.
If you came here for the catnip but actually want to read my fic without the third biggest spoiler I can come up with, feel free to leave a review on the published story.
Rated: G | Content Warning: Grief and Loss
As you will soon see, this chapter covers a very sensitive subject. I want to make sure that I address it with all the respect and nuance that it deserves. Now, working through the loss of loved ones is a long process and I cover a lot of time here. That's why I diverged from my usual one-scene-per-chapter approach and made it more or less a collection of drabbles. It was a conscious decision, because condensing all the issues down into a single scene wouldn't do it justice. But that also means that I have to establish things over and over again and I'm worried I killed the pacing.
So, you see, I'm super insecure about this thing. If you decide to give me feedback, you have my eternal gratitude. But could you, other than what you'd usually do for feedback, also consider these questions:
To give Hana some life on her own, I've written two additional scenes. I am, however, inclined to kick them for the sake of pacing. They just drag the thing ad infintum. They serve no other purpose than to actually give Hana something to do. There's nothing of note in them that I can't establish somewhere else. You don't need to read them, but if you do, could you tell me if they are worth keeping or kicking? (They are also way less edited. Tremble in horror at my natural writing style!)
8:48am marked the moment the floor under Leon vanished.
The grandfather clock had just announced the start of the new minute with its mechanical “clank”. In the homey kitchen right across the room, the tea-water was boiling in its kettle, while somewhere in the house a baby was getting restless. Nothing had changed at all. The world had kept on spinning.
And yet I saw Leon break the moment he stopped asking questions.
At the knee-high table across from us sat Kurt. He was an old man, his white hair thinning around the temples and lines furrowing his face. Even though his face might have betrayed his age, his body did not. His hands were perfectly still, trained over years to use the precision tools needed for hand-crafting pokeballs.
He was a master in his profession. His verdict was final and devastating.
Deep down, both Leon and I knew that this would come. I hadn’t allowed myself to hope, and he needed to hope to get by. But that merciful state had now ended.
After Leon had fallen quiet, I kept on asking. It didn’t matter what questions. What mattered was that they kept the silence at bay.
Kurt answered every one of my nonsense questions the best he could. The baby was now crying. The kettle was steaming. There were a lot of sounds. But it was still silent in a way. So silent that I heard Leon pick up every single one of his pokeballs. Petrified, the stones made a cold, dull sound when they hit against each other.
The pillow he was sitting on gave a rustling sound when he got up. His steps creaked on the straw mat. But it was still silent.
When the sliding door fell shut in its frame and the curtains over it sunk back into place, the sounds returned. A young mother now put the kettle off the stove, her crying baby on one arm. She scolded her father for leaving all the work for her. The busy sounds of plates and cups being moved around in the kitchen.
“You should go,” said Kurt.
I flinched, even though I knew he was right. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath before I got up.
“I’m sorry,” he said, as I was almost through the door. His words were nearly enough to make me stop, enjoy the sound inside the house for one more moment. I turned around, bowed, thanked him, and said our goodbyes.
The sound of wood on wood as I pulled the door shut behind me still lingered in my ears when I stepped outside into the snow.
Next to me, only an arm-length away, stood Leon, unmoving.
I reached out, gently touching his arm. As if struck with electricity, Leon flinched and jumped half a step back. His eyes betrayed him. He was completely lost. Lost in time and in space; he was in limbo.
October 20th 1993, 4:00pm.
The morning’s light snowfall had steadily grown and by now, a thin but solid layer of snow covered the ground. I pulled my jacket tighter around me as I left the pharmacy and made my way down to the town’s square again. Lucy’s light summer jacket couldn’t do much against the cold. I switched the package from one hand to the other, alternating which one got to enjoy the relative warmth of my pocket.
My breath became visible in the cold, forming a cloud in front of me that blurred the view over the village.
Calling Azalea a town was already generous. And even though I was certain that there wasn’t another timeshift involved, I could have sworn we had gone back by another 80 years.
The place comprised little more than a handful of historic farmyards crammed between two mountain sides. The shingle-covered wooden houses were dark and gloomy, almost invisible against the ever-present Ilex forest that surrounded the town. Stacks of firewood acted as second walls around every building, and if there was no more wall available, it was stacked into curious round piles. Traditional tools and vehicles were crammed in sheds. Tools that I couldn’t even imagine the use for. The 50-year-old blue tractor was the only thing I could positively identify.
And still – not everything here was stuck in the past. Modern life had made its way even to this remote place. A dubious wiring system connected the major houses with a little shack further into the forest, where a lonely generator produced the little electricity the town had. On some roofs, antennae were fastened to provide contact to the outside world. The Pokemon Center had a telly and a modern payphone. The only shop in town even carried Furret’s favourite flavour of cherry drops and my apricorn ice-tea. I had spent way more time than necessary studying the contents of the icebox and four different daily newspapers.
Browsing that shop, I knew we hadn’t gone back in time again. But even there I couldn’t shake this nostalgic feeling that I wasn’t supposed to have. People were living here. This was not some sort of museum. Were it the dark, wooden, handmade shelves? Or how they used old newspaper pages to protect those shelves against scratches? Whatever it was, being stuck in time was the last thing I needed. I sincerely wished for today to pass as fast as possible.
I switched my hands again, leaving the right one to freeze now.
I’ve left Leon to his own devices. Mostly because I didn’t know what to say or to do. But when he hadn’t shown up for dinner, I grew restless. Still, the small walk from the Pokemon Center to the collier’s house, where we were actually staying, had been too terrifying. Well, rather what awaited me at the end. Instead, I did what I should have done yesterday and called Morty.
After the call, I wasn’t any wiser. Grief was difficult. Everybody grieved differently. Patience was the key. I had known all of that already. But hearing Morty say these things felt comforting; way more than back at the family counselling. And I promised myself to take them to heart.
Leon needed somebody to be there for him right now. There were people out there that were better suited, sure, but none of them were here at the moment. And I wanted to be there for him. Not even because I felt obligated. He was Hop’s brother, but-
No matter why, I had no clue about how I should even go about doing this. But I had Morty’s reassurance that he would be with the both of us, only a phone-call away. And that was enough to give me at least a glimmer of confidence.
I clutched the package tighter, causing its content to rattle.
The collier’s home was at the side of the other mountain that made up this valley. When I reached the doorstep, my breath formed thick clouds. I took a moment to recuperate again before I entered.
“Hello?” No answer when I opened the door. I left my boots at the step and slipped into some house-shoes. The building was still dead quiet when I put my jacket next to the open fire in the middle of the room. Seemed like Mr Kon was at work. He did the same thing I did – avoiding the house that had become consumed by sorrow.
“Leon?” Still no answer. I climbed up the ladder that led to a small attic tucked under one gable of the high, bare roof. A sliding door separated our makeshift sleeping quarters from the rest of the house. I placed my hand on it and counted to ten.
“Leon.” My voice was drowned out under the harsh sound of the wooden door moving in its rails, yet there was still no answer. The body under the blanket was unmoving.
Leon laid on his mattress, his back turned to me. From his strained, low, regular breaths, I could tell he was asleep. I pulled myself into the small room and crawled over to him. It was hard to discern underneath the mess that his hair was, but his eyes were still reddened from crying himself to sleep.
Grateful that he had at least found some escape, I reached over him and placed the small box so he would see it as soon as he woke up. When I pulled my hand back, it struck a tiny piece of paper. Leon was holding a trainer card. I gently nudged it out of his grasp.
The card was his 2018 off-season promo shot. It showed Galar’s Champion with his trademark confidence posing together with Charizard. The picture was light-hearted, Charizard perched on Leon’s back and shoulders while he casually stemmed his weight. Both seemed to have genuine fun with the shooting.
Comparing this picture of the Champion to the heap under the blanket next to me hurt on a physical level. I watched the myriad of purple strands spilling over the mattress when I realised something. He was no longer only Hop’s brother. He was my friend.
I put the card next to the box, so Leon could find it when he woke up but wouldn’t crumple it in his sleep. Then I crawled over to the backpack, fishing out the essentials I’d need for one night. We were supposed to share this room, since the Pokemon Center’s guest rooms were undergoing renovation work. But there was no way I’d stay here. The Center had a nice enough looking couch in the lobby after all.
Leon groaned faintly in his sleep, pressing his head into the pillow and tucking his legs closer to his chest.
I remembered how hard everything felt after Mum and I had moved to Postwick. When the work of packing and unpacking was done, there was simply nothing that I could have kept myself busy with any longer. And so I spent all my days in bed. Back then, getting up was about the hardest thing to do. And reading a package insert would have been completely out of the realm of possibilities.
I found the ink marker we had most likely stolen from one of the hostels between Cherrygrove and Violet deep within the backpack. For a moment I had to gather myself, recalling the Galarian script before I sat the pen down. In big, black letters I wrote “2 pills/dose, max. 6 pills/day” over the ink-picture of haver and valerian before setting the package down again on its place.
Leon grew restless, and I didn’t want to jeopardise his sleep any further. I grabbed my stuff, slid the door back shut as silently as possible and climbed back down the ladder.
My jacket hadn’t completely dried during the short time I was in the house, but whatever warmth it held was immediately wiped away by the snow outside. It had again worsened.
Grieving takes time. Morty’s voice sounded in my head while the snow melting on my shoulders drenched my jacket and shirt. I prayed to god it wouldn’t take too long.
October 23rd 1993, 10:00am.
The cheerful chatter of Station 5’s morning show filled the silence in the lobby. I looked between the two bowls of rice on the table, one full and one empty.
“Come on, at least give it a try.” My words were followed by a groan and a weak shrug.
Across the table, Leon had put his head on his arms and looked like he was about to fall asleep again. On his wrist, the stripe of paler skin showed where his Dynamax Band used to be. But he had managed to get out of bed, take a shower and show up for breakfast, albeit late, and I was proud of him. Only if I told him that, he’d feel even more miserable.
Sara, this town’s Nurse Joy, came over and I gave her an apologetic look before she could get too close. I knew breakfast had already ended half an hour ago, and she wanted to get the dishes done, but I had to buy us a little more time.
I nudged the full bowl closer to Leon, creating an unpleasant scraping sound when the ceramic slid across the wooden table. He flinched, but finally got up. It looked as though he had to stem a mountain just to get on his elbows.
Next to me, Furret perked up. She had wrapped her long body around my waist and now looked over the edge of the table, worried. I patted her head. Leon’s reaction to being touched had got so bad over the last days that even Furret now preferred my side of the table.
I listened to the radio while I watched him eat at a snail’s pace. The hosts finished up their show and said their goodbyes, followed by another ad for the Goldenrod shopping mall. It was time for the news, anyway.
