Pokémon Obsession

[canisaries]

Hey there. I've read chapters 1-5 for the review tag, and here are my thoughts.

My first point actually has to do with the chapters themselves. They're certainly the shortest I've come across, and while I'm open-minded when it comes to challenging convention, I don't think it really works in the story's favor.

You see, a chapter's role is not just to divide the text of a story into smaller pieces - it's a narrative tool that implicitly promises the reader that the story is going to progress to another stage within that piece. This story, however, has quite a slow start, which means that small pieces of it will contain few new events and little new information. Being set up for the story advancing by the change of chapter, we experience the story as being even slower when not much happens in the chapter. I likely wouldn't have minded the pacing as much at all if chapters 1-5 were merged into one. Or 1-3, maybe. To me, at 1k+ words a chapter starts feeling like it has something really happen in it. Others' feelings may vary.

Moving onto the story itself. Beginning at the death of a parent works well to bring in conflict right from the get-go, and introducing imagery of something tangible like the Mew card and the ring helps establish an identity through those motifs. Chapter 4 brings in the imagery of the white wings - something we also know should come back later given the backstory of the character (and the synopsis). In terms of the actual story events, there isn't much at this point, mainly Jiri grieving. A character grieving can be engaging, but it does usually require the reader to feel a connection to the character. As the only time we saw Jiri before he started grieving was a brief scene of him finding a card, I don't really feel like I know him nor do I particularly relate to him, and as a result I'm mainly indifferent to him and his pain. Things might be different if I'd lost a parent at a young age, but chances are most other readers haven't, either.

This isn't helped by the fact that the prose, narration and even storytelling leans towards favoring drama and abstractions over authenticity. Jiri lies in bed so long that he can barely walk right anymore and all I can think is that he definitely pissed himself if he never got up. Maybe adult Jirarudan is exaggerating for emphasis, but it frames him as kind of melodramatic, and his other remarks about his dark future reinforce this. Vague statements about one's coming downfall do create a sense of foreboding mystery at first, but they lose their edge if used too much and start to sound grandiose and self-pitying instead. And hey, maybe Jirarudan actually is like that - I don't remember anything from the movie - but it doesn't make for a protagonist we'd like to stick around with.

A more pinpointed criticism I have is that there were a couple of spots that made me think "I guess I have to take your word for it":

"Every time I think about it, I lose a little bit of my humanity."
"from my earliest memories, the water has been my downfall..."
"My dreams have always been concurrent to my goals."
"I have always valued solitude, even before that."

All of these statements tell us something that would really require some kind of example to be meaningful or even understood. "I lose a little bit of my humanity" can mean a wide array of things - becoming physically less human, losing value for morality, feeling like you're actually present, feeling like you're in control - and as a result, nothing certain is really communicated at all. "From my earliest memories, the water has been my downfall" I don't know how I'm meant to interpret. I don't see how water can stop a kid from doing well at school unless you're a witch that melts at its touch. "My dreams have always been concurrent to my goals" sounds like something that applies to most people - you dream about things that are important to you, both in the sense of slumber and aspiration. "I have always valued solitude" tells us about a trait that could very easily shown, and when little points to it before this statement is given, it feels like... well, it makes me think "I guess I have to take your word for it".

Then some quote comments:

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

"I'll be your angel."

And with that, she was gone.

As a paragraph change very often denotes change of speaker if not otherwise specified, I thought "I'll be your angel" was said by Jiri all the way up until Chapter 5 where it comes back.

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

...like before...

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

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

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

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

I was confused by the choreography of this sequence. The white wings are around him, but then they come to him. It could be another pair of white wings, but the way the coming wings are introduced sound like a new separate entity. While dreams can be confusing, people can still distinguish between separate objects within them, and logically the narrator should as well.

That concludes my thoughts. I'm sorry that they turned out rather negative, but they're honest.

 

[K_S]

As promised, though a bit late (life's been exciting, let's leave it at that)
Here's another offering to Obsession...

Chapter 7:



I found this an odd turn of phrase.



“ I still had much to happen in my life.”


Having something happen versus striving to make it happen, to do, even, really makes J. seem so much more passive in his own life. An observer rather than a participant…



I’m wondering when he got those tales, and at least we have a fuzzy idea of who Helen is now…



Mr. Regal bearing is raising an internal alarm. And the announcement of his title definitely felt like the first nail in a coffin….



Chapter 8




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

How would repeating something evidently cause the collector to huddle down? It seems an odd turn of phrase, perhaps a case or wrong word?



Odd how Asaph hears only what he seems to want to. I’m surprised he hasn’t researched the card to death but I guess it’s not what he focus is on for his own personal collection.



I’d rather wished we could have seen excited but calming in action, in a motion, gesture, or something of the like….



Well, I think further interactions between the two will be interesting… I’m wondering if Asaph will become less of a satellite character like the bulk of those Jir. Shares his life with or will step up as a mentor. Further chapters will tell I’m sure.

 

[K_S]

Some more chapters, sorry for the brevity but I'm doing this in bits and bobs as my times a bit scattered at the moment.

Chapter 8

It’s curious to see Jir engaged in anything considering how passive he’s been thus far. It’s an interesting contrast…. I think autocorrect swapped some words here. “his departure me shoved back” probably was meant to be “his departure shoved me back” instead.

Initially, I was wondering if Asaph might be fostering a relationship with Jir to get to the card, see if the kid had more of a collection, ect. We’ll see how my cynicism pans out here I guess.



Sections like these, where he’s bemoaning his loss of his dreaming really reinforce Jir’s loose grip on reality it’s a nice touch.



I’m a little surprised that the adults are bluntly talking about Jir’s socialization in his presence… seems a bit tactless…. Granted I've seen worse examples of tactlessness in RL but still...



Chapter 9



It’s amusing that Jir took Viridian city quite so literally, to a wizard of oz level.



He was an elegant sight, in a green greatcoat that brought out the glimmer in his blue eyes, the eyes that lit up when he greeted me.

Since his eyes were already established with “the glimmer” the follow-up of “the eyes that lit up” seems a bit excessive and can easily be swapped out with ”they” if you want to get rid of it.

I’ve been trying to figure Asaphs collection slant and I’m guessing it’s artwork. I wonder what made Jir go into collecting what he does instead.

It’s curious to see where Jir’s attention focus’ in relation to the art around him, and of course he found another angel amongst the crush. Seems to be a pattern in his life at the moment.

I wonder if the black-clad man whose mother does business, the man who exuded such unwelcome reality for Jir… I’m wondering if that’s Giovanni. It’d fit the location if nothing else.

I’m curious to see the next artwork outing/continuation of this tale.

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He frowned. "But?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

I was dreaming...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you feeling better?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Like a society woman?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How do you mean?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What do you think about that?"

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How will you deal with your father?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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




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

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

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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




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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But I in turn did nothing to dislodge his grip.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Jiri?"

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

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

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

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



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

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

 

[Namohysip]

Hey there! I'm going to be taking a look at this story as well. I wound up taking a look at the first four chapter of this one, short as they were. Overall, I see signs of setup, but as you said, the chapters are very brief and could use more fleshing out to set the stage more.

The opening chapter was a little confusing near the beginning due to how scattered it was though I noticed in your opening notes that you're aware that the first chapters would need some work. I'll refrain from commenting too much of stuff like that!

One thing that jumped out to me, perhaps as an offhand demonstration of how deep this grief was, was how he ended up sleeping for two whole days. That's kind of incredible all on its own! Was he thirsty after all that time?

Each one of these chapters definitely feel more like individual, perhaps even outlined, scenes, though, rather than actual full-fledged scenes. I want to see more of how he acts aside from brief snippets of dialogue. Then again, the bite-sized nature of it did let me read through four of them in one go... There's some merit to short chapters!

