Persephone
Infinite Screms
- Pronouns
- her/hers
- Partners
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Fairy 6.2: The Final Voyage
Cuicatl
June 21, 2023
You’ve only been to Dr. Livens’ office twice before. The first was when everything went wrong with Genesis. The second was the day you talked to Pixie about dreams and choices. Later that night she would call out for you again and you would get cursed. Maybe. The spiritomb wasn’t sure. You know you are, though, because things never go well for you. Whenever Tezcatlipoca weighs cruelty and kindness in your fate he always picks cruelty.
You’re going to die alone. That’s the part you told Gen. The part that Kalani finished. Then there’s the part she didn’t: you will never go home. You aren’t sure how to feel about that. The only thing left for you at home is your father. Your last surviving family. You owe it to him to return. You should. You don’t want to. When Pixie told you the second half of the ninetales’ curse you were secretly relieved. Almost wished Kalani had finished speaking before Genkei arrived. Then that wouldn’t be your choice. You wouldn’t be a bad daughter. You were simply forced.
Now you have to go back. You aren’t sure Genesis can come with you. Everything from the last few months, it will end. There are only two totems left. One kahuna. Then your visa is set to expire. You’ll go home and everything will go back to the old normal. Just without Achi.
“Cuicatl?”
Dr. Livens calls for you. The session is going to begin. You accept her help walking into the room. You don’t really want to have pokémon out for this since you’re going to be talking about at least one of them. Pixie got really nervous when you told her that you wanted to talk about her without her present. Had to remind her that you almost died for her. You’re not secretly plotting to leave. Just want some time alone.
The doctor guides you to her couch and you sit down, cane resting beside you and hands folded in your lap. She sits down across from you.
“I hear that things have been… eventful since our last session.”
You can’t help but smile. That’s really an understatement. “A little.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Later. Maybe. Not what’s bothering me right now.”
“Oh?”
“Well. A few days ago I met with my boss at VStar…”
“No, ma’am, we haven’t found anything like that.”
“Okay.”
You hang up before they can wish you luck like every other receptionist at every other Pokémon Center in the city. And the airport. And the mall. And VStar. Even the fish restaurant that Rachel took you too in October. None of them have your documents. You called Anahuac’s embassy and they didn’t have a copy of your visa on file, either. You don’t remember having them on the trail. They would’ve gone into the locker you have at the VStar base, probably, even though you can’t remember putting them there. Rachel says there haven’t been any break-ins and the room is constantly watched.
You fall back onto the bed and groan. You don’t reject Pixie when she curls up beside you but you don’t acknowledge her either. You don’t deserve that. Not when you fucked up this badly. Your passport, your visa, everything—gone. You had one job and you failed it spectacularly. Dr. Karashina has been constantly telling you that it isn’t your fault, that this could have happened to anybody, that Nanu can take care of it by the time you reach the Battle Tower. But that’s not true. Normal people don’t lose the only things proving they should be in the country. That only happens to careless people.
Careless.
You remember hearing the word a thousand times. After you burned dinner or dropped it on the ground or wrote your homework too illegibly to grade or got to school late because you misjudged how long it would take to clean up breakfast. Careless. A careless, stupid girl. He was right. Even across the ocean you can’t change who you are. Who you always were.
It was foolish to think you could.
Someone knocks on the door. You ignore them. Then the card reader clicks and the door swings open. Great. Genesis is back.
“Any luck?” she asks.
You don’t answer her. You’re not sure you could without crying, and then you would have to explain why you’re crying, and you just… can’t. Not today. Not now.
Your girlfriend walks towards your shared bed with hesitant steps before settling into her side. “Do you want to go on a date?” she asks.
“What?”
“A date.” She says it slowly like you don’t understand the language. Like you’re stupid. Maybe you are. “We haven’t gone on one yet. It feels like we maybe should at this point. Uh. Do you have dates in Anahuac?”
You roll your eyes. “Sort of.” Not worth going into the full details of courting and all that. They’re not as important as they were a few decades ago and you never really bothered to learn them. What you know was picked up secondhand from Achi. “I should be looking for my passport now. Sorry.”
Genesis takes a deep breath. “If it’s been gone for months, a few hours won’t hurt.”
Doesn’t she get it? You can’t know about the problem and do nothing. You can go back to enjoying things until you’ve fixed your mistake.
“When’s the last time you ate?”
You frown and try to remember. Breakfast didn’t happen because you weren’t that hungry and had to help Pixie through her exercises and take her and Coco on a walk and polish Noci and Leo’s armor. You were too focused on your passport to eat lunch. You didn’t really want to eat dinner last night because you felt your stomach in the shower and noticed a curve there that you’re pretty sure isn’t healthy. Can’t remember if Lyra had one or not. It would be too awkward to ask her or Genesis about it. Really weird if you just touched Genesis’s stomach while cuddling. Pretty sure you’re not supposed to do that. Anyway, Lyra bullied you into eating something while she was watching. Just a salad, but one of those salads with actual toppings. Before that… what time is it, anyway? Asking might cede the point. So you don’t.
She claims victory anyway. “Come on. Let’s get out of the room. Take our pokémon on a walk to the beach. There’s a good place… um. Okay that might be too expensive now. There’s a soup place on by the boardwalk. Do you like soup?”
What kind of a question is that? There are obviously soups you like out of the thousands people have come up with. It’s just food in water. Mankind’s second recipe. Right after “normal food but roasted.”
“Fine.” You’re not happy that you’re wasting valuable time, but you know Gen well enough to know that she stays on track when she’s focused on something. You’ll go on a quick walk, eat some food, get back to business.
You aren’t sure if a first date is supposed to feel important. You think it probably should. Genesis would want it to be. She’s a romantic like that. You just aren’t in a good mood for that kind of thing. She’ll be disappointed when you can’t live up to what she wants. What she deserves. She should be happy. She should be with someone who can make her happy. Instead, she has to spend effort on you. It’s embarrassing. Shameful. Careless.
“I don’t think it should be an official date. I can’t… I wouldn’t be good for it.”
“Right.” She pauses to consider. “You should enjoy it, too. Okay. Uh. Just a walk and lunch, then?”
So understanding. Not even you have been able to break her patience yet.
“Just a walk and lunch.”
She takes your hand. Holds it, not in the guiding way. “Shirona says it doesn’t matter. You aren’t traveling out of the country before the conference and she’s sure Nanu can come through then. You don’t need it to go faster.”
“She had to fix my mistake,” you mutter. “Hate it.”
Your girlfriend shifts closer so that your shoulders are touching. Pixie has to adjust on your lap but doesn’t complain. “You had to fix my mistake,” she whispers. “Are you mad at me for that?”
“What mistake?” You run through the last few weeks and can’t think of anything big. What is she guilty about? Or does she think you’d hate her for? She flicks you in the head and you realize what she’s talking about. Right. She told you she… agreed to that. You don’t think it mattered. If she hadn’t agreed her father would have just agreed for her.
“I’m not mad about that. Not your fault.”
“And Shirona’s not mad about this. Resolved it with one phone call.”
A very long one. With Nanu of all people. Probably had to call in a lot of favors to get his help. You don’t even know how he would produce a copy of your visa and passport. That sounds like it would have to come from Anahuac or the American central government. Maybe he just has connections?
You sigh. “I’m sorry you have to help me like this. You…” You don’t want to tell her aloud that she deserves better, even if she does, because you like this and you don’t want it to end. No human has really cuddled you in… in a year. You’re more comfortable with her than anyone since you came to Alola. You don’t want to be alone. Again.
“You had to make me breathe for a month. I can’t complain about helping my girlfriend feel better. If I can, I’d love to.”
You aren’t getting out of this. And, in spite of everything, she’s already helping you a little.
“You want to go, Pix?”
She groans. You don’t need your gift to know she doesn’t want to. Or why she doesn’t want to. The dry season means that Alola’s always sunny. And hot. She would hate it even if she wasn’t hurt. She had a very long walk this morning, the one that made you too late to eat breakfast… yeah. Rough day for the poor girl. You scratch her ear and let her press her head into your hand for as long as you can justify keeping Gen waiting. Then you gently push the vulpix away and get to your feet.
“Coco?”
The dinosaur comes running from her bed in the corner. You run your hands along her neck, massaging the powerful muscles underneath while she gently growls and occasionally shakes beneath you. She wants it to be playtime. She really needs more. Poor girl’s probably felt neglected after Pixie came back and Ihe—
You stop. “That’s going to be another tangent. Should I finish this one or go to that?”
