Pokémon Obsession

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

Oh goodness thank you so much haha! I've been working on this for so long that for someone to sit down and take note of how my style has changed is always interesting to see.

"New" chapter every month on the first! And next month I'm going to be writing an actually new chapter as well!

 

[K_S]

I look forward to it!

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

Veronica couldn't stop giggling, with a skip in her step as she paid our fares and headed to a seat in the back of the bus. I followed, sitting across the aisle from her. The bus was nearly deserted, with only a few locals about. The area she lived in was just north of the predominantly farm country that Asaph's home lay in, although his was some ways away. It was an unflinching place, where life droned on without incident yet personalities were laid bare and blunt. Far too quiet for my tastes, to say nothing of too impolite.

She took my hand and patted it. "You look like you've never been on a bus before."

"I take the bus sometimes. To downtown mostly." Although given Seafoam's small size, it was more of a shuttle, despite being called otherwise.

"It's a nice feeling, being so free, isn't it?"

I looked around. The bus was clean, with only a lingering diesel smell to give away the more unsavoury associations with this mode of transportation. "It's better than I thought it would be," I admitted. "A bit bumpy though." The roads out there were considered region roads rather than those belonging to any set city, although we were inside the outskirts of the Viridian city limits.

"Yeah, that happens. Jiri..." Her tone changed, became softer, and her gaze wandered to the ground. "...I'm glad you're here with me. I hate being alone."

"I remember that, from that night in Goldenrod."

"You and I are very special people, aren't we?" Another aspect of the Goldenrod trip. Asaph's words lingered with us, working their way into our hearts and the depths of our minds. "We're better than most, right?"

She was ending everything with a question. "Are you not sure of that? Because I am."

She looked even further away, turning her head towards the front of the bus but not looking much at it. "All this pageantry gets to me after a while. It's so artificial."

That was certainly understandable. "Yes, it's not very charming. Your mother may be a nice person, but she's a terrible designer." Having to buffer something negative with something positive, although I didn't think I meant the compliment.

Green eyes back at me. "Oh, I like my dress. I like it a lot. Yours though..." She giggled again, which was encouraging. "Honestly I'm not sure what she was going for. I think she saw a painting and decided to make it into a trainer outfit. I think it takes more than some sturdy shoes to accomplish that."

"True, true. Although I think yours would be better without the hat."

Was she insulted or just kidding me? She harrumphed and sat back in her seat, slouching in a way Asaph would never allow. "I like my hat! It's kicky." But then she laughed again. "And it keeps Ralts with me. It's just tall enough to keep a pokéball on my head. But don't tell anybody. Mom would be mad that I'm messing my hair."

The words /Among other things/ came to mind and I wasn't sure why, but I figured it wasn't time to say it.

"You aren't very interested in pokémon, are you?" she asked abruptly, and it took me a moment to hear her.

"Oh? No, not really." I sat forward at that, still looking at her. "Other than Lugia, but it's a world apart."

I thought she would ask why, but she didn't and I was glad for it. "...Cresselia is supposed to be really lovely. I wish I had it today."

"Well, you just had your birthday. Perhaps you'll be surprised at Christmas."

She sighed. "...Your birthday is coming up. Is there anything you want?"

Without thinking, I said "If I had Lugia, we could just fly there."

It garnered a laugh, and I felt a wave of embarrassment. "I can see you doing that when no one's looking. Taking it out of its display and flying around on it." She made fluttering motions with her hands as she added "maybe with a scarf and goggles, like a gentleman aviator. Oh, and driving gloves! Can't forget those!"

"I wouldn't do that," I muttered, turning towards the window. "I was kidding. One doesn't ride on Lugia."

Another sigh. "You're so confusing. I know you want to soar across the sky on Lugia. And I know you adore it, but your voice gets so dull when you talk about it." In the reflection, I could see that she was staring out her own window, her back to me. "I tend to think that you're reigning yourself in, like if you let yourself get excited about it, you wouldn't be able to keep up your decorum. But I don't know if you're actually that way or not."

"How long were you planning this?" Perhaps a jump of subject, but it had been on my mind. "You had the money on hand, and exact fare at that, even though you're still in your clothes from the show."

She giggled as she had before. "I told you I'd have to go off somewhere with you, didn't I? Don't say I didn't warn you."

Not that I had much of a choice. I suppose I could have resisted, but it would have been ungentlemanly to do so. "I hope you told someone."

"They heard me." That was true, there'd been several designers around her at the time she told me. "We'll be back before the end of the party anyway. Mom and dad won't even notice that we're gone. Asaph might, but we'll be there before he knows it."

That made sense. Viridian downtown wasn't very far, and the trip was over in about fifteen minutes. By that time, the bus had filled up more than half, and many people stared at us in our new designer outfits. But it only made us laugh, their disbelief at what they'd all gobble up the moment it hit shelves. Maybe to them it was like seeing the future, Veronica and I harbingers of what was to come.

I was half tempted to say something to that effect when we disembarked, Veronica grabbing me by the wrist again and pulling me from my seat, but for some reason neither of us could stop laughing by that point.

I'd had my apprehensions about the sudden trip, but once we arrived amidst the towering buildings, those feelings dissolved into the fragrant air. Viridian always smelled of flowers, of plants, known as it was as the Eternally Green Paradise.

To be young and carefree in the big city...that was a wonder of the world, a work of art by itself. We were independent, living by our own means, and no one could tell us what to do.

She still held my wrist even when she stopped at a corner. "So where should we go? Want to get some lunch? I haven't eaten all day."

I thought back to my breakfast of reheated doria. Keeping my money secret from my father meant still dealing with whatever he filled the refrigerator with. "I'd like that."

"Did you bring any money? I mean, if you didn't, I can pay for it, it's no problem, but..."

"I have some. I didn't know if the servers would be tipped at the party, and I brought some in case they would." My wallet was stuffed into my pocket, and I was glad that it didn't show from the outside or Tierney likely would have demanded that I hand it over before heading out onto the runway.

"And here you were getting on my case for bringing money," Veronica snickered.

The difference there was that she'd brought exact change. Hadn't I said that on the bus? She got dismissive when I said so then, but now she was just smiling. "You're confusing too," I replied.

"Let's all be confusing!" she exclaimed loudly, smiling broadly. "The world is confusing! Let's rise to the challenge! Come on!" And then she scampered off, to the next corner, where she turned on her heel and waited with her hands behind her back.

By the time I caught up with her, she'd done a few spins in place. "You're going to get your dress all sweaty," I chided, but I got the feeling she wasn't paying attention.

"Ooooooh, look at that!" she announced, pointing dramatically at an old-looking hotel. "They have a western tea service! Let's go!"

I would have protested, but her bringing attention to the subject of food had brought to mind that I was quite hungry myself, so I followed along.

The interior, past the uniformed doorman who held the doors for us, was broad and tall, with vaulted ceilings and thick metal rails down the staircase that trailed up a side of the room to a mysterious balcony with tiny black and white photographs dotting the wall. It took almost no effort to imagine the place playing host to the worlds' elite, to picture this being a centerpoint of prestige.

As I looked around, marvelling at the moulding and detail, I could hear Veronica asking for a seat for two in the dining room. Glancing over at her, I couldn't help but think how she breached the worlds. Still very much a child, that much was clear by looking at her in all her frills and ribbons. But acting very much as an adult, that much was clear by her composed boldness.

But Asaph had told us to hold onto our youth, despite our maturity, so I wondered if I could live in this time and be nine for longer than I logically could. It was impossible, of course, but ah, such a dream.

We were led to a tiny table near the centre fixture of the room, big enough only for the two of us, with her purse having to take rest wedged behind her back. That fixture loomed over us, a giant round sitting structure with an inner rise crowned by an opulent blooming plant, and decked with plush seats. One of them was next to us, pulled up to our table as if expecting an uninvited guest. But Veronica and I sat across from each other, and she smiled as if she had done this every day.

"I love tea, the whole service. Something about food being so much more special when it's small and ceremonial, you know?"

I glanced at the small glossy menu set before us, next to the prearranged teacups with double chargers and faux-silver table setting. "I suppose. Domestic tea ceremonies can't hold my attention, but I appreciate the sentiment. I've never had a western tea before."

She giggled as she sorted through the small basket of jams that sat at the edge of the table. "The tea tastes so good though! You should try to sit through one. The reward's well worth it. But you don't get little cakes with it. Ooh!" Selecting a tiny glass jar from the basket, she opened it with a flourish of her wrist. "I love marmalade. Mama tells me I have to watch my weight, but things like this...well, she's not here, is she?"

I took a jar of strawberry preserves. "Something a bit sweet. I suppose this means the scones will be rather bland."

She looked at the menu as well. "Probably." Leaning in conspiratorially, she confided "I can never eat those without getting crumbs everywhere. It's a good thing Asaph isn't here either!"

"A lack of authority figures is certainly exciting," I agreed. "What are we going to do after this?"

Leaning back, she smirked. "How about you pick the next activity?"

"Oh well then!" But despite my enthusiastic reception to this idea, I had to pause to think. I hadn't seen much of Viridian. "Well...I think we're just a few blocks from the art museum."

Veronica scoffed, her expression turning to a frown. "Jiriiiiiii" and it came out in a long high tone "We do that so much! Viridian is a big city!"

"But they have a new exhibit," I told her. "That'll be something we haven't seen before, and I don't think Asaph will take us to it." It was on automobiles, the classic designs rarely seen in modern builds. Asaph didn't appreciate the artwork of machinery, considering it far too practical to be viewed as proper art. But I disagreed. A sleek design was as artistic as any jewel or painting.

"Aah fine. I guess I did let you pick. You're so boring sometimes!" But she was smiling again anyway.

A server appeared, seemingly out of thin air given our distracted attentions. "Are you ready to order? Two Peter Bunearies?"

That was the name that was given to the insultingly base children's menu, and Veronica shook her head. "Absolutely not! We'd like the full service, please."

The woman eyed us for a moment. While the full service menu was far more to our tastes, it was also three times more expensive, and there were two of us. "All right, of course."

We placed our orders and Veronica adjusted her hat. "I swear, the nerve of some people," she said, ensuring that Ralts's pokéball was firmly in place. "Assuming something like that. We're almost adults."

"I remember that story," I commented. "The one the service is named for. A Buneary sneaks out and gets into all sorts of trouble."

Veronica laughed, the dainty society laugh we were taught. "Ah yes. One would think a Buneary wearing a jacket would be a giveaway that it was special."