I ended up reading up to chapter 4 before I ran out of time, but I'm a little confused on precisely what's going on in this chapter in particular. Is this a flashback? An intermission? One of the biggest points that I'd like to see clarified down the line is exactly what kind of timeline is going on. The scenes are so short and quick that I'm actually not sure what's what, when it all happens... Is some of that intended? Due to how obsessive the protagonist is, or how disoriented they may be due to their loss?

Still, mentioning Lugia--and how that ties into the summary--is a good stopping point for now. I now can see the budding obsession, so to speak, even if the author is always referring to something in the present day that made him hypothetically reprehensible to his mother. I'm curious to see where this inciting incident will take things down the line. Until then, though, thanks for the read!

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Your Highness then?"

"I'm no king either."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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




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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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




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

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

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

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

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

"Wait no longer," Asaph said, hushed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Weren't we surrounded by treasures?

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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




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

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

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

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

I nodded, feeling a bit tired myself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm not afraid of the dark."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She shifted position to face the window.

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

"Was your mother the same way?"

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

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

"Hmm?" I yawned.

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

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

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

"Don't you think you need to talk to him today?"

"It's in my head, Helen. I have to get it out somehow. It's...I can't even describe it, but it'll be wonderful!" He didn't look up as he spoke, just kept scrawling something across the paper.

Helen looked startled for a moment, but ultimately just patted his head and poured him some more coffee.

Curiosity got the best of me. I approached the table and hoped he wouldn't say anything, but he was too ensconced in his work to notice. On some discarded pages, the same thing, drawn endlessly and often incomprehensibly where his hand couldn't keep apace of his mind.

It was a strange device, and I wasn't sure what it was at first. It looked like a ball in a cage, but it had to be a ship of some kind. It was the only thing my father designed. Of course, it didn't look like a ship, more like some sort of misguided public art. I shook my head. He was being ridiculous; this would never be anything wonderful.

"Are you all right today?" It took me a moment to realise that was Helen asking me. "You don't have to go out today. Your father will be finished in a little while..." She trailed off, brow furrowed.

"I want to." What was her sudden interest? If she wasn't going to be out with it, I figured, it couldn't be important.

She sighed with her mouth tightened. "Well, whatever helps. I swear, the both of you..." Another incomplete sentence as she headed out to the factory to start the day.

I wouldn't be going anywhere for several hours. The party wasn't until the afternoon, and it was in Seafoam for once, so I had only to dress and walk over. The weather was clear and cool, and the walk would be pleasant. Of course, once the heat set in, it would be unthinkable to do so, but it was only spring. And my father was otherwise occupied, so my dread from the party falling on his day off was nothing. Usually those days were intolerable, and I would either throw myself into my schoolwork or ring up Asaph or Veronica to avoid his questions. The former far more than the latter, of course, as he still wouldn't move the phone from his space.

It would do me good to get out. I'd been studying far too much lately, finishing up only the night before a report on a poem. Something about a meadow, referred to as a meadow many times during the work, with descriptions of flowers and hills. But of course it couldn't possibly actually be a meadow. Symbolism and all that rot, nothing meaning what it says plainly. Finally I had to make things up, based on what I knew of the author, and submitted a paper on how it was a battlefield and the flowers were fallen soldiers. In retrospect, I had based my summary on a Ni Mháille painting whose likeness was tacked to my wall.

Which reminded me, in a roundabout way, of the party that night. It was a birthday party for one of the former board members of the Fuchsia Historical Art Institute. I'd never met the man, but he and Asaph had known each other for years. I wasn't expected to bring a gift, and I wasn't sure how to feel about that. On the one hand, they recognised that I was only starting off, but on the other, they were still treating me like an outsider, a curiosity.

I'd just keep at it, though. Collectors have to be tenacious or they'll never get anywhere. But it was easier than the alternative. Expectations for those my age were simple; we were to be students, and trainers soon after. Hardly any aspired for anything different. Some might be known, briefly, but soon faded. It was so transient.

My thoughts had been like that for a few days, and I hoped the party would shake me from it. An art collector can't start feeling like nothing matters, or he'll never appreciate anything. And I wasn't about to let a few days of fatalism shake me from my chosen path. Besides, it came out of nowhere. Nothing had really changed around me, as was the norm, and it wasn't enough to escalate my usual frustration.

Besides, even though human lives are transient, that's why we have art. Art transcends our mortality, sometimes gripping it by the throat in the process, and leaves behind something far more beautiful than any life could accomplish through only living.

I'd been having those thoughts lately too.



After reading up on some of the treasures of Fuchsia, I curled back up in bed. It was tranquil, peaceful, and made me want to sleep for days. But of course I had a responsibility.

I thought back to the past, those ancient times when the legends were said to walk among us. Had that really changed? Had they ever truly done so, or was that just the foolishness of old? If they had, were they still here and we just ignored them?

Certainly there were some. Veronica had spoken to me of how a field in a north region was a famous gathering place for Shaymin, and they interacted eagerly with humans and most other species save for certain times of year. Phione schools are readily observed in warmer waters. But there wasn't anything especially interesting or aesthetic about either of them. Nothing of true renown.

/The world is pretty boring/, I thought as I yawned and hugged my pillow. Even knowing how everything works doesn't make it interesting. It's not beautiful or anything, just dull. At least the art that Mr. Higuchi specialised in was stylised to some degree and wasn't anything I could see just looking out a window. Most people my age dismissed it as ugly or weird, but I didn't.

And then I was thinking in circles again, so I rolled over and picked up a book on the physics of flight from my bedside table. Even though it was my father's book, I didn't think of him at all during my read.



I didn't bother telling either him or Helen when I left. They knew I was going out, and I didn't care to risk getting my outfit dirty in the factory.

It was a pleasant enough afternoon; warm enough to walk the few miles to my destination and chilled enough to be able to do so without fear of perspiration. I liked being able to be out like that, to feel the wind all around me. It came off the sea with a blast of revitalisation, perking me out of my earlier reverie and making me feel alive. Of course, where I was headed helped with that, to be surrounded by art and people who appreciated it, but the wind itself was a solid cause.

Overhead, a flock of birds called merrily to each other. They seemed to be going the same direction I was, so with a smile, I called back. They ignored me, as was in their nature, and went along their way. Over the crest of a hill, I saw them alight to a tree, and once again I called to them as I passed.

I felt nice. Summer was coming, but not too quickly, and it gave an appreciation for my surroundings. That didn't happen often.

My suit was a bit off, cut low along the chest to button at the base of my ribcage, and I'd have to button my collar before arriving, but overall it was fashionable and pleasing to see. And I had to wonder about the sight of me, what anyone passing by would think of a youth in a tailored suit, walking along the roadside, calling to birds.

Just as my thoughts started to wander back to whatever it was that Helen was adamant my father speak to me about, Mr. Higuchi's home came into view. It wasn't specified to his tastes, although the landscaping was. The garden was low and tempered, and made use of its proximity to the shoreline for a water feature that lined the walkway. As I approached, I saw that the pond was stocked with Magikarp. Not shabby wild ones, but show fish with broad, shiny scales. Walking past, they followed the sight of me, several gold ones standing out of the mass of orange. But I continued to the door.


Some had already arrived, and I was glad for that. Mr. Higuchi was an elderly man, over eighty, and made a comment about hope for the younger generation. I told him of Veronica and he was equally pleased. However, he didn't speak to me the rest of the night.

As I waited for her and Asaph, I made small talk with the early arrivals. Lucrezia and her son were there, dividing as soon as they walked through the door. Lucrezia had dressed the part, in a fine kimono indicating her status, but her son, along with most of the guests, had elected more modern wear. I wondered if I shouldn't have worn something more traditional, as people flocked to admire her, although I hated the constriction of such garments.

Conversations tend to go in circles, not merely the subjects, but the people. They stand in a cluster as they speak, backs to the rest of the room. As such, I wandered around, finally sitting in a low chair next to a lone koto. It wasn't a particularly fancy example of the instrument, but people of Mr. Higuchi's status never have elements without reason. The sound would likely be lovely.