Dr. Livens taps her pen against her notepad twice. A strange tic of hers. “I would like to hear how your not-date went. Can I just ask you a question before we move on?”
“Sure?”
“Has anyone ever taught you how to accept help?”
“What? No? Why would I have to be taught that.” You just say yes. Why would someone need to teach you that?
“Did your father ever help you when you were struggling as a child?”
“Kind of? When I was really young and still learning to read and stuff. Before I became an adult.”
“And when would you say you became an adult?”
“Ten. Officially. I’d already been doing adult duties for a while before that, but ten is when adulthood officially starts.” It was when Achi got his spear. When your mother was supposed to start giving you some of her work to do on your own. But you’d already been given her memories and duties. Someone needed to cook and clean. Your father already had his burdens.
“I see.” She sounds unconvinced. You hate that. When she doesn’t believe you but won’t say as much. “Did your brother help with your chores?”
“He tried. Our father didn’t like that. Distracted him from schoolwork and training and all of his duties.”
“And was he always busy with his schoolwork and training every second of every day?”
“No? But he was tired and had to rest or play with his friends and stuff. Like I did when Alice took me away for a weekend.”
Dr. Livens takes a deep breath and exhales through her nose.
“Did anyone other than your mother’s hydreigon help you when you were overwhelmed, or tired, or just didn’t want to do something?”
Um. Your godmother, sometimes, when you were younger. But she was busy around her house. Once you were trained there wasn’t much reason for her to step in. You’ve barely spoken to her in the last few years. After ten? Hmm. There had to be someone, sometime.
“We’ve spoken before about the difference between knowing something to be true in your head and your heart. It’s one thing to know, intellectually, that you can ask people for help and they’ll probably give it. Feeling like it’s appropriate or something that’s easy to do is something else entirely.”
You don’t answer her because you’re not sure what to say. Or what would happen if you did. You ask your pokémon to help you all the time. Have others help set up the campsite. You can do it. You do it. Just not with the things that you should be able to handle on your own.
When Dr. Livens talks again her voice is soft, like she’s talking to a child. You aren’t a child. Haven’t been for years. “Would you like to talk more about this now or continue telling me about your not-date?”
“Not-date.”
“Alright. Go ahead.”
Genesis likes the water. Before The Blackout she was always the one pushing for beach days. She was persistent enough to wear down you and Kekoa into going to the beach, even if you wouldn’t dress to swim. You have your problems with your body—
“That doesn’t mean I want to talk about them right now.”
“Understood. Keep going.”
You have your problems with your body and Kekoa has his. Neither of you wants to show more skin than you have to. When you were helping her recover she wanted to be by the pool or the beach at leas once a day, even if it was too dangerous for her to go in the water. Her starter’s a water-type. She got another one while you were away. Still aren’t sure how to ask about that. You aren’t sure if she wants to remember anything from those four months and it feels wrong to talk to go behind her back and talk to Oliver.
Genesis likes the water so of course she took you to the boardwalk. She narrates things to you, talking about the sights and past trips so quickly that her sentences start to run together. Her pulse is a quick thrum under your hand. She’s nervous. Probably sees this as a date even if you didn’t want it to be. You try to respond, try to be encouraging, but she took you to the boardwalk.
Eight months ago, you went to the boardwalk and almost ended everything. You want to say that you’re glad you didn’t, that everything’s been better since. And it mostly has. Mostly. You might change your mind when you have to go back to Anahuac.
You freeze in place. Shit. You weren’t supposed to tell her that. You take a deep breath and try to figure out how much trouble you’re in. “Are you sending me to jail?”
Dr. Livens emotions jump just beneath her mental surface. You aren’t good enough to tell what they jumped between, just that they changed. If you hadn’t been paying attention you wouldn’t have even got that.
“What for?”
“I told you that I thought about killing myself.”
The words hang heavy in the air. Should you have told her? Maybe she was just playing dumb and now she can’t. Of all the careless mistakes—
“No. Not unless you have an immediate plan. And it’s not jail. It’s just a temporary hold. No criminal record.”
Maybe not. Maybe it wouldn’t affect your visa. However, the people who decide if you get a Class V might not trust you if they knew about it. Then you couldn’t get enough money to get Alice back, Coco would have to leave, and everything would fall apart. You aren’t sure what would happen then. If you lost everyone you cared about in a year. Even if there are new people it wouldn’t be the same. They can, and will, slink out of your life without warning.
When you finally get to the restaurant you end up seated across from Genesis. Which you don’t like. You understand why people do this—you’re supposed to sit across from the people you’re eating with so you can make eye contact and see each other when you talk. It’s a social rule. It just doesn’t work for you. There’s no visual reminder someone is there. You can’t see expressions. You would like to sit next to someone. Feel the air move as they shift around. Maybe even feel their warmth or a pulse or something. Anything to tell you there’s another human there. That you aren’t alone.
Genesis talks to you. Narrates the entire menu. It’s not the same. You don’t know how to ask. It might be wrong, even indecent, in this culture. Yes, you’re already sharing a bed. That’s in private. Americans are weird about public affection. No platonic kissing, barely any platonic hugs. Everything’s cold, formal, businesslike. They want their people to be as lifeless as their culture, as their machines.
Genesis pauses. “Oh! There’s a corn, squash, and bean soup. Says it’s inspired by Anahuac. Do you want to try that?”
“Sure.”
You do not like choosing foods. You do not like her having to read the entire menu for you. Most ‘Anahuac-inspired’ food you have had in America has too much cheese, not nearly enough (or any) chile. It’s not always bad, but it’s not home. It’s not even a good attempt at it.
A waitress takes your order and you’re left in comfortable silence. A song comes on the radio and sucks you into one of your mother’s memories. One that stands oddly strong despite nothing happening. She’d been waiting in a Pokémon Center lobby for her pokémon to be healed after a battle. You’re pretty sure it was against Clay. Some of the context is missing. That’s the problem with your mother’s memories: you have snapshots, lines of thought from the moment, but they don’t connect right. Maybe you could group them into eras but not a straight-line sequence. Anyway, she was listening to the radio and the song came on and she instantly liked it. The singer’s voice was beautiful, the melody was entrancing, and there was a sadness to it all that usually isn’t in American music. It’s all so shallow. Love, lust, partying, maybe anger or heartbreak. Nothing on mourning or childbirth or platonic friendship. Music made for everyone and no one.
She loved the song. It became one of her favorites. Sometimes you still find yourself humming it. A small connection to her.
“When did this song come out?” you ask Genesis. “It still gets played a lot on the radio.”
“Pretty recently, I think? Let me check.” There’s a lull as the chorus swells into a breathtakingly powerful performance and your girlfriend checks her phone. “2017. Why?”
No. That’s. Your mother heard it in the 1990s. That cannot be right. She must have the date for the wrong song.
“Nothing. Just thought it was older. Sounds like something my mom would have liked.”
“Oh. Her voice is kind of timeless. Even my mom listened to her music and she didn’t like much made after the 50s.”
Her thoughts slow as emotion bleeds in. You reach a hand across the table and she grasps it. You don’t know what she’s feeling. You care more about being a good daughter than your father as a person. Is it similar for her? Was she friends with her mother and now feels betrayed? Your father hurt you, yes, but you never really looked to him for safety. If Achi hurt you. Then… that would be different. You would still allow it from him. You shared a mind and he would not hurt himself, or you, without reason.
Genesis takes your hand and sighs. “I wonder how my siblings are doing. If I was selfish to get out and leave them behind.”
You want to help but aren’t sure how. Pokémon are easy. You can own one by having enough money the old owner wants to sell. Humans are hard. Their ownership is decided by custom and courts. Custom cuts in favor of the parent and her parents can bribe any court.
“Just wish there was something I could do about it. Being helpless makes it worse.”
“We’ll figure it out,” you lie to her. “Just give it time.”
“Okay.” She doesn’t sound convinced but she doesn’t push it. The waiter comes shortly after and you place your orders. Let her order for you since you have no idea what it’s called on the menu.
You sit in silence. Your thoughts linger on the docks and hers on her family. Neither of you are happy. This is a date, kind of. You’re supposed to be happy. You try and think of something nice. Something that can’t cause any problems. Books, maybe? There was a night on… Akala, probably, where she asked you about books before realizing you couldn’t read. You let her stew in the awkwardness for a bit before reminding her of audiobooks. She ended up rambling on about some fantasy series that you couldn’t really bring yourself to care about. Her idea of knights and dragons and fairies was adorable. In Anahuac they don’t romanticize war. Two soldiers clash on the battlefield. One will be sacrificed. The Americans just kill their enemies outright. Let them die a meaningless, dishonorable death and leave their remains to the scavengers. You know they’re outraged by your sacrifices but at least those have a purpose. Better than bombing an entire city or executing a man already locked in a cage, unable to hurt anyone again.