"Didn't he lose his jacket at one point?"

She thought for a moment. "I'm not sure. It's been years since I've read that."

"Me too..." There was something lost there, wasn't there? It was supposed to be a childhood canon, part of the means that form us, and we'd both forgotten how it went.

"There's someone at school who named their Nidoran Peter, because of its ears," she mused softly. "But when it evolves, the name won't fit any more."

The tea came and was poured elegantly into cups, the leaves falling into metal nets placed over the teacups. We waited until the waitress was gone to continue our conversation. I'd ordered a light tea from China and sipped at it although it was far too hot to do so. Veronica stirred in some honey to her herbal tea and waited. "Have you given any thought to naming your Ralts?" I asked as she tapped her spoon at the side of her cup. "Or will you?"

"I'm not sure. I can't think of any name that would suit her. But Ralts aren't like humans. In the wild they don't give each other names."

"Are there any species that do?" I asked.

"Jynx do. They have a pretty complex language, although they have difficulty speaking most human languages. Something about the way their throats are formed. Aaaaand..." That tapping again, though her spoon was clean of tea, and she looked up at the ceiling, speckled with paint to give the impression of wear and age. "And I think Yamask do but that whole thing is really creepy...'

I'd heard of them, those creatures that were said to have once been human. I wasn't sure if that was true or not, but they were often found in ancient tombs and had taken on the death masks of those buried there. And they guarded treasure, things they never used but prevented anyone from taking. How silly of them. The dead person wasn't about to enjoy such things, and the Yamask certainly weren't, so why not let the living take and enjoy the treasures within? To bury them was just a waste.

I must have been smiling because Veronica burst into laughter, louder than before. "Let me guess. Yamask to tombs to treasures to your collection, right?"

"You know me too well." She was only mostly right, as I hadn't yet connected it to myself yet, but it was certainly heading there.



The tea service was phenomenal. Elegant though accessible, with simple delicacies that satisfied my hunger for the finer things in life. But I must confess it distressed me. Such simple things and yet they were far more than my normal life. It was frustrating to bite into a delicious cucumber sandwich only to realize that even my father could make something like this and yet chose not to.

Veronica was her usual garrulous self, speaking of school, of home, of art and society. In turn I told her of my studies, of the clippings that decorated my room, of the madness that consumed Seafoam every summer surrounding the surfing competition.

"You know, my mother's had a few of her sportwear designs in that competition. The Humungadunga attracts a lot of athletes from around the world, so it's great press for her."

"I don't know how you can say that name with a straight face," I told her, admiring a painting on the wall. "I absolutely refuse to say such an inane name."

She chuckled. "Sometimes I think you're just a very tiny old man. You come off as so relaxed about things but sometimes your sense of humor just..." She trailed off, shaking her hands in the air to dismiss the unfinished sentence. "I know you have one though. That's more than some people. But you're not a very spontaneous person either, today excepted."

I leaned back in my chair, the plush walls of it taking the edge off the surrounding people as it blocked them from view. "Yes...I must admit that I thought I'd need more quiet. But the museum will provide that."

"Quiet?"

"Yes, after all the hustle and bustle of our outings, even our normal ones, I need solitude for a while to get my thoughts in order."

Veronica reached for the last of the tea cakes, a small lemon bar. "Mm, strong. You seem like you have your thoughts in order all the time. Nothing really seems to get to you."

I thought back to my outburst the year before, when I'd broken my father's book and stormed out of the house. "Not much, I suppose. Shall we move on? The museum awaits!"

She paid for both of us, something I'd wondered if she'd do, and we left, tumbling out of the doors as we both laughed for the sheer joy of our freedom. It had come on suddenly, exhasperatingly, and we willingly gave ourselves to the emotion. Being outdoors in the city was a thrill we'd yet to adjust to, and I hoped we never would. But Veronica lived here, albeit off in the distance, and it had yet to wear out in her mind, so I had hopes for the future.

The sights lay out around us, filling us with a sense of an exotic locale. Buildings wore faded paint ads for businesses that no longer existed, and large ancient vertical signs for things that did. It was a young city as far as the world knew, but it had seen its share of time pass by, and looked akin to some of the faraway cities I'd read about so longingly. Someday I'd see them, but for now their younger sibling would have to suffice.

The past century had seen a boom, and our route took us by several places that had been constructed in that fat era. We'd been relatively untouched by war, even though it had decimated places as nearby as Celadon, so we had far more of our past to bear. And it was beautiful to behold, the modern era rising and swelling around us with the bounty of endless energy. Wood gave way to brick, brick gave way to steel and glass, and all of it suited the city perfectly. Viridian, the eternally green paradise, was our present and we meant to enjoy it fully.

A park lay to our left as we continued on, block after block of tall trees and statuary, with people and pokémon taking up the benches that dotted the path. "We should go through there later," I pointed out.

Veronica glanced over, a spring in her step. "Eeeeh," she muttered. "That area smells bad. I think people sleep there."

That was a trainer's life, wasn't it? Going wherever, sleeping where they pleased, taking up space. None of them were even looking at the statues, and that was a pity far beyond anything else. "So close and yet so far," I murmured.

"You're doing it again," she chided me. "I'm guessing you had some thought that led up to that, but it didn't make any sense coming off of what I said. Remember, Asasph told you that you have to elaborate more so you don't come off as odd. Why do you do that, anyway?"

"I don't know. Things make perfect sense to me."

"We're not mind readers, Jiri," she giggled, but it was broken as she glanced back and forth as we passed by a bench dominated by drunken scofflaws and a shaggy Growlithe that may well have been inebriated as well. I could guess that she was trying to ignore them, based off her increase in pace.

"I do--" I was about to tell her that I don't suppose mind readers would be permitted to attend auctions when she grabbed my wrist, an action that made me pull my hand away. "I don't mind holding hands, but please try to show less force!"

Her brow was furrowed again; was she trying to concentrate? Was she upset? Perhaps she'd misread me. "Well, there's the museum."

There indeed. The building wasn't much on the outside, a misleading box of brick propped up on a slab of cement that had been dotted by a few sculptures. It was easy to pass it by, to mistake it for something it wasn't, but the rewards inside were the whole of the world.

We together walked up the stairs to the front entrance, and I commented that they ought to have a doorman here as well as I held the steel-edged door for her. She didn't respond, keeping her eyes on the floor as she passed me by. A novel thing to do. I did the same as I followed her in, experiencing my familiar surroundings in a new way. How smart of her!

I noticed she didn't check her pokéball at the coat check although people were asked to do so. As much as I valued the rules of society, Veronica wasn't likely to make Ralts known at any point, so I figured it wouldn't be worth it to say anything. Not that a Ralts couldn't cause trouble in a museum, of course. But I knew Veronica.

She was laughing again, having received a compliment on her outfit from the clerk, and enthusing about her mother's design. The clerk was all too eager to see mine then, and I twirled around slowly just as I had a few hours ago. The attention was odd. We were here to see things, not to be seen, and I had the feeling of being on display myself. That would be interesting, I mused, to be the art itself and be admired by all who beheld me. Oh, what a dreamer I was!

But we were surrounded by the bounty of the world, and so personages had to be left at the door. Nothing was ever meant to surpass the art, and even the grandest person would be so much background noise before the pieces.

Veronica was already inside, looking around. "So where to first? The silver room?" That was her favourite, I recalled.

"I want to see the automobile exhibit." I thought I'd told her, but in retrospect I may have simply thought it. Even so, I was positive I'd said the new exhibit.

"Oh huh. It's closed today."

I stood still for a moment, staring at her. "But the museum's open."

She wandered over to a sign, taking an inordinate amount of time to do so. "It says that they have to have more security on it so they don't offer it every day."

Had she not understood me? "But the museum's open," I repeated, slower and more distinctive. Perhaps I'd rushed my words before, so I made certain she would hear me.

"I know that." She was slow and distinctive as well, staring back at me. "I can't do anything about that. We'll have to come back." Her mood had shifted considerably, away from the distinctly cheerful ebullience from a moment ago.

"Odd, I hadn't figured you to take much interest in that exhibit." I started heading in, passing the room of prehistoric continental art.

"What's that mean? You're so weird." After a chuckle, she followed along. "I hadn't figured you for a car guy either. You don't seem the sort."

I paused in front of an especially realistic sculpture of a working man. "The designs fascinate me. They're beautiful, to have a functional work of art. At least those are. Commonplace machines lose their beauty, not only because of their being everywhere, but because they're dumbed down. I wish I knew why they did that."

Veronica smiled. "Maybe they want to keep the special ones special. Like people, like how we're shining stars. We wouldn't be if everyone was."

That made as much sense as anything, although I doubt that was the aim of the companies. "We're very rare, that's certain. But I still want to see them."

"You can always come back. It'll be here for a while longer." She examined the sculpture, shivering slightly, before moving on to a red bench that wasn't for sitting.

"I suppose." I had to remind myself of that, that it would be there and I could see it. Otherwise I'd be very put out by the whole affair. What sort of museum couldn't afford basic manpower for its exhibits? It put a damper on the whole thing.

"You're frowning, right? It's hard to tell."

"Hmm?" I held a hand to my face, and sure enough the corners of my mouth were tightened down. "I suppose I am. It's frustrating."

"Tell me about it. This is what, the fifth time today that I've told you how hard to read you are? But I suppose that makes you a good dealer, since people can't tell what you're thinking. You'll be a wiz at negotiating."

That hadn't been what I meant at all. But she was right about the future, I hoped. "Once I have things to negotiate with. I've got my eye on a sculpture for sale downtown." One of the many art galleries in Seafoam had caught my attention with a piece of a Wingull nest, and I sensed that the price was due to skyrocket due to the market shifting towards natural scenes. "How boring though."

"I missed something, didn't I? Let's go to the silver room!" She reached for my hand again, this time more genteelly, and we went off together, me biting back that she was doing the same thing I did.




What a brilliant event, the two of us wandering the museum of our own accord! From the silver room to the ancient treasures of the Orange region (none of my brilliant Lugia, though) to paintings from a distant continent and era, we were free to behold whatever we pleased. Free in a world of beauty and perfection, the highest freedom we could imagine. I never wanted it to end.

But of course it had to. Even paradise has its working hours, and the Viridian Museum closed its doors after far too short a time.

It was after dark, and Veronica pulled her fringed top tighter.

"If I had a jacket, I'd offer it to you," I told her, although it would make no difference for her to know a theoretical situation.

"I appreciate it. Chilly for this time of year."