My smile returned as I remembered a festival in my hometown. Mama and I had sat on the ground as we listened to a koto player. Afterwards, I had asked if I could pluck the strings. Had I ever been that young?

Such a pleasant memory. I could almost feel mama's hand on my back as we listened, hear the music in the air instead of conversations that didn't involve me.

I wasn't sure how long I sat there like that. At least ten minutes, but coming back to reality left a strange feeling in my stomach until I noticed that Veronica was sitting beside me. "Are you feeling all right?" she asked as she adjusted a green ribbon that hung too far down.

"I'm all right." I stood, and offered her my hand. "You know, this is the first time I've seen you at an event in something other than the red dress." Another modern outfit, a green gown that exposed her shoulders, something she seemed to have difficulty with as she kept adjusting the cuff that rested on her upper arms.

"Yes, it's new. Do you like it? This is also new." 'This' being a pearl and emerald choker. "Mother got it for me when she went overseas. They're all natural, not a cultured one in the bunch."

"Which makes it more cultured," I noted. "How was your trip?"



We talked for a bit more, mostly about our respective educations, before Asaph disengaged from the circle he had found himself in and approached. "The both of you need to spread out. You can't spend the entire evening talking amongst yourselves. People don't come to these parties to talk to those they talk to all the time." He seemed disappointed, from the slight bend in his back and the furrow over his brow. As he adjusted his pince-nez, something he didn't ordinarily wear and that looked strange on his broad face, he sighed. "I will be spending time away from you tonight. I have my own connections to make."

Veronica took a thread off his tailored vest and balled it between her fingers. "It looks like Miss Chen still has her usual affectionate greeting. It won't do for our mentor to have loose threads on him."

He chuckled. "Why Miss Veronica. Are you planning on having students of your own? Just circulate the room and you'll do fine." And he left us alone again.

"He seems worried," I said flatly.

"Yes. But we should do what he says. He's our teacher for a reason." She cocked her head and smiled at me. "And frankly, this is more interesting than algebra."

We split up, her with a wave to me.



It didn't last long. With the party in full swing an hour later, she approached me. "Jiri...can you come outside with me?"

I'd been occupying myself by the drinks for the past while, but there was only so much interest to be had in a cup. Those around me analysed the amazake as if it was the finest wine, and I listened and wondered with amusement if there was some list somewhere that people drew from to describe drinks.

So I went with her without a word. Rather than stopping in the hallway, she led me into the walk-in closet across the way and pulled the door closed behind us. "I'm so tired, Jiri," she admitted, staring at the ground. "I don't know how people can do this."

"Do what?" I took her hand, remembering what had happened in Goldenrod.

She gave me a bit of a squeeze and brought her gaze up. "Talk for so long about nothing. I tried asking someone about what drew them to a statue they just bought, and all he wanted to do was talk about how much it cost!"

"It's a status symbol. Remember what Asaph told us? Most of these people don't feel anything for what they buy."

"Then why do they do it?" It seemed to hurt her to ask it, but I wasn't sure why.

I smiled in an attempt to cheer her up. "I don't know. But we're the better off for it. We're something special, aren't we?" Before she could answer, I patted her arm. "Like shining stars." Why did saying that make me feel briefly ill?

But she smiled back and it was gone. "I suppose. We'll just have to keep shining." And looking past me, her smile grew. "When I was young, I'd always play pretend in closets like this. It brings back some good memories."

"Oh? What did you play?"

She thought about it for a moment. "I'd be a princess being held captive by ogres, or I'd be exploring a cave and finding treasure...Things like that. Do you ever imagine you're looking for Lugia?"

"Sometimes," I admitted. "But it never seems to play out like that. Mostly the more practical side of gathering information, but it's still exciting."

She giggled. "Sometimes I wonder if you're really only nine."

What an odd thing to say. Somehow I felt both better and worse.

"Well, I suppose it's only natural. We've got to grow up sometime. Anyway, do you want to head back? I think I just needed to take a break."

I nodded. "Yes, Asaph will be cross if we're not there."

She'd only opened the door a bit when she stopped and withdrew from the entrance. I glanced out to see Lucrezia and her son coming out of the ballroom, and given the angle the closet was set to that room, I doubted she could see either of us. Which was fortunate, given the circumstance.

Lucrezia pulled him out into the hallway by his lapels. He didn't struggle or protest--it would have drawn unwanted attention to the situation. As it was, I think only Veronica and I were in a position to notice, although we didn't know what had gone on in the ballroom.

"You brat! How dare you treat your mother like this? How dare you treat anyone like this?" Lucrezia was livid, shaking so hard her dark hair bounced around on her back. "How many times are you going to do this? You're a grown man, the heir to my business! You've already burned far too many bridges with these people with your League title and your stupid dalliances--"

Something shifted in his expression. I wasn't sure what it was, but Veronica sucked in a breath and tightened her grip on my arm.

But Lucrezia continued unabated. "But when you keep flaunting your conquests the same way these people talk about their collections...You have no regard for anybody but yourself! People are just a game to you, aren't they? They're not a game, and if you want to remain my heir, you'll remember that!"

He smirked, and I noticed he wasn't looking at her. Past her. At us? I shivered. "Mother, you're overreacting. Amalie was simply looking for a good time. I can't help that she found it in my hotel room rather than the museum."

Letting out a high snarl, she grabbed his chin and yanked his head down. "You will look at me when I'm speaking to you! I will say this only once more! If you do anything I've addressed one more time, you are out of the business. Do you understand me, brat?"

I didn't hear his reply, as Veronica picked then to pull me further into the closet and pull a coat over the both of us. I could hear her taking deep breaths, and finally she said "I think I'd like to see Cresselia in the light of the full moon. It would be really beautiful."

That was distress, wasn't it? She was upset by that argument. I took her hand with a squeeze. "They say Lugia only flies during a full moon. "

She made an odd noise, almost a squeak, and fell silent. There wasn't any more noise from the hallway, so I disengaged and went to the door to peek out. "No one's here. Want to go back to the party?"

The coat shifted. I assumed she was nodding, since she came forward a moment later. "I'm sorry. I really can't stand to hear fighting."

"It's all right. Let's go back. Hopefully by now we'll have missed the speeches."

She was looking down but smiling. "Hopefully. At least there's amazake."



The hallway was clear, and we headed across to the reception room. The attendees were milling around now, with a few idling by the koto player in the corner, who was far more formal than the one in my memory. Veronica wandered over there, leaving me alone for several minutes, during which nothing of interest happened.

I stared at the window, the people behind me reflected over the ocean. It was near sunset, and the sunset over the ocean is one of the most beautiful sights in the world. Even now I believe this, with all my heart.

And my thoughts shifted to Lugia. I'd been thinking of it more lately, every time I looked at the ocean. Those graceful wings, that beautiful form--beyond any work of art human hands could craft...It was out there somewhere, beneath the waves. And the thought of it made my heart ache. Something so dear to me, so far away...

I heard my name spoken from across the room. The cocktail party effect, since I knew no one was speaking to me. Taking a step back from the glass and scanning the reflection of the room--a trick Asaph had taught us for looking elegantly uninterested--I saw Veronica talking to Lucrezia's son. Odd, I'd have thought she would try to avoid him after that outburst in the hallway; but then, it was his mother doing all the yelling.

That they were talking about me wasn't especially interesting to me, so I turned my attention back to the sea. Others were looking out too, but I knew it meant nothing to them. Simply a view, nothing more.

"Jiri?" I must have been in a daze, since by this point Veronica had already put her hand on my arm. She smiled when I turned, but how strange; Lucrezia's son was standing next to her. "He apologized for what happened earlier and says he wants to make it up to us."

He bowed slightly, the very model of a businessman. "I hadn't meant for anyone to overhear that. Mother was quite demanding and couldn't wait until we left the party. But parents are like that, aren't they?" He smiled. "They don't respect our decisions, our lives."

"I know exactly what you mean," I whispered.