Not the point. Knights. Books.
“Have you read anything lately?”
You can feel her startle. She was probably as lost in her own mind as you were. Maybe even worse. “Oh. Um. No.” There’s a brief pause before you hear her body rub against the booth as she adjusts her posture. “The Cawdet’s Eye is probably out now. I didn’t even think about its release when it happened.” Another pause. “You know, the woman they hired read all the books. Made me recite a worse version without the stuff she didn’t like. Poor people, lady knights, friendships between girls. It was kind of silly in hindsight.” She doesn’t quite giggle. More of a chuff. You aren’t sure what you’re supposed to say to that. “Then she made me burn them all. Except she messed up and the fire exploded.”
Genesis laughs for real this time. You try to giggle back, even if you’re still horrified.
“That’s when father fired her and hired…” She trails off. You know how it ended. There was nothing funny about it. Except maybe the kiss in hindsight. Maybe someday you’ll be able to laugh about her mistake. Probably around the same time you can laugh about any part of your brother’s death. Probably never.
“We could get more books,” you tell her. You try to keep your voice gentle. Even though you kind of hate it when people do that to you. “Maybe not all of them yet. But some.”
“I would like that. Can we go to the bookstore after lunch?”
You want to say no. That there you should be doing… something about your papers. But this would make Genesis happy. You can’t say no.
The food is disappointing when it comes. Not nearly enough flavor. The kind of thing you would eat while fasting. Normal fasting. The no-spice fasting. Not the American eat nothing fasting. It doesn’t make you as homesick as you would’ve thought. You made your own food at home. You make your own food here. You don’t have the right ingredients or equipment but it’s still pretty much the same. Life is still pretty much the same. Just without the people you cared about. You miss them more than Anahuac itself.
“Do you want to talk about that today or later?”
“Later.” You aren’t sure how long the ‘future topics’ list is now. Maybe it’s so long that you’ll never get through it.
“Did anything else happen on the not-date you want to talk about?”
“Kind of. I told Gen I loved the food because she sounded like she really wanted me to like it. Then we went book shopping and it was almost the happiest I’ve ever heard her. Ended up buying four books for her and a better audiobook reader for me. She recommended a few. I’ll probably read them. For her, mostly. Some sound good. Then we just went back to the hotel to cuddle and read.”
“And how did that feel? Doing that when you had work to do?”
You take a deep breath. Right. The mistake. “I forgot about work for hours. Never did find my passport. I’ll do better in the future.”
Dr. Livens hums in faint disapproval. “What if you didn’t?”
“Then I’d never get anything done and—”
“And what if you didn’t?”
“Then people would starve? I cook food. On the trail at least. Haven’t been doing that as much lately…” You offered. Dr. Karashina lets you, but only once a day. If you cook too much she doesn’t let you the next day. It’s frustrating. She’s a champion letting you live in her home. You should be taking care of her, not the other way around.
“Off the trail then. What if you just stopped doing work for three days.”
Dr. Karashina would judge you, probably. There are still things weighing over your head. Still money to make, people to take care of. “Pixie needs physical therapy, Noci and Leo need polishing, Coco needs a lot of attention.”
“How long does the physical therapy take? How much attention does Coco need a day? How often do Leo and Noci need polishing, strictly speaking?”
Oh. You get it. She’s trying to get you to manage your time better so you can be more productive. Very American.
“Maybe an hour for the therapy between two sessions a day. Coco likes at least an hour of walks, an hour of play. She could do down to a half hour of each. Maybe. I worry I don’t give her enough of my time. Sometimes she wants to play and I’m busy and—”
“I understand. How often do your pokémon need polishing?”
“They don’t really need it,” you admit. “It’s just the only way I have to connect with Leo. And it’s not polishing as much as petting sometimes. Noci seems to like it. I never know with her. I want to do something for her but it never feels like I can do anything. Outside of explaining stuff. But I can’t really schedule that. She just asks questions when she has them.”
Dr. Livens writes something down and flips the page of her notes. You’re pretty sure she only takes as many notes as she does so she can stall and think of questions. “What did your average day look like before coming to Alola?”
Average day would be a school day. So. “Get up, make breakfast, figure out what my father’s lunch was going to be, make it if necessary, clean up breakfast, walk to school. School for several hours. Walk home. Care for the pokémon. Make dinner. Clean things up around the house. Homework until it was done or I gave up and went to bed? I had more time for pokémon and my brother on weekends. Sometimes I would knit or listen to an audiobook or a movie if I had the time.”
“So you took care of other people first, and then did something for you if it fit into the schedule?”
“Yes? I took care of what needed to be done before other things.”
The therapist takes a deep breath and holds it for a moment before slowly exhaling.
“I think I see where some thought patterns come from. If you had always been told that other people’s needs were more important than your own, how long would it take to start believing that other people are more important than you? That you’re worth less than other humans.”
“I don’t…” Except. You do? She isn’t wrong. You know, on some level, that you’re the same as everyone else but. Sometimes you don’t know that. Or feel that.
“If you don’t think you’re worth as much as other people, it would be hard to accept their help. It breaks the order of things that you had been taught. People resist having their worldviews challenged.”
But it’s Shirona Karashina. She is more important than you. When you try to open your mouth to tell her no words come out.
“I would like it if you could eventually tell me, confidently, that you’re just as important as everyone else and deserve to be happy and cared for as much as them. Do you think you could do that someday?”
“I…” It’s. You get that. In your brain. The happy part. But you don’t need to be cared for. You haven’t needed that for years. It feels wrong when Dr. Karashina has to. Like. You’re not sure. She shouldn’t have to. She shouldn’t want to. Because?
…
“What I want you to do is to take at least one hour a day to yourself on the trail. Don’t go out of your way to help anyone. Don’t be productive. Just do something you want to do. Knit, listen to an audiobook, take a nap: I don’t care. Something you enjoy.”
“I don’t want to be a burden on the trail,” you whisper.
“Ask Lyra and Genesis if you would be a burden. Tell them why you’re making the request. Do you think they would turn you down?”
Genesis wouldn’t. She’s told you that she wants to help. And she gave you the books in the first place. You don’t know about Lyra. You haven’t been sure what to think about her since—
“I need to talk about something we put aside.”
“Alright. Go ahead.”
June 12, 2020
“I hope you’re happy. Or at least less sad. And I want to meet again when Alola is free. Or whenever you turn on Chris Foster. Whichever comes first.”
You rewind the recording.
“I hope you’re happy. Or at least less sad. And I want to meet again when Alola is free. Or whenever you turn on Chris Foster. Whichever comes first.”
Again.
“I hope you’re happy. Or at least less sad. And I want to meet again when Alola is free. Or whenever you turn on Chris Foster. Whichever comes first.”
And again.
“I hope you’re happy. Or at least less sad. And I want to meet again when Alola is free. Or whenever you turn on Chris Foster. Whichever comes first.”
Genesis clears her throat beside you. “Do you need water or something? Anything? I can—”
“I hope you’re happy. Or at least less sad. And I want to meet again when Alola is free. Or whenever you turn on Chris Foster. Whichever comes first.”
“Just. Is your head okay? From that thing under the desert?”
You can’t bring yourself to care about the baltoy’s city. It just. Doesn’t. matter. You want to tell your girlfriend to shut up but can’t find the energy.
“I hope you’re happy. Or at least less sad. And I want to meet again when Alola is free. Or whenever you turn on Chris Foster. Whichever comes first.”
You got a goodbye this time. In Galarian. By recording.
“Hey, Cuicatl. Um. Shit, I don’t know how much Galarian you can actually understand but there really wasn’t another way to do this.”
He knew. He knew and he still did it.
“I’m leaving. It’s not your fault. I’ve been planning this for a while.”
You hope that the third time would show you something you missed, some expression you overlooked that tells you why this is happening.
“You saw what Gen’s dad could get away with. Guess what? That kind of thing happens every damn day in Alola and no one gives a shit. Well, okay, not quite that bad. Okay, sometimes that bad. The cops can mow down any kanaka they want and get off with desk duty for a week. And it needs to stop. Someone has to make these fuckers pay. The Gage family, the cops, the capitalists, the settlers—all of them. They need to burn. And.”