“Due to early, unexpected and heavy snowfall around Azalea Town, the blizzard warning is still in effect for the southern Johto region. The government firmly discourages any travel to and from the area. Contact the park rangers of Ilex and Union-Seaside National Park for further information.”
The news went on. Something about the highly anticipated premiere of a new movie. It wasn’t important.
I sighed. Leon put down his spoon. He stared blankly at the table, and I couldn’t blame him.
The movie was about a girl moving from Saffron to a small town in Johto. Something about making friends and getting accustomed to life in the countryside.
A gust of wind rattled the wooden windows and blew chills down my spine. Behind me, Hoppip sighed. It was a welcome distraction. The little dandelion sat in her flowerpot on the windowsill, like she had done yesterday and the day before. Seemed she was going through some kind of funk, too.
Outside, the breeze picked up a flock of Jumpluffs. The group took to the skies in a coordinated effort and got caught by the wind. Surprised and happy squeals accompanied them as they were carried away by the gusts. I didn’t know they were a migratory species, but I couldn’t blame grass type pokemon for leaving the area.
I tugged one of Hoppip’s limp leaves to cheer her up a little. I, too, envied her cousins. They could escape. We were stuck here.
The harsh sound of ceramic on wood made me turn back around. Leon was now actively fighting gravity to stay upright. My experience told me he would most likely be in bed for the rest of the day. If he even conjured up the strength to get there.
“Hey,” I said, and though he barely reacted, I knew he had heard me. “You don’t have to get anything done today, but please promise me you’ll call Morty, ok?”
A long pause. “Do I need to talk?”
“No.”
Another long pause, then Leon nodded and put his head back down on his crossed arms. I picked up the half-eaten breakfast and carried it over to the kitchen, finally starting my day.
November 3rd 1993, 9:00pm.
The device swallowed the cassette, and soon after, reels started spinning. The telly sprung into action with a faint, high-pitched noise. Rotom would have been amazed.
I studied Kon’s every move while he loaded the movie. He regarded me with a grandfatherly smile that looked out of place on his youthful face before he got up and went over to the couch. I was a great ambassador for Galar right now, staring at this contemporary piece of media equipment like I had lived under a rock my entire life. When the first title-card rolled across the screen, I too got up and sprinted back to the sofa.
Icy winds battered the collier’s house, but we had more than enough blankets to keep ourselves warm. It was even kind of cosy, with the open fire cracking behind us and Furret neatly curled around my feet.
I peeked over to the other side of the couch where Leon was battling with a quilt, trying to figure out how to unfold the thing.
Today was a good day. Leon had spent the entire morning and afternoon with Kon’s family and their Farfetch’d in Ilex Forest, cutting down trees and transporting the wood back to town. Things moved forward. Not even the quilt stood a chance in the long run.
Now he was sitting at his end of the couch, knees tucked to his chest, focused on the movie.
It was an older movie from the same studio that had released the one about the girl moving from Saffron to Johto. Funnily enough, this one was also about a woman from Saffron, holidaying in Sinnoh and working as a farmhand during the summer. It was a slow, but gorgeous movie, and even though it took place during the summer, almost nothing happened. Well, a bit more than in Azalea during the winter, I had to admit. Kon at least seemed to share my sentiment and soon fell asleep.
I picked up my knitting project and got comfortable.
One and a half hours later and I was gripped. There had been a slow romance building, but now the holidays ended and it looked like the woman would return to Saffron as if nothing happened.
Something tugged on my hand. Oh, right, I had completely forgotten about my knitting project. It laid in my lap, still with barely any progress to show for. I wriggled my pinkie in response to the yarn being pulled. There was no way I could take my eyes off the screen now.
The tugging continued after a short break, this time with more force, until I finally relented. I followed the yarn to the source of the distraction. Leon had the ball of wool in his lap and had thoroughly unravelled it from the other end.
When he realised he had got the attention he wanted, he stopped tugging and looked up. Even though it would take me half an eternity to get the yarn rolled up again, I couldn’t be angry with him. A smile came across my lips and ever so faintly, Leon returned it.
November 11th 1993, 2:00pm.
“Remember, the yellow carbon-copies, too.” A tired grumble was the only response I got. But at least he turned back and filed the page in question away.
I couldn’t blame him. Sorting through fifty years’ worth of accounting records was one of the least exciting things to do. I roughly knew what we were doing here and why, but it was way too pointless to even remember. All that mattered was that it was my task for today. And for tomorrow. And the day after that too.
Our funds were running low, and since we weren’t on the move any longer, we also couldn’t rely on charity- I shook my head. How on earth did I end up having to calculate the benevolence and pity of strangers against my lifestyle costs?
I let my eyes wander up and down the shelves in this narrow archive. They were filled to the brim and beyond with folders, reaching back to the 1930s. I understood the need to get rid of most of those files and only keep the necessary ones. If only said files weren’t evenly dispersed among all those folders. But I’d rather sort through the archives of the entire secret service than having to beg for a room.
My wandering gaze got stuck on Leon. He had lost weight. It was hard to tell under the borrowed clothes, but it was mainly muscle mass. Which was worrying, seeing how he spent every day with Kon in Ilex forest, harvesting. That was, if he managed to get out of bed. Today was not one of those days.
I turned my attention back to the folder on my lap. Yellow pages for the monthly statements and then the blue-lined ones for the annual balance were to be filed away. All the other receipts and schedules stayed, waiting to be recycled as kindle.
Next to me again the hasty sound of pages being turned backwards, followed by the binder snapping open and close.
Going into 1956, I repeated the by now routine process of sorting and putting aside. When I filed the March statement away, I noticed Leon again skipping one of the yellow pages. I sighed internally and made a mental note to go over his folders again after dark.
Then the sound of flipping pages stopped.
With a terrifying force, the binder crashed against the wall, sending pages flying all over the cramped space. Leon buried his face in his hands and let out an agonised, almost animalistic groan.
Within one heartbeat I was up and made my way back to the hatch, sliding my hand along the wall and never turning my back towards him. He still tried in vain to muffle his screams of frustration when I reached the door and slipped out of the room.
Relieved to have at least a few wooden planks between me and that outburst of anger, I pressed my hand over my mouth and nose, consciously slowing down my breathing.
He’s not mad at you, I tried telling myself. But, if I’d be honest, I knew I couldn’t tell any longer.
This was not the first time something had caught his ire. We even had had some fun afterwards, searching all the pieces of that jigsaw puzzle that he wiped clean off the table when he couldn’t find a single piece. Or stacking that woodpile back up after he had knocked it over for being an objective mess. But so far, he always had the decency to warn me beforehand.
Now I pressed my eyes shut while I listened to his groans slowly turning into quiet sobs.
Maybe it was my fault. Just like with the jigsaw puzzle, forcing Leon to sit down and organise something was a horrible idea. We had only solved the puzzle when he could finally dart around the room to pick up the scattered pieces while I put them together. But try as I might, I couldn’t think of anything better for him to do here. And having him around me was still preferable over leaving him to his own devices the entire day.
My grip around the door-handle had become so tight, my knuckles began to hurt. It was a trick from one of these parenting shows on telly; I realised. When their attachment figure was out of the room, all the kids needed to do was feel resistance on the handle to know that they were still there. A chuckle escaped me when I thought of those toddlers and their temper tantrums. But here, no soothing counter-pressure from the other side of the door would come to ease my anxiety.
The slight laughter had got stuck in my throat, and before I knew it, I was coughing almost uncontrollably. Darn it, I almost had it.
I held my breath again until I was sure that the other side of the door had fallen quiet, then I made my way to the kitchen.
“Hanako, child, what’s the matter?” Sara sounded alarmed, but I waved her off and reached for a glass of water.
A few gulps and even more coughs later, and I had my lungs back under control. The exhaustion had forced tears into my eyes and I wiped them away while I withdrew myself from Sara’s worried pats on the back. No, I couldn’t allow myself a panic attack. Not here. Not now.
A few minutes later, I pressed my forehead against the archive’s door and counted to ten. There were no sounds on the other side.
The door creaked when I pushed it open. Light from outside flooded into the room, but it soon got lost in the gloomy darkness. What remained of the binder was still a mess on the floor. In the dim light of the old lightbulb, it took me a while to even spot Leon.
“I’m sorry.” His voice was weak. It was coming from the back corner, where he had curled himself up into a ball.
“It’s ok,” I said in a soft tone and stepped over the papers. I couldn’t comprehend how Leon could look so… small. At least there were no visible injuries, which was a step up from the incident with the woodpile.
“Hey. Should we take a walk?” He shook his head. I knelt down next to him. I couldn’t see his eyes, but I could tell from his still shaking breath that he was still crying.
A slight snivel. “Hannah, you got to promise me something.”
“Hm?”
Leon still didn’t move out of his curl. From underneath those purple locks came a voice strained from desperation and exhaustion. “Promise me you’ll never leave me.”
Oh no.
In my stomach, a weight had suddenly materialised and pulled me down while I tried to process these words. When the load became too much to bear, I found myself sitting down. That way, I didn’t need to worry about staying upright.
Before I could hold them back, my thoughts had formed into a whisper. “Don’t do this to me.”
“Please please please please.”
I had begged for the exact same thing before. Had done everything in my might to make it happen. And yet, at the end of the day, a simple promise hadn’t been enough to make them stay.
“No,” I finally got out. “I can’t. Nobody can.”
A single short cry shook Leon’s shoulders, and he pressed his head harder against his forearms.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. His cries had now ebbed out into silent sobs again.
This time I had no excuse. I forced myself to reach out, even if it was the hardest thing I had ever done. When I touched his hand, Leon flinched, but for the first time in almost a month, he didn’t pull back. Instead, he reciprocated my touch.
Maybe I should give him this empty promise. If only to calm him down. To make the pain stop. But this was just running out the clock.
Being left behind was the ugliest feeling in the world. It would pull the floor out from under you so slowly, you didn’t even realise you were walking on air until the vast forlornness underneath you became visible. It was either this or knowing how truly alone you were.
But seeing Leon right now, I wasn’t sure which one was preferable any more.
His grasp was so firm under the waves of shivers, it almost hurt. And that was good. If he wouldn’t be squeezing my hand, it would shake uncontrollably.
I’m so sorry.
November 19th 1993, 9:00pm.
Things had got a lot easier – and cheaper – since I’d acquired that flat-rate card for the payphone. Even Sara had realised that I needed this bit of contact with the outside world to stay sane. And so I transcribed two years worth of medical records into neat reports, ready to be turned in to the state insurance agency. Turned out, touch typing was not a common skill in 1993 and I truly rocked the typewriter.
