Fighting 3.8: Necessity
Cuicatl
A Lifetime Ago…
You can’t decide if you like the snow or not.
It makes it harder to tell where the barely frozen puddles are hidden, and on Route 8 some of those puddles house stunfisk that will not react kindly to someone stepping on them as they hibernate. At least you’ve stocked up on paralyze heals. The nurse back at the Center had been very insistent on that as she lectured you over the counter.
(You think you have everything? Because trust me, kid, you don’t. Socks, paralyze heals, freeze heals, super potions, hand warmers, burn cream—because you wouldn’t be the first kid with a fire-type to try getting a little too close for warmth—there it is. Get it and come back. I’ll run over the list again until we get this right.)
She’d sounded like your mom. Which made you miss Mom. You’d called home. She’d also run through a packing list. And then she’d run on a little too long with her own journey memories.
(She’d had a sawsbuck back in the day, you know, before she met your father and moved to an apartment that was a little bit too small for an adult deer to live in. He’s somewhere out on ranch upstate. Anyway, Bucky was just coming out of heat…)
Mom’s never explicitly told you to come back home for the winter, but you wonder if you should. She sounds lonely, and you don’t want her to be alone on the solstice. But you also want to get a badge or two in while the waiting lists are short. Maybe you’ll even find a rare beartic up in the hills. Your team up to this point have been pretty easy to care for—you wouldn’t mind a bit of danger in the last slot. Something to throw Drayden for a loop in the rematch. Smug bastard.
A snowflake almost hits your eye, only to get caught up in your lashes.
Right. Snow. Can’t decide if you like it or not.
Because even if it hides stunfisk puddles and threatens to hit you in the eye, seeing Route 8 covered in a fresh layer of snow feels right. On your journey you’re supposed to see Unova in all of its glory: the pleasant and unpleasant alike.
[19:11:00 – January 8, 2020]
You really wish it was snowing.
Then it wouldn’t be
raining.
Your cheap raincoat and wool skirt don’t keep cold water from hitting you in the face. Pixie asked to be withdrawn.
Pixie.
In Winter. Nocitlālin still floats beside you, seemingly oblivious to the weather. Coco is resting in her nest ball; attacking cold raindrops was fun for a few minutes, until she decided that it really wasn’t at all and she would like to stop now.
[Threat Detected. Initiating ramming.]
It’s impossible to say if it actually was a threat or not, but something gets rammed by a very determined beldum and runs away with a mix of pained and vulgar cries. Nocitlālin was told to keep threats away, and she is really embracing the job.
Ordinarily, Route 2 would be perfectly safe. There are some predators and omnivores here, but the abundance of berries means that there are plenty of herbivores for them to hunt instead of humans. The rangers also cull anything that would be too dangerous to people on this route. There are growlithe and raticate, but no arcanine or snorlax.
These are not ordinary times. New berries aren’t growing, sight-based hunters are starving, and the temperature drop, darkness, and alien attacks are setting the wild pokémon on edge. It’s best to attack anything that gets too close right now. Not that Nocitlālin seems to mind. Or Coco, once the rain stops. Although you’ll have to be careful that she doesn’t get in over her head.
Kekoa sloshes on behind you. It’s funny that you’re guiding him these days. Lyra’s somewhere behind him guarding the rear. Her absol is probably the strongest pokémon any of you have and isn’t too bothered by the dark.
You remember Kekoa’s reaction to seeing Mirai for the first time. He’d gone quiet for a long time. Lyra asked him if he really believed the old stories about absol causing natural disasters for fun and he just shook his head.
“They tried to warn Hoenn,” he said. “But no one important would listen.”
You gave him a discrete hug later. And told him that discrete hugs are easy in the dark if he needs more. He hasn’t taken you up on the offer, but he also didn’t reject it.
*
Charles gathers the firewood while you set up the tent. The gurdurr has always been helpful to a fault, but he got knocked out quickly against Drayden and now he feels like he has to make it up to you. He doesn’t. You told him that. He doesn’t believe you.
Spike is sitting still in the snow. The snow is apparently a fun and fascinating thing to sit in. At least the ferroseed is easily entertained. Tchaikovsky is also sitting in the snow, but the swanna mixes in critique and insults as you get camp around. He could definitely do it better, but he really doesn’t want to so you’ll just have to take his word for it.
Calling his bluff will just lead to bird shit coating all your stuff in the morning. You endure the insults in silence.
Searah doesn’t like the snow. Her fire melts the ice into water and that’s hard on the poor heatmor. You let her rest in her ball. Renfield is using his telekinesis to clear out a small, messy circle for a fire. The duosian definitely has more control than when you met him. Still not as much control as either of you would like. He’d much rather just punch his enemies in the mind.
Charles comes back with lots of firewood just as you finish the pulley for your food to hang from overnight. The wood should be enough to at least start a fire with, although you’ll need to send him back out later to find more. Or you could do it yourself. But if the gurdurr is willing, who are you to stop him?
*
It turns out that it’s hard to pitch a tent if no one can see it. Pitching two tents is even harder.