He never even cared about her to begin with and now he’s using your girlfriend as an excuse to leave you? Is that what he’s really mad about? You dating someone he didn’t like. Grow the fuck up.
“I’m going to go get Shirona. Call me if you need anything?”
You ignore her and listen to the recording all the way through for a third time. Nothing. It still makes no damn sense. He wants to, what, fight the entire American government with a group of teenagers who couldn’t cut it as trainers? He’s a fool and he’s going to get himself killed. There’s no glory down the path he’s walking. Only a shallow grave. And he wouldn’t even let you know what he’s doing. Wouldn’t even say goodbye to your face.
Fuck this. You stand and call for Coco. Once she’s underneath your hand you walk to the bedroom door and then the home’s exit. Dr. Karashina calls out to you but you ignore her. If she wants to physically restrain you there’s nothing you can do to stop it. But she will have to do that to stop you.
“Follow Kekoa’s scent.”
Coco doesn’t know what’s going on. You haven’t had the time or heart to explain it to her. She won’t take it well. Kekoa was, is, her sort-of-father and she adores Ihe. No sign he left any of his pokémon. He wouldn’t, anyway. His pokémon are his tools. Maybe admired and well-maintained tools, but tools nonetheless. Always have been, always will be. Not that you can talk. You held onto Pixie long after she wanted to leave and will manipulate your team however you need to for your goals. It’s just worse when you do it because you should know better. Do know better. And just. Don’t. Care.
Dr. Karashina doesn’t follow you herself. Her togekiss does. She sends you a little ping with aura or psionics or something every now and again to let you know that she’s there. You aren’t sure if it’s supposed to be threatening or reassuring or something else entirely.
Eventually Coco breaks away from your hand to walk in a circle around you, sniffing everything.
“Trail’s gone.”
“What?”
“His scent doesn’t go anywhere else.”
“Did it branch off on the way here?” He could have backtracked and then taken another path to throw you off. Could have worked.
“No.”
Oh. You try to think of something explaining this before remembering the obvious answer: he just flew away. Someone picked him up with a bird and now the scent is gone and he’s gone and—
He’s gone.
You collapse to your knees on the asphalt and finally give up.
He’s gone. Just like that.
Coco lays a head in your lap. Then Mitsuru lands behind you and wraps a wing over your shoulder. Right. Togekiss are tied to happiness and sadness… somehow. You’ve never asked the bird. You really should. Eventually. When you have words and thought back.
Now? Neither.
Thought comesback eventually. They came back too fast. You’ve been stuck in a loop figuring out why this happened, what you did wrong. You didn’t pay as much attention to him as you should have in the last few weeks. Been too busy with the thesis and your headaches and Genesis to focus on him. You should have. If you’d just been there maybe this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe he would’ve at least told you about it and you could’ve talked him out of it. Maybe, maybe, maybe, maybe, maybe—
“I’m sorry.”
Your head snaps up and an ache shoots through your body. You’ve been in the same place for too long.
“I’m sorry,” Lyra repeats.
{For what?}
You know she hates your mental voice but you don’t think you can speak.
“He told me about this.”
{He what?} You shove your presence out as much as you can and slowly rise to your feet. “Why. Didn’t you tell me?” Your voice is hoarse and harsh and filled with a fury you haven’t felt for weeks. Maybe months.
Lyra’s tone stays steady in response. “He promised me he’d tell you about it before he left. And I didn’t think you would believe me.”
“Why. Wouldn’t. I?”
“Because it would look like I was trying to interfere with your friendships to get back at you for dating Genesis.”
That stuns you out of your anger. In what world would you just assume that’s what someone was doing? You’ve known Lyra. She can be a bitch but she wouldn’t stoop to that. Right? Not everyone is out to betray—
Oh.
Maybe.
Maybe she has a point.
People you trust will do things you never would have imagined.
And you just have to live with it, knowing it could happen again.
“Do you want to talk about that today?”
At some point Dr. Livens sent her wigglytuff out. You’ve been hugging the fairy for who knows how long. Haven’t been able to talk with your voice for most of it. You try to answer Dr. Livens’ question and give up. You don’t know if there is an answer. Certainly not one you want to talk about right now.
You don’t want to talk about anything right now.
She respects that.
Dr. Karashina’s hotel room door swings open. She’s not behind it. Hard to explain how you know that, but you do. Just a general awareness of air and heat and sound, maybe?
{Good evening, Cuicatl. Shirona will see you shortly.}
Genkei, then.
“Thank you.”
You mentally prod Coco to find somewhere for you to sit. Dr. Karashina rarely calls you over for quick conversations. The lucario doesn’t say anything else. Kagetora lumbers over to talk to talk to Coco. The tyrunt knows that Dr. Karashina is leaving soon and wants to get as much time in with the elder dragon as she can.
“Rough session earlier?” your mentor asks as she walks into the room.
Rough session of what? Therapy? You trail a hand down your face and feel a slick patch. Oh. Should have cleaned up.
“Yes.”
She gives you an opportunity to say more. You don’t. She was there when Kekoa left. She knows.
“Right. Since you’re leaving to Poni soon I went out with Lyra and Genesis during your session to upgrade your gear.”
Does that mean she paid for it? She’s… she’s already been too nice.
“I will pay my share.”
“I knew you would try, which is why you weren’t invited.”
Oh.
Wait.
“Am I bad at accepting help?” You blurt out.
For a moment there’s dead silence. And then Dr. Karashina laughs. Uncontrollably. At you? “S-sorry,” she stammers. “Just.” She takes a deep breath and ends with one final chuckle. “Yes.”
You purse your lips. Damn it. “I’m sorr—”
“None of that. It’s something we can work on.”
“Okay…” You want to fix it but she’s being stubborn. Maybe you can just work with your therapist on this.
“Have you given any thought to what happens after the island challenge is over?”
You blink. What does that have to do with what you were talking about?
“I have to go home,” you tell her slowly. Because you’re pretty sure you’ve told her this.
“Well, Anahuac is… an option.” She says it like she thinks it’s a bad option. “If you want to stay in Alola I’m sure Olivia or Rachel could arrange it. Or you could come to Japan with me. I could start making preparations while I’m back in Sinnoh for a few weeks.”
That’s a lot to ask of them. And you should go back. You just don’t get why they would—
You’re doing it again. Literally right after she asked you not to.
“I need time to think about it.”
“That’s fine. Just wanted to let you know about your options.”
Her mind feels more sealed-up than usual. Always seems to these days when Anahuac comes up. Are things okay between her government and your homeland’s?
“Okay.”
“Good. Final thing before we talk about the gear, I’m only going to be gone for three weeks. Mitsuru wants to stay in Alola for that time. Is it alright if she tags along with you?”
You don’t need the fairy’s protection. You also know the togekiss loves Alola’s warmth and isn’t doing this for you. “That’s fine.”
“Gear, then. I did restock your sunscreen, which you do need to be wearing in the dry season, whatever you think. I’ve had Kagetora tell Coco that you need to wear it. I also told Nocitlālin myself while she was trying to spy on me. That way at least one of them will make you do it.”
You groan. Damn it, using your own team against you.
“I also got a lightweight tent for Lyra and one for you and Genesis. Just don’t be too loud. Lyra won’t like it and it might draw bewear.”
You’re pretty sure your blush must be visible now. “We haven’t—”
“I got you a flare. You’d be surprised how many electric- and water-types can wreck electronic emergency signals. Just be careful not to use it in dry areas unless it’s an absolute emergency. Even then have one of your water-types clean up any embers immediately. Next…”
Is this what it feels like to get mothered? You don’t really know. Your mother’s memories are very, very sparse when it comes to her family. Your godmother maybe liked you but she didn’t really love you. Alice… yes, Alice could be like that to her very breakable human. She was also a dragon with a strange idea of siblinghood or motherhood or whatever you had.
She offered to take you back to Japan. Would that require adoption? Does she want that? Why? She’s the highest ranked woman in the world. You’re nobody. You aren’t even sure you can beat the island challenge without adding more team members and you don’t really want to. You have three battlers. Alice, Renfield, and Searah can take the final spots. If you get them back in time. When you get them back in time.
Can you accept this? Will she just decide you’re not worth her time anymore like…
Coco nudges your leg. Can probably sense the distress. You nudge her back with your foot and she gently gnaws on your calf. Not nearly hard enough to break the skin or even leave a mark. It’s supposed to be a reassuring thing, probably.