"Oh?" I took in the night, the breeze between the buildings, the streetlamps over us, the people in the park across the way. "It's fairly warm for me. But Seafoam tends to be colder than further inland."

"In that case, I wish I had your fortitude," she murmured. "Let's get back to the bus stop in a hurry."

"All right." The shortest route was through the park, and I started off that way automatically.

"Jiri, where are--" Heaven only knows what she was planning on finishing that with. But she followed along a moment later, linking her arm in mind as she came up beside me. "Don't say anything, ok?"

I nodded. Was this a game? But I could play along, even if I couldn't tell her to do anything in return.

We continued through the park as she held tight to me, nearly through when one of the drunkards stepped out in front of us, smelling of all manner of debris and filth. "Going somewhere?"

Veronica kept me moving, trying to steer me around him.

He held out a rough, dirty hand. "There's a fee for fancy people to pass through. Hand over your money."

That was trouble. She broke away from me and we both started to run, and both of us were stopped by growling dogs. The Growlithe in front of me snarled, backing me towards her again, while she was cornered by a Houndour with its fur in patches. "...Jiri, why did you go through the park! You knew I didn't want to go through the park!" Her words were slightly drawn out and a bit higher and thicker than usual. "Aaah fine!" she exclaimed before I could answer. "I didn't want to have to do this, but go! Ralts!"

She'd taken off her hat and brandished Ralts's pokéball, triggering it to release the small psychic-type. Ralts appeared with a chirp of its name, twirling around in the air before landing in front of the Houndour.

Once she had sent out Ralts, attention seemed to be off me, something I was glad for. I wandered on the outskirts, not wanting to be involved but not wanting to abandon Veronica either. I could have run, but no gentleman would run. Would it be gentlemanly of me to try to fight the muggers myself? Asaph had never covered this situation, and Veronica had told me not to say anything, so I was puzzled in silence.

"Since I'm such a nice guy," the filthy man laughed, "I'll let you go first."

She was up against a massive type disadvantage, but she stood her ground. Her mouth tightened and eyes narrowed, pink dress looking inflamed under the streetlamp. "Ralts! Double Team!"

Ralts squealed and focused itself, creating identical false images of itself through force of will. The Houndour looked unimpressed, despite the ring of Ralts around it. With what seemed to be a roll of its eyes, it brought its teeth down on one at random.

All the images vanished. Bite had been super-effective, and Ralts was knocked out, tossed out of the Houndour's mouth like a toy. Veronica cried out and scrambled about with her hat, recalling Ralts and trying to hide the ball again.

"Say, that's a nice hat," the man said, approaching. "Would look awfully nice on Daisy here."

She took a step back. "...You can't have it!"

"Don't think you have much of a choice. Give it here, or I take it out of your friend here."

I felt that hand coming at me and ducked just in time. He managed a handful of blue fabric that I was grateful was slick, as it enabled me to slip out of his hold. He reached for Veronica, who was holding her hat down with both hands on the floppy sides. "Stop it!" she screamed. "Get away! Jiri, run!"

I couldn't leave her, so I darted only a short way, a few bench lengths to the end of the block. She was struggling with the man, who'd grabbed her hat and was pulling at the ribbon. After a moment that seemed to hang in the air, it ripped away from the hat, sending her tumbling back. But her hands didn't move from her prized crown, and neither the man nor his dogs seemed to have any interest in chasing us once they had extricated the ribbon.

She didn't speak either, just concentrated on running, and so did I. It was as if our very souls depended on it, no matter if they followed us or not. The city was reduced to its sidewalks, and nothing else mattered.

Reaching the bus stop was akin to finding a holy land, and I thought of a painting we'd just seen of exactly that. Veronica clung to the post that announced the times, swinging around it to bring herself to a stop, her breathing heavy from her open mouth. It was far too long before she said anything, and when she did it was low and precise. "Why would you take us through there? You saw those dangerous people and you dragged me in there anyway!"

I shook my head, not wanting to break my promise not to speak.

"Say something!" she yelled, clamping onto my arm with her hand tight. "Tell me why I lost my ribbon! Tell me why you're SMILING!"

I had been and knew it, thinking of that painting of the weary travellers reaching their destination. It had relaxed me, put me in a world apart from our terrifying reality. She told me to talk, but words jumbled around in my head. "...It was fastest," I managed, letting out a breath. "To cut through the park would take about three minutes off our walk."

"You didn't think!" Still yelling. "You didn't think about those people! You saw them on the way in! Didn't anything at all set off any red flags for you?"

I thought about it. I remembered a man with a Growlithe, but nothing had really stood out. "Really I didn't notice."

Another thing happened that I didn't expect. She brought her hand up and slapped me across the face, not very strong, but enough to get her point across. She was furious and made me know it. "I'm sick of this! You never notice anything! You get us into this situation and now I have to go home without my ribbon!"

She wasn't making any sense. We weren't here by my volition, after all. "But Veronica, it was your idea."

She shrieked, loudly, as a bus drove up and the door opened. "Everything ok?" the driver asked.

"Just frustrated," she told him. "Is this the bus to south Viridian?"

The driver laughed. "South Viridian? Hoo boy, no. That stops running at five."

Her eyes widened, and she looked down. "I see. That's ok. We'll find another way."

"Well, the pokémon center's about two blocks east from here. There's phones there if you need to call anyone."

"All right. Thank you, sir." Her voice was higher again, and softer, as she took a step back and waited for the door to close. As the bus drove off, the driver taking another look at us, she turned away. "...come on. I'm sorry for slapping you. It's my fault."

Was she still mad? Her fury seemed to have dissipated, but she'd said she was frustrated. I followed her. "I was smiling because I was thinking about a painting."

"What?"

"You asked my why I was smiling."

"Oh..." She let out a long breath. "We have to admit to all this. Our parents and Asaph are going to be completely furious. They've probably been looking for us. I didn't know it was so late."

I followed along without a word, not wanting to say anything even though I could. Trainers were so base, so far beneath us. How could people like that man be the ideal of most children? Neither of those dogs were of any value, and that's what battling did. That's what it did to people as well, made them value strength and intimidation above anything else.

"I have to heal Ralts first. But I should make the call. Yes..." Higher still, softer still, and I wasn't sure if she was talking to me or to herself.

The centre came into view, a rise of a building, a giant dome with a plaza of stairs in front. Veronica straightened her hat, said "Here goes nothing", and took a few marching steps into the street.

And then a car came from seemingly nowhere, turning in a wide berth and screeching to a halt in front of us. Asasph's car, unmistakably so. And he was driving it, rather than his usual chauffeur.

"Get in," he told us from the rolled-down window. I don't think I'd ever heard his voice so terse, nor him so short-winded.

"How did you find us?" I had to wonder.

"No talking, either of you." He hadn't bothered with driving gloves, and I could see in the light from the open door that his knuckles were white around the steering wheel.

As I slid in next to Veronica, she took my hand and gave it a squeeze. But this time I pulled it away, and we may as well have been half a world from each other.

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

I realised, as time went by, that my perception of my surroundings changed with experience. The familiar small town of Seafoam was dull and listless, but passing through a small town where I had never been brought my mind alive, and I wondered about all the people milling about, what filled their lives. Even the routes we took through the big cities had become tiresome, those scenes that had once magnetized my attention now mapped out in detail in my brain, but to take another path to even the same location reawakened me.

One thing that I never grew weary of was the destination, because it was always art. While I would be bored to tears with the same view, the same street, the same buildings, I could stare for hours at the same paintings, the same sculptures, the same silverworks.

I muddled through my schoolworks, barely paying them any of my distracted mind. What we were taught had nothing to do with my path in life, and I almost pitied those who it did. Almost, of course, because they had every opportunity to break from their grey paths and open themselves to the full colour of the world.

How foolish, to live willingly in that place! No, my world would be far distant from theirs, although we would occupy the same space. A world apart, on the same planet. How silly to think how simple it all had been so far, and how far I'd come in just a short time.

I reflected a lot on that of late, the ease in which I'd been able to achieve what I had. Surely this was destiny! I was meant to be a collector, and the thought was quite divine. Divine, of course, in the most literal sense. Such objects filled me with a fervor, knowing that I held around me something so immortal, so far beyond the everyday sphere.

And none was the wiser. That tiny room in my father's house, outcropped over the sea, contained the works of the world. Or what little of the world I could obtain, with my comparatively limited funds. Yet even that small fragment was a spectrum of wonder far greater than anyone around me could ever concieve.

Though surrounded by dinge and fade, I had my sanctuary. Along all walls, every space filled with treasures present or distant. Those I had truly garnered fanned out along the east wall, the single window there illumininating them at the day's dawn, that image the first thing I would see upon waking. My bed lay along the south wall, a simple thing beneath the window overlooking the ocean, so I disguised there and the west wall with images snipped from magazines of the finest things in life. To dismiss those as simple pictures! Alas, I remembered from what seemed like ages ago when they were remarked on as such, and couldn't help but chuckle. Even Helen was ignorant to their true nature, as I fully intended on acquiring each one of them in the future.

The closet, tucked away next to the door, was graced with a neat row of my new, more sophisticated clothes, with those my father had foisted on me hidden on a shelf across, so that they wouldn't sully my prefered wardrobe with their unwanted touch.

Perhaps an aside is in order. I kept them for appearances, how ironic! I would gladly be rid of them in an instant were it not for my father expecting to see me in them on certain occations of exclusively his own interests. He knew the importance of dressing well to meet his clients, but there it ended! A gentleman must be at his best at all public times, yet he clung to the excuse of simply not being at his office to explain away why he continued to wear such atrocities as tank tops and ripped shorts. Those things that he wore during construction! Their purposes ended at the factory door, yet he insisted! How terribly backwards. Simply the thought of it sent my spine shuddering. And I had to don similar wear despite discomfort from all angles at the act. Ah, how funny that even something as common as cotton could rise from the coarseness of those simple garments to the softness and elegance of a fine button-down with the proper guidance.

Ah, I digress. I had a goal for the day.

I closed the closet door behind me, sitting amidst my finery on a chest that held my out of season garments. This unfortunately meant that I was facing that which I described, but I wasn't looking at it. Taking out a hand mirror--a cheap purchase at a drugstore--I began to speak.

"Ahaha! Of course, the use of white conjures the idea of cold."

"Why my dear such-and-such, you look divine! It's been ages, darling."

"Charming, charming!"

Such pithy statements! Even Asaph knew that. But small talk and meaningless comments were an art onto themselves, one that collectors were expected to master. It was like a verbal dance, with the main movement of the body being unimportant and all meaning in the hands and face.