Especially when your teeth are chattering and your hands are shaking and it feels like the cold rain is running through your bloodstream. And you can’t even wear gloves because the poles just slide right out of them, so you have to keep touching freezing metal.
Kekoa struggles through his with a fair bit of quiet cursing, aloud and on the tip of his tongue. It doesn’t sound like he’s too cold. Maybe you’re just making too big a deal of it. You’re from the tropics. Even in the foothills it never got this cold. And you mom didn’t really like the cold either.
You keep yourself busy by helping Lyra with her tent. Kekoa would fit in it but he insists on setting up his own. He wants to keep the tent because he doesn’t trust Lyra to stick around with “poor losers like us” but you don’t know why he had to bring it along with him. VStar rents out storage lockers in Hau’oli.
The rain suddenly begins to let up, as if taunting you. No point using the stove tonight. You’ll just have to feed Coco some precooked meat from the cooler. You can eat trail mix or something or nothing. Nothing sounds fine.
At least in the dark no one can see how fat you are. Maybe if you do an intense diet while this is going on you’ll be at least halfway thin when it ends.
“Noci, can you find a tree to hang our bags off of?”
[Alarm Level 10: Unit Designate Cuicatl Ichtaca Will Have No Protection;
Ambient Threat Level = 1001;
Mission = Protect Unit Designate Cuicatl Ichtaca;
Risk To Mission Unacceptable]
{It’s not
that dangerous,} you mentally grumble. The beldum does not dignify you with a response. You let out Coco and Pixie. {Now can you find a tree?}
[Affirmative]
She zips off while your other pokémon stretch out.
“Wet!” Pixie whines.
“Do you want to go back into your ball?”
She ponders this for several seconds. “No,” she finally answers.
“Okay, then, you can stay out.”
“Wet!” Pixie whines.
You sigh. {Nothing I can do about that.}
“Wet…” she grumbles.
Coco headbutts your leg. “You want to go back inside?”
“Play!”
“Mommy is busy setting up a tent.”
A pole clatters to the ground and Lyra hisses in annoyance.
“We can play afterwards.”
“Play…” she grumbles, before you can feel her brighten up through your link. Pixie cries out in pain and indignation a moment later.
It’s amusing. Sort of. You’re a bit too cold to really enjoy it or anything. You just want in the damn tent.
“Coco, Pix, can you watch the camp? Something might try to steal your food.”
Pixie growls. “Eevee?”
Sure, why not?
{Yes.}
The air gets noticeably colder. You shiver even more.
“I’ll watch for playmates!” Coco plomps down into the damp grass. Or a puddle. You’re not sure which.
“You seem to understand your team well,” Lyra says. You wonder for a moment if she’s onto you before deciding she isn’t. You’ve been careful to keep communications with your pokémon silent around her.
“I come from a long line of trainers. Picked up some tricks along the way.”
Technically true. Your mother and grandmother were trainers, and mom’s grandfather did the gym circuit in Korea. Her other grandfather would have but that was illegal in Georgia at the time. When he was old enough to move to Unova and settle down he didn’t have the energy to travel anymore.
And your father’s father was a soldier. Probably your grandfather’s grandfather’s grandfather and everyone in between as well. Just something that’s expected in Anahuac, even if your father got out of it. He’d delayed his conscription to study abroad, and by the time the recruiters came knocking again he was a single father and widower who was exempt from service.
“I think you’re selling yourself short. Tyrunt aren’t known for behaving and yours at least doesn’t throw tantrums.”
You laugh joylessly. Maybe you shouldn’t keep talking but it’s a distraction from your numb
everything.
“Can you blame them? They live in a world that’s
wrong and are taken away from their mother or stay and are raised by a mother who didn’t have a mother to raise
her, so she has no idea what she’s doing. If you can just explain things to her everything goes easier.”
The last pole slots into place. “Alright, I think we can put things inside now,” Lyra says. You eagerly do so. It seems Kekoa’s already finished and moved his things into the newly christened Boy’s Tent. It’s hard to describe how, but you have a general idea how big spaces are when you walk in. Might be echolocation, might be air flow, who knows? You can instantly tell that this tent is way bigger than the old one. Like, twice as big, minimum. You can have all of your pokémon sprawl out if they want. Pixie runs in behind you and pounces onto your lap. She immediately shakes off, spraying cold water all over you. It takes all of your willpower not to launch her away.
“Wet,” Pixie says. You can swear there’s a smirk in her voice. Coco tries to enter the tent a moment later. Tries. She manages to hit a pole instead. You can hear the tent crumpling around you as Lyra stamps her foot. You stick your head out of the tent and withdraw the dino before she can cause more trouble.
“I’ve got it,” she mutters. “Just don’t let her do that again.”
“Sorry.”
When Lyra comes back in she stumbles. Her hand slams down on yours hard enough that it would hurt if it wasn’t pretty numb.
“Holy shit you’re cold,” she says. Before moving her hand. Because pointing out the obvious is more important than getting off your damn hand. “Seriously, uh, can I touch your forehead.”
“Fine.” You feel out her hand and bring it towards your forehead. Because you don’t trust her to find it in the dark.