“You must be really tired. Are you even listening?”
I sprung back into reality. “Oh lord. Of course! Sorry.” I realised I didn’t remember a single thing he said in the past – what? – minute?
“And I thought you were actually interested in the property damage caused by a Litwick with a paper lantern. You know, judging by that vacant expression and all.” Morty’s voice was seeping with sarcasm.
I missed the Litwicks? Oh, no! I loved his tales about the newly adopted gang of sentient candles and the trouble they caused.
My head sunk down out of view of the camera. “I’m sorry.”
On the other side, Morty stayed quiet. He was a godsend. And he had held true to his promise to be only one phone-call away at any given time. Without him, I would have most likely gone up all available walls in this miniscule village by now. But my batteries were at an all-time low and still needed some time to recharge.
“How was your week?” His voice was at least enough to make me look up. He was unreadable as ever, but if I had to attribute any emotion to that half-sided smile, it would be compassion. The receiver rustled as he took a calming breath.
“How was the Children’s Festival?” Morty tried again. Darn! I have been daydreaming again.
I rubbed the ridge of my nose, trying to get at least some blood flowing to my brain. “It was… something. I ended up going with Kurt’s family. Which was nice, considering they had to handle a three-year-old and a baby. So, we went to the shrine – the jinja? – for the blessing.”
The mention of the correct term brought a smile to Morty’s face, and in return to mine. He had made it his mission to make me learn at least one new word per week. It was an acceptable price, seeing how I leeched off his knowledge on culture and tradition whenever something unfamiliar came up.
“I think Kurt had to explain every step there twice. Right hand, left hand, mouth, hand, ladle? Why is this so complicated?” Though I was used to choreographies, I did not expect them in a simple small town tradition.
“Almost. And that’s what you call complicated? Oh, Hana, do I have some surprises in store for you.” Morty’s laugh was both adorable and frightening. “Did you meet Sage Towa?”
“Only from afar. She didn’t seem too inviting. Why do you ask?”
“Just because.” Morty began to rock back and forth with his chair. “Yeah, Towa can be quite difficult. If I’m correct, she still lives in her hut in the woods. But didn’t you stay for dinner with Kurt? He usually invites her as well.”
I shook my head. Well, they did invite me. But after he stood me up earlier that day, Leon decided to crawl out of bed around dinner-time. Sadly, Kurt’s invitation did not extend to him. Which was fair – handling the emotional states of small children was already taxing enough if they were your own kids. And so the two of us spent a slow afternoon sorting through more folders in the archive.
“No, we-” I was cut short by the Center’s front door being flung open, letting in an icy breeze.
“Hey, Hannah! Wanna go-” Leon blew in with the same energy as the snowstorm outside, but stopped dead in his tracks once he saw me.
“Hey.” It took me a moment to process that sudden rush of vigour. “I’m on the phone. Do you want to join in?”
Leon’s entire posture straightened up, and within one second, the smile was gone. “No, thanks.” With that, he turned around and left as quickly as he came in.
For a moment I stared at the now closed door until a sigh from the other end of the line made me turn back around. Morty rubbed his temples with his free hand.
“What did I do wrong this time?” I groaned into the silence, burying my face in my hand.
“We are making progress.” Morty emphasised every single word, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed the reassurance as much as I did.
I looked up again. Turned out that nothing got me quite as awake as Leon acting up. “No really, can you tell me what’s wrong now?”
Morty gave me a long look through the shaky transmission and sighed. “He feels left out.”
“Left out? What about this is leaving him out?” I couldn’t hold my frustration down any longer.
Leon had this habit of demanding one-hundred per cent attention at any given time. This was nothing new. But this habit had become excruciating, especially now that he flip-flopped between this and completely withdrawing, and with no pattern or warning signs.
“See, sometimes it’s almost as if things are looking up,” I said after I had calmed down again. “Even for a few days at a time. And then…” I pointed over my shoulder to the door.
“Grieving is not a linear process.” Morty again studied me with empathy and the patience of a saint.
Whenever the two were talking, Leon seemed to make a few steps – not necessarily forward, but it was at least something. When he was with me, it was usually only mood-swings.
“Can’t you just come over?”
“Blizzard alert, Hana.” Of course. But I would work overtime until the dead of night so he could stay.
As an indicator to change the topic, I sighed and forced a weak smile. “How was your week? You seem to be a bit out of it, too.”
Morty had started rocking his chair again, and I noticed he looked paler than usual. Now he let himself fall forward and folded the cord into patterns while he got his thoughts in order. I watched him and this rare display of Morty being lost for words.
Finally, a long exhale. “I need your opinion. Earlier that week I’ve got a visit from Kanto’s League President. He’s currently busy setting up a Gym circuit over here too. Right now he’s looking for possible Gym locations and/or leaders. And for Ecruteak it’s between the Dance Theatre and me.”
I blinked a few times. Dad had told me that Johto got their Gym Circuit comparatively late – like everything else it seemed – but I didn’t know they were that late. Whatever the case, this was great news. Only that Morty didn’t make them sound the like.
“What do you think about that?” I asked him when he didn’t know how else to continue.
Morty’s focus snapped away from the display frame and onto me. “I asked for your opinion, not for mine.” I only shot him a long glare in response.
Sighing, he leaned back. “See, I’ve got both hands full already. I don’t know if I can run an entire Gym on the side on top of everything. However, the same applies for the girls over at the theatre.” By now he was balancing his chair on the hind legs and had almost reached the end of the phone cord. “But it’s also an excellent chance for Ecruteak and I don’t want to be the one passing that up.”
“You’re really bad at saying ‘No’, are you?” Morty acknowledged my statement with a hum.
“Imagine how many visitors that would bring to the Towers. So many people have lost their connections to the old legends and traditions over the years, but Ecruteak forces you to engage with the past. Even if a bit of knowledge and appreciation would stick…” By now he had leaned so far back that he needed to balance himself with one leg under the tabletop. “Also, League funding. But if I can’t deliver, because I’m stretching myself thin on both fronts, nobody will win in the end. Least of all the thing I want to bring across.”
A static rustle in the line pulled him out of his thoughts. Morty reached behind him and petted an invisible force, then slowly floated back into a normal position. I watched as the by now familiar Gengar materialised on his trainer’s lap and demanded his share of attention. After a while, Morty sighed again.
“You did the Gym Challenge. What did it do for you?” he asked while still ruffling Gengar’s outer gas-layers.
I suppressed a chuckle. “Brought me here.” That stupid chuckle got its revenge quickly and in the form of a coughing fit. After a few sips of water, I had my voice back under control. Gengar was now invisible again, and Morty looked at me quizzically, forcing me to become serious.
“It did get me to leave my shell, for sure. And all those things about the Darkest Day… We learn about them in school, yes, but I only ever got interested when we got to… interact with it. Not that I wanted to see a live Eternatus, but still… Those relics and statues feel different when you stand in front of them.” Morty hummed, and I looked over to him. “Wait, you didn’t go on a Gym Challenge?”
“When would I have crammed that in?” He gave me a dismissive, half-sided smile. “Anyway, thanks. I guess I’ll give it a few more nights of sleep.” He combed through his bleached blonde hair, and I could see his black roots coming through.
“Oh, by the way; Azalea is also on the list of possible Gym locations. So you’ll probably get at least one visitor soon. If any one guy ignores weather alerts, it’s Lance.”
“Lance?” That name stirred something in my memory.
“Yeah. Do you know him?” Now Morty’s interest was piqued again.
I shrugged. “Not really. I believe he and Leon met in last year’s international qualifiers.” Or was it one of those exhibition matches?
“Dragon-Clan Lance? Complete with cape and everything?”
“Yeah, I think.” I vaguely remembered watching the match with Hop. There were capes involved. And dragons. “Don’t look at me like this. I know next to nothing about the international League scene. And even so, I don’t think telling you would be a good idea.”
Morty was close to dying from curiosity, but bit his lip in a valiant effort to not ask further.
The sudden realisation of how dangerous we still were hit me out of nowhere. I hadn’t even thought about 2019 recently. Being in this tiny village, my world has shrunken down to its size, too. But Leon had an almost photographic memory for the League’s rankings, both national and international. Knowing if Morty would pick up this position or not was as easy as going over next door and asking Leon what his rank was.
But now the 2019 thoughts hit all at once. It was November now. Time to get to know the new plays we would practise for next year’s summer performances. If I were still doing ballet. But that was long over. Now I had my life in Postwick.
I wondered what Hop was doing. Probably re-watching Leon’s old matches or playing with Dubwool in the muddy November weather.
“Hana.” This would differ from before, though. Leon had never been in his life much, but Hop could always watch him on screen. This ever-present shadow of a big brother. Now, I could only assume that both of us were missing. And knowing Hop, that would devastate him. I wondered if he thought of me from time to time, too.
But what if Eternatus stayed behind? What if there was no muddy November weather any more, only darkness?
“Hana, stay with me.” A soft cooing sound made me look up, and I realised that there were tears in the corners of my eyes. “What’s up?”
I let my head again sink down onto my arms. The sleeves of my pullover muffled my voice. “Morty, I want to go home.”
There was still a chance that there wasn’t complete darkness at home. Here, on the other hand, it had already dug its claws in deep.
The voice on the other side was empathic again, gone were all the teasing or questions from before. “Things will get better again, I can promise you that. Grieving is a long and difficult process, and even though it seems like there’s no light on the horizon, things will eventually look up again.”
My head still in my arms, I let the sound of his voice fade out in the walled off privacy of the phone booth. “But this is not about Leon!”
“I know. And that’s why I’m telling you this. Leon has lost his pokemon and his only constant factor in his life. That’s pretty straightforward. But you lost your friend along the way, maybe even more. And that is just as valid as Leon’s mourning.”
I looked up. Whenever we were talking, it had been light-hearted. He had never mentioned anything like this around me.
Seeing the look of confusion on my face, Morty smiled. “Take it from one with a lot of experience in the field.”
Relieved to feel the tears had gone away, I slowly shook my head. “But… You said Leon will get better. Just like the weather alert. So all I have to do is to keep going for a little longer, right?” Please, please say yes.
Morty sighed. “He will. But he’ll never be the same again.” I buried my face in my free hand while pressing the receiver as close to my ear as possible. “And neither will you. But it will get better. The sooner you’ll accept this, the easier it is.”
I exhaled one deep, shaky breath. This couldn’t be true. This mustn’t be true.
“Now as for actually getting you home.” The calm empathy in Morty’s voice, albeit not completely gone, was now mixed in with a similarly steady spirit. “I could set something up for you, but- Hana, I’ll have to ask you something.”