"I suspected you would. Come with me. As she told you, I want to make it up to the both of you." And he turned to the door, waiting for us to accompany him.

Offering my arm to Veronica, I held my head high. Watching the ocean had refreshed me, my sadness gone.

A caterer scurried past us in the hallway, not wanting to be waylaid by guests. We walked rapidly by, Lucrezia's son keeping a brisk pace that was difficult to maintain with dignity. "Now," he said as he pushed open the door to a brilliant library overflowing with books and scrolls from all Kanto's history, "Admittedly, it's been some time since I was a child. Do children still enjoy keeping secrets?"

It was difficult keeping eye contact with him. Not only was the view of the ocean out the window so enticing, but something about that intense look he always had was intimidating. I glanced over at Veronica, who was nodding but had an odd crease in her eyebrows.

I've no doubt he noticed, but he called no attention to it. "I understand the two of you recently came into some money. That mentor of yours mentioned your recent windfalls." Oh yes, Veronica had been granted a substantial sum herself a few months ago. She had dismissed the topic, for the most part. "So the secret I have may be of greater interest to you than those people out there, who treat money like coins to a cat."

Here he bent down to our level, looking us both dead on. Veronica's eyes were wide as she asked him "You said it had something to do with a business arrangement, right?"

"It does. Tomorrow, one of my mother's companies will sign a sizable deal with one of its former competitors. The stock is certain to skyrocket, and whoever owns that stock is poised to make billions overnight. But the deal is very hush-hush. Only a few people know. And now the two of you have the opportunity to be among them, if you swear to keep this a secret."

Billions overnight? I laughed bluntly, but asked "All right, what's the catch?" It seemed like the thing to say.

He chuckled. "No catch. I don't expect anything in return. This isn't a formal business arrangement. I just know that everyone has to get out from under their parents' thumbs eventually. Miss, are you all right?"

Veronica's mouth was taut and breaths pulled in and out rapidly, but only for a moment. She blinked several times and laughed softly before grabbing my arm, working her expression back to a grin. "I'm fine," she breathed with a slight shake in her words and in her grip. "Are you sure about this though? Your mother will be furious at you."

"That isn't anything new," he scoffed. "Now, will you take this information?"

I nodded. After a brief tightening of her grip once again, so did Veronica.




We scurried to find Asaph, and endured the few minutes that it took to disengage him from his conversation. Manners dictated that we couldn't blurt it out, however much we both wanted to.

But oh it was worth it. His expression when we told him of our windfall, the silence as he fumbled with his pince-nez to pocket it as he thought about who to call to arrange everything...

Finally he was able to contact stockbrokers willing to aid at the late hour. All the while, Veronica hugged herself, barely containing excitement, but after a bit, while Asaph was calling, she turned to me. "Jiri...you're happy, right?"

"Mm?" Her question caught me a bit off-guard. "Of course I am. Veronica, we're going to make billions!"

"It's so hard to tell with you." She reached over to me, pushing my head up, and her thumbs pulled my mouth up along the sides. "There! Now you look like you're going to make a fortune!"

I had to smile for real at that. "It hasn't happened yet. Besides, you haven't stopped pacing. You seem nervous."

She flopped down on the couch next to me--Higuchi had given us the run of his living room for our sudden business venture, even though it was unknown to him. "I'm nervous. Excited. I've got energy to burn and there's only a certain number of ways you can do that in a place like this!" Her voice went up at the end, and her eyes were sparkling in the dim light as Asaph came over to us.

"It's all done. The both of you, fortune willing, will wake up to great wealth. Just remember to sell when you think it appropriate."

Veronica nodded. "Of course! Oh, I don't think I'll be able to sleep tonight! Jiri, I wish I could stay with you overnight so we could keep each other awake for this!"

What would happen would happen. What good would staying up all night do when the meeting wouldn't be until after we'd get up? But I nodded anyway. "It'd be nice. But I don't think my father would take kindly to the idea, especially since we've no place to host you."

Asaph laughed. "Ah, youthful exuberance. It's been such a long time. Well, he said the meeting is at nine-thirty, so we ought to rest up. But I know Lucrezia, and she's a genius at making money. Everything she does turns to gold, as they say."

An odd noise from the doorway made us turn our heads. Lucrezia's son was standing there, arms folded.

"How long have you been there?" Asaph asked him with a chuckle.

"Long enough to hear that bit about my mother. You know as well as I do that making money is the only thing she could be considered a genius at." There was something strangely artificial about the joviality in his voice. "I came to tell the two of you that I'm leaving. She has to get up for the meeting, and it's about forty-five minutes to Viridian by helicopter." Those sharp eyes met mine, and my mouth tightened on some unknown reflex. "One your father made, of course."

"It was a pleasure," Veronica said, standing and curtseying with her ankles crossed just right.

I stood as well, offering my hand. "A pleasure," I echoed as he shook it firmly, and I was somewhat relieved when he let go.

"Tell her I give my warmest regards," Asaph asked with another handshake.

But there was no need. Lucrezia entered the room in a flurry of her white houmongi. "So this is where you've gone off to. They have business to attend to, you know. Leave them alone."

He blanched, bowed slightly to us, and headed for the door.

"Honestly, that son of mine..." But she smiled. "I hope your business turns out well."

Asaph kissed her on both cheeks, the same greeting they'd had in the Viridian museum. "I'm certain it will. Enjoy your trip back."

"At least he'll be quiet. He told me he's in no mood to argue with me tonight." Turning back to the doorway, her attention shifted. "Giovanni! Let's go."

Her son nodded at us before the two of them slipped from view.




The way back was dark and cold, but Asaph offered me a ride. Veronica and I held hands in eagerness the way back, but hardly said a word. Asaph himself was content to listen to the radio.

The factory was closed when we rolled up. "It looks a little spooky at night," Veronica whispered, following it with "I'll call you after the meeting."

Asaph wished me good luck, and I was alone, watching their car drive off. She was to stay the night in his guest room as I had before going the rest of the way to Viridian.

I let myself into the silent house, and noticed a note on the banister for me.

/Jiri, if you want to talk, I'll be here tomorrow. -Dad/

I left it where it was and went up to shower, eager for the day ahead. I hoped I would fall asleep quickly and not while away the night hours with fruitless anticipation. But I was fairly tired, and in the end that won over.

Under the covers, I started to drift off almost immediately. Such a wonderful day! And to think that a year ago, I could never have conceived of such a fortune.

/Oh, mama died a year ago./

But I fell asleep right after.

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

And then it was summer's end. Veronica and I had prospered off the information and had made quite tidy sums from it, investing and re-investing and overcoming small losses, always staying ahead of where we had been after that fateful morning. By the months passed, we had far, far surpassed that generous starting point.

We had both elected to keep our fortunes secret from our families, and I for one was having a surprisingly easy time of it. Thanks to the ample boutiques in Seafoam, there to cash in on tourist money, I had started to dress better, although not as fine as I would prefer. But finally I was rid of the denim shorts and slogan-ridden shirts my father had initially supplied me with. Veronica was still at the mercy of her parents' demands to look a certain way, but she was able to sway the endless parade of stylists ever so slightly. And she was doing better in school. She had been having difficulty in some of her courses at the Viridian Academy, and had been unwilling to approach her parents about hiring summer tutors, a detail she'd sworn me to secrecy over.

My father simply assumed that my sudden style change was Asaph's influence, and laughed that he should have given Asaph more of a discount on the C-class.

It was a cold summer that year, and fog off the ocean swarmed around my clifftop home. But I didn't spend much time there anyway. Asaph and the both of us were meeting more, doing more, going more places. It was liberating in ways that our previous excursions with him hadn't been, in ways we couldn't describe. We were closer to being his equals; that was the closest thing we could put words to.

Perhaps someday we could surpass him. We would outshine them all, he had told us, and the thought was more than idle fancy in my mind. It would be a ways off and we would have to maintain ourselves, but it was a thought we both entertained.