“Okay so I’d need to get my thermometer but you’re really cold. Hypothermia cold.” She begins to pull her hand back. For a moment you lean into the warmth of it but it eventually slips away. “I don’t have a fire-type—”
“—shouldn’t cuddle them. Can make burns.”
“I know, I know.”
Noci. Noci is warm, but not burning.
{Nocitlālin, I need your help.}
{Initiate Ramming.}
{
Don’t break the tent.}
{Lowering Ramming Speed.}
“Can you open the tent up?” you ask Lyra. “I think I hear Noci coming back.}
“Really? I don’t hear—holy shit.” A rod of metal zooms by her the moment she starts unzipping. You hold out a hand and it nuzzles its warm, warm body against it.
{Alarm Lvl 1010: Unit_Designate_Cuicatl_Ichtaca Possesses Abnormally Low Body Temperature}
“Can we cuddle for a bit, Noci? So you can keep me warm.”
She slowly eases herself over to you and you wrap your arms around her before pulling her down. Then with great reluctance you move one arm to your backpack so you can get your sleeping bag out. This way you can keep her warmth in the bag. With you.
“You’re literally a lifesaver,” you whisper to her.
{Negation. Class = 001, Class=/=“lifesaver.”}
You hug her even tighter. Never felt better to be sassed by a robot who doesn’t understand what sass is.
“Um. I’m going to warm up in here for a bit then I can go out and warm some water up. Maybe make you dinner?”
“Don’t. You’ll just burn yourself. Trust me, I did the first few times I tried cooking blind.” You still have at least one of those scars. And many more scars and callouses from later attempts at cooking while blind. It was still worth it every time your brother told you he liked your cooking.
“I’m still making you water.” Her tone of voice doesn’t leave room for questioning. You allow it. Warm water sounds heavenly right now. And that’s the end of that. For a while you stay painfully aware of every shiver wracking your body.
Your phone buzzes.
“Voice Message from Vana Iosua (Plant Girl). Read it: Yes or No?”
“Read it,” you mumble. Might as well. You haven’t heard from her in a few days.
“Hi! Just wanted to see how you were doing. I made it to my cousin’s place in Vegas. My team is enjoying the warmth and light. You still in Alola or did you go back to Anahuac? If you did then we’re still close. Kind of.”
Your home is nowhere near the border. You would not be close. At all. Still, she’s just twelve. Best not be rude to her.
Cuicatl Ichtaca: Slayed. Challenge visa. Pixie likes it. Coco does not. Nothing bad so far.
Wait, no, that’s a lie.
Cuicatl Ichtaca: Have hypothermia right now.
“Voice Message from Vana Iosua (Plant Girl). Read it: Yes or No?”
“Read it.” Is there a way to automatically read voice messages if you have that chat open? Maybe someone from VStar can help you when you get back to Hau’oli.
“Oh no! That’s terrible. Have you gotten somewhere warm?”
How do you tell her that there is nowhere warm to go to? Before you can figure it out Lyra unzips the tent and crawls in.
“Hey, I have water.”
Wait. Did she bring warm water into the tent? Feels like she could’ve dropped it super easily. Not that you’re complaining. You take the water in trembling, numb hands and slowly take a sip. It’s wonderful. Even a few drops makes you feel warm in the best ways. You want to pour it all straight down your throat but know you aren’t supposed to.
“You said earlier that you explain things to your tyrunt.” Lyra asks. “
How?”
Did you say that? You take another long sip and consider your options. Thankfully you have a good one now. Just have to be more careful in the future.
“I speak draconic. She speaks something similar. We can understand each other.”
“Really?” Lyra drops her packs to the tent floor in surprise. “Can you understand my noibat?”
“Sort of?” Really well, actually. You remember reading somewhere that noivern can learn to send telepathic messages. “A lot of it’s too high or low to hear, but what I can make out sounds like draconic. A version of it at least.”
“Can you translate for my team through him?” She sounds very excited about the prospect. Definitely more than Kekoa was. Or Genesis. You drink more water while you think. Your stomach is starting to radiate good heat throughout your core now. Every sip is heavenly.
“Maybe? I’m not sure if your noibat can understand the rest of your team. Pokémon have different languages and all. You could also get a translator of your own. Psychic-types are sometimes good at it.”
Her mind blanks for a moment before erupting in a rapid-fire burst of half-formed words
. Most vulgar. Huh. Stronger reaction than usual. Bad history with psychic-types? You’ll make sure to be extra careful about concealing your gift around her.
“Primarina or lapras, maybe. I’ve thought a little about ghosts.” Her tone is level. She’s good at masking whatever that was before. You’d press more but you’re worried she might catch on. Or at least accidentally come to the right conclusion.
“I’m writing a book of myths,” you say instead. “Pokémon myths. As in, myths told by pokémon. I’d like to talk to your noibat later. And any pokémon he can translate for.”
“That’s also cool.” She unzips her pack and starts taking things out. Her pace is slow and methodical. Probably isn’t used to unpacking things she can’t see. “Any cool ones so far?”