I hummed a weak permission into the palm of my hand.
“Have you thought about what you want to do once the winter is over?”
I didn’t even muster up the strength to look at him, even though right now, the reassurance I’d find in those grey eyes would mean the world to me. Because that question, benign as it might sound, hurt more than anything he’d said in the last ten minutes.
My mind was empty. There was – nothing. Only the finish line once the national parks were passable again and we could escape this prison. I had no clue what to do after that. I didn’t even know where to escape to. Or what the next steps would be. I wanted to go home. But I had absolutely no plan.
I felt something wet run over my fingers while I slowly shook my head.
“That’s ok.” Silence. Only the static over the wire and me pressing back those tears. “You’ve got bigger things to worry about at the moment. Don’t accuse yourself of anything.”
That was so much easier said than done. But the last month had been a remarkable exercise in holding back tears. I wound the conversation back in my head and finally looked up again.
“What do you mean you could set something up?” There was only a slight snivel on my breath.
“Never mind.” His gentle expression was impervious to any further inquiries, and to be honest, I lacked the strength to.
Whatever it was, Morty was probably right, in that I did have bigger things to worry about right now. Surviving was one of them. Though even that seemed fleeting in the face of drifting around, aimless and lost.
“Hey.” Once again, Morty’s voice pulled me out of it. “Do you want me to talk you through this?”
I shook my head with all the conviction I could muster up. Even what he did right now had opened more gates than I could close. For Morty, dealing with our issues might be easy. But I needed my mental fortitude. In under ten hours, I would have to face Leon again, and I needed to function.
Maybe we had both been in denial. Leon about his pokemon’s death and I about being able to handle the situation.
If you came here for the catnip but actually want to read my fic without the third biggest spoiler I can come up with, feel free to leave a review on the published story.
Rated: G | Content Warning: Grief and Loss
As you will soon see, this chapter covers a very sensitive subject. I want to make sure that I address it with all the respect and nuance that it deserves. Now, working through the loss of loved ones is a long process and I cover a lot of time here. That's why I diverged from my usual one-scene-per-chapter approach and made it more or less a collection of drabbles. It was a conscious decision, because condensing all the issues down into a single scene wouldn't do it justice. But that also means that I have to establish things over and over again and I'm worried I killed the pacing.
So, you see, I'm super insecure about this thing. If you decide to give me feedback, you have my eternal gratitude. But could you, other than what you'd usually do for feedback, also consider these questions:
- What were the most impactful scenes when reading?
- How would you describe the characters on screen? Why do you think they act the way they do? What are some implications of their actions? Is there a development over the course of the chapter?
- Is the depiction fair? One character gets a lot of screentime but very little to say for himself. If you feel like he should get a chance to speak for himself, how would you like to see that? (Mind you, there's not going to be a 2k discussion about feelings and stuff. They are by far not ready for that yet)
- Is the pacing ok or does it drag? If so, where?
- Are the emotions getting across? (I know I can be somewhat superficial when it comes to describing emotions. Would you like to see more or can you get the picture from the descriptions of movements/reactions/tone...)
- Is this chapter too Leon-centric? I have a nagging fear that this chapter makes Hana look like she lives solely for and through Leon. What do you feel about that?
To give Hana some life on her own, I've written two additional scenes. I am, however, inclined to kick them for the sake of pacing. They just drag the thing ad infintum. They serve no other purpose than to actually give Hana something to do. There's nothing of note in them that I can't establish somewhere else. You don't need to read them, but if you do, could you tell me if they are worth keeping or kicking? (They are also way less edited. Tremble in horror at my natural writing style!)
Ok, quick catch-up for people who know nothing about my fic:
Leon and Hana have been thrown back in time during the events of the Darkest Day. That in and off itself wouldn't be that big of an issue. But: Leon's entire team has been turned to solid stone in their pokeballs. It doesn't really look good for them and deep within, both of them know it. Cue 61k words of both of them going through different coping mechanisms, most of them either in the realm of Compartmentalization or Intellectualization, but most commonly Denial.
Over the course of a month they made their way from Cherrygrove to Azalea, where Leon wanted to meet Kurt - an expert on the field of pokeball technology. During the last few weeks, both of them thoroughly got on each other's nerves, to a point where there are moments where they are straight out too tired to keep up with each other's bullshit.
They picked up Morty quite early on and for the week or so that he was with them, he acted as a mediating force. They parted ways in Violet City but stayed in contact.
Leon and Hana have been thrown back in time during the events of the Darkest Day. That in and off itself wouldn't be that big of an issue. But: Leon's entire team has been turned to solid stone in their pokeballs. It doesn't really look good for them and deep within, both of them know it. Cue 61k words of both of them going through different coping mechanisms, most of them either in the realm of Compartmentalization or Intellectualization, but most commonly Denial.
Over the course of a month they made their way from Cherrygrove to Azalea, where Leon wanted to meet Kurt - an expert on the field of pokeball technology. During the last few weeks, both of them thoroughly got on each other's nerves, to a point where there are moments where they are straight out too tired to keep up with each other's bullshit.
They picked up Morty quite early on and for the week or so that he was with them, he acted as a mediating force. They parted ways in Violet City but stayed in contact.
Chapter 21: The First Weeks Of Winter
Chapter 21: The First Weeks Of Winter
* * * Scene 1 (500 words) * * *
October 20th 1993, 8:48am.8:48am marked the moment the floor under Leon vanished.
The grandfather clock had just announced the start of the new minute with its mechanical “clank”. In the homey kitchen right across the room, the tea-water was boiling in its kettle, while somewhere in the house a baby was getting restless. Nothing had changed at all. The world had kept on spinning.
And yet I saw Leon break the moment he stopped asking questions.
At the knee-high table across from us sat Kurt. He was an old man, his white hair thinning around the temples and lines furrowing his face. Even though his face might have betrayed his age, his body did not. His hands were perfectly still, trained over years to use the precision tools needed for hand-crafting pokeballs.
He was a master in his profession. His verdict was final and devastating.
Deep down, both Leon and I knew that this would come. I hadn’t allowed myself to hope, and he needed to hope to get by. But that merciful state had now ended.
After Leon had fallen quiet, I kept on asking. It didn’t matter what questions. What mattered was that they kept the silence at bay.
Kurt answered every one of my nonsense questions the best he could. The baby was now crying. The kettle was steaming. There were a lot of sounds. But it was still silent in a way. So silent that I heard Leon pick up every single one of his pokeballs. Petrified, the stones made a cold, dull sound when they hit against each other.
The pillow he was sitting on gave a rustling sound when he got up. His steps creaked on the straw mat. But it was still silent.
When the sliding door fell shut in its frame and the curtains over it sunk back into place, the sounds returned. A young mother now put the kettle off the stove, her crying baby on one arm. She scolded her father for leaving all the work for her. The busy sounds of plates and cups being moved around in the kitchen.
“You should go,” said Kurt.
I flinched, even though I knew he was right. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath before I got up.
“I’m sorry,” he said, as I was almost through the door. His words were nearly enough to make me stop, enjoy the sound inside the house for one more moment. I turned around, bowed, thanked him, and said our goodbyes.
The sound of wood on wood as I pulled the door shut behind me still lingered in my ears when I stepped outside into the snow.
Next to me, only an arm-length away, stood Leon, unmoving.
I reached out, gently touching his arm. As if struck with electricity, Leon flinched and jumped half a step back. His eyes betrayed him. He was completely lost. Lost in time and in space; he was in limbo.
* * * Scene 2 (1.4k words) * * *
October 20th 1993, 4:00pm.
The morning’s light snowfall had steadily grown and by now, a thin but solid layer of snow covered the ground. I pulled my jacket tighter around me as I left the pharmacy and made my way down to the town’s square again. Lucy’s light summer jacket couldn’t do much against the cold. I switched the package from one hand to the other, alternating which one got to enjoy the relative warmth of my pocket.
My breath became visible in the cold, forming a cloud in front of me that blurred the view over the village.
Calling Azalea a town was already generous. And even though I was certain that there wasn’t another timeshift involved, I could have sworn we had gone back by another 80 years.
The place comprised little more than a handful of historic farmyards crammed between two mountain sides. The shingle-covered wooden houses were dark and gloomy, almost invisible against the ever-present Ilex forest that surrounded the town. Stacks of firewood acted as second walls around every building, and if there was no more wall available, it was stacked into curious round piles. Traditional tools and vehicles were crammed in sheds. Tools that I couldn’t even imagine the use for. The 50-year-old blue tractor was the only thing I could positively identify.
And still – not everything here was stuck in the past. Modern life had made its way even to this remote place. A dubious wiring system connected the major houses with a little shack further into the forest, where a lonely generator produced the little electricity the town had. On some roofs, antennae were fastened to provide contact to the outside world. The Pokemon Center had a telly and a modern payphone. The only shop in town even carried Furret’s favourite flavour of cherry drops and my apricorn ice-tea. I had spent way more time than necessary studying the contents of the icebox and four different daily newspapers.
Browsing that shop, I knew we hadn’t gone back in time again. But even there I couldn’t shake this nostalgic feeling that I wasn’t supposed to have. People were living here. This was not some sort of museum. Were it the dark, wooden, handmade shelves? Or how they used old newspaper pages to protect those shelves against scratches? Whatever it was, being stuck in time was the last thing I needed. I sincerely wished for today to pass as fast as possible.
I switched my hands again, leaving the right one to freeze now.
I’ve left Leon to his own devices. Mostly because I didn’t know what to say or to do. But when he hadn’t shown up for dinner, I grew restless. Still, the small walk from the Pokemon Center to the collier’s house, where we were actually staying, had been too terrifying. Well, rather what awaited me at the end. Instead, I did what I should have done yesterday and called Morty.
After the call, I wasn’t any wiser. Grief was difficult. Everybody grieved differently. Patience was the key. I had known all of that already. But hearing Morty say these things felt comforting; way more than back at the family counselling. And I promised myself to take them to heart.
Leon needed somebody to be there for him right now. There were people out there that were better suited, sure, but none of them were here at the moment. And I wanted to be there for him. Not even because I felt obligated. He was Hop’s brother, but-
No matter why, I had no clue about how I should even go about doing this. But I had Morty’s reassurance that he would be with the both of us, only a phone-call away. And that was enough to give me at least a glimmer of confidence.
I clutched the package tighter, causing its content to rattle.
The collier’s home was at the side of the other mountain that made up this valley. When I reached the doorstep, my breath formed thick clouds. I took a moment to recuperate again before I entered.