You lean down to pat her head and she pushes up into the touch.
Cuicatl
June 21, 2023
You’ve only been to Dr. Livens’ office twice before. The first was when everything went wrong with Genesis. The second was the day you talked to Pixie about dreams and choices. Later that night she would call out for you again and you would get cursed. Maybe. The spiritomb wasn’t sure. You know you are, though, because things never go well for you. Whenever Tezcatlipoca weighs cruelty and kindness in your fate he always picks cruelty.
You’re going to die alone. That’s the part you told Gen. The part that Kalani finished. Then there’s the part she didn’t: you will never go home. You aren’t sure how to feel about that. The only thing left for you at home is your father. Your last surviving family. You owe it to him to return. You should. You don’t want to. When Pixie told you the second half of the ninetales’ curse you were secretly relieved. Almost wished Kalani had finished speaking before Genkei arrived. Then that wouldn’t be your choice. You wouldn’t be a bad daughter. You were simply forced.
Now you have to go back. You aren’t sure Genesis can come with you. Everything from the last few months, it will end. There are only two totems left. One kahuna. Then your visa is set to expire. You’ll go home and everything will go back to the old normal. Just without Achi.
“Cuicatl?”
Dr. Livens calls for you. The session is going to begin. You accept her help walking into the room. You don’t really want to have pokémon out for this since you’re going to be talking about at least one of them. Pixie got really nervous when you told her that you wanted to talk about her without her present. Had to remind her that you almost died for her. You’re not secretly plotting to leave. Just want some time alone.
The doctor guides you to her couch and you sit down, cane resting beside you and hands folded in your lap. She sits down across from you.
“I hear that things have been… eventful since our last session.”
You can’t help but smile. That’s really an understatement. “A little.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Later. Maybe. Not what’s bothering me right now.”
“Oh?”
“Well. A few days ago I met with my boss at VStar…”
*
“No, ma’am, we haven’t found anything like that.”
“Okay.”
You hang up before they can wish you luck like every other receptionist at every other Pokémon Center in the city. And the airport. And the mall. And VStar. Even the fish restaurant that Rachel took you too in October. None of them have your documents. You called Anahuac’s embassy and they didn’t have a copy of your visa on file, either. You don’t remember having them on the trail. They would’ve gone into the locker you have at the VStar base, probably, even though you can’t remember putting them there. Rachel says there haven’t been any break-ins and the room is constantly watched.
You fall back onto the bed and groan. You don’t reject Pixie when she curls up beside you but you don’t acknowledge her either. You don’t deserve that. Not when you fucked up this badly. Your passport, your visa, everything—gone. You had one job and you failed it spectacularly. Dr. Karashina has been constantly telling you that it isn’t your fault, that this could have happened to anybody, that Nanu can take care of it by the time you reach the Battle Tower. But that’s not true. Normal people don’t lose the only things proving they should be in the country. That only happens to careless people.
Careless.
You remember hearing the word a thousand times. After you burned dinner or dropped it on the ground or wrote your homework too illegibly to grade or got to school late because you misjudged how long it would take to clean up breakfast. Careless. A careless, stupid girl. He was right. Even across the ocean you can’t change who you are. Who you always were.
It was foolish to think you could.
Someone knocks on the door. You ignore them. Then the card reader clicks and the door swings open. Great. Genesis is back.
“Any luck?” she asks.
You don’t answer her. You’re not sure you could without crying, and then you would have to explain why you’re crying, and you just… can’t. Not today. Not now.
Your girlfriend walks towards your shared bed with hesitant steps before settling into her side. “Do you want to go on a date?” she asks.
“What?”
“A date.” She says it slowly like you don’t understand the language. Like you’re stupid. Maybe you are. “We haven’t gone on one yet. It feels like we maybe should at this point. Uh. Do you have dates in Anahuac?”
You roll your eyes. “Sort of.” Not worth going into the full details of courting and all that. They’re not as important as they were a few decades ago and you never really bothered to learn them. What you know was picked up secondhand from Achi. “I should be looking for my passport now. Sorry.”
Genesis takes a deep breath. “If it’s been gone for months, a few hours won’t hurt.”
Doesn’t she get it? You can’t know about the problem and do nothing. You can go back to enjoying things until you’ve fixed your mistake.
“When’s the last time you ate?”
You frown and try to remember. Breakfast didn’t happen because you weren’t that hungry and had to help Pixie through her exercises and take her and Coco on a walk and polish Noci and Leo’s armor. You were too focused on your passport to eat lunch. You didn’t really want to eat dinner last night because you felt your stomach in the shower and noticed a curve there that you’re pretty sure isn’t healthy. Can’t remember if Lyra had one or not. It would be too awkward to ask her or Genesis about it. Really weird if you just touched Genesis’s stomach while cuddling. Pretty sure you’re not supposed to do that. Anyway, Lyra bullied you into eating something while she was watching. Just a salad, but one of those salads with actual toppings. Before that… what time is it, anyway? Asking might cede the point. So you don’t.
She claims victory anyway. “Come on. Let’s get out of the room. Take our pokémon on a walk to the beach. There’s a good place… um. Okay that might be too expensive now. There’s a soup place on by the boardwalk. Do you like soup?”
What kind of a question is that? There are obviously soups you like out of the thousands people have come up with. It’s just food in water. Mankind’s second recipe. Right after “normal food but roasted.”
“Fine.” You’re not happy that you’re wasting valuable time, but you know Gen well enough to know that she stays on track when she’s focused on something. You’ll go on a quick walk, eat some food, get back to business.
You aren’t sure if a first date is supposed to feel important. You think it probably should. Genesis would want it to be. She’s a romantic like that. You just aren’t in a good mood for that kind of thing. She’ll be disappointed when you can’t live up to what she wants. What she deserves. She should be happy. She should be with someone who can make her happy. Instead, she has to spend effort on you. It’s embarrassing. Shameful. Careless.
“I don’t think it should be an official date. I can’t… I wouldn’t be good for it.”
“Right.” She pauses to consider. “You should enjoy it, too. Okay. Uh. Just a walk and lunch, then?”
So understanding. Not even you have been able to break her patience yet.
“Just a walk and lunch.”
She takes your hand. Holds it, not in the guiding way. “Shirona says it doesn’t matter. You aren’t traveling out of the country before the conference and she’s sure Nanu can come through then. You don’t need it to go faster.”
“She had to fix my mistake,” you mutter. “Hate it.”
Your girlfriend shifts closer so that your shoulders are touching. Pixie has to adjust on your lap but doesn’t complain. “You had to fix my mistake,” she whispers. “Are you mad at me for that?”
“What mistake?” You run through the last few weeks and can’t think of anything big. What is she guilty about? Or does she think you’d hate her for? She flicks you in the head and you realize what she’s talking about. Right. She told you she… agreed to that. You don’t think it mattered. If she hadn’t agreed her father would have just agreed for her.
“I’m not mad about that. Not your fault.”
“And Shirona’s not mad about this. Resolved it with one phone call.”
A very long one. With Nanu of all people. Probably had to call in a lot of favors to get his help. You don’t even know how he would produce a copy of your visa and passport. That sounds like it would have to come from Anahuac or the American central government. Maybe he just has connections?
You sigh. “I’m sorry you have to help me like this. You…” You don’t want to tell her aloud that she deserves better, even if she does, because you like this and you don’t want it to end. No human has really cuddled you in… in a year. You’re more comfortable with her than anyone since you came to Alola. You don’t want to be alone. Again.
“You had to make me breathe for a month. I can’t complain about helping my girlfriend feel better. If I can, I’d love to.”
You aren’t getting out of this. And, in spite of everything, she’s already helping you a little.
“You want to go, Pix?”
She groans. You don’t need your gift to know she doesn’t want to. Or why she doesn’t want to. The dry season means that Alola’s always sunny. And hot. She would hate it even if she wasn’t hurt. She had a very long walk this morning, the one that made you too late to eat breakfast… yeah. Rough day for the poor girl. You scratch her ear and let her press her head into your hand for as long as you can justify keeping Gen waiting. Then you gently push the vulpix away and get to your feet.
“Coco?”
The dinosaur comes running from her bed in the corner. You run your hands along her neck, massaging the powerful muscles underneath while she gently growls and occasionally shakes beneath you. She wants it to be playtime. She really needs more. Poor girl’s probably felt neglected after Pixie came back and Ihe—
*
You stop. “That’s going to be another tangent. Should I finish this one or go to that?”