I would be ten soon. Asaph was quite eager for it and had let on that he was in the process of procuring a fantastic gift for me. For Veronica's birthday, her thirteenth, he had given her an early century duchess's circlet with brilliant gems of blue inset with red and a band of yellow that she recognized as being in the image of a Manaphy egg. Although she had told me after that what she had wanted most had gone dismissed; a Lunar Wing, the bended feather of Cresselia. It was an inelegant statement but I simply nodded.

That project of my father’s, his dream design, had lasted months and at times he would hole himself up on his days off to work on it for ceaseless hours. To me it still looked impractical, like a flying saucer from some cheap movie. But the longer he spent on it, the less time he could pester me. Not that he didn’t continue to be a source of embarrassment. It was humiliating having a father who delighted in the cheap thrills of the town, in the gaudy, shallow attractions of the constant carnival that was Seafoam. Even that annual surfing display saw him eagerly feed into the blitz of t-shirts and banners, and I had the good sense to leave town on that day.

I was headed to the north, to Veronica's home in Viridian. The glamorous city awaited, with its mansions and skyscrapers rising to the brilliant blue sky. And today was something special. Her mother Tierney was hosting a premiere of her company's latest line, and the grounds and home were decked out in anticipation. I wore my finest suit for the occasion, although it was far too hot to do so, and asked Igasho to turn on the air conditioning in the car. Asaph was already in Viridian, so we drove on alone in thankful silence.

Forest gave way to a seemingly endless expanse of farmland, mansions dotted along the hills between them. This was what artists sought to capture in so many landscapes, but it meant nothing to me as I sunk down in my seat a bit and thought about everything that had happened over the past several months. I had done that a lot, just as I had been pensive before that party.

To finally be respected...It was a step, but money alone wouldn't wrest me from that reinforced cage. I needed something further, and unfortunately the only thing that would satisfy my father in that regard would be to age. And that was something money couldn't buy, not in that direction.

It was something beautiful to be on my own, to be in the world as a person and not somebody’s child. Liberating and peaceful, although still unsettling at its core. Were they humoring me?

Those thoughts were kept at bay by the beauty of the sun streaming through the clouds.




I’d never been to Veronica’s home before, but once I arrived, there was no time to relax. The main entryway was overrun by catering trucks and magazine cadres, the side yard covered by workmen putting the finishing touches on a runway and arranging chairs around it. Tierney brushed past me in the main hall, talking over a large cellular phone, and I was left in a sea of people to find Veronica on my own.

But it was simple enough. After peeking down the hallway past the double doors marked “private”, I saw her under a cloud of hairspray, through a wall of stylists.

“Jiri!” she exclaimed, spotting me in her mirror. “Come in!”

I did as was asked, although the smell in the room was terrible, and stood next to her, stifling a cough. “I’m glad to see you,” I said, waving a hand in front of my face to expel the chemical cloud.

“I hoped you’d get here early,” she smiled as a curler worked its way into her bangs. “Although goodness, did you just sneak into a lady’s bedchamber?”

I think I stammered for a moment before retorting “Well, milady knows I’m an awful knave.”

That earned a laugh. “I think a good squirt of this hairspray would set you right. So I’m glad you’re here. Mom’s been terribly rushed today. This is her first time hosting an event like this, and she’s trying to show off as much as possible. Everything has to be perfect, and that means I have to be perfect too.” She reached out and squeezed my hand. “So I’m probably going to need to run off with you somewhere.”

I chuckled, although I wasn’t sure why. “I don’t think that will be a problem.”

“And you might have to go hide too,” she sighed. “One of the child models got sick and she thinks you’re around the right size to pick up the slack.”

Well, that was unexpected. I wasn’t sure what to say for some time, although I was dimly aware that my brow was furrowed, so I hoped that would suffice as reply enough.

“She’s going to be pretty adamant about it, so if you don’t want to, you should be prepared to hold on fast.”

I considered things. To be part of the presentation process could be fascinating. To be regarded along with the art, as essential as the frame…or perhaps I was just being overdramatic. “Either way,” I said although I was certain I hadn’t said the first part aloud, “it should be an interesting experience.”

“Hold off on saying that until you see the outfit,” Veronica warned.




Clearly, the only course of action was to forge ahead with it. Tierney had been brusque, yes, but the requested outfit was rather unique. It was reminiscent of nobility, the light blue ruffles and contours of the classical era, and it felt oddly empowering to wear it. Although I questioned her assertation that it represented the Lorainne region, as it was clearly far more northern than that. I turned around in front of the mirror, admiring the ties on the calf-fitting boots, the buttoned leggings, even the curl they’d put in my hair along the sides of my face.

I heard a giggle behind me, even though my dressers had left by that point. “You look nice,” Veronica said. “Like you stepped out of an old Windsor painting.”

“Thank you!” I exclaimed. “I knew it couldn’t be Lorainnian, but she kept insisting.”

When I turned towards her, she was frowning slightly. “...Yeah, she’s like that. Once she gets her head on something...but it doesn’t matter, I guess. Do you like my outfit?”

She was outfitted in a pink dress with fringe along all edges, a leather strand belt adorned with turquoise at the tips, high pink boots with a pokéball emblem embossed into their sides, and topped off with a wide brim cowgirl hat with a large darker pink bow flopped against itself. It was somewhere between comical and something that would be potentially trendy. “It’s very pink,” I observed to be funny.

It must have worked because she laughed. “I like it, actually. It’s a shame it would violate the uniform code or I’d wear it to school. Especially the hat. I think it’d take the edge off the people behind me if they can’t see the board. How did you get into distance classes, anyway? I think I’d enjoy that a lot more. Oh, but then I wouldn’t have as many excuses to leave the house. But at least I wouldn’t have to look any way special for it. Oh dear, I’m running at the mouth again.” She tried to shake it off by laughing again.

I put a hand on her arm. “We’ll have to save some of this for later.” Tierney was coming around the corner.

At the sight of the two of us, she gasped dramatically. “Oh you two are so--” and immediately set to work on last-minute corrections. She fluffed Veronica’s bow, set the fringe on her arms and at her knees straight, and tucked a stray curl under the hat. As for me, it was a flurry of tugs and fluffing as she tried to make the half-size larger clothes seem as if they were made for me. Finally she stood, and, licking her fingers first, wound them into the pre-curled hair at the sides of my face and tugged.

“Ow!” It was painful, but at least brief.

“Beauty hurts,” she said harriedly, looking us up and down again. “Aren’t you both perfect. Now, you’re going on near the end, as punctuation of sorts. I had to change the schedule around for that and Lada is very mad, so you can’t say a word about it. After you make your appearances, stay out there and all the other models will join you for a bow. But don’t bow until I do. And don’t pinch your face up, Veronica, I’m not sending you back to the makeup chair an hour before you go on. This is perhaps the biggest day of Mommy’s life so I need you to be absolutely perfect.”

Veronica had made a bit of a face at the mention of the famous model, but I didn’t think it was anything strange. “Are there any musical cues we have to worry about?” she asked.

“No, only the adult models are walking in time with the beat. Nobody expects that from the children. Now, I’d kiss you but I’m not going to muss your hair, so here.” Tierney leaned in and very gingerly put her arm around Veronica’s shoulder in what passed for a hug. “The director will give you your cues; you remember Nhung. He’ll tell you what to do and for now mommy has to go start things off, kiss kiss!” Without waiting for a reply, she hurried off again, a bluster of headset and designer fabric.

Veronica was staring absently at the ground, and my gaze followed suit. “What are we looking at?”

She started suddenly, pulling in a gasp. “Oh, nothing. Just we should get over there.”

“Right.” I offered my arm and she accepted, smoothing out a bunching of fabric that had gathered around my elbow.




The end of the opposite wing was a maelstrom of swarming garments on the most polished-looking people I had ever seen. They didn’t seem real, but like very realistic puppets, or a cluster of especially well-trained Ditto. I wanted to say that to Veronica, in the hopes that a witty remark may lighten her mood, but something in the tightness of her mouth silently told me that I should remain quiet.