“Hello?” No answer when I opened the door. I left my boots at the step and slipped into some house-shoes. The building was still dead quiet when I put my jacket next to the open fire in the middle of the room. Seemed like Mr Kon was at work. He did the same thing I did – avoiding the house that had become consumed by sorrow.
“Leon?” Still no answer. I climbed up the ladder that led to a small attic tucked under one gable of the high, bare roof. A sliding door separated our makeshift sleeping quarters from the rest of the house. I placed my hand on it and counted to ten.
“Leon.” My voice was drowned out under the harsh sound of the wooden door moving in its rails, yet there was still no answer. The body under the blanket was unmoving.
Leon laid on his mattress, his back turned to me. From his strained, low, regular breaths, I could tell he was asleep. I pulled myself into the small room and crawled over to him. It was hard to discern underneath the mess that his hair was, but his eyes were still reddened from crying himself to sleep.
Grateful that he had at least found some escape, I reached over him and placed the small box so he would see it as soon as he woke up. When I pulled my hand back, it struck a tiny piece of paper. Leon was holding a trainer card. I gently nudged it out of his grasp.
The card was his 2018 off-season promo shot. It showed Galar’s Champion with his trademark confidence posing together with Charizard. The picture was light-hearted, Charizard perched on Leon’s back and shoulders while he casually stemmed his weight. Both seemed to have genuine fun with the shooting.
Comparing this picture of the Champion to the heap under the blanket next to me hurt on a physical level. I watched the myriad of purple strands spilling over the mattress when I realised something. He was no longer only Hop’s brother. He was my friend.
I put the card next to the box, so Leon could find it when he woke up but wouldn’t crumple it in his sleep. Then I crawled over to the backpack, fishing out the essentials I’d need for one night. We were supposed to share this room, since the Pokemon Center’s guest rooms were undergoing renovation work. But there was no way I’d stay here. The Center had a nice enough looking couch in the lobby after all.
Leon groaned faintly in his sleep, pressing his head into the pillow and tucking his legs closer to his chest.
I remembered how hard everything felt after Mum and I had moved to Postwick. When the work of packing and unpacking was done, there was simply nothing that I could have kept myself busy with any longer. And so I spent all my days in bed. Back then, getting up was about the hardest thing to do. And reading a package insert would have been completely out of the realm of possibilities.
I found the ink marker we had most likely stolen from one of the hostels between Cherrygrove and Violet deep within the backpack. For a moment I had to gather myself, recalling the Galarian script before I sat the pen down. In big, black letters I wrote “2 pills/dose, max. 6 pills/day” over the ink-picture of haver and valerian before setting the package down again on its place.
Leon grew restless, and I didn’t want to jeopardise his sleep any further. I grabbed my stuff, slid the door back shut as silently as possible and climbed back down the ladder.
My jacket hadn’t completely dried during the short time I was in the house, but whatever warmth it held was immediately wiped away by the snow outside. It had again worsened.
Grieving takes time. Morty’s voice sounded in my head while the snow melting on my shoulders drenched my jacket and shirt. I prayed to god it wouldn’t take too long.
* * * Scene 3 (700 words) * * *
October 23rd 1993, 10:00am.
The cheerful chatter of Station 5’s morning show filled the silence in the lobby. I looked between the two bowls of rice on the table, one full and one empty.
“Come on, at least give it a try.” My words were followed by a groan and a weak shrug.
Across the table, Leon had put his head on his arms and looked like he was about to fall asleep again. On his wrist, the stripe of paler skin showed where his Dynamax Band used to be. But he had managed to get out of bed, take a shower and show up for breakfast, albeit late, and I was proud of him. Only if I told him that, he’d feel even more miserable.
Sara, this town’s Nurse Joy, came over and I gave her an apologetic look before she could get too close. I knew breakfast had already ended half an hour ago, and she wanted to get the dishes done, but I had to buy us a little more time.
I nudged the full bowl closer to Leon, creating an unpleasant scraping sound when the ceramic slid across the wooden table. He flinched, but finally got up. It looked as though he had to stem a mountain just to get on his elbows.
Next to me, Furret perked up. She had wrapped her long body around my waist and now looked over the edge of the table, worried. I patted her head. Leon’s reaction to being touched had got so bad over the last days that even Furret now preferred my side of the table.
I listened to the radio while I watched him eat at a snail’s pace. The hosts finished up their show and said their goodbyes, followed by another ad for the Goldenrod shopping mall. It was time for the news, anyway.
“Due to early, unexpected and heavy snowfall around Azalea Town, the blizzard warning is still in effect for the southern Johto region. The government firmly discourages any travel to and from the area. Contact the park rangers of Ilex and Union-Seaside National Park for further information.”
The news went on. Something about the highly anticipated premiere of a new movie. It wasn’t important.
I sighed. Leon put down his spoon. He stared blankly at the table, and I couldn’t blame him.
The movie was about a girl moving from Saffron to a small town in Johto. Something about making friends and getting accustomed to life in the countryside.
A gust of wind rattled the wooden windows and blew chills down my spine. Behind me, Hoppip sighed. It was a welcome distraction. The little dandelion sat in her flowerpot on the windowsill, like she had done yesterday and the day before. Seemed she was going through some kind of funk, too.
Outside, the breeze picked up a flock of Jumpluffs. The group took to the skies in a coordinated effort and got caught by the wind. Surprised and happy squeals accompanied them as they were carried away by the gusts. I didn’t know they were a migratory species, but I couldn’t blame grass type pokemon for leaving the area.
I tugged one of Hoppip’s limp leaves to cheer her up a little. I, too, envied her cousins. They could escape. We were stuck here.
The harsh sound of ceramic on wood made me turn back around. Leon was now actively fighting gravity to stay upright. My experience told me he would most likely be in bed for the rest of the day. If he even conjured up the strength to get there.
“Hey,” I said, and though he barely reacted, I knew he had heard me. “You don’t have to get anything done today, but please promise me you’ll call Morty, ok?”
A long pause. “Do I need to talk?”
“No.”
Another long pause, then Leon nodded and put his head back down on his crossed arms. I picked up the half-eaten breakfast and carried it over to the kitchen, finally starting my day.
* * * Scene 4 (500 words) * * *
November 3rd 1993, 9:00pm.
The device swallowed the cassette, and soon after, reels started spinning. The telly sprung into action with a faint, high-pitched noise. Rotom would have been amazed.
I studied Kon’s every move while he loaded the movie. He regarded me with a grandfatherly smile that looked out of place on his youthful face before he got up and went over to the couch. I was a great ambassador for Galar right now, staring at this contemporary piece of media equipment like I had lived under a rock my entire life. When the first title-card rolled across the screen, I too got up and sprinted back to the sofa.
Icy winds battered the collier’s house, but we had more than enough blankets to keep ourselves warm. It was even kind of cosy, with the open fire cracking behind us and Furret neatly curled around my feet.
I peeked over to the other side of the couch where Leon was battling with a quilt, trying to figure out how to unfold the thing.
Today was a good day. Leon had spent the entire morning and afternoon with Kon’s family and their Farfetch’d in Ilex Forest, cutting down trees and transporting the wood back to town. Things moved forward. Not even the quilt stood a chance in the long run.
Now he was sitting at his end of the couch, knees tucked to his chest, focused on the movie.
It was an older movie from the same studio that had released the one about the girl moving from Saffron to Johto. Funnily enough, this one was also about a woman from Saffron, holidaying in Sinnoh and working as a farmhand during the summer. It was a slow, but gorgeous movie, and even though it took place during the summer, almost nothing happened. Well, a bit more than in Azalea during the winter, I had to admit. Kon at least seemed to share my sentiment and soon fell asleep.
I picked up my knitting project and got comfortable.
One and a half hours later and I was gripped. There had been a slow romance building, but now the holidays ended and it looked like the woman would return to Saffron as if nothing happened.
Something tugged on my hand. Oh, right, I had completely forgotten about my knitting project. It laid in my lap, still with barely any progress to show for. I wriggled my pinkie in response to the yarn being pulled. There was no way I could take my eyes off the screen now.
The tugging continued after a short break, this time with more force, until I finally relented. I followed the yarn to the source of the distraction. Leon had the ball of wool in his lap and had thoroughly unravelled it from the other end.
When he realised he had got the attention he wanted, he stopped tugging and looked up. Even though it would take me half an eternity to get the yarn rolled up again, I couldn’t be angry with him. A smile came across my lips and ever so faintly, Leon returned it.
* * * Scene 5 (1.4k words) * * *
November 11th 1993, 2:00pm.
“Remember, the yellow carbon-copies, too.” A tired grumble was the only response I got. But at least he turned back and filed the page in question away.
I couldn’t blame him. Sorting through fifty years’ worth of accounting records was one of the least exciting things to do. I roughly knew what we were doing here and why, but it was way too pointless to even remember. All that mattered was that it was my task for today. And for tomorrow. And the day after that too.
Our funds were running low, and since we weren’t on the move any longer, we also couldn’t rely on charity- I shook my head. How on earth did I end up having to calculate the benevolence and pity of strangers against my lifestyle costs?
I let my eyes wander up and down the shelves in this narrow archive. They were filled to the brim and beyond with folders, reaching back to the 1930s. I understood the need to get rid of most of those files and only keep the necessary ones. If only said files weren’t evenly dispersed among all those folders. But I’d rather sort through the archives of the entire secret service than having to beg for a room.
My wandering gaze got stuck on Leon. He had lost weight. It was hard to tell under the borrowed clothes, but it was mainly muscle mass. Which was worrying, seeing how he spent every day with Kon in Ilex forest, harvesting. That was, if he managed to get out of bed. Today was not one of those days.
I turned my attention back to the folder on my lap. Yellow pages for the monthly statements and then the blue-lined ones for the annual balance were to be filed away. All the other receipts and schedules stayed, waiting to be recycled as kindle.
Next to me again the hasty sound of pages being turned backwards, followed by the binder snapping open and close.
Going into 1956, I repeated the by now routine process of sorting and putting aside. When I filed the March statement away, I noticed Leon again skipping one of the yellow pages. I sighed internally and made a mental note to go over his folders again after dark.
Then the sound of flipping pages stopped.
With a terrifying force, the binder crashed against the wall, sending pages flying all over the cramped space. Leon buried his face in his hands and let out an agonised, almost animalistic groan.
Within one heartbeat I was up and made my way back to the hatch, sliding my hand along the wall and never turning my back towards him. He still tried in vain to muffle his screams of frustration when I reached the door and slipped out of the room.
Relieved to have at least a few wooden planks between me and that outburst of anger, I pressed my hand over my mouth and nose, consciously slowing down my breathing.
He’s not mad at you, I tried telling myself. But, if I’d be honest, I knew I couldn’t tell any longer.