Dr. Livens taps her pen against her notepad twice. A strange tic of hers. “I would like to hear how your not-date went. Can I just ask you a question before we move on?”
“Sure?”
“Has anyone ever taught you how to accept help?”
“What? No? Why would I have to be taught that.” You just say yes. Why would someone need to teach you that?
“Did your father ever help you when you were struggling as a child?”
“Kind of? When I was really young and still learning to read and stuff. Before I became an adult.”
“And when would you say you became an adult?”
“Ten. Officially. I’d already been doing adult duties for a while before that, but ten is when adulthood officially starts.” It was when Achi got his spear. When your mother was supposed to start giving you some of her work to do on your own. But you’d already been given her memories and duties. Someone needed to cook and clean. Your father already had his burdens.
“I see.” She sounds unconvinced. You hate that. When she doesn’t believe you but won’t say as much. “Did your brother help with your chores?”
“He tried. Our father didn’t like that. Distracted him from schoolwork and training and all of his duties.”
“And was he always busy with his schoolwork and training every second of every day?”
“No? But he was tired and had to rest or play with his friends and stuff. Like I did when Alice took me away for a weekend.”
Dr. Livens takes a deep breath and exhales through her nose.
“Did anyone other than your mother’s hydreigon help you when you were overwhelmed, or tired, or just didn’t want to do something?”
Um. Your godmother, sometimes, when you were younger. But she was busy around her house. Once you were trained there wasn’t much reason for her to step in. You’ve barely spoken to her in the last few years. After ten? Hmm. There had to be someone, sometime.
“We’ve spoken before about the difference between knowing something to be true in your head and your heart. It’s one thing to know, intellectually, that you can ask people for help and they’ll probably give it. Feeling like it’s appropriate or something that’s easy to do is something else entirely.”
You don’t answer her because you’re not sure what to say. Or what would happen if you did. You ask your pokémon to help you all the time. Have others help set up the campsite. You can do it. You do it. Just not with the things that you should be able to handle on your own.
When Dr. Livens talks again her voice is soft, like she’s talking to a child. You aren’t a child. Haven’t been for years. “Would you like to talk more about this now or continue telling me about your not-date?”
“Not-date.”
“Alright. Go ahead.”
*
Genesis likes the water. Before The Blackout she was always the one pushing for beach days. She was persistent enough to wear down you and Kekoa into going to the beach, even if you wouldn’t dress to swim. You have your problems with your body—
*
“That doesn’t mean I want to talk about them right now.”
“Understood. Keep going.”
*
You have your problems with your body and Kekoa has his. Neither of you wants to show more skin than you have to. When you were helping her recover she wanted to be by the pool or the beach at leas once a day, even if it was too dangerous for her to go in the water. Her starter’s a water-type. She got another one while you were away. Still aren’t sure how to ask about that. You aren’t sure if she wants to remember anything from those four months and it feels wrong to talk to go behind her back and talk to Oliver.
Genesis likes the water so of course she took you to the boardwalk. She narrates things to you, talking about the sights and past trips so quickly that her sentences start to run together. Her pulse is a quick thrum under your hand. She’s nervous. Probably sees this as a date even if you didn’t want it to be. You try to respond, try to be encouraging, but she took you to the boardwalk.
Eight months ago, you went to the boardwalk and almost ended everything. You want to say that you’re glad you didn’t, that everything’s been better since. And it mostly has. Mostly. You might change your mind when you have to go back to Anahuac.
*
You freeze in place. Shit. You weren’t supposed to tell her that. You take a deep breath and try to figure out how much trouble you’re in. “Are you sending me to jail?”
Dr. Livens emotions jump just beneath her mental surface. You aren’t good enough to tell what they jumped between, just that they changed. If you hadn’t been paying attention you wouldn’t have even got that.
“What for?”
“I told you that I thought about killing myself.”
The words hang heavy in the air. Should you have told her? Maybe she was just playing dumb and now she can’t. Of all the careless mistakes—
“No. Not unless you have an immediate plan. And it’s not jail. It’s just a temporary hold. No criminal record.”
Maybe not. Maybe it wouldn’t affect your visa. However, the people who decide if you get a Class V might not trust you if they knew about it. Then you couldn’t get enough money to get Alice back, Coco would have to leave, and everything would fall apart. You aren’t sure what would happen then. If you lost everyone you cared about in a year. Even if there are new people it wouldn’t be the same. They can, and will, slink out of your life without warning.
*
When you finally get to the restaurant you end up seated across from Genesis. Which you don’t like. You understand why people do this—you’re supposed to sit across from the people you’re eating with so you can make eye contact and see each other when you talk. It’s a social rule. It just doesn’t work for you. There’s no visual reminder someone is there. You can’t see expressions. You would like to sit next to someone. Feel the air move as they shift around. Maybe even feel their warmth or a pulse or something. Anything to tell you there’s another human there. That you aren’t alone.
Genesis talks to you. Narrates the entire menu. It’s not the same. You don’t know how to ask. It might be wrong, even indecent, in this culture. Yes, you’re already sharing a bed. That’s in private. Americans are weird about public affection. No platonic kissing, barely any platonic hugs. Everything’s cold, formal, businesslike. They want their people to be as lifeless as their culture, as their machines.
Genesis pauses. “Oh! There’s a corn, squash, and bean soup. Says it’s inspired by Anahuac. Do you want to try that?”
“Sure.”
You do not like choosing foods. You do not like her having to read the entire menu for you. Most ‘Anahuac-inspired’ food you have had in America has too much cheese, not nearly enough (or any) chile. It’s not always bad, but it’s not home. It’s not even a good attempt at it.
A waitress takes your order and you’re left in comfortable silence. A song comes on the radio and sucks you into one of your mother’s memories. One that stands oddly strong despite nothing happening. She’d been waiting in a Pokémon Center lobby for her pokémon to be healed after a battle. You’re pretty sure it was against Clay. Some of the context is missing. That’s the problem with your mother’s memories: you have snapshots, lines of thought from the moment, but they don’t connect right. Maybe you could group them into eras but not a straight-line sequence. Anyway, she was listening to the radio and the song came on and she instantly liked it. The singer’s voice was beautiful, the melody was entrancing, and there was a sadness to it all that usually isn’t in American music. It’s all so shallow. Love, lust, partying, maybe anger or heartbreak. Nothing on mourning or childbirth or platonic friendship. Music made for everyone and no one.
She loved the song. It became one of her favorites. Sometimes you still find yourself humming it. A small connection to her.
“When did this song come out?” you ask Genesis. “It still gets played a lot on the radio.”
“Pretty recently, I think? Let me check.” There’s a lull as the chorus swells into a breathtakingly powerful performance and your girlfriend checks her phone. “2017. Why?”
No. That’s. Your mother heard it in the 1990s. That cannot be right. She must have the date for the wrong song.
“Nothing. Just thought it was older. Sounds like something my mom would have liked.”
“Oh. Her voice is kind of timeless. Even my mom listened to her music and she didn’t like much made after the 50s.”
Her thoughts slow as emotion bleeds in. You reach a hand across the table and she grasps it. You don’t know what she’s feeling. You care more about being a good daughter than your father as a person. Is it similar for her? Was she friends with her mother and now feels betrayed? Your father hurt you, yes, but you never really looked to him for safety. If Achi hurt you. Then… that would be different. You would still allow it from him. You shared a mind and he would not hurt himself, or you, without reason.
Genesis takes your hand and sighs. “I wonder how my siblings are doing. If I was selfish to get out and leave them behind.”
You want to help but aren’t sure how. Pokémon are easy. You can own one by having enough money the old owner wants to sell. Humans are hard. Their ownership is decided by custom and courts. Custom cuts in favor of the parent and her parents can bribe any court.
“Just wish there was something I could do about it. Being helpless makes it worse.”
“We’ll figure it out,” you lie to her. “Just give it time.”
“Okay.” She doesn’t sound convinced but she doesn’t push it. The waiter comes shortly after and you place your orders. Let her order for you since you have no idea what it’s called on the menu.
You sit in silence. Your thoughts linger on the docks and hers on her family. Neither of you are happy. This is a date, kind of. You’re supposed to be happy. You try and think of something nice. Something that can’t cause any problems. Books, maybe? There was a night on… Akala, probably, where she asked you about books before realizing you couldn’t read. You let her stew in the awkwardness for a bit before reminding her of audiobooks. She ended up rambling on about some fantasy series that you couldn’t really bring yourself to care about. Her idea of knights and dragons and fairies was adorable. In Anahuac they don’t romanticize war. Two soldiers clash on the battlefield. One will be sacrificed. The Americans just kill their enemies outright. Let them die a meaningless, dishonorable death and leave their remains to the scavengers. You know they’re outraged by your sacrifices but at least those have a purpose. Better than bombing an entire city or executing a man already locked in a cage, unable to hurt anyone again.