“I got Pixie to tell me where ninetales come from,” you say. She yaps in approval and taps a paw against your chest. Huh. She was here, too? Didn’t notice her before. You wonder who took her place on guard duty. Or if Coco is also here. No. She’d let you know if she was awake. You slowly roll over and move Noci to your side so Pixie can sprawl out on top of you. Her reward for being a good storyteller. “They were reborn after a tower burned down far away. Then they were brought here, imprisoned by the moon, and blessed by the Tapu.”
“Burning tower, huh?” Lyra finds what she wants and zips the bag closed again. You can hear something slowly inflate on her end of the tent. Oh. Sleeping mat. You should probably set yours up. Whenever Pixie gets off you, at least. “We have a story like that in Johto. Her story involve Ho-oh?”
“A rainbow god, yes.” Pixie perks up at the mention. Probably didn’t know Ho-oh’s human name before.
“Supposedly a lightning strike burned down the largest town in Japan.” Lyra says. “A few important temples were lost, including the two most important. That’s probably what she was talking about.”
“Pixie says it burned down in a war.”
Lyra sighs and you hear her crash down on her sleeping mat. “That’s probably true,” she mutters.
“Talonflame also have a rainbow god story,” you say. Sounds a little like Ho-oh, too. “Said that the god gave talonflame their fire.”
“She’s fond of that kind of thing,” Lyra murmurs. “Metalwork. Resurrection. Enlightenment. Making things better than they were before. Obstacles are just tests to let us be broken down and reforged. Even the worst things have a
purpose.” Her mat crumples and you can imagine her turning to face you. “The audacity of it all. She hurts you because she loves you.”
Her words strike something uncomfortable deep inside. Your father… punished you for correction’s sake. But you do not wish to be punished any more. You will only go back once he cannot. Is this proper? He created you and has a right, but you no longer wish to give it to him. Was everything before that…
“You okay?” Lyra asks. She sounds genuinely concerned. “Not too cold, are you? We can call for an evac if you really need it.”
“I’m fine. Already feeling warmer.” Warm enough to stick an arm out of the bag, even. With a few practiced movements you pull Pixie’s brush out of your pack. She must notice because you can feel her tails start flapping against your legs as she wags them. It’s a little awkward to brush her properly while lying on your back but you manage.
“Do the gods of Anahuac hurt people?” Lyra asks.
“We do that for them.”
That shuts her up for a moment. “Why?”
You pull the brush through some matting at the base of one of Pixie’s tails. She immediately lunges forward to bite your hand.
“Watch it,” you admonish her.
“You hurt me!” she cries out.
“It’s getting matted. You want me to deal with it or not?”
She huffs and you continue, ignoring her occasional cries of displeasure.
You decide to answer Lyra’s question with a question, because outsiders don’t like the real answer: the gods give you things you need. Food, water, clothing, luck, protection, light. All they ask for in return is blood and breath. Not necessarily your own. “Do you worship Ho-Oh and the others?”
“I don’t anymore. They’re obviously real: two of them almost sunk Hoenn. But if they’re going to hurt us, why worship them?”
You remember asking Pixie a similar question a while ago. Ironic, isn’t it, that now you’re the one defending your gods. “Because we need them.”
The rain subsides to a solid drizzle. For a long time you sit back and run your hands through Pixie’s newly brushed fur. She’s content to simply lie sprawled out on top of you.
“For what?” Lyra asks.
She grew up in a safe country. Her family’s rich. You wonder if she’d get it. But you’re a little bored and are going to be spending time with her. And she seems open minded enough. Immediately wanted to know what her pokémon think. Hasn’t judged you so far for being Nahua. Not even in her head. And she’s already changed her entire faith before. She’s a bit stern. Closed off. The opposite of Genesis. Still nicer than Kekoa to people she’s not friends with.
You’ll give her a shot.
“To protect us from the things that we can’t protect ourselves from.” Droughts. Wars. Disease. Light-stealing aliens. Humans are a very, very small part of a very, very big world. People just don’t like thinking about that. Its why dragons scare them so much. They’re a reminder of where we really are on the food chain.
“And how’s that worked out for you?”
You wince. Harsh. The gods are only so strong and no one else is still offering them blood. It’s hard to be the only culture that still cares. It’s hard to care about the end of the world and be mocked for it.
“Sometimes all you can do is pray.”
She doesn’t answer for long enough that you almost drift back off to sleep.
“Maybe,” she finally admits.
*
“Danielle Lee?” You look up at the receptionist. “The gym leader is ready.”
“Thank you.”
You carefully make your way to the arena entrance. Sixth badge matches sometimes get televised, especially in the off season, and your mom would never let you live it down if you were on television in flats. Even though it’s her fault that you’re short enough to
need heels in the first place. That’s how genes work, right?
Thankfully the stone walkway isn’t slippery. The same can’t be said for the arena itself. It looks like a giant ice-skating rink, with a giant hole in the middle revealing a big pool of water. It’s a good bet that the rest of the arena hides water as well. Makes beartic scarier and hurts fire-types.
The gym leader is on the other side of the rink. His shirt is sleeveless despite the cold of the arena. Probably for the cameras. He used to be a moderately successful movie star before he retired. You can still clearly see it. Maybe a little too clearly. You lower your gaze to the hole in the ice.