He told me to watch my tone, as it was often flat. I would be percieved as passionless if that continued, so I practiced the ups and downs of my voice as though I was a singer or a stage performer. I may well have been a stage performer, for all the rehearsal it required, but without a script to rely on. I would have to write my own script, with a mind to the rules that the dialogue be inane.

Whatever purpose it served, it seemed to be effective, for whatever strange reason that was beyond my understanding. People seemed to respond better to me when I said such things, so I had no reason to stop.

I think it was some sort of code. By saying things that no one would normally say, I established that I spoke their secret language.

Some of my pictures were held in that tiny room as well, integrated into this process. I moved one of the repulsive shirts aside and took up a stack of photocopies. This was what the mirror was for, in whole.

On the back of one I had written "happiness". The front had the image of a young woman with her mouth curved up to where her teeth were visible, and her eyes were narrowed from the movement. I wasn't sure what indicated happiness about it, but the photograph, taken some fifty years before and held in high regard among those who collected such things, was said to be exemplary in the subject's joy. And so I mimicked her smile, though to me it looked like any other. Adjusting my face to take on these unfamiliar expressions was strange, but it too seemed to have its purposes.

How odd though. I expressed myself, and obviously at that, never trying to obscure myself. This seemed as though I was exposing too much of my heart, yet Asaph called it sublety. Did other collectors expend all their energy and observation on their pursued pieces with no room in their minds for anything else? Perhaps that was why their special code was so simplistic.

Maintaining that smile, I examined myself in the mirror and spoke again.

"The reds give such a vivid, lively feel to the otherwise boring landscape." I redid it. Collectors don't say things like "boring" when speaking to other collectors. "The reds give such a vivid, lively feel to the otherwise drab landscape." And I still wasn't sure if that was right.

Another picture, this of a frowning old man. It was what I would term a scowl, but others said that it was merely an effect of ancient photography requiring the sitter to remain still for quite a long time. Perhaps he was simply an unpleasant fellow to begin with, or perhaps it was his unfortunate resemblence to a granbull that caused the assumption.

"I think so-and-so's suits are quite overrated for the price." No, I had to do that again, we didn't mention price either. "So-and-so's suits are quite common," with "common" stressed to imply that it was beyond mere number, but rather something that the great unwashed would wear. Inflection was important as well, as it could change the meaning of a word through implication.

Changing back to the first image, I repeated her smile and closed my eyes, thinking of the position of every muscle in my face. I wouldn't always have a mirror close at hand, so I had to memorize these things from feel alone.

It was arduous work, trying to maintain this artificial facade. But I looked on it as an art in itself. To exaggerate myself to that degree was to be literally larger than life, and that was something that lent itself quite well to my desired path. I would be among so many pieces that were more than the sum of their parts, so I had to project myself accordingly.

Although that didn't prevent it from being irritatingly repetitive.

"The empty space summons up such a hollowness in the piece." Collectors, for whatever reason, loved to attribute deep meaning to white or black spaces, thinking them truly significant. While certainly they could draw the eye and could make a piece more aestheticly pleasing, surely sometimes they would simply be what was in front of the artist! Yet no one seemed to consider that basic possibility, no matter how drawn from life they recognized the piece to be.

As I grew, I became increasingly aware of the absurdity of life. Children encouraged to leave into the world and bond with animals, while adults created meaningless lives for themselves, devoid of any interest or colour. Both wedged themselves into their tight roles and refused to budge, as stubborn and listless as Ursarings in winter, and any outside the tiny scrap of the world left visible from their select view was something ignored.

I had been set on the path through that grey world once, not knowing anything else. My father had saved money for a trainer journey, and doubtless I would be settling into that life in some other world where I had not discovered art. And yet that discovery had been so <i>simple</i> that it was a shock as to how rare it was to live with color and spark. A brush had been drawn across my life, painting across it the finest things, while those around me remained colourblind.

And it baffled me. Nothing had stood in my way, I realised, and there had been nothing special about me. How many others would there be if they simply looked around?

But it was best this way. Shining stars and all that, as we had been told. As I had been told all that time ago.

I missed her, of course, my dear mother. But with more and more to fill my days, the grief had faded.

With some sense of irony, I had to chuckle at the next photograph being marked "sorrow". Perhaps this was what I had looked like when first brought to this place, mouth turned down and corners tight, eyes squinted and watery, brows like thin wings wavering above.

I had trouble imagining this face on anybody. It seemed distant, something almost comical, contraindicitive of the specified emotion. Asaph, perhaps. Both his parents had passed, yet I couldn't picture him grieving in any such way. Lucrezia had worn a kimono that marked her as a widow, but her jolly, boisterious presentation made it impossible to imagine her otherwise. Even having seen her wrath was still seeing her in bombast, an overwhelming wind surrounding her.

Her son either, the notorious ground trainer. Following that thought, he had lost his father, and yet his smooth and even manner remained in any image I could summon.

Someone closer; Helen perhaps. I'd witnessed her in cheer, in irritation (mostly directed towards my father), in seriousness, in wonderment, but never in sorrow, not like this. I knew she experienced it, thinking back on a story she had told of a failed attempt at breeding her Ninetales that had ended in a stillborn Vulpix of a deep yellow colour. It upset her still, though this had taken place before I was born, and she had paused to wipe away tears many times. Yet that past sadness looked nothing like this image, despite the photograph's pedigree. It had been messy, with unmentionable fluids and a sickness to her, though at the time I had simply wondered, silently of course, if a Fire Stone would have still forced evolution.

Ah yes, the sciences. My studies--my own studies, far from my classes, of course--had fallen on the display cage that had shown the Omastar to all. It was remarkable, and I wondered if there was a way to alter it to display pieces in suspension. Something magnetic could be isolated to display a work in metal while not interfering with anything around it, but that would leave any works of other matter. It was a puzzlement that perplexed me, and I wondered if I could contact the engineer.

Of course, I would have to. I couldn't figure it out on my own. Even as a collector, I was beholden to those who had trod that path before, those gatherers, those artists, those merchants, those patrons. The entire of the art world would be mine, and the thought was intoxicating. I would be an intrinsic part of the very culture of everything. Ah! but that didn't matter! To be a movable part of something eternal, to know that I possessed a collection of true immortality, and to dwell amongst it for as long as I could, those were all I cared about.

Every thought led back to that far too distant future. Time flowed far too slowly, as if testing my patience and resolve to reach that grand goal. But I didn't care. I'd reach it eventually, no matter what my present situation threw at me; no matter the monochrome of my environment, I would burst into the full spectrum!

I realised at that point that I was laughing. When that had happened I wasn't sure, but I was glad that it was a soft, gentlemanly laugh. It had been a rather funny thought, I mused, though the sentiment in it was the absolute truth.

That truth must have been why, when I saw myself in the mirror, I looked nothing akin to the pictures of mirth. Which only complicated things. I felt happy, silly even, and none of that was reflected in pictures supposing to showcase those very things.

Of course, I'd seen those features on others; those shining eyes, those broad smiles, but it was so different that had it not been entirely situational, I wouldn't have seen it at all. How odd, how strange, how confusing! But that was the way of things, wasn't it?

"Of course, it's all part of the game," I chirped merrily at the mirror. But that just made me think of when I'd played chess with Asaph. It had been so long ago, and I suddenly wanted to again. I set the mirror aside and stood, tucking the pictures under the clothes again and carefully arranging things before closing the closet door behind me and heading for the phone to ring him.

I knew from experience that the telephones in his home were fancy things, modern yet in the more ornate style of old movies. There was a certain glamour element in the mystique of old Hollywood that many collectors found themselves emulating, the idea of a subtle world of grandeur all around us if we simply knew how to seek it out. Even the everyday was glamourous when captured in that unique way, and even collectors had everyday lives. Of course, that was what I sought, to have that majesty at my fingertips at all moments. So by the time it rang, I was a bit envious already.

"Asaph's residence, may I ask who calls?" That was his butler, who only came on occasionally. It was an odd arrangement, very atypical, and led to me having no idea of the man's name.

"Yes, this is Jirarudan. May I speak with the master of the house?"

There was a shuffling of papers, and I suspected he was turning pages in a notebook. "Master Asaph is unavailable."

I thought as much. He was still refusing my calls, after the impromptu jaunt through the city. "Ah, very well. Thank you."

"However, he does have a message for you."

"Oh?" That was surprising. I didn't expect that he would want to have any sort of communication with me until later. Though in honesty, I felt he was vastly overreacting.

"Master Asaph wishes to inform you of his representation in the upcoming exhibit of collectors of the Kanto region in Fuschia City."

Ah, so that was why he had spent so much time in Mr. Higuchi's company. Such fortune being minted at that party! It was beautiful, how everything came together like that, my star shining amidst the light of his. "Thank you for informing me."

"Have you anything further?"

I had the suspicion that at an earlier, uneducated point in my life I would have simply hung up at that. "Tell him I await hearing from him. Thank you."

After ending the call, I rested the phone on my bedside table and leaned back on my bed. Such a beautiful thing it must be to lend to an exhibit! To have so many view that which you'd brought together!

But how many of them would understand it? How many would see it and move on without any impact? I frowned. That simply wouldn't do. It was a distressing thought, but I did trust his judgement. I'd have to ask him the next time we spoke.

"Master Asaph wishes to inform you--" I repeated. Something had unsettled me in that when it was said, but I wasn't sure what until I heard it in my own voice. Why, it was a benefit that I hadn't caught it at the time, else I'd have thought he was dismissing me! To do so without a word would be inexcusably rude, after all. I was grateful that it hadn't been the case, but how strange that I would worry of it after nothing of the sort was said.

I sighed as I reached over to pull the shade closed, taking a look at the sky as I did. A storm was coming, and in those months it would bring with it some bitter cold far removed from the season. I wondered briefly what Articuno did on its rumored nearby island in that weather, where it took shelter. Though the cold was meaningless to an ice type, and nothing compared to what would come in a scant few months, the wind and rain were sure to drive at its land.

And they did me no favours either. Such weather only reminded me of my position overlooking the ocean, already no doubt heavy with thick-capped waves and grey swells. Someday I would overlook it all, the stormy grey of the world never touching me, but for the time, I burrowed under my blankets in anticipation.