Not the point. Knights. Books.
“Have you read anything lately?”
You can feel her startle. She was probably as lost in her own mind as you were. Maybe even worse. “Oh. Um. No.” There’s a brief pause before you hear her body rub against the booth as she adjusts her posture. “The Cawdet’s Eye is probably out now. I didn’t even think about its release when it happened.” Another pause. “You know, the woman they hired read all the books. Made me recite a worse version without the stuff she didn’t like. Poor people, lady knights, friendships between girls. It was kind of silly in hindsight.” She doesn’t quite giggle. More of a chuff. You aren’t sure what you’re supposed to say to that. “Then she made me burn them all. Except she messed up and the fire exploded.”
Genesis laughs for real this time. You try to giggle back, even if you’re still horrified.
“That’s when father fired her and hired…” She trails off. You know how it ended. There was nothing funny about it. Except maybe the kiss in hindsight. Maybe someday you’ll be able to laugh about her mistake. Probably around the same time you can laugh about any part of your brother’s death. Probably never.
“We could get more books,” you tell her. You try to keep your voice gentle. Even though you kind of hate it when people do that to you. “Maybe not all of them yet. But some.”
“I would like that. Can we go to the bookstore after lunch?”
You want to say no. That there you should be doing… something about your papers. But this would make Genesis happy. You can’t say no.
The food is disappointing when it comes. Not nearly enough flavor. The kind of thing you would eat while fasting. Normal fasting. The no-spice fasting. Not the American eat nothing fasting. It doesn’t make you as homesick as you would’ve thought. You made your own food at home. You make your own food here. You don’t have the right ingredients or equipment but it’s still pretty much the same. Life is still pretty much the same. Just without the people you cared about. You miss them more than Anahuac itself.
*
“Do you want to talk about that today or later?”
“Later.” You aren’t sure how long the ‘future topics’ list is now. Maybe it’s so long that you’ll never get through it.
“Did anything else happen on the not-date you want to talk about?”
“Kind of. I told Gen I loved the food because she sounded like she really wanted me to like it. Then we went book shopping and it was almost the happiest I’ve ever heard her. Ended up buying four books for her and a better audiobook reader for me. She recommended a few. I’ll probably read them. For her, mostly. Some sound good. Then we just went back to the hotel to cuddle and read.”
“And how did that feel? Doing that when you had work to do?”
You take a deep breath. Right. The mistake. “I forgot about work for hours. Never did find my passport. I’ll do better in the future.”
Dr. Livens hums in faint disapproval. “What if you didn’t?”
“Then I’d never get anything done and—”
“And what if you didn’t?”
“Then people would starve? I cook food. On the trail at least. Haven’t been doing that as much lately…” You offered. Dr. Karashina lets you, but only once a day. If you cook too much she doesn’t let you the next day. It’s frustrating. She’s a champion letting you live in her home. You should be taking care of her, not the other way around.
“Off the trail then. What if you just stopped doing work for three days.”
Dr. Karashina would judge you, probably. There are still things weighing over your head. Still money to make, people to take care of. “Pixie needs physical therapy, Noci and Leo need polishing, Coco needs a lot of attention.”
“How long does the physical therapy take? How much attention does Coco need a day? How often do Leo and Noci need polishing, strictly speaking?”
Oh. You get it. She’s trying to get you to manage your time better so you can be more productive. Very American.
“Maybe an hour for the therapy between two sessions a day. Coco likes at least an hour of walks, an hour of play. She could do down to a half hour of each. Maybe. I worry I don’t give her enough of my time. Sometimes she wants to play and I’m busy and—”
“I understand. How often do your pokémon need polishing?”
“They don’t really need it,” you admit. “It’s just the only way I have to connect with Leo. And it’s not polishing as much as petting sometimes. Noci seems to like it. I never know with her. I want to do something for her but it never feels like I can do anything. Outside of explaining stuff. But I can’t really schedule that. She just asks questions when she has them.”
Dr. Livens writes something down and flips the page of her notes. You’re pretty sure she only takes as many notes as she does so she can stall and think of questions. “What did your average day look like before coming to Alola?”
Average day would be a school day. So. “Get up, make breakfast, figure out what my father’s lunch was going to be, make it if necessary, clean up breakfast, walk to school. School for several hours. Walk home. Care for the pokémon. Make dinner. Clean things up around the house. Homework until it was done or I gave up and went to bed? I had more time for pokémon and my brother on weekends. Sometimes I would knit or listen to an audiobook or a movie if I had the time.”
“So you took care of other people first, and then did something for you if it fit into the schedule?”
“Yes? I took care of what needed to be done before other things.”
The therapist takes a deep breath and holds it for a moment before slowly exhaling.
“I think I see where some thought patterns come from. If you had always been told that other people’s needs were more important than your own, how long would it take to start believing that other people are more important than you? That you’re worth less than other humans.”
“I don’t…” Except. You do? She isn’t wrong. You know, on some level, that you’re the same as everyone else but. Sometimes you don’t know that. Or feel that.
“If you don’t think you’re worth as much as other people, it would be hard to accept their help. It breaks the order of things that you had been taught. People resist having their worldviews challenged.”
But it’s Shirona Karashina. She is more important than you. When you try to open your mouth to tell her no words come out.
“I would like it if you could eventually tell me, confidently, that you’re just as important as everyone else and deserve to be happy and cared for as much as them. Do you think you could do that someday?”
“I…” It’s. You get that. In your brain. The happy part. But you don’t need to be cared for. You haven’t needed that for years. It feels wrong when Dr. Karashina has to. Like. You’re not sure. She shouldn’t have to. She shouldn’t want to. Because?
…
“What I want you to do is to take at least one hour a day to yourself on the trail. Don’t go out of your way to help anyone. Don’t be productive. Just do something you want to do. Knit, listen to an audiobook, take a nap: I don’t care. Something you enjoy.”
“I don’t want to be a burden on the trail,” you whisper.
“Ask Lyra and Genesis if you would be a burden. Tell them why you’re making the request. Do you think they would turn you down?”
Genesis wouldn’t. She’s told you that she wants to help. And she gave you the books in the first place. You don’t know about Lyra. You haven’t been sure what to think about her since—
“I need to talk about something we put aside.”
“Alright. Go ahead.”
*
June 12, 2020
“I hope you’re happy. Or at least less sad. And I want to meet again when Alola is free. Or whenever you turn on Chris Foster. Whichever comes first.”
You rewind the recording.
“I hope you’re happy. Or at least less sad. And I want to meet again when Alola is free. Or whenever you turn on Chris Foster. Whichever comes first.”
Again.
“I hope you’re happy. Or at least less sad. And I want to meet again when Alola is free. Or whenever you turn on Chris Foster. Whichever comes first.”
And again.
“I hope you’re happy. Or at least less sad. And I want to meet again when Alola is free. Or whenever you turn on Chris Foster. Whichever comes first.”
Genesis clears her throat beside you. “Do you need water or something? Anything? I can—”
“I hope you’re happy. Or at least less sad. And I want to meet again when Alola is free. Or whenever you turn on Chris Foster. Whichever comes first.”
“Just. Is your head okay? From that thing under the desert?”
You can’t bring yourself to care about the baltoy’s city. It just. Doesn’t. matter. You want to tell your girlfriend to shut up but can’t find the energy.
“I hope you’re happy. Or at least less sad. And I want to meet again when Alola is free. Or whenever you turn on Chris Foster. Whichever comes first.”
You got a goodbye this time. In Galarian. By recording.
“Hey, Cuicatl. Um. Shit, I don’t know how much Galarian you can actually understand but there really wasn’t another way to do this.”
He knew. He knew and he still did it.
“I’m leaving. It’s not your fault. I’ve been planning this for a while.”
You hope that the third time would show you something you missed, some expression you overlooked that tells you why this is happening.
“You saw what Gen’s dad could get away with. Guess what? That kind of thing happens every damn day in Alola and no one gives a shit. Well, okay, not quite that bad. Okay, sometimes that bad. The cops can mow down any kanaka they want and get off with desk duty for a week. And it needs to stop. Someone has to make these fuckers pay. The Gage family, the cops, the capitalists, the settlers—all of them. They need to burn. And.”