“Miss Lee, is it?” Brycen asks.
“Yes.”
“Good to meet you.” He sounds sincere, even though he’s probably sick of meeting challenger after challenger. “It’ll be a four on four today. Switch clock is set at three minutes. Is this acceptable?”
Now he’s starting to sound a little robotic. “Yes.”
“Ref’s still on break. He should be back in a minute or two.”
“Okay.” Should you talk to him? Is there anything to say?
“You hiking between towns?” He asks.
You pause. Right. There are trainers who just take the trains around and battle in the cities. Cowards.
“Yes.” Should you continue? Probably. It’s a little bit scary talking to any gym leaders, especially if they were famous. “It was my first time traveling in snow.”
He chuckles. “Well, you get frostbite?”
“No. I have a—” Maybe you shouldn’t reveal your fire type. “I got a lot of good advice before I sat out. And my pokémon helped a ton.”
“You did better than I, then. First time out in the cold I almost lost my hands. Thought that I needed to thoroughly wash them before my meal and I was in such a hurry to eat that I forgot to dry them off. Ten minutes later there was a layer of frost on them.”
You aren’t sure if you should laugh, but you do anyway. It’s nice that he’s helping you calm down. Maybe not to his advantage, though. Stress decisions usually aren’t the best ones.
“Mom made sure that didn’t happen. And if it did, she’d probably take a lot more than my hands as punishment for being stupid.”
“You’re a lucky lass, then, having a mom like that. She travel back in the day?”
“Yes. She only got four badges, but—” The door opens and a man in a referee uniform hurries through.
“Sorry I’m late.”
“No problem, Doug. I was just talking with Miss Lee.” He turns back to you. “Well, let’s get on with it, then. See if you can make your mother proud.”
*
Your second day on Route 2 brings you near the sound of waves. The rain stopped last night and hasn’t picked back up. You’re even feeling a lot warmer. If it weren’t for the temperature it might even be a good day to hit the beach. Rare beach day where no one else can see your body. Whole place to yourself, too, since no one wants to go swimming when it’s five degrees out. (Kekoa tells you it’s actually forty, because he’s an uncultured American who can’t metric.)
“Break,” Lyra calls. “There’s a beach access here and I need to let my pyukumuku filter-feed.”
“I could also use a break,” you call out. Kekoa been surly all day and you’d rather not have a fight on the trail. Still a few kilometers to go before the place you were hoping to stop for the night.
“…fine. Ten-minute break.”
“You don’t like her,” you comment once she’s out of earshot.
“No.”
“Then why’d you agree to travel with her?”
He sighs. “We need the money. Even with her cash and connections we still
barely got out of Hau’oli with half of what we needed.”
“You’re not wrong. But can you at least
pretend to like her?”
“She doesn’t get it,” he mutters. His pack falls to the ground. You follow suit and take out your water bottle.
“Doesn’t get what?”
There’s a pause where the only sounds are the distant cries of pokémon, the lapping of the waves, and the steady
glug glug of water leaving your bottles. “This is just a fun adventure for her. Some of us are just here because we have to be.”
“You could’ve left,” you add. And he could have. They’re setting up refugee camps on the mainland. Supposedly you don’t need money to get in.
He slams the lid of his water bottle shut. “I’m not abandoning my home.”
That’s still a choice. He’s here because he wants to be, she’s here because she wants to be. You
could have gone home yourself, but then you’d have lost your visa and your chance at making enough money for things to be okay.
You scoot closer and give him a side hug. Then you slump down and your head finds itself on his shoulder. This always calmed down Achcauhtli when he was riled up. And you like the warmth leaking out of his clothes. “Your voice has gotten a lot lower,” you tell him. “And you smell different now. It suits you.”
He laughs. Sort of. It’s really just a big exhale with some noise. “Missed my last two periods, too.”
You feel out his wrist and squeeze his hand. “Proud of you.”
And you are. At least one of you gets to feel good in their own body.
For a long time you both sit there, feeling the subtle sounds and movements of breaths and heartbeats. “I just don’t want to always be at each other’s throats,” you finally tell him. “It wasn’t much fun the first time.”
He doesn’t answer until Lyra’s footsteps draw close. “I’ll try,” he whispers. You give his hand another soft squeeze.
“That’s all I can ask for.”
*
You struck out at the moor.
There were two beartic and a cubchoo living there at the time. You spoke to the adults. Well, the female spoke
to you. Very loudly. Something along the lines of “Get away from me and my son.” The male didn’t see the need for a trainer and you weren’t going to try a hard sell on a bear. When he finished ice fishing, you politely said goodbye and left. No need to keep bothering him.
There might still be an older cubchoo in the mountains and your seventh badge is in Driftveil. You set off on the road through Twist Mountain. The first part, the endless switchbacks in the snow, really sucks. Even the view at the end, a sea of white fields and green trees and the twinkling lights of Icirrus, isn’t worth the climb.
You have a choice there. Keeping going up and over the mountain, or go through it. There’s an old tunnel in the mountain that used to be a road before the wilds took it over. They still let rangers in to put up lights for traveling trainers. Supposedly your great-uncle had a hand in negotiating that. Up top there are beartic. Straight through doesn’t involve climbing.