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

The streets of Seafoam were briefly coated in an artificial sense of festivity, as though it were carried on the ocean breeze. Storefronts trumpeted all summer long of vacation joy--always vacation, as though life here was transient for everyone--with nothing behind the facade, then quickly shuttered close. Even the art galleries focused on the surrounding area with no care beyond that limited scope. It was a world floating in a void, but it would have to do for the time being.

It was, I confess, a pleasant view. The plains gave way to the ocean in a crash of surf and rock, the greenery of the area belying the lifelessness of the buildings. Even my walk to the town, through it took some time, was pleasant, down a gentle slope that stretched across the top of a gradually evening cliff until it became flush with the flat land of the main roads. Sometimes, if the weather was disagreeable, I took the shuttle bus that looped around the town, but on fair days I preferred the walk.

It was on one of those days, in the early autumn, that I was notified of new works at a preferred gallery, and I was heading down to see them. It was clear and dry, to say nothing of unseasonably hot, though cool compared to further inland. Small miracles, I thought as I passed a row of houses. A familiar-looking woman watched me from the window of one, the same who had told Asaph of my ill behaviour. How strange to think that such a thing had been only the previous hear! I wondered if she'd notice the change in me, or if those details had been lost to the rabble.

No matter. I had my mission and wasn't to be dissuaded. Though I waved to her just the same, turning back to the road before I could see if she returned the gesture.

The sunshine was nice, especially knowing that awaiting us were several months of cold. Though it stormed and fogged and howled, Seafoam never grew truly dark, and yet it was never the right kind of light in that span of months. I would take in what I could, so I slowed my pace as I neared an expanse of woodland and walked in silence for a few minutes.

"Psst!"

That was an odd noise, standing out from the normal noise of wind and distant cars. I stood still, ocean breeze against me, as I tried to figure out where this thing was coming from.

"Psst! Jiri!"

I turned around, but nobody was there. Clearly I was hearing things. Perhaps a dream still lingered in me, or perhaps it was just a trick of the wind.

"Jiri! Over here!"

The harsher tone was coming from the bushes at the roadside. What could a person who would hide in the shrubs possibly want with me? But I approached anyway, a caution in my step.

The greenery shook, parting slightly for the person to stick their face out. There, crouched and clad in a cap and sunglasses, was Veronica. "I was wondering if you'd even notice."

"What are you--"

"Come with me!" she blurted. "Let's go on an adventure! We're out in the wild world, so let's enjoy ourselves!"

"How strange..." I mused, realising that I said it aloud. But something in her manner that I couldn't quite put my finger on seemed quite inspiring.

She was starting to become agitated, flapping her gloved hands in a tic reminiscent of a habit I'd had in my distant youth. "Come on! How many days are so perfect for adventuring?"

I smiled, softly I hoped. "I haven't any other plans. I suppose this is as good an activity as any."

Veronica let out a high-pitched squeal that caused me to rethink my agreement, and clapped her hands before extending her arm in an offering of companionship. "Then let's go! This is going to be so fun, la la la..."

"Are you singing?"

"Sure! Care to join me?"

"No thank you. But you're welcome to continue." I took her arm then, wrapping mine around hers as though we were entering a grand ball. But that image didn't last when she began singing aimless notes again.

And yet her tunelessness didn't bother me. It was easy to tell that she was happy; I didn't need my pictures for that. And her joy was infectious, prompting me to hum along in my own tune.

"I thought you said you didn't want to sing!" she declared with a giggle.

"Well, you see, I'm not singing, I'm humming."

"You're so weird!" Another laugh, giving way to more toneless vocalising and a bit of a skip in her step, still keeping pace with me. "Now, what shall our first adventure be, hmm hmm hmm? Exploring is always good! But we have to be careful, because we're being chased!"

"Oh, are we now?"

"Yep! By brigands! They want to make us find treasure for them!"

I'd been suspicious of her idea, but her explanation seemed too fanciful to be symbolic. We were playing out a story, the parts being imaginative rather than pulled from life. "That sounds like a lark. What are they after?"

She paused to think for a moment. "They're after our gold, of course! Gold is always what brigands want."

"I suppose you have a point. How do we know them when we see them?"

"Ah...They have black uniforms! Black uniforms and newsboy hats."

I'd seen them in the past, around Lucrezia's lavish beach house on the far side of town. "Ah yes, I'm familiar with them. We must avoid the mansions if we're to remain unnoticed."

She beamed. "Wonderful! Now, they're after us so we've got to stay safe. Follow me!"

"All right." Though I shouldn't have agreed so quickly, as her immediate reaction was to dive back into the bushes.

"Now then," she mused as I ducked down to join her, "we need to stay off the main roads. They have wicked knights looking for us."

It was an ancient tale now? I decided to go along again. "Don't forget the evil queen and dark prince."

"Of course. And if they catch us, they'll toss us in the hole and leave us there!"

She was spinning quite a tale. But it was delightful fun, at least so far. "Well we certainly don't want that. We'll do our best to avoid such a fate."

Her hand on her cap, she darted out of our hiding spot. "Come on! We have to keep on the move!" The new angle, her in front of me, revealed two long ribbons off the sides of her cap, tied back around her draped hair.

"Where are we going?" I wondered.

"Well..." She was headed somewhere, even if that place was whatever happened to be right in front of her, and didn't stop her pace. "Let's stay in the forest! We'll see what we can find that way."

The forest. Such things held no interest to me. "The city is far more interesting. Can't we go there?"

"Jiiiiriiiii..." It came out higher than her normal tone, and filled with more air. "The queen's forces are filling the streets! We can't risk it!"

This tale she spun was becoming confusing and we hadn't yet begun our adventure. But I complied. "All right. Lead the way."

"Good! Now, this way!" Back into the bushes we went, and I found myself wondering why we had ever left them. She pulled me along as though she had a decided place in mind.

"This is certainly not what I had in mind for the day..." I pondered to myself.




The green of the forest bled together as we continued on our fantastic path. It was as if we had wandered into an abstract, with only the occasional stroke of a brown trunk to break the single colour. Even the wild pokémon around us darted too quickly to register.

"Oh!" Veronica exclaimed, her dedicated path coming to a halt. "A hidden castle!"

I looked ahead. Before us was an abandoned treehouse, somehow holding up through unknown years. A Pidgey nest was visible on the simple handrail along the edge, though it was impossible to tell how long it had been there. Below it on the ground was the outline of a tyre swing, covered in leaves, and above it whisped the remains of a rotten rope. The whole thing was about as far from a castle as a structure could get.

"This castle was sacked by the evil queen," she muttered, bowing her head as if she was truly mourning. "Come on! Let's look for survivors!"

"Must we...?" But again I followed, this time up the blocks hammered into the trunk. Through some miracle they held. When I reached the top, Veronica was already looking about the small space. "What are you trying to find?"

She looked back at me for a moment, and the image of my study cards flashed in my mind, a picture said to be of longing. But that didn't make sense. She was having a merry time of things, so there had to be some mistake. "We're trying to find if anyone remains! There has to be--oh!"

The source of her surprise was a young Rattata, sniffing along the boards for acorns. "Oh, that's something. Is that what you're looking for?"

She knelt down before it, hand extended. "A survivor...Oh dear, you seem to be the only one. We arrived too late! I can offer only my apologies..."

The Rattata sniffed at her glove before scurrying away, down the tree and into the bushes. "Do we follow it?" I asked despite preferring that the sky would fall around us.

"No...it's enough to know." Slowly standing, she smiled. "We should leave it be. It's got enough to deal with. But maybe we can find something of value here."

"Are we tomb robbers?"

Veronica gasped in fake shock. "Absolutely not! We've been hired to sell what remains to rebuild the castle!"

With every word, her storyline seemed to further embrace surrealism. "I...suppose this...rock is worth something. Maybe those Pidgies brought it up here."

"Jirarudan! That's not a rock!" Her sudden insistence was a bit startling. "That's a gem from the royal sceptre! We need to take it with us!"

"Well...the king must be terribly worried about it." Queens rarely wielded sceptres, so I hoped that my choice matched with her vision. "But we have our mission. Shall we go?" I couldn't take a moment more in that dingy place, and despite my compliance with her fantasy, I was near about to leave.

"All right. The evil queen won't be coming back, so this place is as safe as it can be." She pushed past me and started down the ladder. "Town will be our best bet. We'll have to see what we can get for the gem."

I wondered if she was truly going to attempt to sell a plain rock. How far was this fantasy truly going to take us? Her decision to crown Lucrezia an evil queen--I knew that

Veronica was aware of who had been my thought, who owned the beach house surrounded by black-capped guards--was quite the visual, but a strange one. What would she do if we encountered the woman? Would she blurt out accusations of warmongering? Lucrezia may already demonstrate hostility towards us, making money as we had off of her back, although Asaph had doubted that she was aware of the source of our information. When I was back on solid ground, I immediately began wandering in the direction of the city centre, and was glad that Veronica followed along.




Seafoam was quiet, the tourists from inland having discarded it in favour of a daily life. Only a few remained, blending with the locals though sheer weakness of number, and for the most part milled around quietly. Veronica and I passed onto the main road without notice, though she stopped to peer around a building. "One can never be too careful with the queen's forces about."

Lucrezia would have returned to Viridian for business, and her son as well, so the chances of us running into anyone related to Veronica's tale were slim. "Ah...the queen and prince are elsewhere this season, and their forces have accompanied them. I think the chances of encountering them are low."

She vehemently shook her head. "She has spies everywhere. We have to be careful when moving about."

How far was she going to take this? "All right. How will we know them? By the uniform?"

"They wouldn't be spies if they dressed with the queen's emblem. We won't know them until they cause trouble, and that makes the city especially dangerous. We have to move so as to not bring attention to ourselves."

I had the suspicion that it would be far more difficult than that, especially since we seemed to be the only young people about at that hour, and were dressed irregularly sophisticated compared to our peers besides. "Are you positive that's possible?"

"Just act natural...or uh, try to act like a normal person. It'll take steely determination and an iron will to succeed in this labour."

Nothing I had studied through etiquette or my photo collection had any solutions on how to react to such a thing, though I wasn't certain if the entire sentence had been directed towards me or not. "I suppose that's awfully...metallic. Let's do our best."

"That's the spirit." It didn't sound much like how an upbeat phrase like that was meant to, but there were so many variations that it was hard to keep up. "Now, the gem market should be around here someplace."

The only gemstone store was in the small shopping mall in the middle of town, and I felt uneasy. Would she truly attempt to pass this common rock off as the fairy tale she handily spun? "At least we can see some jewellery. Not that the things in this town are worthwhile, but it'll be fun."