He never even cared about her to begin with and now he’s using your girlfriend as an excuse to leave you? Is that what he’s really mad about? You dating someone he didn’t like. Grow the fuck up.
“I’m going to go get Shirona. Call me if you need anything?”
You ignore her and listen to the recording all the way through for a third time. Nothing. It still makes no damn sense. He wants to, what, fight the entire American government with a group of teenagers who couldn’t cut it as trainers? He’s a fool and he’s going to get himself killed. There’s no glory down the path he’s walking. Only a shallow grave. And he wouldn’t even let you know what he’s doing. Wouldn’t even say goodbye to your face.
Fuck this. You stand and call for Coco. Once she’s underneath your hand you walk to the bedroom door and then the home’s exit. Dr. Karashina calls out to you but you ignore her. If she wants to physically restrain you there’s nothing you can do to stop it. But she will have to do that to stop you.
“Follow Kekoa’s scent.”
Coco doesn’t know what’s going on. You haven’t had the time or heart to explain it to her. She won’t take it well. Kekoa was, is, her sort-of-father and she adores Ihe. No sign he left any of his pokémon. He wouldn’t, anyway. His pokémon are his tools. Maybe admired and well-maintained tools, but tools nonetheless. Always have been, always will be. Not that you can talk. You held onto Pixie long after she wanted to leave and will manipulate your team however you need to for your goals. It’s just worse when you do it because you should know better. Do know better. And just. Don’t. Care.
Dr. Karashina doesn’t follow you herself. Her togekiss does. She sends you a little ping with aura or psionics or something every now and again to let you know that she’s there. You aren’t sure if it’s supposed to be threatening or reassuring or something else entirely.
Eventually Coco breaks away from your hand to walk in a circle around you, sniffing everything.
“Trail’s gone.”
“What?”
“His scent doesn’t go anywhere else.”
“Did it branch off on the way here?” He could have backtracked and then taken another path to throw you off. Could have worked.
“No.”
Oh. You try to think of something explaining this before remembering the obvious answer: he just flew away. Someone picked him up with a bird and now the scent is gone and he’s gone and—
He’s gone.
You collapse to your knees on the asphalt and finally give up.
He’s gone. Just like that.
Coco lays a head in your lap. Then Mitsuru lands behind you and wraps a wing over your shoulder. Right. Togekiss are tied to happiness and sadness… somehow. You’ve never asked the bird. You really should. Eventually. When you have words and thought back.
Now? Neither.
*
Thought comesback eventually. They came back too fast. You’ve been stuck in a loop figuring out why this happened, what you did wrong. You didn’t pay as much attention to him as you should have in the last few weeks. Been too busy with the thesis and your headaches and Genesis to focus on him. You should have. If you’d just been there maybe this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe he would’ve at least told you about it and you could’ve talked him out of it. Maybe, maybe, maybe, maybe, maybe—
“I’m sorry.”
Your head snaps up and an ache shoots through your body. You’ve been in the same place for too long.
“I’m sorry,” Lyra repeats.
{For what?}
You know she hates your mental voice but you don’t think you can speak.
“He told me about this.”
{He what?} You shove your presence out as much as you can and slowly rise to your feet. “Why. Didn’t you tell me?” Your voice is hoarse and harsh and filled with a fury you haven’t felt for weeks. Maybe months.
Lyra’s tone stays steady in response. “He promised me he’d tell you about it before he left. And I didn’t think you would believe me.”
“Why. Wouldn’t. I?”
“Because it would look like I was trying to interfere with your friendships to get back at you for dating Genesis.”
That stuns you out of your anger. In what world would you just assume that’s what someone was doing? You’ve known Lyra. She can be a bitch but she wouldn’t stoop to that. Right? Not everyone is out to betray—
Oh.
Maybe.
Maybe she has a point.
People you trust will do things you never would have imagined.
And you just have to live with it, knowing it could happen again.
*
“Do you want to talk about that today?”
At some point Dr. Livens sent her wigglytuff out. You’ve been hugging the fairy for who knows how long. Haven’t been able to talk with your voice for most of it. You try to answer Dr. Livens’ question and give up. You don’t know if there is an answer. Certainly not one you want to talk about right now.
You don’t want to talk about anything right now.
She respects that.
*
Dr. Karashina’s hotel room door swings open. She’s not behind it. Hard to explain how you know that, but you do. Just a general awareness of air and heat and sound, maybe?
{Good evening, Cuicatl. Shirona will see you shortly.}
Genkei, then.
“Thank you.”
You mentally prod Coco to find somewhere for you to sit. Dr. Karashina rarely calls you over for quick conversations. The lucario doesn’t say anything else. Kagetora lumbers over to talk to talk to Coco. The tyrunt knows that Dr. Karashina is leaving soon and wants to get as much time in with the elder dragon as she can.
“Rough session earlier?” your mentor asks as she walks into the room.
Rough session of what? Therapy? You trail a hand down your face and feel a slick patch. Oh. Should have cleaned up.
“Yes.”
She gives you an opportunity to say more. You don’t. She was there when Kekoa left. She knows.
“Right. Since you’re leaving to Poni soon I went out with Lyra and Genesis during your session to upgrade your gear.”
Does that mean she paid for it? She’s… she’s already been too nice.
“I will pay my share.”
“I knew you would try, which is why you weren’t invited.”
Oh.
Wait.
“Am I bad at accepting help?” You blurt out.
For a moment there’s dead silence. And then Dr. Karashina laughs. Uncontrollably. At you? “S-sorry,” she stammers. “Just.” She takes a deep breath and ends with one final chuckle. “Yes.”
You purse your lips. Damn it. “I’m sorr—”
“None of that. It’s something we can work on.”
“Okay…” You want to fix it but she’s being stubborn. Maybe you can just work with your therapist on this.
“Have you given any thought to what happens after the island challenge is over?”
You blink. What does that have to do with what you were talking about?
“I have to go home,” you tell her slowly. Because you’re pretty sure you’ve told her this.
“Well, Anahuac is… an option.” She says it like she thinks it’s a bad option. “If you want to stay in Alola I’m sure Olivia or Rachel could arrange it. Or you could come to Japan with me. I could start making preparations while I’m back in Sinnoh for a few weeks.”
That’s a lot to ask of them. And you should go back. You just don’t get why they would—
You’re doing it again. Literally right after she asked you not to.
“I need time to think about it.”
“That’s fine. Just wanted to let you know about your options.”
Her mind feels more sealed-up than usual. Always seems to these days when Anahuac comes up. Are things okay between her government and your homeland’s?
“Okay.”
“Good. Final thing before we talk about the gear, I’m only going to be gone for three weeks. Mitsuru wants to stay in Alola for that time. Is it alright if she tags along with you?”
You don’t need the fairy’s protection. You also know the togekiss loves Alola’s warmth and isn’t doing this for you. “That’s fine.”
“Gear, then. I did restock your sunscreen, which you do need to be wearing in the dry season, whatever you think. I’ve had Kagetora tell Coco that you need to wear it. I also told Nocitlālin myself while she was trying to spy on me. That way at least one of them will make you do it.”
You groan. Damn it, using your own team against you.
“I also got a lightweight tent for Lyra and one for you and Genesis. Just don’t be too loud. Lyra won’t like it and it might draw bewear.”
You’re pretty sure your blush must be visible now. “We haven’t—”
“I got you a flare. You’d be surprised how many electric- and water-types can wreck electronic emergency signals. Just be careful not to use it in dry areas unless it’s an absolute emergency. Even then have one of your water-types clean up any embers immediately. Next…”
Is this what it feels like to get mothered? You don’t really know. Your mother’s memories are very, very sparse when it comes to her family. Your godmother maybe liked you but she didn’t really love you. Alice… yes, Alice could be like that to her very breakable human. She was also a dragon with a strange idea of siblinghood or motherhood or whatever you had.
She offered to take you back to Japan. Would that require adoption? Does she want that? Why? She’s the highest ranked woman in the world. You’re nobody. You aren’t even sure you can beat the island challenge without adding more team members and you don’t really want to. You have three battlers. Alice, Renfield, and Searah can take the final spots. If you get them back in time. When you get them back in time.
Can you accept this? Will she just decide you’re not worth her time anymore like…
Coco nudges your leg. Can probably sense the distress. You nudge her back with your foot and she gently gnaws on your calf. Not nearly hard enough to break the skin or even leave a mark. It’s supposed to be a reassuring thing, probably.
You lean down to pat her head and she pushes up into the touch.