This was not the first time something had caught his ire. We even had had some fun afterwards, searching all the pieces of that jigsaw puzzle that he wiped clean off the table when he couldn’t find a single piece. Or stacking that woodpile back up after he had knocked it over for being an objective mess. But so far, he always had the decency to warn me beforehand.
Now I pressed my eyes shut while I listened to his groans slowly turning into quiet sobs.
Maybe it was my fault. Just like with the jigsaw puzzle, forcing Leon to sit down and organise something was a horrible idea. We had only solved the puzzle when he could finally dart around the room to pick up the scattered pieces while I put them together. But try as I might, I couldn’t think of anything better for him to do here. And having him around me was still preferable over leaving him to his own devices the entire day.
My grip around the door-handle had become so tight, my knuckles began to hurt. It was a trick from one of these parenting shows on telly; I realised. When their attachment figure was out of the room, all the kids needed to do was feel resistance on the handle to know that they were still there. A chuckle escaped me when I thought of those toddlers and their temper tantrums. But here, no soothing counter-pressure from the other side of the door would come to ease my anxiety.
The slight laughter had got stuck in my throat, and before I knew it, I was coughing almost uncontrollably. Darn it, I almost had it.
I held my breath again until I was sure that the other side of the door had fallen quiet, then I made my way to the kitchen.
“Hanako, child, what’s the matter?” Sara sounded alarmed, but I waved her off and reached for a glass of water.
A few gulps and even more coughs later, and I had my lungs back under control. The exhaustion had forced tears into my eyes and I wiped them away while I withdrew myself from Sara’s worried pats on the back. No, I couldn’t allow myself a panic attack. Not here. Not now.
A few minutes later, I pressed my forehead against the archive’s door and counted to ten. There were no sounds on the other side.
The door creaked when I pushed it open. Light from outside flooded into the room, but it soon got lost in the gloomy darkness. What remained of the binder was still a mess on the floor. In the dim light of the old lightbulb, it took me a while to even spot Leon.
“I’m sorry.” His voice was weak. It was coming from the back corner, where he had curled himself up into a ball.
“It’s ok,” I said in a soft tone and stepped over the papers. I couldn’t comprehend how Leon could look so… small. At least there were no visible injuries, which was a step up from the incident with the woodpile.
“Hey. Should we take a walk?” He shook his head. I knelt down next to him. I couldn’t see his eyes, but I could tell from his still shaking breath that he was still crying.
A slight snivel. “Hannah, you got to promise me something.”
“Hm?”
Leon still didn’t move out of his curl. From underneath those purple locks came a voice strained from desperation and exhaustion. “Promise me you’ll never leave me.”
Oh no.
In my stomach, a weight had suddenly materialised and pulled me down while I tried to process these words. When the load became too much to bear, I found myself sitting down. That way, I didn’t need to worry about staying upright.
Before I could hold them back, my thoughts had formed into a whisper. “Don’t do this to me.”
“Please please please please.”
I had begged for the exact same thing before. Had done everything in my might to make it happen. And yet, at the end of the day, a simple promise hadn’t been enough to make them stay.
“No,” I finally got out. “I can’t. Nobody can.”
A single short cry shook Leon’s shoulders, and he pressed his head harder against his forearms.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. His cries had now ebbed out into silent sobs again.
This time I had no excuse. I forced myself to reach out, even if it was the hardest thing I had ever done. When I touched his hand, Leon flinched, but for the first time in almost a month, he didn’t pull back. Instead, he reciprocated my touch.
Maybe I should give him this empty promise. If only to calm him down. To make the pain stop. But this was just running out the clock.
Being left behind was the ugliest feeling in the world. It would pull the floor out from under you so slowly, you didn’t even realise you were walking on air until the vast forlornness underneath you became visible. It was either this or knowing how truly alone you were.
But seeing Leon right now, I wasn’t sure which one was preferable any more.
His grasp was so firm under the waves of shivers, it almost hurt. And that was good. If he wouldn’t be squeezing my hand, it would shake uncontrollably.
I’m so sorry.
* * * Scene 6 (2.8k words) * * *
November 19th 1993, 9:00pm.
Things had got a lot easier – and cheaper – since I’d acquired that flat-rate card for the payphone. Even Sara had realised that I needed this bit of contact with the outside world to stay sane. And so I transcribed two years worth of medical records into neat reports, ready to be turned in to the state insurance agency. Turned out, touch typing was not a common skill in 1993 and I truly rocked the typewriter.
“You must be really tired. Are you even listening?”
I sprung back into reality. “Oh lord. Of course! Sorry.” I realised I didn’t remember a single thing he said in the past – what? – minute?
“And I thought you were actually interested in the property damage caused by a Litwick with a paper lantern. You know, judging by that vacant expression and all.” Morty’s voice was seeping with sarcasm.
I missed the Litwicks? Oh, no! I loved his tales about the newly adopted gang of sentient candles and the trouble they caused.
My head sunk down out of view of the camera. “I’m sorry.”
On the other side, Morty stayed quiet. He was a godsend. And he had held true to his promise to be only one phone-call away at any given time. Without him, I would have most likely gone up all available walls in this miniscule village by now. But my batteries were at an all-time low and still needed some time to recharge.
“How was your week?” His voice was at least enough to make me look up. He was unreadable as ever, but if I had to attribute any emotion to that half-sided smile, it would be compassion. The receiver rustled as he took a calming breath.
“How was the Children’s Festival?” Morty tried again. Darn! I have been daydreaming again.
I rubbed the ridge of my nose, trying to get at least some blood flowing to my brain. “It was… something. I ended up going with Kurt’s family. Which was nice, considering they had to handle a three-year-old and a baby. So, we went to the shrine – the jinja? – for the blessing.”
The mention of the correct term brought a smile to Morty’s face, and in return to mine. He had made it his mission to make me learn at least one new word per week. It was an acceptable price, seeing how I leeched off his knowledge on culture and tradition whenever something unfamiliar came up.
“I think Kurt had to explain every step there twice. Right hand, left hand, mouth, hand, ladle? Why is this so complicated?” Though I was used to choreographies, I did not expect them in a simple small town tradition.
“Almost. And that’s what you call complicated? Oh, Hana, do I have some surprises in store for you.” Morty’s laugh was both adorable and frightening. “Did you meet Sage Towa?”
“Only from afar. She didn’t seem too inviting. Why do you ask?”
“Just because.” Morty began to rock back and forth with his chair. “Yeah, Towa can be quite difficult. If I’m correct, she still lives in her hut in the woods. But didn’t you stay for dinner with Kurt? He usually invites her as well.”
I shook my head. Well, they did invite me. But after he stood me up earlier that day, Leon decided to crawl out of bed around dinner-time. Sadly, Kurt’s invitation did not extend to him. Which was fair – handling the emotional states of small children was already taxing enough if they were your own kids. And so the two of us spent a slow afternoon sorting through more folders in the archive.
“No, we-” I was cut short by the Center’s front door being flung open, letting in an icy breeze.
“Hey, Hannah! Wanna go-” Leon blew in with the same energy as the snowstorm outside, but stopped dead in his tracks once he saw me.
“Hey.” It took me a moment to process that sudden rush of vigour. “I’m on the phone. Do you want to join in?”
Leon’s entire posture straightened up, and within one second, the smile was gone. “No, thanks.” With that, he turned around and left as quickly as he came in.
For a moment I stared at the now closed door until a sigh from the other end of the line made me turn back around. Morty rubbed his temples with his free hand.
“What did I do wrong this time?” I groaned into the silence, burying my face in my hand.
“We are making progress.” Morty emphasised every single word, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed the reassurance as much as I did.
I looked up again. Turned out that nothing got me quite as awake as Leon acting up. “No really, can you tell me what’s wrong now?”
Morty gave me a long look through the shaky transmission and sighed. “He feels left out.”
“Left out? What about this is leaving him out?” I couldn’t hold my frustration down any longer.
Leon had this habit of demanding one-hundred per cent attention at any given time. This was nothing new. But this habit had become excruciating, especially now that he flip-flopped between this and completely withdrawing, and with no pattern or warning signs.
“See, sometimes it’s almost as if things are looking up,” I said after I had calmed down again. “Even for a few days at a time. And then…” I pointed over my shoulder to the door.
“Grieving is not a linear process.” Morty again studied me with empathy and the patience of a saint.
Whenever the two were talking, Leon seemed to make a few steps – not necessarily forward, but it was at least something. When he was with me, it was usually only mood-swings.
“Can’t you just come over?”
“Blizzard alert, Hana.” Of course. But I would work overtime until the dead of night so he could stay.
As an indicator to change the topic, I sighed and forced a weak smile. “How was your week? You seem to be a bit out of it, too.”
Morty had started rocking his chair again, and I noticed he looked paler than usual. Now he let himself fall forward and folded the cord into patterns while he got his thoughts in order. I watched him and this rare display of Morty being lost for words.
Finally, a long exhale. “I need your opinion. Earlier that week I’ve got a visit from Kanto’s League President. He’s currently busy setting up a Gym circuit over here too. Right now he’s looking for possible Gym locations and/or leaders. And for Ecruteak it’s between the Dance Theatre and me.”
I blinked a few times. Dad had told me that Johto got their Gym Circuit comparatively late – like everything else it seemed – but I didn’t know they were that late. Whatever the case, this was great news. Only that Morty didn’t make them sound the like.
“What do you think about that?” I asked him when he didn’t know how else to continue.
Morty’s focus snapped away from the display frame and onto me. “I asked for your opinion, not for mine.” I only shot him a long glare in response.
Sighing, he leaned back. “See, I’ve got both hands full already. I don’t know if I can run an entire Gym on the side on top of everything. However, the same applies for the girls over at the theatre.” By now he was balancing his chair on the hind legs and had almost reached the end of the phone cord. “But it’s also an excellent chance for Ecruteak and I don’t want to be the one passing that up.”
“You’re really bad at saying ‘No’, are you?” Morty acknowledged my statement with a hum.
“Imagine how many visitors that would bring to the Towers. So many people have lost their connections to the old legends and traditions over the years, but Ecruteak forces you to engage with the past. Even if a bit of knowledge and appreciation would stick…” By now he had leaned so far back that he needed to balance himself with one leg under the tabletop. “Also, League funding. But if I can’t deliver, because I’m stretching myself thin on both fronts, nobody will win in the end. Least of all the thing I want to bring across.”
A static rustle in the line pulled him out of his thoughts. Morty reached behind him and petted an invisible force, then slowly floated back into a normal position. I watched as the by now familiar Gengar materialised on his trainer’s lap and demanded his share of attention. After a while, Morty sighed again.