"This isn't a mission of fun, Jiri. This is serious." She peered around another corner before darting across the street.

By the time I caught up to her, I remembered another feature of the mall, a merry-go-round. "The king's steeds are being held captive in the middle of the fortress."

She shook her head. "No, they're false. Entertainment for those under the queen's control, so they don't notice the tyranny."

That was the first time she had contradicted me since we began on this bizarre improvised quest. "Ah, bread and circuses."

The common shops were closed, their purpose of feeding commercial goods to tourists fulfilled for another year, so the majority of the mall was silent. I hadn't been there for nearly a year, and even then it had been beneath me. In my childhood I may have enjoyed such a thing, at least the merry-go-round, or perhaps the novelty hat shop, but those days seemed so foreign and fogged.

We moved past so many dingy rooms, some of them empty for seemingly years, others stocked with shirts and trinkets awaiting the return of spring. One surprisingly lively shop carried upscale surfing equipment, an activity that drew people even in the coldest parts of winter, still months away. Yet our goal waited at the end of the hallway, the very heart of the single-level building.

There was the merry-go-round, with its signature blue-flamed Rapidash standing out among those surrounding it. Some were the typical normal Rapidash and Ponyta, even a Zebstrika, and others were more novel sorts such as Seadra and an unmoving Vileplume. The benches that usually adorned these devices were fashioned as Swanna, the distant, notoriously aggressive white bird. But it wasn't my white bird, so there was no point.

Though it was a rickety machine, and clearly only casually cared for, some considered it a work of art. Perhaps it had been in its heyday, but no longer, and that was a disappointment. Typical for Seafoam, however, taking in only the sea itself.

Veronica passed everything by, heading with heavier, quicker steps to the jewellery store. The stone in her hand was covered tightly by white knuckles as she crossed the threshold. But before I could catch up, she darted back, running towards a far door. "They've gotten to us! Run!"

Oh, so that was her plan. It was a bit disappointing; my curiosity having overtaken reason. I followed along swiftly anyway, passing a few employees along the way.

From behind us, a loud whistle blew, followed in a split-second by a harsh "STOP!" and the heavy footfalls of a security guard in pursuit.

"Run, Jiri! Don't let the guard get you!" she called from in front of me.

She hadn't stolen anything, that much I knew. She was running because of her stupid game. Did she really intend to let this go so far that we'd both get in trouble? I slowed in my pace, coming to a low jog. "Veronica, come back."

But she continued, the guard at her heel.

"It's a stupid rock," I called to her as the guard reached his prey, grabbing her shoulder and pulling her against a wall.

She let out a sharp cry as she wedged her firm fist between her body and the wall. "I won't let go!"

The man sighed. "Give it back, kid. You don't want the trouble. Look, your friend is telling you to stop."

"I can't let go! I have to get this to--" Her destination was cut off by the guard pulling her forearm back to reveal the contents of her hand, barely covered by her fingers.

He sighed. "Kid...really? You bring in a rock from outside and pretend that you're stealing it? I almost called Jenny in on you. Runnin' out of the jewellery store like that..."

Veronica rubbed her newly released arm. "...come on, Jirarudan. Our mission is over."

"Lousy kids and their pranks..." I heard the guard mutter as he slunk past me to his original location, rubbing the back of his head. "Never understand kids today..."

I followed to where Veronica had wandered, just outside the door to outside. Her breath was heavy, rising and falling her chest like a rapid tide. "...can't believe it..."

"Veronica, it was foolish. Why did you keep--"

But she turned and walked away from me. As she crossed the road I could see that the rock was still held tight in her hand. I gave her a moment before I followed, my mind turning over on itself trying to figure out her actions.




She was standing at a lookout point, a picturesque fence the only barrier between her and a cliff, and rolling the rock over again in her hands. She'd speak in time enough, I figured.

The view was certainly nice, even with the looming rock targeted by so many surfers in view, and my thought process from earlier came back. Around me, the air was cool and slow, breezing in from distant lands. Who knew what secrets had been whispered into it, the thousands of people feeling the same wind at that moment? It was a lovely thought, to be such a part of the world, as if I was already amidst the finest art. The depths of the world and its treasures would be mine for the picking, and it was an honour to be so blessed. To others, the breeze simply passed them by without notice, and so went the world.

Veronica noticed, though. She raised an arm to catch the wind, the other tossing the rock almost casually into the water before firmly planting on her hat to secure it, ribbons flapping as if they were birds in low flight.

"What's it like where you come from?" It was the first thing she'd said since the dawn of our adventure that took place outside the story.

"Far too quiet. Unsettlingly so." I spoke the truth, of course. That wretched, hateful town had been boring besides.

"Sometimes the quiet is nice." Her head was lowered, and I followed her gaze.

"What do you see?"

She took a moment before looking back at me. "I guess a lot, but I'm not really looking. Just thinking. You ever just space out?"

I laughed at that, reflecting on how very much of my time was spent deep in thought. "So very much," I declared, feeling as though I was repeating myself though I knew I hadn't spoken the first aloud. "Papa's always telling me to be more social. I suppose he means to have friends over rather than to have dealings and connections at parties. I don't understand why. I'm simply doing business like he does."

"Your birthday's later this month, isn't it?"

"Yes. I'll be ten."

She sighed. "I remember when I turned ten. I wanted a pokémon so badly. Even a Magikarp would have done."

"I can't see you with one. Something as clumsy and ungainly as that wouldn't suit you."

"Then what could you see me with?"

It was something I had to think about. She was so many things at once that attempting to narrow it to a handful of species was difficult. "Ralts does suit you. Eevee, Gothita, Chikorita, Murkrow..."

"Things just beginning their journey," she whispered. "First stage, not yet evolved. I can see that." A silence fell over us until she finally stated "You'd have a Xatu. It thinks about the past and future, but not the present. You're very much like them."

I chuckled. "I'd never thought of it that way. I suppose if I had to elaborate, I would say that Ralts is a given, Eevee is complex and changing, Gothita is stylish, Chikorita is..." I paused. "...I'm not sure. It just comes to mind. Oh, and Cresselia, of course, since you want it so much."

She grinned, something I hadn't seen for a while. "And you'd have Lugia. It's awfully funny-looking, but I guess Cresselia is too."

"The heart wants what the heart wants!" Perhaps it was a bit too enthusiastic on my part, because she took a step back. But then she laughed, so I continued. "We'll reach that point someday. After all, we're the shining stars."

"I guess we are. And shining stars can't be playing with rocks in the middle of town. ...I should go back home."

"Oh? I was hoping we could tour the galleries together."

She shook her head, her ribbons flowing slightly looser. "I don't feel up to it today. I'm going to go home and take a nap, then play with Ralts some."

"Do you want me to wait for the bus with you?"

"No..." Reaching into her pocket, she produced Ralts' pokéball. "If I don't see you before then, I'll see you at your birthday party, or whatever you have for it. Ta-ta!"

Before I could say anything, she and Ralts had teleported away. I knew that a creature of Ralts' limited power couldn't have gotten her far, and she was likely still in the town, but my part was at least over.

It had been a tiring day, but with the gallery ahead under the noonday sun, I supposed it was really just starting. Nothing that happened later could live up to that morning.

 

[K_S]

Sorry I've been away so long, here's a review of chapter 23 with hopefully the other two to follow soon.

23

Review:

I love how impolite almost eeks out quiet in sheer horror from Jir’s perspective. You get a sense that Veronica is so eagerly bucking her reigns while Jir’s more placid going along just to go along. Part curiosity part to be around someone familiar who he is somewhat fond of… though if she does keep perusing a lifestyle of “freedom” and the loss of privilege/comforts that could entail I wonder how long he’d actually stay…

Or how long he’ll stay if he actually realized how deep her concerns and questioning of Asaph’s tutoring/lessons are going. Jir might be taking it as gospel but Veronica’s definitely not.

Laughs, his tone is so straining to be adult in all his lines then a wry “hey maybe when the hol’s roll about you’ll have that legend you want under the tree…”

Luckily he never got his paws on that Legend in canon though how the adult version would respond to the encounter versus his more whimsical present self…

Now personally, while she’s taken some pains to pick the lock out of her cage… you have to wonder how much sense Ver’ has in setting this whole thing off. She had just enough doesn’t leave much wiggle for emergencies, and while I get wanting to indulge in a small tame adventure, especially at that age and the setting which really encourages the young to be go-getters in the going aspect of life… still something tells me that Veronica has some things very very wrong.

If Asaph surgically removes the kid's ego then her parents might, and just because they didn’t see them ditch does not mean someone won’t be responding to it… Also as they’re dressed up very… uniquely, and it’s bleeding Viridian AKA Rocket Founding hot spot… I’m worried that outside forces might rear their cheery heads at some point and cause problems.

Still let’s see how they survive public transport before all those maybes rear their happy heads shall we?

Oh wait they were a little bit smarter than to bring next to nothing, apologies for underestimating things…

I’m going to have to say… I admire Ver and Jir’s appreciation of tea from afar and leave it at that.

I love how she’s all “But Jir we do this every outing”

And he’s like “but it’s shiny and new!”

I imagine if they were to spend more than one outing together that could become its own ritual in and of itself between the two.

You know it would be mildly ironic, if probably too slapstick, for Jir’ to be adventuring to get his legend trap bit in places, just conveniently combing through a ruin and a swarm of yamask are holding onto a needed tomb’s treasure and just…won’t… let…go. Fully tug of war anger moment and Jir’ flashes back to this one idle thought and mentally groans about “of course the follies of youth were somewhat prophetic” in this moment.

I don’t see Jir’ looking at a map, perhaps of alola and its many many odd names… and blue screening of death.

Jir’s comment about people taking up space reminds of a quote about the first step to villainy is seeing people as things. It’s a nice foreshadowing of what comes, a reinforcement of what he is going… and still chilling despite that.

I’m sorta surprised Jir’ didn’t go “rules, what rules?” and poke underneath the barrier. I can see a younger one kinda doing that, somewhat obliviously mind. And I love the subtle contrasts. New museum and exhibit, somewhat dangerous surroundings, it’s a subtle shout-out to the actual events going on in viridian canonically at the time…

And now being there way too long will have natural consequences as well as ramp up the homecoming consequences, fun times. And those outfits are going to be such draws…

There’s an old classical short story, I can’t remember it exactly, the title or whole of it, but the theme was a man locked/obsessed with sustaining a certain upper-class air/demeanor/lifestyle and when he lost his ability to do so he ended things… his viewpoint was a bit stilted and pompous before that point, but the closing line always stuck with me… the gist being that in his last moments he descended and was lost among the minute, mundane things.