How strange, I thought. I had been told that that was a sign of nervousness and I accepted that, but with nothing better to do to fill the time, I pondered why that was. If someone had the want for quiet, wouldn’t it only make sense to say so? In our field, we were surrounded by such magnificent beauty; why would we want to take our eyes from it to look at each other?

Was that something I would learn when I was older? I hated to consider anything like that. Knowledge came with time, but age was something different altogether.

I shifted against Veronica’s arm, which she still held in hers, and thought about something else. I needed something opulent if I was to stand out among collectors, and had been considering an airship. The solution may have seemed obvious from the beginning, but nothing in my father’s catalog would serve my purposes if I was to live by my desires. Only the finest, the most luxurious, would do, and his crafts were still only vehicles at their core. My imagination had concocted a traveling hotel room, the sort of room found in upscale resorts I read about in my magazines, but my father’s ships at the top of his line only had a cot that pulled down from the wall and a tiny washroom, both unfit for any respected society man for anything but an overnight voyage.

Maybe I could talk Veronica into getting a ship as well. We’d be quite a pair, traveling the world and searching for our beloved legendaries with the only human company we wanted.

We’d have them someday; I knew we would. We had the drive, and the means were commonplace. If someone got to them before we did, we had the money, or we would in the future. Of course, that would eliminate the thrill of the chase, but the end result would be the same.

I wondered what Lugia’s feathers looked like up close. What they felt like. Those fins on its back, were they flexible or rigid, and did they have feathers as well?

And Veronica’s voice cut through, a wavering giggle. “What are you doing, Jiri?”

I had my hand out in front of me as though I’d been petting something. My imagination had gotten away from me. “Thinking about Lugia. Don’t you imagine what it’d be like to touch Cresselia?”

She shook her head, wider in scope than a simple negative gesture would be. Was she looking around for something? “Now’s not the time.”

Ah yes, that I understood. These things were secret, never to be spoken of in the houses of our parents. They were for us alone, just as our fortunes and our futures were. “That makes sense,” I agreed. “I apologize.”

She stood in silence again, absorbing everything around her. Sometimes I envied that, the ability to take everything in. I could internalise only some of what happened, whether it made sense or not. Asaph told us that we both had our strengths in our approaches, that Veronica had everything at her disposal while I could do things with my assorted knowledge that no one else could think to do, and that we came out about the same.

I thought back to the Madame Remi painting in his home, and how we had approached our interpretations of it. Such a novel approach to things, I mused.

Then we were shuffled forward in line by quite a pace, Veronica having to grab onto her hat to keep it on her head. A man with a headset and a very tight shirt awaited us at the end, just before a curtain divided us from outside. He looked us up and down, requesting that we turn around, and he straightened some of the frills on my outfit and some of the fringe on Veronica’s dress before speaking. “You’ll go down to the end; pace yourself as you walk, Tierney is going to talk about your outfits. Then pause, and turn around and go to the end of the line, you can’t miss it. Don’t talk to anyone; they’ll still be taking your pictures even when you’re in the line. Keep yourselves expressionless until you get in line, then big smiles!” He forced the corners of his mouth up with fingers to emphasise his point. “She’ll call you all back onto the stage, and you’ll do a faster version of what you did before. Got it?” He didn’t wait for any reply before ushering me forward, separating me from Veronica.

And then we were all that mattered, the targets of every eye surrounding the makeshift stage. Cameras clicked and flashed as I began my walk down to where Tierney stood. She narrated, voice coming from speakers on either side of us. “Add a touch of the classics to your journey with this decadent ensemble based on the timeless classical masters,” the description came in an oddly flat tone, and I wondered if that was intentional. But she wasn’t done. “The boots are practical as well as stylish, with the leg-fitted design keeping your feet safe from the weather, and the soles are made for anything from a ball to a trek through the woods.”

Unsure if I should do anything, I turned on my heel to reveal the soles of my shoes to the audience. It was met with more camera flashes, and my head swam from the commotion.

“The layers will keep trainers protected from the elements, and the soft blue color is easy to spot in an emergency,” she went on, and I had a jolt of distress. It wouldn’t help if someone was drowning, and I started to lose my enthusiasm, unaware of what else she talked about. Absently, I wandered to the end of the line of brightly smiling models lining the side of the building near the stage.

But the moment was over at the sight of Veronica in the spotlight. How did that take me out of it? I wondered internally, and my smile came naturally.

“This exotic ensemble is a Towan fantasy, from the soft pink Miltank leather throughout to the hand-polished turquoise that dot her outfit. Don’t let the delicate appearance fool you—it’s as durable as it is lovely. Note the ease of movement, the holding capacity of the belt,” here, Veronica demonstrated that the strands came apart, affording one rope for each pokéball, “the beauty and strength of the open range.”

Veronica had reached the end of the runway by that point, and twirled around as she crossed the mark, fringe spinning outward. She blew a kiss to the audience before joining me at the end of the line.

She looked so happy, I thought, a marked change from just a few moments ago. But I couldn’t say anything, so I kept smiling and thought how delicious it was that here was another part of my life that my father would never know about. It was a wonderful feeling, so liberating, and I hoped that someday, Veronica would know that same freedom.

“Let’s go away,” I heard, and I looked at her. We weren’t supposed to talk yet! But “Let’s go away,” she repeated, this time in my line of sight.

I shook my head, widening my smile in the hopes she’d get the hint, and averting my eyes back to the audience. I noticed Asaph was present, near the end of the runway, and I thought I saw Lucrezia and Mr. Higuchi as well, although I wasn’t certain. One person I was positive was not in attendance was Lucrezia’s son, although I scarcely blamed either of them for that. He’d spoke of breaking away from our parents, something he’d yet to do. For all his success, he was still in his mother’s shadow. It was no wonder he had rebelled, as strange a way as it was to do so. Becoming a trainer...it was almost silly, really.

More pictures, more polite applause, more dull narrative, and finally we were herded back to the stage, retracing our steps after Nhung readjusted our clothes. The music, which had been a nondescript soft piece that merited no description, switched to a pounding beat, and the older models pounded their heels with the beat, working it into their walk. Tierney had talked about that, how no one expected the child models to do that. And I didn’t try to copy it, despite seeing the words as confrontational at best and demeaning at worst. I kept to my own pace, walking a gentleman’s walk as I’d carefully learned.

A brief pose at the end—I bowed gracefully, while Veronica did another twirl—and we headed back inside, single-file. The other models, working almost as a single entity, went back to the dressing rooms, but Veronica grabbed my hand. “Let’s go now.” It was no longer a request. The tightness of her grip and the slight bulge of her eyes told me that it was a command.

“All right, milady, where will we be off to?” I tried to make light of it. Her and her hiding.

“Viridian. Let’s go to Viridian. There’s a bus that goes by here every half-hour and the pickup point’s only a five-minute walk from here. Let’s go!”

She really meant to leave? Not simply another game of hers? I followed along, towed by her grip but of my own accord. “Your mother will be cross with us,” I told her even knowing it would do no good.

“After-parties are boring anyway. We won’t miss anything. We’ll be back by evening. No one will know we’re gone.”

If she was adamant about it or simply trying to convince herself, I couldn’t tell the difference.

She led me to the main entryway, deserted save for empty vehicles and a reporting crew that had suffered equipment failure and was loading their van. They paid us no mind and I was glad for it. About halfway down the driveway, Veronica let go of my wrist. “...Jiri, I’ll pay fare for both of us. It’s not much, but I don’t think you have your wallet on you, do you?”

How long had she been planning to do this? The thought slightly disturbed me. “I have to say, we’ll be quite the sight in these outfits. I know they’re meant for trainers, but they’re so...elaborate.”

Her pace slowed and she fell back with me. “I didn’t think you’d be in one. But still, I need to get away from there sometimes. Besides, Viridian is a great city! I don’t think anyone will notice!” She started humming something under her breath, a skip suddenly in her step. “Viridiaaaan, Viridiaaaan, hmm hmm hmmmmmm.”