You’ve met beartic now. You think you can live without one.
The tunnel is creepy, full of flickering lights. The edges probably used to be smooth, but rock- and ground-types have changed everything until it looks like a normal cave. Side tunnels run in and out of the main one and there are even holes in the ground, some going so far down that you can’t see the bottom. It’s not the easy walk you were hoping for, but it should have more wilds than you were expecting. That’s a good chance to train.
It doesn’t take long for a woobat to drop down from the ceiling, hovering in front of you until you send out Tchaikovsky to deal with it. The two have a short aerial battle before the swanna lands enough water blasts that the bat retreats. Definitely not worth trying to catch it. You’re trying to keep your team balanced, with at most one of every type. Even psychics. That way you can downplay your gift, like Mom keeps insisting.
The rest of the day’s hike goes on in roughly the same way. Something shows up—usually a woobat or gurrdurr—and you send it packing. Nothing ever attacks
you. It seems organized. Good job, uncle.
You stop traveling well before the lights go off for the night. Wouldn’t do to get stuck in total darkness. You pitch your tent on a smooth, flat concrete platform that was clearly made for traveling trainers. It’ll kill your back, but at least you won’t keep sliding to the side or waking up to the feeling of sharp rock lumps under you. There’s also a small bowl carved in the wall, alongside a container filled with free plastic gloves and bags. You can pee in the toilet, but poop has to be hiked out.
Gross.
You don’t want to cook something in a cave since you’re not sure where the fumes would go. You settle for jerky and trail mix after the team is fed. Your meal is interrupted by the sound of hissing and gnashing teeth in a side tunnel. A rabid pokémon? You signal Renfield to be ready for a fight. He’s the least melee-oriented and you’re pretty sure his biology is too weird to get rabies.
A black and blue lizard walks out. Its head flicks from side to side, tongue flashing out, as it growls and hisses and clashes its teeth. Multiple scars and wounds, some still bleeding, cover its body. A deino.
And you thought beartic were powerful.
“Hello, little guy.”
He freezes up, turns towards you, and hisses. Right. Can’t talk to him. Or feed him. The rangers wouldn’t want dragons on the trail.
“You looking for something?”
He assumes a ready stance, as if anticipating a battle. It looks enough like the posture you’ve seen from a dozen other pokémon today that you can guess what he wants. You could use Charles for this, but the type advantage is a little unfair. Searah and Renfield have the opposite problem. Spike’s strengths aren’t things a deino would value. That leaves your swanna.
You send out some messages. The bird lands in front of you and calls out a challenge while your other pokémon back away to the sidelines. Except Spike. The ferroseed stays exactly where he was.
The deino charges head-first. Tchaikovsky gets into the air and fires off a water pulse without being asked. He knows the drill. The deino keeps stumbling forward until he notices that his opponent isn’t in front of him. He turns around and sends out a stream of dragonfire, but it goes wide. Poor guy. Can’t even aim his attacks. Another water pulse punishes him for even trying.
The dragon lowers himself to the ground and you can feel the energy charge around him, accompanied by a soft red glow. Work up. He’s only getting stronger and angrier from here. Best to finish it quickly. {Ice Beam.} A bolt of freezing water falls from the sky and the deino hisses in pain, red aura fading. His next blast of dragon breath is much, much larger than before. It strikes true. {You fine?}
{I will murder this insolent fool.}
He’s fine.
Another ice beam sails across the arena and this time the deino shrieks as it strikes him directly in the head. The next dragon breath sails far to the left. It’s much smaller: the work up was too short to last long. Still, you should probably finish this sooner rather than later.
“Wing attack.”
{You shitting me? I am
not getting close to that thing.}
{You want a cave in?}
{Fuck you.}
“Defog, then wing-attack.”
{Fine.}
The winds pick up and the deino squeals as the fur on top of his head gets blown to the side. Out of the corner of your eye you can see Renfield struggle to stay aloft while Charles digs his pillars into the ground.
Spike has no reaction.
Your starter dives down when the winds are strong enough. He slams into the dragon and knocks it off its feet. A bite lands on the swanna’s chest, but he powers through it and flies back into the air.
{I. Will. Murder. Her.}
{Her?}
He honks. “Thought the dragon was the blind one.”
“Forgive me for not knowing how to sex a dragon.”
“Guess I shouldn’t be surprised.” He rolls out of the way of another dragon breath. “You don’t know how to sex a human, either.”
Tchaikovsky dives down again, this time swooping to the side to avoid another bite. The dragon crashes into the wall and mewls in surrender, head bowed. The winds die down and Tchaikovsky circles back towards you to use roost.
The deino walks forward on unsteady feet, finally stopping a few feet away with her head bowed down to the ground. Poor girl.
You toss an ultra ball at her. There’s barely any resistance at all. When it stops moving altogether you lift it up and let out your final team member. She stares up at you in silence, tongue flicking out to take in her new team. You pour some jerky on a plate and set it out before her. She eats all the jerky, but also half the plate. Oops. You’ll pet it on the ground next time.
“Welcome to the team, Alice.”