“You did the Gym Challenge. What did it do for you?” he asked while still ruffling Gengar’s outer gas-layers.
I suppressed a chuckle. “Brought me here.” That stupid chuckle got its revenge quickly and in the form of a coughing fit. After a few sips of water, I had my voice back under control. Gengar was now invisible again, and Morty looked at me quizzically, forcing me to become serious.
“It did get me to leave my shell, for sure. And all those things about the Darkest Day… We learn about them in school, yes, but I only ever got interested when we got to… interact with it. Not that I wanted to see a live Eternatus, but still… Those relics and statues feel different when you stand in front of them.” Morty hummed, and I looked over to him. “Wait, you didn’t go on a Gym Challenge?”
“When would I have crammed that in?” He gave me a dismissive, half-sided smile. “Anyway, thanks. I guess I’ll give it a few more nights of sleep.” He combed through his bleached blonde hair, and I could see his black roots coming through.
“Oh, by the way; Azalea is also on the list of possible Gym locations. So you’ll probably get at least one visitor soon. If any one guy ignores weather alerts, it’s Lance.”
“Lance?” That name stirred something in my memory.
“Yeah. Do you know him?” Now Morty’s interest was piqued again.
I shrugged. “Not really. I believe he and Leon met in last year’s international qualifiers.” Or was it one of those exhibition matches?
“Dragon-Clan Lance? Complete with cape and everything?”
“Yeah, I think.” I vaguely remembered watching the match with Hop. There were capes involved. And dragons. “Don’t look at me like this. I know next to nothing about the international League scene. And even so, I don’t think telling you would be a good idea.”
Morty was close to dying from curiosity, but bit his lip in a valiant effort to not ask further.
The sudden realisation of how dangerous we still were hit me out of nowhere. I hadn’t even thought about 2019 recently. Being in this tiny village, my world has shrunken down to its size, too. But Leon had an almost photographic memory for the League’s rankings, both national and international. Knowing if Morty would pick up this position or not was as easy as going over next door and asking Leon what his rank was.
But now the 2019 thoughts hit all at once. It was November now. Time to get to know the new plays we would practise for next year’s summer performances. If I were still doing ballet. But that was long over. Now I had my life in Postwick.
I wondered what Hop was doing. Probably re-watching Leon’s old matches or playing with Dubwool in the muddy November weather.
“Hana.” This would differ from before, though. Leon had never been in his life much, but Hop could always watch him on screen. This ever-present shadow of a big brother. Now, I could only assume that both of us were missing. And knowing Hop, that would devastate him. I wondered if he thought of me from time to time, too.
But what if Eternatus stayed behind? What if there was no muddy November weather any more, only darkness?
“Hana, stay with me.” A soft cooing sound made me look up, and I realised that there were tears in the corners of my eyes. “What’s up?”
I let my head again sink down onto my arms. The sleeves of my pullover muffled my voice. “Morty, I want to go home.”
There was still a chance that there wasn’t complete darkness at home. Here, on the other hand, it had already dug its claws in deep.
The voice on the other side was empathic again, gone were all the teasing or questions from before. “Things will get better again, I can promise you that. Grieving is a long and difficult process, and even though it seems like there’s no light on the horizon, things will eventually look up again.”
My head still in my arms, I let the sound of his voice fade out in the walled off privacy of the phone booth. “But this is not about Leon!”
“I know. And that’s why I’m telling you this. Leon has lost his pokemon and his only constant factor in his life. That’s pretty straightforward. But you lost your friend along the way, maybe even more. And that is just as valid as Leon’s mourning.”
I looked up. Whenever we were talking, it had been light-hearted. He had never mentioned anything like this around me.
Seeing the look of confusion on my face, Morty smiled. “Take it from one with a lot of experience in the field.”
Relieved to feel the tears had gone away, I slowly shook my head. “But… You said Leon will get better. Just like the weather alert. So all I have to do is to keep going for a little longer, right?” Please, please say yes.
Morty sighed. “He will. But he’ll never be the same again.” I buried my face in my free hand while pressing the receiver as close to my ear as possible. “And neither will you. But it will get better. The sooner you’ll accept this, the easier it is.”
I exhaled one deep, shaky breath. This couldn’t be true. This mustn’t be true.
“Now as for actually getting you home.” The calm empathy in Morty’s voice, albeit not completely gone, was now mixed in with a similarly steady spirit. “I could set something up for you, but- Hana, I’ll have to ask you something.”
I hummed a weak permission into the palm of my hand.
“Have you thought about what you want to do once the winter is over?”
I didn’t even muster up the strength to look at him, even though right now, the reassurance I’d find in those grey eyes would mean the world to me. Because that question, benign as it might sound, hurt more than anything he’d said in the last ten minutes.
My mind was empty. There was – nothing. Only the finish line once the national parks were passable again and we could escape this prison. I had no clue what to do after that. I didn’t even know where to escape to. Or what the next steps would be. I wanted to go home. But I had absolutely no plan.
I felt something wet run over my fingers while I slowly shook my head.
“That’s ok.” Silence. Only the static over the wire and me pressing back those tears. “You’ve got bigger things to worry about at the moment. Don’t accuse yourself of anything.”
That was so much easier said than done. But the last month had been a remarkable exercise in holding back tears. I wound the conversation back in my head and finally looked up again.
“What do you mean you could set something up?” There was only a slight snivel on my breath.
“Never mind.” His gentle expression was impervious to any further inquiries, and to be honest, I lacked the strength to.
Whatever it was, Morty was probably right, in that I did have bigger things to worry about right now. Surviving was one of them. Though even that seemed fleeting in the face of drifting around, aimless and lost.
“Hey.” Once again, Morty’s voice pulled me out of it. “Do you want me to talk you through this?”
I shook my head with all the conviction I could muster up. Even what he did right now had opened more gates than I could close. For Morty, dealing with our issues might be easy. But I needed my mental fortitude. In under ten hours, I would have to face Leon again, and I needed to function.
Maybe we had both been in denial. Leon about his pokemon’s death and I about being able to handle the situation.
Bonus Scenes
Goes between Scene 3 (Breakfast) and 4 (Movie)
November 1st 1993, 11:00am.
I sat back up to take a quick breather. What was the matter with me as of late? I was scrubbing floorboards, not doing high intensity cardio. Frustrated, I channelled all my anger into getting those last remaining crumbs of dirt out between the two wooden tiles. After all, I had a job to do here if I wanted to keep the roof over my head.
Our funds were running low, and since we weren’t on the move any longer, we also couldn't rely on charity- I sighed. How on earth did I end up having to calculate the benevolence and pity of strangers against my lifestyle costs? No, I’d rather scrub an entire common room from top to bottom than having to beg for a room. Even if I was toast afterwards.
Behind me, the door slid back. Sara entered, and from the deepened lines on her face, I could tell that she didn’t bring good news.
“What happened?” I asked as I resumed my cleaning.
The nurse sat down on one of the benches that we had stacked together in one corner and sighed. “The Matsuri this year is officially cancelled. Instead, we’ll have two Silent Weeks until the Children's Festival.”
“Oh.” Now I let go of my scrubber and turned around. Sara’s usual excellent posture had taken a slight blow as she now let her gaze wander over the work in progress that was her tap room.
When she noticed me looking at her, she forced a smile and straightened up again. “Let’s see the positive side in this, shall we? At least we don't need to get the entire house cleaned up by the end of the week.”
Morty had given me a quick rundown of the Matsuri tradition, and not without teasing me for my ignorance. But it was the most important holiday in a community, where the patron of the local shrine was worshipped. It was also coupled with a big celebration, so I understood why it was such a hard hit for her. A big part of her revenue for that year would now fall flat.
“Why… why did they cancel it?” I asked.
Sara now looked at me with a curious expression. “We can count ourselves lucky that the early snow didn’t destroy our harvest. The patron seems to be discontent with us.”
The elder woman must have caught my confused look, because after a short break, she elaborated further. “We will still thank them and worship, but in a different way. Sage Towa will tend to the shrine daily. Revelry would be out of place, given the current circumstances.”
“But-” I stopped myself before I could say something stupid, instead biting my lip. If it wasn’t a safety concern, why cancel such an important event? But then again, to the people of this community, tradition seemed to be even more important.
A scolding sigh from across the room made me look up. Sara shook her head. “You outsiders are a curious bunch, I have to say. You remind me so much of my time in Kalos.”
‘Wait, was she able to pick up my indignation form that one word alone? Or was it again about something you weren’t supposed to say?’
“I’m sorry!” I shot out, lowering my head.
A silent smile made Sara’s voice sound lighter. “It’s alright. You’re still young. Do you even know what a Silent Week is?”
Defeated, I shook my head again. It earned me another benevolent sigh from the elderly nurse. She might have been well-meaning, but it still cut deep. “How do I start? You at least know what it means to wear mourning, right?”
This time I could finally nod. Sara went on explaining the rites of the Silent Week, which consisted of a lot of recurring purification rituals, but one thing pressed itself adamantly into the forefront of my mind. When Sara was done explaining, I couldn’t muster up the strength to look up.
“I don’t even have black clothes.”
November 1st 1993, 11:00am.
I sat back up to take a quick breather. What was the matter with me as of late? I was scrubbing floorboards, not doing high intensity cardio. Frustrated, I channelled all my anger into getting those last remaining crumbs of dirt out between the two wooden tiles. After all, I had a job to do here if I wanted to keep the roof over my head.
Our funds were running low, and since we weren’t on the move any longer, we also couldn't rely on charity- I sighed. How on earth did I end up having to calculate the benevolence and pity of strangers against my lifestyle costs? No, I’d rather scrub an entire common room from top to bottom than having to beg for a room. Even if I was toast afterwards.
Behind me, the door slid back. Sara entered, and from the deepened lines on her face, I could tell that she didn’t bring good news.
“What happened?” I asked as I resumed my cleaning.
The nurse sat down on one of the benches that we had stacked together in one corner and sighed. “The Matsuri this year is officially cancelled. Instead, we’ll have two Silent Weeks until the Children's Festival.”
“Oh.” Now I let go of my scrubber and turned around. Sara’s usual excellent posture had taken a slight blow as she now let her gaze wander over the work in progress that was her tap room.
When she noticed me looking at her, she forced a smile and straightened up again. “Let’s see the positive side in this, shall we? At least we don't need to get the entire house cleaned up by the end of the week.”
Morty had given me a quick rundown of the Matsuri tradition, and not without teasing me for my ignorance. But it was the most important holiday in a community, where the patron of the local shrine was worshipped. It was also coupled with a big celebration, so I understood why it was such a hard hit for her. A big part of her revenue for that year would now fall flat.