As much as her mood swings puzzled me, I had to admit that it would do me good to get away as well. Living at a fast pace had its place, but not all the time. I skipped along with her, recalling the mood of my outfit and the child noblemen in all their carefree fortune.

The world was open to us, wasn’t it? It would do no good to stay in one place. And as the bus pulled up, I felt the size of that open world swell in the air around me.

 

[K_S]

Hi, I believe I have something of yours, enjoy. The others will come as time permits.

(And welcome back to the writing scene though it's a hair belated!)
(Ok a toupee belated.. sentiment still holds)

Review/reactions for chapters 10, 11, 12,

Chapter 10


It’s weird to hear Jir’ be excited since he’s normally so… neutral at most times. Still, it’s nice to see him invested. Granted considering how Asaph’s profession goes it’s not too surprising that he’s going in with the intent of note keeping and plans of his own acquisitions. Really the collector class/job might as well be reclassed as a professional dragon. All we need is these guys to have captive princesses…

Also, I wondered how Jir would be able to pursue this career. The mechanics, finances, required etcetera. Something I look forward to you answering late down the line.

It’s interesting how Jir’ perceives the familiar dynamics, his father and his... well not stepmom since he isn’t attached to Helen or moved on from his mother’s death. Her lack of presence for days being an afterthought really cements his apathy and sets an ominous tone for their upcoming encounter.

I’d forgotten that Jir’s perspective on his mom isn’t horridly grounded…. And that coming to the fore right now, yipe on the timing.

And despite Jir’s aspirations for being cold detached adult, he’s very much a child, his “stupid roads” encapsulate that perfectly. As does his scale up to walking meltdown/borderline break. I‘m curious as to the content of their talk in the next segment.



Review of Chapter 11


As’ appears to be the master of avoiding awkward conversations in a confined area. Curious that Jir’ has no emotional response to Asaph’s basically stepping in and playing Jir’s guardian. I’, guessing it’s part of his frame of mind at the moment but I wonder how he’s going to react long-term to that.

​

Nice build-up of the environment even if spied via a car window. I like how Jir’s still playing cognitive wack a mole, disconnected and still winding down and how Jir’s shown in his on and off again mental awareness/descriptors indicating his surroundings.

Though I’m a bit surprised he hasn’t interacted with Jir’s driver before this point… It’s a nice touch how he focuses’ on things rather than the people around him. His curiosity and awareness seems to focus on the material rather than the personal and it feels like a good call back to his own character focus not only as a collector but towards his actions canonically later down the line.

​

Review of chapter 12

Seriously Jir seems more immersed in dreams than reality. Interesting how Asaph draws him out metaphorically as well as in actuality.

Asaph’s convo about his chief reminds me a bit of the Downton Abby staff/employers relationship.

You do not want to irritate the staff.

Huh, quite a tangent Jir. Wonder how much Asaph will share… not much beyond the generic it seems. Smooth turning it about to dig a little and build rapport though. Though I wonder how much Asaph is paying attention because Jir’ is throwing hints right and center about how own mental state… His redirect to the practical (classes) kind of hints he’s not.

Serious though Asaph is a professional dragon, with his “lookie at my hoard” tangent, I swear… (rolls eyes)

Hmm so this is Jir’s first interaction with a ‘mon. It’s an interesting juxtaposition between the normally ‘mon heavy verses, you get a sense that Jir’s version of the ‘mon world is a bit more scarce in its monsters since this was the first mention of one and we’re pretty far in the story so far…

Still the contrast between the socially approved morality about 'mon vs Asaph’s views and Jir encountering both and the conflict between them… it’s an interesting study of viewpoints to say the least. Though I’d be wary of anyone who could casually justify harming others as “they can’t feel it” that’s a huge red flag but Jir’s not old enough to see it as such.

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

It's funny that you point out the lack of pokemon in this Pokemon fic. But no, this is set in the animeverse. He just doesn't interact with a whole bunch of them directly.

Thank you for reading!

 

[K_S]

Review of chapter 13
ENTRY 1 for the ANNIVERSARY EVENT
Word count 270
(with response to your review reply)

Always a pleasure to go over your work. I’ve plans to get to chapter 20 and then tackle your Arecas work… um would you be able to toss me a link via PM though? It’s easier to manage to get to a story through that means than searching or even using the links on the bottom of a profile. My phone is an argumentative old thing…

Emphasis on old.

And I think it’s Jir’s life choices and focus’ that makes the ‘mon of your world seem so scarce. After all if the character doesn’t see, or interact, with them with some regularity it insinuates a scariness. It’s surprising because canonically Ash shuffles one foot off the road and gets swarmed under by ‘mon wild battles, hordes, and other trainers. Part of the scarcity is their very different life choices… Jir’s not a trainer, very self-involved, and only seems involved with ‘mon via books/nature docs that were again mentioned in the chapter with the ‘mon. Neither of his folks, any of the workers at his father’s work, or peers, have a mon… well except Asaph now… and I’m curious how that’s going to turn out.

And moving on…

Ah grooming against social norms. I wonder if someone walked up to Jir and offered a third opinion if Jir would wander around in moral circles, befuddled, or if he’d go with Asaph’s views as he trust the man so well. He seems to be setting his moral compass in Asaph’s hands and that’s looking more and more like a dodgy thing.

I’ve been getting a Gatsby vibe from the old man almost since the start. If he calls Jir’ “old sport”… well I wouldn’t be too surprised.

I really don’t think Jir’ got too much to complain about, kids can be spacy, and Jir alternates between spacy and hyper fixation, you take the good with the bad and encourage the good as much without putting the kid down. Jurys out on how Asaph’s doing in that regard. I can say that Jir’s bio parent seems to have cut his son loose and into other hands to hyper-fixate on his work and personal life… and the jury’s unfavorable there but… yeah. This has the making of a disaster later down the line.

Hmm so Jir’s getting a taste of the finer life. Literally. I suspect there’s going to be an etiquette lesson as well along the line, sort of goes hand in hand…

While it feels like another dig to drive a wedge between father and son I wonder how much of a point Asaph has about Jir’s father’s income?

It’s interesting to see Jir’s reaction to Asaph’s station. And while I was expecting the confrontation between father and son to kick up when Jir got back. Perhaps it will be the next chapter.

 

[K_S]

Review of chapter 14

ENTRY 2 for ANNIVERSARY EVENT. (280 words)

Hm I wish you’d have given a few examples of him doting to contrast with his puppy eye pity ploy a little rather than Jir’s hear-say… but it’d probably break tone too much to dig into it too much.

You can hear Jir’ just wailing away at the last connection he shares with his father. Their connection was flimsy but the scorn in his thoughts now feels like death strokes and I wonder how much Jir’s father suspects where he stands in his son’s regard.

Seriously dragon paging apprentice…. Though Asaph’s not-description leaves a bit of curiosity about what it looks like. Man’s a master of suspense I suppose, a perk of the job.

So he’s nine… for some reason I thought he was much older. I suspect it’s his “voice” as it were. Seriously Asaph chastizing a nine-year-old for getting older or being nine?

Enter the competition/rival… Or rather I think Jir’s going to see them as much.

So a crisis at work., or rather excitement at work. Wonder what it’s about.

I’m guessing I know who the “visitor” is. Red sigil on the chest, reference to the mother, wealth, (plus the previous encounter at Viridian) I’m suspecting we have spotted a wild Giovanni.

So I suspect that he roundabout found a way to his son’s heart. Funds to start his ah collector’s journey but not a ‘mon variant. Jir's rather materialistic, but still, it's understandable.

Perhaps I missed the relevance of the book? Beyond there being one Jir’ shredded and that Jir’s dad replaced during Jir’s… breakdown… him picking up the book now and that disappointing Jir’ is a bit confusing to me so I likely missed something along the way.