*
You keep drawing on your mother’s journey as the temperature keeps dropping. She was the best: went through Unova in winter
alone when she was even younger than you are, won eight badges and got to the semis of the beginner’s tournament, raised a hydreigon well enough that ellas stuck around to raise her kids out of loyalty. It’s a shame you never got to meet her. There are things the memories can’t make up for, after all. You don’t know what her hugs feel like. Or what her voice sounds like when she whispers comforting things into your ear or tells you the hard things you need to hear but don’t want to. Sometimes you imagine those things and it feels like a memory just out of reach.
Now you really wish she was here. There are scraps in her memories that help, but not everything was preserved. Some was for the best – you definitely don’t want to know some things about what she did with your father. Thankfully she left almost all of that out. Other gaps are way more irritating. She traveled alone most of the time. Most other people, even your grandmother, only hop in for a moment and slip out just as quickly. You don’t know what she would do with someone who would hate her for her gifts. Or what she would do with traveling companions in general. But maybe she’d have advice if she was here. She was smarter than you, after all. Instead, you’re left to thread the needle alone.
And she would’ve kept you from getting hypothermia. It’s only getting colder and it’s not like you have warmer gear than you did on the first day.
At least today’s dinner’s coming along well. Lyra has her own (nicer) camp stove so you can cook two things at once. Great for cooking meat and vegetables alongside rice without one getting cold. The meat was cheap, too. No one really wants to cook in the dark. It’s ready-to-eat stuff that’s super expensive. Cooking for you is the same as it’s always been. The same scents of the vegetables browning. The same sounds of boiling water or popping oil. The same heat rising from the stove. You barely have to think about it.
Which makes it a good distraction for something you have to put a little more thought into.
“Alright, Nisshoko? Ready to start?”
You can make up some story about noibat learning Galarian easily enough. Lyra seems to think the bat understands her perfectly and that’s all that matters. It saves you from embarrassing yourself in front of him with your terrible pronunciation in draconic. Still a little sensitive after Reshiram criticized you for that. Not your fault that your throat can’t make proper growls or roars.
The noibat happily chitters away as you stir the rice. “Yes! I’m glad you’re finally talking to me, by the way. I’ve known you can but you always ignore me.”
“Sorry about not speaking to you earlier. Been busy.”
“No, you haven’t.” He screeches and you move to cover your ears before remembering you’re holding a spoon. Hot water sloshes onto the ground before you can catch yourself. His voice gets a little
less as an apology. “You’ve been hiding. Quiet One doesn’t like mind talkers.”
“He calls you Quiet One,” you tell Lyra. Make her feel a little in the loop.
“He’s a noibat,” Kekoa answers. “Hate to meet someone he didn’t think was quiet.”
He screeches again but thankfully your hands weren’t holding anything important. Maybe you shouldn’t have done this while making dinner. “I am quiet! The big fangs called me Silent Wings! That’s how quiet I can be! She just
never raises her voice!”
Yeah. Unsure how much of that you want to translate. Not eager to be the translator while Kekoa gets into an argument with a bat. You go with the bare minimum. “His name was Silent Wings,” you tell Lyra.
“Silent Wings,” Lyra murmurs. “Was the name in Galarian?”
“No. That’s just the closest translation. It’s actually…” You try your best at the screech, but Silent Wings immediately tells you that you’re at least three octaves off. You busy yourself with flipping the meat instead of translating his thoughts on your voice.
“Does Musei work?” Lyra asks. “It means silent in Japanese. My home’s language.”
“Yes,” Musei rumbles. Probably wouldn’t have picked up on it at all if it weren’t for your gift. “It is a good name.”
You don’t think it fits very well, but it seems to make him happy, so you won’t give your opinions. “He likes it.”
A drop of hot liquid flies out and hits your hand. You flick it off without making a big deal of it.
“And do you like being with me?” Lyra asks.
“Yup. Get to see lots of new places.”
See is a very rough translation. It’s what your gift tells you, but the actual word is something closer to ‘hear’ in draconic. Probably the same concept for noibat. “And you’re nice. And Mirai is fun to play with. Still trying to scare her. She always knows I’m coming and moves away.”
“Yeah. He likes going to new places and trying to scare your absol.”
The absol huffs. You can’t translate, but you imagine she’s upset at the
idea that a tiny bat could get around her own gifts. Or maybe you’ve just spent too much time around Pixie and started projecting that onto other pokémon.
Speaking of, Pixie’s been awfully quiet throughout this conversation. She’s pressed into your side eagerly awaiting her dinner, but otherwise staying out of it. Probably still down after Ula’Ula. Don’t know what to tell her there. Yes, she’s a pain in the ass. So much so that lots of people have left her over it. But ‘try not to be really annoying’ would require changing most of her personality and you don’t think you’d want that, even if she could. Maybe toning it down a little would be good, though.
Mom’s then-gurdurr felt useless like that for a while. Can’t quite remember how she resolved it in the end. Might have to meditate and try to look through the memories later.
“And… do you want to go home?” Lyra asks.
The noibat’s truly quiet for a little bit. You go back to stirring the rice while waiting for an answer.