From his previous viewpoints/perspectives that was a fate worse than death and he spent his last moments' railing against it but things were beyond reversing and… well that’s how the tale ended.

Your Jir’ reminds me (less morbidly mind) of that tale a bit. And I wonder if his failure, his fall, won’t end on a similar note but that’s much much later.

No veronica, he thought in a straight line unfortunately underestimating the social-economical aspects due to his own tunnel vision… this is going to go bad…

And wow was it. I have to admit I’m surprised Ver’ didn’t bolt from the sheer chilliness, and I wonder how much trouble Jir’ realizes he’s in with Asaph… Well, the fallout will be better shown off in the next installation I suppose.

One thing I was curious about was the accuracy between Ver’s… not complaints about Jir per se, but how she handled commenting on his altered priorities, (obviously the slap was royally over the line, but she’s a kid freaking out, so it makes an iota of sense, and its own allusions are unpleasant) despite that she’s got a point in calling out his tunnel vision and I wonder, is how she did so... well… normal. The earlier comments about being hard to read 5x, etc, that… happens? Yeah I know, random tangent, but it surprised me that either she didn't let it drop or he didn't gently point it out it wasn't alright and it got dropped? Yeah, I know, an odd question to walk away with but it lingered and I thought I'd bring it up.

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

To be fair, Jiri prizes inanimate objects more than he does people, so being seen as a "thing" probably is a compliment to him. And the wag in me is tempted to point out that, since we have matter and exist in time and space, we really are objects.

I don't understand your question at the end. You don't know why she dropped the subject?

 

[K_S]

Chapter 24 review

Really while I see why Jir’ didn’t take a trainer’s journey, his perchance for items rather than companions, I have to wonder if he wouldn’t have benefited from a far-flung journey in it’s own way. He comes across as rather restless.

Jir’s setting himself for quite a fall as he wheels out his high horse of “I’m better then everyone else”, never mind the society is born of those masses that make his beloved arts possible. I wonder how he’d respond to that idea.

His “want” wall seems scarily like a murder board with little pins and strings needed to symbolize the plots to get to them…

I remember you saying he practiced to help blend in, and it’s a neat trick to see it in action… though if any walked in they’d probably have questions… Still, it’ll technically expand his avenues having a better-socialized front and everything thought why his immediate family didn’t address this already is something I have to wonder at. I mean I get Jir’s a bit estranged and Jir’s dad is a bit of a workaholic… but still…

Snorts, so we have an internalized mini-motive rant topped off with evil cackling…

Never have I heard a “near death/beating mugging” be called a jaunt… that’s a new level of underestimation here….

So he’s still in Asaph’s bad books. Somewhat. Possibly. With Jir’s perspective, it’s hard to really gauge where others see him because his viewpoint is a bit out there.

I wonder how Fuchsia will go. I remember its main center piece being the pokepark/reserve so I imagine the place would be naturalistic, and with the gym being themed after the ninja traditions I’m imagining something of a traditional air. Perhaps the next chapter will show it off.

 

[K_S]

review for 25



You know having worked in stores during holidays I’m not going to dispute that the vacation/holi of the cycle is paramount and does lead to its own illusions of the world only centering on that one idea/season/festivity… at least until the next one rolls around. Seaside abodes probably would go all out and flaunt summer, after all that branch of the tourist trade would be their bread and butter.

Sensualist thy name is Jir’ well at least he likes all the nature stuff in moderation it adds an interesting dimension to his artistry obsession in that he sees beauty in the artifice and nature and seems to like both equally.

But I thought we were initially in summer with the tourists and such.. must of missed something. Autumn it is.

I swear it’s a miracle Jir’ not been bothered before that incident in Viridian. He’s an eerie mix of aware and unaware that comes across as a mite feather-headed and naïve all at once despite his lofty self-view.


The more we see of Veronica the more surprised I am that she didn’t go on a journey. She seems the type when out from under Asaph’s and her parent's expectations.

You know her description of the “bandits” reminds me of the gen one sprites of a certain criminal organization…

I find it amusing that he’s totally willing to go along even if he has no clue. I suspect he’s never really played this type of game before, indulging into a foray of make-believe.

You can hear Jir’s “ew peasant rescue” in his “must we?”.

Laughs… yeah not draw attention… Veronica seems to be a master at that.

I have to admit I liked Jir’s contribution to the tale.. .and was kinda hoping that it would lead to a “freeing attempt” just for sheer giggles. Ah well.

Their play does kinda show though, for all his attempting to master and mimicry, Jir’s still a bit distance from the spontaneous whimsy that’s a norm, shown throughout Veronica’s game and even in his response to “act normal”… I think he’d of enjoyed it more if she’d slowed down a little and broke it down a bit first.. but they’re both young enough I have to wonder if it just didn’t cross her mind.

Their back and forth on mon they would have picked was interesting… and while his picks seem more graceful and small I kinda wonder at Veronica's headspace to focus on the newness of the journey… which is utterly understandable.

Though the image of her hauling a magikarp around ala gamer cats mon walking comic… snorts.

And of course, she’s a bit um over the top on her exit. Hopefully, Ratls lands her somewhere safe on the way out. Well, the next chapter seems like it might be Jir’s party perhaps. I know it’s an odd idea but I’m curious as to how Jir and Veronica’s folks would get on. Jir’s father comes across as a rather mundane man down to his roots sort, and Ver’s are more um… education mama doesn’t work, but it’s not quite pageant parent either… still it’s a totally different parenting and moral systems being taught and absorbed here.

I wonder if Asaph will come off of his dudgeon and poke his nose into the proceedings. Or at least send a card.

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

I based the depiction of Seafoam in this fic on a town called Seaside by me, and yeah it really dries up in the off season.

Asaph's role in the fic is about to take some very strange turns so I hope you stay tuned!

 

[K_S]

I look forward to it... Honestly ive been waiting for him to get off his grooming run and go all back stabby mc staberson on the kids.

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

Autumn had settled in, draping the coast in a veil of fog and chill. The sea below churned in grey fury, making the view from my window an experiment in monochrome. Though my adventure with Veronica had been only at the start of the month, the cold, threatened for some time, had settled in quickly, changing my environment rapidly.

With the time of year came my birthday, something I had attempted to avoid discussing with anybody. Though the year before I'd given my age as advanced by one before the date arrived, this year I understood the importance of youth, of preserving it while I could.

Yet ten was a milestone. This age was what flooded the streets and forests and plains with those starry-eyed children intent on entering the Pokémon League, perhaps to become the Champion, that grandest of all trainers of the land.

As I've spoken of before, the draw of such things had always escaped me.

Perhaps if I'd not met Asaph I'd have been preparing for such a journey anyway, regardless of my disinterest. I wondered what starter I'd have had. Veronica had compared me to a Natu, seeing the past and future with no mind for the present, but that species was rare to begin a journey with, especially outside the Johto region. Likely I'd be saddled with one of the trio more typical for Kanto, and simply have fallen in line like the others. I wondered how long it would have taken me to have abandoned the quest, as I knew that would be the inevitable outcome.

I had just completed an essay on some forgettable subject when a knock came on my door--a patter tapping out some silly tune, indicating that it was my father. "Knock knock," he chimed as if I wouldn't have heard the physical result.

"Come in."

He left the door open a wedge and unfolded a paper in his hand. He'd asked me for a birthday wish list, and I'd hesitated on it, not knowing if doing so was mannered or not, but finally I'd relented, jotting down a few choice items. "I wanted to ask you some things about this list. Your birthday's tomorrow, of course, and I can't find some of these."

That was strange. "They're relatively commonplace. You ought to, even here."

"Well...it's more that I don't know what they are. Like this one; I've got no clue what a...'chatelaine' is." He stumbled over the word as though it was difficult.

"It's a pocket chain." He'd recently spent a day enthusing over the purchase of an electronic encyclopaedia, yet apparently couldn't be bothered to use it himself.

"Oh, so you want a pocket watch? That's a funny choice for a kid your age."

I bristled at the reference to age. At ten, I was nearly an adult. Even aside from training or going on an aimless journey, there were a host of liberties opening to me and he still treated me though I were small. "A watch is something one may hang on a chatelaine. I wouldn't be adverse to receiving one. Of course, it would be impolite" I stressed the word "to turn down a gift, though gifts must" another stress "be given with thought and consideration."

"Oh." The flatness of his tone left little from which to derive meaning.

"Well, I guess that makes sense. Now, I don't know who some of these people are that you mention. Designers, I guess, right?"

I hadn't asked for any art, since it would raise too many questions, but history had shown that he preferred to give clothing. I could at least guide him to the proper choices. "More or less, though some are shops. You'll be able to find them in Viridian."

He chuckled. "You have a lot more elaborate tastes than I did."

"I question your use of the past tense." Asaph would likely snap at me for such a comment, but the irritation in it would go over my father's head.

Again he laughed, of course. "I guess you're right! Wow, you're getting quite a sense of humor too. When I'd visit when you were little, you'd never laugh at anything."

That wasn't true. He just never heard me. "You were hardly there."

"Ah, yeah. Sorry about that..." He tsked under his breath as he rubbed the back of his head. "Just didn't have a lot of time. I wish you could have come out here though, too...Gloria loved the ocean..."

"...I have to send this in," I muttered as I turned back to my work.

"Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...she would have been so proud of you."

There was a pause before he moved, and another before he finally left. Rather than do what I had said, I instead drew out the chain from my shirt and held mother's ring in my hands. That's when I made a wonderful discovery.




The following morning, I left early, before the dawn, and headed townward. My usual routine of wandering the galleries played out nicely, and one of the owners wished me a fine birthday. I walked along the promenade, listening to the ocean trying to rise up and touch the Wingulls that cawed above it, teasing the waves into going ever higher. Even from the cafe where I dined, though it was around the corner from the view, still carried the sounds of the playful birds.

The small bookshop across from the shopping mall had gotten in a new art book, so I treated myself, petting the shopkeeper's Meowth that lazed across the counter as I paid. It pushed into my hand, enjoying the feel of my new adornment. Though I'd been by myself all day, I felt as though I was in the finest of company.

When I returned to the cliffside, nightfall was already touching at the corners of the sky. It wasn't especially late, but the year showing its age. I hoped to slip in quietly and head to my room, but my father was waiting in the living room, on the couch that faced away and sitting so he faced me.

"Jiri, I'm glad you're here! I expected you'd get back around this time. Go get dressed up; we're going out to dinner."