 

[K_S]

Review of chapter 15

ENTRY 3 for ANNIVERSARY EVENT (300 words)


Early bird much Jir’? I imagine a factory like Jir’s father’s running from dawn to dusk so that must be obscenely early. (says the nightowl) Personally, I think Helen’s trying, to connect with Jir’ a bit, she’s at least paying attention and trying new things with him.

Yeah, she’s trying considering she’s trying to connect with him not only through the traditional “stomach” cliché but by showing interest in his art as it were. I wonder how he’d treat her during a “tour” as it were, and how he’d handle it considering Asaph been giving him roundabout lessons in that art of hosting with how often he’d hosted Jir’?

Considering Helen’s been so background her coming to the foreground in this conversation makes me suspicious there’s going to be a plot point centered on her.

So Jir meets the new protégé, I’m wondering if he’d going to be catty about it or passive. My votes are for socially awkward until he decides how he feels about her. I wonder if either of those kids realizes that they are as much acquisitions as the paintings ect that Asaph hoards?

It’s interesting to see Veronica, a trainer possibly, getting on with Jir whose “not fond of living things” and this almost anti-trainer at this point. Her interest in Articuno makes me think she’s a different type of collector.

Lovely how the firing of the staff is going right over the kid's heads. Well, Veronica’s head. Jir seems to be noticing it as a background event that he’s apathetic to. I wonder how would learning legends/legendaries work in a ‘mon world? College classes, collages of old, archaic pictures on ruins, and newspaper sightings? Or are there actual scientists that chase after them like animal versions of storm chasers?

If they both continue their interest and continue to interact some of that might be answered.

 

[K_S]

Review of 16

ENTRY 4 ANNIVERSARY EVENT

(words 516)

I wonder as Jir keeps chasing the city mouse lifestyle if he’s aware of the cat at the end of the tale…

Or if he’d even care at this point.

Hm seems as if Veronica’s dad is something of a similar cut of Jir’s dad, down to the earth and a bit gregarious at first glance. You can hear Jir’s hackles going up and the hissing kick up.

Considering Jir’s nine and Veronica’s about his age… a bit young for the pairing game isn’t it? Ung I never understood while others do it. Thank you V’s mom for having some sense here.

I suspect Asaph is sloooowly typing so he doesn’t have to deal with the parents.

He’s quick to bail with Jir’s father once all business is wrapped up.

Jir, have an ego… never that.

Winces I’m feeling part for Jir because he’s making himself more and more incompatible for his home life, and for Jir’s family for trying to connect and falling short despite trying their best. Some communication between everyone would smooth some of it out, maybe, possibly, though if Jir’s father yanked Jir away from Asaph’s tutelage like Jir fears that would be the last nail in the coffin.

Wonder what Veronica did for the hol’s?

I think there was a double of “around” when you’re talking about the milling coat check…

The Madam's comment seemed to have ruffled Veronica’s feathers a bit, Asaph verbally stepping on her toes to keep her quiet was as smooth as I expect him to be.

I can’t see Asaph having to point this out more than once to Jir so I wonder if he didn’t have an experience with Veronica at some point to make him point it out twice… But she seems more of a firebrand and a lot blunter than Jir, more overly passionate I suppose, and perhaps a bit more reckless as a result. I doubt he’s going to have to fish them out of the wine though… maybe out of the sweets…

Huh so we can see where Jir’ gets a germ of an idea for his later canonical birdcages as it were… Honestly, it sounds like the Omaster is being kept in a translucent Christmas babble or a high-tech hamster ball.

Asaph’s tastes seem to run from exotic to pastoral/mundane if presented in proper quality. I can see some friction between that and Jir’s more high-tech exotic tastes. But considering Asaph is so separated from the layman perhaps he finds it fascinating.

Hm thinking how Jir’s now pitting his ambitions against Asaph, I wonder if Asaph’s realized where his throwaway comment has led to, or going to lead to. It’s small, a coat comparison, but I suspect it’s going to build up, and quickly.

Winces. Man, I feel for both kids, Veronica’s for being pageant parents almost, and Jir’s for just not getting it. At least Jir’s are trying sort of. But it’s leaving marks on both of them and while I can see Jir’ sinking further and further into Asaph’s ways I’m starting to wonder when Veronica will buck against the controls.

 

[K_S]

Review of chapter 19 to present chapter 22

ENTRY 5 of ANIVERSITY EVENT

(words 600)

Hm really father and son aren’t that far apart with their creator modes. Interest modes? Anyway, it sounds like he’s trying to recreate something that Jir’ saw in the exhibit.

Helen’s got a point. If she’s seeing it speaks of Jir’s lack of personal skills to not notice it himself but then Jir’s not very reflective, at least towards his own character. Seriously if these were modern times I could see Jir as being one o those kids that wants a cell phone right now.

Ung I remember poetry analysis class and wasn’t above reading snippets of the author’s life to get ideas when I hit a wall. While I get that there’s a point I’m personally too impatient to wait for it to be unearthed. Ironic really…

So I feel Jir’s academic pain.

Until Jir makes a name for himself (which I can't see him doing as a minor) I imagine he’ll be Asaph’s curiosity for a while yet. I don’t think he’s made that jump yet. His comments on the 15 minutes of flame/fame of young artists feels accurate as well.

Have you played spirit farer? I imagine Jir and Gustav would hit it off and then some.

Jir’s mentality is a bit of a catch 22. While the mundane can be boring it’s fundamental for the creation of the extraordinary (or can become extraordinary once you consider all the pieces in the part moving in sync) one can't exist without the other and I think until he figures that out he’s going to be “thinking in circles” for quite some time…


You know I’ve found a few mainly on cooking/pairing sites for people learning about cooking/ running a restaurant. Wonder if Jiri will look that up on hi won time to better fit in.

Ohh and the kids are getting accidentally drawn into social dramas. I’m hoping they duck and bailout but… They are so going to get sucked into things, aren’t they? Bribery one oh one or intimidation one oh one it seems is in the offing.

Now if the cat was a meowth I imagine those coins would be quite precious… still… this feels part threat, part dangerous opportunity, I wonder how deep this is going to go…

Ah you made the kit and caboodle by following their unethical source about making a fortune, but I suspect there might be a string attached later… But then I’m suspicious I guess. This answers where he’ll get his funds and I suspect keeping it quiet will work.. until tax season rears Iit' head. Then who two minors are going to avoid not filing when they are millionaires will be the next big thing.

Right now Jir’s content and his goal is to outpace Asaph but I wonder when or if he’ll turn on Veronica as well. Though I still see Veronica bailing when she comes of age eventually as her pressures keep mounting up.

Huh, so it’s bad taste to want something that pleases you, not complain when given something else to the person’s face, but confide in a friend you have tastes different than theirs and would have wished for something else altogether… Jir’s morals seem less skewed and more loop-de-loop.

Oh yes, if Jiri’s smart he’ll dodge that bullet, smart and lucky.

Veronica seems to be shaping up as being a friend to Jir which I think this might be a first for him. I wonder if he knows that.


Hm so she’s drawing him to rebel with her all accidental. With all those familiar faces at the viewing, I doubt their absence is going to be not noticed, and not for long… Winces. This can only go badly. I suspect it might get Veronica out of the mess she’s in (though punished horridly) I’m a hair worried that Asaph might cut them both off for the “childish” shenanigans and they both might see his temper fully bared by the end of this.

Which is not a good thing.

IN closing:
And DONE.
I've now got Obsession reviewed cover to cover (until the next update at least)

So far it's been a fun ride. A wonderful story with a deeply flawed protagonist who is relatable despite his flaws, and a lush world seen through distinctly odd eyes and vantage it almost seems unfamiliar. Despite that, it's not an unwelcome tour at all. The ominous build-up of politics and warring interests and self-discovery, as well as potentially fracturing relations, add a certain zest, and your attention to detail in the galleries, scenery, and whatnot has been quite a treat and been getting better as your tale progresses. Thank you so much for sharing.

Until next time.

KS