“I would have left eventually. I’m not mad about that. I just wish I could’ve said goodbye to everyone first.”
That strikes home and you wince in sympathy. {I’m sorry. I know what that’s like.} You clear your throat. “He wanted to say goodbye before he left his…” Family? Friends? You settle for something neutral. “…his home.”
“Oh,” Lyra says. It’s a quiet sound with a hint of horror in it. She’d probably never thought about that before. And maybe there were also people
she hadn’t had a chance to say goodbye to. “I… we’re getting close to where I caught you. We can stop by if you want?”
Musei trills happily (and at a reasonable volume) before landing on your shoulder. Pixie hisses beside you, annoyed at another pokémon touching you. You set the spoon and spatula down and scratch her ears. {Love you.}
She doesn’t answer.
“I think I can talk to your mudbray as well.” {Can you just make noises sometimes?} you ask Musei. {It’ll make her think you’re translating.
She shrieks yes.
“Just maybe not in my ear,” you mutter low enough Lyra probably can’t hear it.
The mudbray stirs and snorts. “I don’t like lying to her.”
{Then tell the truth.}
You go back to stirring as the mudbray thinks. “I meant about how we’re talking.”
“Do you want to talk to her?” you ask aloud. She once again takes a while to mull it over. A very thoughtful horse.
“Yes.”
You wait a second for Musei to ramble on about his favorite berries. Haban are the best, but they’re rare so he’ll settle for pechas or bluks. Useful information to pass onto Lyra later.
“Did you have a name before you met Lyra?”
“No.” You can hear her kick some dirt up a few meters away. “I was my mother’s foal. I didn’t need a name.”
“He didn’t have a name before,” you tell Lyra.
“Does she like hers now?”
“It’s fine,” the mudbray mumbles. “I don’t mind it.”
The rice is done so you lower the temperature down a bit while you translate. Meat could still cook for a bit longer.
“That’s awfully nonchalant.” Lyra sounds a bit concerned. You can hear her cross and uncross her legs in the grass. Or some other fidgeting. Probably crossing given the pattern.
“Names are a human thing,” the mudbray says. “If it makes her happy, I like it.”
“Jishin it is then. So, um,” she trails off. It’s weird to see Lyra uncertain like this, as if she’s a primary schooler asking her classmate if he likes her. “Are you happy with me? You seemed to adjust well when you first joined.”
By the time Jishin responds you’ve already turned the other stove down and started putting dinner into bowls. “Mother says the mudsdale were made to help humans. They made us big and strong so we could carry things. I’m supposed to help them. It’s what I was made to do.”
You make a mental note of the story for later. It makes sense that a domesticated pokémon would see humans as creator gods of sorts, even if you’d never thought about that before. Mom’s swanna grew up on a farm and he sees humans as his servants, not his gods. You’d thought all barnyard pokémon might be like that.
Kekoa starts eating as soon as you hand him his bowl. Lyra doesn’t. You do. If your mouth is full it gives noibat a break to ‘translate.’
“Do you want to go back to your mother?” Lyra asks. “I don’t mind. I’d take you to her.”
“You can’t,” she snorts. “One day I went out to graze and she wasn’t home when I came back.” Jishin pauses to kick at the ground, like it took her mother from her. You want to hug the horse but don’t know how she’d react. Besides, you’ll leave that to Lyra. Her noibat’s already a little too friendly with you and you don’t want to give her the idea you’re trying to steal her team. “I think a human caught her. Maybe you’ll run into them someday.”
Lyra does move over to try and hug her mudbray once she hears that. “When I meet a trainer with a mudsdale I’ll let you out,” she promises. “Until then I’ll take care of you.”
And you don’t doubt that she will. Lyra seems to know what she’s doing with her pokémon. Logistically, at least. Taking Musei away without letting her say goodbye was rude, but hardly the worst thing a trainer has ever done.
Come to think of it you never told Noci she could go off and talk to the other beldum. You just kind of let her wander and assumed she’d take care of it.
{Did you get a chance to tell your family where you were going?} you ask her.
{Query Meaning: Family.}
Right. She wasn’t really ‘born.’
{Your creators and the others you were created alongside.}
Simple enough. She can probably understand that.
{ProgenitorUnit is aware of present mission.}
Progenitor, huh? A metang? You don’t
think there are wild metagross in Ula’Ula.
{You’ll have to tell me about your progenitor sometime.}
{Order acknowledged. Preparing Data Logs on Unit001_110010;
Warning: Requested information is above classification level of UnitDesignate Cuicatl Ichtaca;
Redacting Data. Please wait… Redactions Complete;
Unit001_110010 Created Unit001_101110110 17.4496 Local Solar Cycles Ago;
End of Available Information. Query Complete.}
You stop eating. It’s good, for once, but that’s a lot to process. You’ve received a lot of answers when asking people about their parents, but “it’s classified” is new. And a Unit100? That’s a metagross, right? Will they be mad you took their kid? They know and you’re alive so they can’t be
too upset. Probably. Hopefully.
And Noci’s
older than you are? How? What has she even been
doing the whole time?
…maybe Lyra isn’t the only one who needs to learn about her teammates.
)