“Why… why did they cancel it?” I asked.
Sara now looked at me with a curious expression. “We can count ourselves lucky that the early snow didn’t destroy our harvest. The patron seems to be discontent with us.”
The elder woman must have caught my confused look, because after a short break, she elaborated further. “We will still thank them and worship, but in a different way. Sage Towa will tend to the shrine daily. Revelry would be out of place, given the current circumstances.”
“But-” I stopped myself before I could say something stupid, instead biting my lip. If it wasn’t a safety concern, why cancel such an important event? But then again, to the people of this community, tradition seemed to be even more important.
A scolding sigh from across the room made me look up. Sara shook her head. “You outsiders are a curious bunch, I have to say. You remind me so much of my time in Kalos.”
‘Wait, was she able to pick up my indignation form that one word alone? Or was it again about something you weren’t supposed to say?’
“I’m sorry!” I shot out, lowering my head.
A silent smile made Sara’s voice sound lighter. “It’s alright. You’re still young. Do you even know what a Silent Week is?”
Defeated, I shook my head again. It earned me another benevolent sigh from the elderly nurse. She might have been well-meaning, but it still cut deep. “How do I start? You at least know what it means to wear mourning, right?”
This time I could finally nod. Sara went on explaining the rites of the Silent Week, which consisted of a lot of recurring purification rituals, but one thing pressed itself adamantly into the forefront of my mind. When Sara was done explaining, I couldn’t muster up the strength to look up.
“I don’t even have black clothes.”
Goes between Scene 5 (Archive) and 6 (Phone)
November 15th 1993, 9:00am.
“Ok, you know what? Stay here!” It took me quite the self-control to not slam the door shut.
“Fine!” Leon’s angry voice when I was already halfway down the stairs didn’t make the situation any better. Why did he always have to have the last word?
‘The first day we don’t have to wear those drab black clothes and the only day that something in this town happens, and the young man can’t get himself out of bed?’ I picked up Hoppip, who had been waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs and slid my boots back on. ‘Ok, fine. Wouldn’t matter. If he hadn’t insisted on this date only yesterday.’
“What’s wrong with it?” a young voice asked, taking me by surprise when I stepped outside. I took a moment to collect myself while I shut the front door of the collier’s house. Maizie, Kurt’s older granddaughter. Oh right, they were somehow related to Kon. Everyone here was related in one way or another.
I knelt down to her and held Hoppip towards the kid. “She’s a grass-type pokemon. They tend to get weaker during the winter.”
“Oh.” Maizie carefully petted Hoppip, who now at least perked her leaves up. “So it’s not ill?”
“No, don’t worry,” I assured the little girl. “She just needs a bit of sunlight. Certain pokemon know a move that could help her, but I don’t have one with me right now.”
“There you are!” Both Maizie and I turned around. A woman in formal clothing came running around the corner, waving her daughter over. Carefully, the girl stalked towards her mother. The colourful kimono was definitely something she still had to get used to.
It was the Children's Festival after all. All the town’s kids looked like little princesses and princes, with their elaborate mini-kimonos. A smile came across my face, but then I caught the pitiful expression on the woman’s face.
“Hanako, right? Do you have someone… Would you like to come with us?” I swallowed down my pride and nodded.
Thankfully, Kurt took me under his wing, otherwise I would have been completely lost with the rituals at the temple.
When we were waiting in line to make our offerings to the patron, I thought about what to ask. From Morty I knew that it was primarily a holiday for young families to offer thank for their children’s health and ask for blessings. Now, Leon was out that age range by about 14 years-
‘No. I haven’t frozen my fingers off with that cleansing ritual only to now have impure thoughts.’
In the end, when we stood in front of the mountainside temple, I wished for better weather. And maybe that I didn’t completely embarrass myself with those strange rites and rules that applied here.
When we made our way back into the village, it was already nearing noon. And then a miracle happened: The sun actually came out. I couldn't tell how long it had been since I last saw it.
As soon as the first rays touched Hoppip, her spirit returned.
“Hey Maizie! Look!” I carried the little dandelion over to the girl. The smile that came across her face outmatched the sun easily. After a bit of encouragement, Maizie tossed my little girl up in the air, while I was at the ready to catch her should she get carried off by the wind.
Hoppip’s happy squeals were so heart-warming. At least she could be genuinely happy, if only for a moment. At first I thought it was the sun reflecting off her skin, but then the glow around her got stronger.
Maizie gasped in surprise while I reached up to catch the newly evolved pokemon. She had gotten heavier, but those two blatantly rowdy golden eyes on the green body didn’t lie.
“See, a bit of sun was all it needed,” I said as I knelt down to the little girl, and now my smile matched her’s and Skiploom’s.
I watched the two play for a while longer when Kurt approached me. “Congratulations on the evolution, Hanako.” He spoke with the generous voice of an experienced pokemon trainer. “We wanted to invite you to-” For a short second, his expression darkened, before he was back to normal. I turned around to see what has caused this sudden halt of hospitality.
It wasn’t hard to guess. Not too far, against the corner of one of the larger farms, leaned Leon. His posture could at least fool people into thinking that he got his confidence back. But I wouldn't want to invite him to a family gathering either.
“Thank you, but we’ve already got something planned for later,” I lied without even trying too hard. I didn’t care if Kurt saw through this, nor did it matter. But his pitiful expression made my stomach churn.
“Why don’t you take care of Skiploom for the day?” I proposed. “Maizie seems to like her. Just be careful with her around fragile objects.” When I said my quick goodbyes to the family, I could see the gratitude in each of their eyes. And only Maizie’s was innocent.
Returning to Leon, I was almost relieved that I could let go of this facade. At least for the moment he seemed like more fun than sitting around a table and tip-toing around most topics.
He held himself remarkably upright, but there was no trace of a smile anywhere on his face. “I’m stupid, I’m stupid and I’m stupid.”
‘Yes, you are.’
“No, you aren’t.” My lie was actually quite convincing.
We stared at each other with what could have been defiance, but was more likely exhaustion.
“Come on, let’s take a walk.” Come to think of it, maybe I had just gotten more used to the facade I kept up around him.
November 15th 1993, 9:00am.
“Ok, you know what? Stay here!” It took me quite the self-control to not slam the door shut.
“Fine!” Leon’s angry voice when I was already halfway down the stairs didn’t make the situation any better. Why did he always have to have the last word?
‘The first day we don’t have to wear those drab black clothes and the only day that something in this town happens, and the young man can’t get himself out of bed?’ I picked up Hoppip, who had been waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs and slid my boots back on. ‘Ok, fine. Wouldn’t matter. If he hadn’t insisted on this date only yesterday.’
“What’s wrong with it?” a young voice asked, taking me by surprise when I stepped outside. I took a moment to collect myself while I shut the front door of the collier’s house. Maizie, Kurt’s older granddaughter. Oh right, they were somehow related to Kon. Everyone here was related in one way or another.
I knelt down to her and held Hoppip towards the kid. “She’s a grass-type pokemon. They tend to get weaker during the winter.”
“Oh.” Maizie carefully petted Hoppip, who now at least perked her leaves up. “So it’s not ill?”
“No, don’t worry,” I assured the little girl. “She just needs a bit of sunlight. Certain pokemon know a move that could help her, but I don’t have one with me right now.”
“There you are!” Both Maizie and I turned around. A woman in formal clothing came running around the corner, waving her daughter over. Carefully, the girl stalked towards her mother. The colourful kimono was definitely something she still had to get used to.
It was the Children's Festival after all. All the town’s kids looked like little princesses and princes, with their elaborate mini-kimonos. A smile came across my face, but then I caught the pitiful expression on the woman’s face.
“Hanako, right? Do you have someone… Would you like to come with us?” I swallowed down my pride and nodded.
Thankfully, Kurt took me under his wing, otherwise I would have been completely lost with the rituals at the temple.
When we were waiting in line to make our offerings to the patron, I thought about what to ask. From Morty I knew that it was primarily a holiday for young families to offer thank for their children’s health and ask for blessings. Now, Leon was out that age range by about 14 years-
‘No. I haven’t frozen my fingers off with that cleansing ritual only to now have impure thoughts.’
In the end, when we stood in front of the mountainside temple, I wished for better weather. And maybe that I didn’t completely embarrass myself with those strange rites and rules that applied here.
When we made our way back into the village, it was already nearing noon. And then a miracle happened: The sun actually came out. I couldn't tell how long it had been since I last saw it.
As soon as the first rays touched Hoppip, her spirit returned.
“Hey Maizie! Look!” I carried the little dandelion over to the girl. The smile that came across her face outmatched the sun easily. After a bit of encouragement, Maizie tossed my little girl up in the air, while I was at the ready to catch her should she get carried off by the wind.
Hoppip’s happy squeals were so heart-warming. At least she could be genuinely happy, if only for a moment. At first I thought it was the sun reflecting off her skin, but then the glow around her got stronger.
Maizie gasped in surprise while I reached up to catch the newly evolved pokemon. She had gotten heavier, but those two blatantly rowdy golden eyes on the green body didn’t lie.
“See, a bit of sun was all it needed,” I said as I knelt down to the little girl, and now my smile matched her’s and Skiploom’s.
I watched the two play for a while longer when Kurt approached me. “Congratulations on the evolution, Hanako.” He spoke with the generous voice of an experienced pokemon trainer. “We wanted to invite you to-” For a short second, his expression darkened, before he was back to normal. I turned around to see what has caused this sudden halt of hospitality.
It wasn’t hard to guess. Not too far, against the corner of one of the larger farms, leaned Leon. His posture could at least fool people into thinking that he got his confidence back. But I wouldn't want to invite him to a family gathering either.
“Thank you, but we’ve already got something planned for later,” I lied without even trying too hard. I didn’t care if Kurt saw through this, nor did it matter. But his pitiful expression made my stomach churn.
“Why don’t you take care of Skiploom for the day?” I proposed. “Maizie seems to like her. Just be careful with her around fragile objects.” When I said my quick goodbyes to the family, I could see the gratitude in each of their eyes. And only Maizie’s was innocent.
Returning to Leon, I was almost relieved that I could let go of this facade. At least for the moment he seemed like more fun than sitting around a table and tip-toing around most topics.
He held himself remarkably upright, but there was no trace of a smile anywhere on his face. “I’m stupid, I’m stupid and I’m stupid.”
‘Yes, you are.’
“No, you aren’t.” My lie was actually quite convincing.
We stared at each other with what could have been defiance, but was more likely exhaustion.
“Come on, let’s take a walk.” Come to think of it, maybe I had just gotten more used to the facade I kept up around him.