I froze. Anything my father picked would be some horrid place, a gaudy tourist trap with pseudo-food designed to appeal to base instinct for overly filling meals.

"Come on, we're going to Viridian City so we have to drive there."

That was a bit better, though I still didn't trust him. Viridian was vast and held everything from high culture to the lowest. "What are we doing?"

He stood, and I could see that he still wore the suit he did business in. "I just said, we're going out to dinner."

"Specifically, Corbin," Helen said from the kitchen. I could hear her fussing with something in a cup, likely tea. "Tell him specifically where we're going."

"Oh yeah." It was as though it had never occurred to him to answer what I'd asked. "It's a place called Fengsugou. Heard of it? It's supposed to be pretty nice."

I hadn't, and mused over his settling for 'pretty nice' for what he insisted was a major milestone. "Mm. I suppose it's better than nothing."

"Hahaha! You're getting a nice sense of humour. I'm glad; you always seemed like nothing made you smile."

Had I been making a joke? I went over my words to think of what he could be talking about and came up with nothing. Without a further word, I started up the stairs, but he stopped me.

"Jiri...? What's that on your hand?"

I glanced down. "Oh, this morning I tried it on and it fit my hand."

He smiled, but his eyes were slightly furrowed. "My god. I never thought I'd see you wear Gloria's ring. It looks so good on you. Heh...she always wore that. It meant so much to her. And I'm really glad you like it."

He knew I had it, and I'd wore it on a chain. What was the difference? It did make me feel more mature, that it fit, but those things shouldn't matter to him.

My silence must have gone unnoticed, because he continued. "You wouldn't let that thing out of your grip, remember? I had to come in when you were asleep and put it on the table so you wouldn't lose it. You know, sometimes, I wonder how--" and suddenly he fell silent. When I looked back up at him, Helen had taken his arm and was whispering lowly in his ear.

But at least it gave me the respite necessary to take my leave.




"You look really nice, Jirarudan," Helen said as we exited onto the mainland from the short bridge out of town. She and I inhabited the back seat of the smaller car--there was simply no way that I would be seen in the truck. "How are you doing today?"

I'd been staring out the window at the dim stars, tracking our movements by the distant lights. "Mm? I'm all right. It's really like any other day, though I did pamper myself earlier."

"What did you do? I saw you got a new book. What's it about?"

I faced her briefly to answer, intending to turn back quickly. "It's a history of Lorrainian art in the Kalos region."

"Oh yeah?" She smiled. "Kalosian art is really pretty."

"Lorrainian art is often overlooked. It's similar but not as gaudy, and Kalosian masters were often inspired by the more realistic traits."

"Does it have pictures? I'd like to see what you mean."

She was taking interest in my passion for art. I could indulge her, but I couldn't risk her finding out my secret. "Maybe sometime, when I'm done."

"By the way," she continued as she leaned back, "congratulations on your grades. How do you do it? You never seem to study and you're getting way higher grades than me or your father did at that age."

I did study, and far too much. But it was only natural that she assume as she did, as I kept to myself regardless of the circumstance. "I don't see how you could figure that."

"I guess. I mean, we never see you. You could be doing anything up there. I tell your father you're probably writing the great Kantan novel. You know, you're one smart cookie. You're gonna do great things someday."

"It's not like I'm a prodigy or anything." This line of discussion was making me uncomfortable."

Either she didn't notice or she didn't care, because she laughed. "Haha, well, you'll find something."

I was ten. Though I had looked forward to the number, I was far behind so many. Madame Remi had her first gallery showing at ten, and was noted at the time to have bemoaned her lost youth. Stafford, Rhi, even the more recent Alkire, all had their hold in the art world long before my age. It was disheartening sometimes to wander through a museum full of those bright youths, but I had my own and I would do what I would with it. "...I'd rather not talk about it."

She paused, silent for a while before squeezing my hand. "What made you decide to put that ring on?"

I answered as I wiggled my hand from her grasp. "I try it on every so often to see if it fits. Today it did."

"Oh. That's nice. I never met Gloria, but I think she'd be really proud of you. She seemed like a great person."

I think that was the first time I'd ever heard Helen talk about my mother, and it didn't seem right. She was so close with my father that I would hope the subject would come up more often. As Helen said, she'd never met her, but my father had no excuse.

"Are you excited to be ten?" I'd said nothing in between and her conversation continued unabated.

"I suppose. I'm glad to have my youth."

From the front, my father laughed, a sharp, noiseful sound. "Corbin!" Helen snapped, tapping the back of his headrest. "Ah, sorry about that. He just thought you sounded a lot older there."

"Helen, come on, it was funny. A little kid saying that he's glad to have his youth?"

The car suddenly seemed so much smaller than ever before, and I wanted out but we were in motion. Had we been stopped or going slower than we were, I would have darted away in an instant, I know that much for certain. I could feel my face arrange itself in what the photographs depicted as an overwhelmed expression, and it was a small victory that it was at least what I was feeling.

"Corbin, apologize."

He sighed. "I'm sorry. It was just that it sounded like something an old man would say."

"Corbin!"

"I'm sorry!" He glanced at me through the rearview. "Jiri, it's just you don't sound like kids your age. It's not a bad thing, not at all. You sound really smart, like Helen said, way more than either of us."

I didn't feel smart. A smart person would have better company.

Helen sighed, almost identical in length and capacity as my father's previous sigh. "There's a lot he doesn't understand. In meetings he keeps those things under his hat until later when it's just us, but sometimes I swear..." Another sigh. "He's proud of you."

"I am! And don't ever doubt that! You're a very special boy and I'm proud to have you as a son." His driving was wavering a little, but it was still within acceptable parameters. "I want you to know that your father loves you."

Frankly I didn't care. I know he said it honestly, but his understanding of such things was limited. "Mm. Thank you."

"Jiri, what do you say?" This was Helen, prodding me in the arm.

It took me a moment to comprehend what she meant. "...loveyoutoo."

He laughed again. "That's the spirit!"

Under that starry sky, I wished I could be anywhere else.





Our arrival at Fengsugou was mundane. It had begun to rain, so my father went to park elsewhere while Helen and I ducked inside. I recall that her umbrella was impractically small, so we were both grateful that we'd only had to cross a small space to the door. "Any further and I'd have to restyle my hair," I remarked, and she giggled slightly.

"Isn't that my line? Your hair looks fine."

Hers was worn down, something I never saw. At the factory, it was a matter of safety to make hair as short as possible, so it was usually up with pins. Even so, it still only went to the lobes of her ears, slightly shorter on one side, creating the image of a modern flapper sans headdress. "Yours too. Though it could use a little something."

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

"I think...a flapper headband. Or a cloche."

"Oh yeah?" I wasn't sure if she had already forgotten that she'd just said that. "I'll have to look into those."

She was humouring me, which was disappointing. She didn't know what those things were, so why would she act otherwise? I'd have told her if she had asked, and I almost did anyway.

From where I stood, I could see a glimpse of the interior. It was down a curved stairway, but with a limited view I could make out the host station nestled in the space, backed by a large aquarium against the stair wall, in which a few domestic-sized Goldeen and Seaking swam about lazily. The decor indicated that it was a specifically Hengduanian restaurant, and I was a bit disappointed in myself that, though I could identify the architecture, I knew nothing of the cuisine.

Helen took a deep breath. "Mm, smells good, doesn't it? It's been a while. I'm in the mood for something spicy. If it's ok with you, anyway. It's banquet style so everyone has a bit of everything."

That was interesting. I dreamed of attending imperial and royal events, and banquet style was often found in those, especially in the east. Perhaps this could be practice for the future.

The door opened but I didn't pay much attention. It would be my father, I assumed, and he wasn't worth much notice, especially during my fancy.

"Jirarudan."

That wasn't the voice I was expecting. I turned. "Asaph?"

He smiled, eyes and mouth crinkling at the sides, and chuckled. "I wasn't about to miss your birthday."

"I didn't know you'd be coming." I remember thinking that my voice was duller than it should have been.

"Your father didn't tell you?" He glanced at Helen, who shrugged.

"I wouldn't put it past him," she muttered. "He can be a real scatterbrain sometimes."

Asaph laughed. "Not like Jirarudan. He's perhaps the sharpest person I've ever met."

I was? I suppose he would think so, not having seen the study of expressions and tones that I devoted hours, days to. Without that information, he would think it came naturally.

"That's great to hear." Helen craned her head to peek out the paned window. "Since he does remote school, we don't get a lot of feedback about him. I mean, it's obvious that he's smart, but other than that, you know?"

He nodded, just as the door opened again. "Ah, Corbin. We were just singing the praises of your son."

My father reached a hand to my hair, no doubt to tousle it in that clichéd manner, and I ducked away. Not only did I disapprove of the action in general, I had my hair styled just so. He was being highly disrespectful, and it belied his praise. "He's a very special boy. We were talking about that in the car."

It was hideously dull to hear that man talk. "Pardon. I'll go check the table," I told Helen and excused myself down the stairs. It was rude to depart without the acknowledgement of the other two, and I suspected that Asaph would speak to me about it later, but it was necessary.

It was a regret that I couldn't properly appreciate my surroundings at that point. The staircase brought to mind the elegant entrances that royalty would make, and the faint splashing and vocalisations of the aquarium fish could substitute for applause. Yet, coming off of those horribly shallow remarks--what did "special" even mean?--they felt as though they were mocking me.

Fortunately, such pessimism was short-lived, and the decor caught up with me. Though Hengduan was a very modern region, embracing radical new designs in its architecture, the restaurant was in a far more classical style. It was symmetrical, with even the chairs surrounding the tables all pointing the same directions on either side of the room. Deep red dominated the scene, highlit in gold and surrounding a small mock sky well, an inlaid light substituting for the sun and interior plants instead of the usual sumptuous garden. The effect, while not true to form, was a reasonable substitute. The walls were decorated simply, with traditional fans and inconspicuous lanterns, to an understated effect.

Overall, it was magnificent, and I briefly forgot my discomfort.

"Excuse me, can I help you?" A hostess was at my side, looking almost amused. I assumed it was for my age.

"Yes, I would like to know if the table for Jirarudan is ready for seating."

She pursed her lips. "I don't think we have any tables under that name."

My stomach fell. Could he have forgotten to make a reservation? I wouldn't put it past him. We could obtain a table as walk-ins, but it was the principle of the thing.

And then my father came down the stairs. "Ah, I think the table's under the name Corbin?" It was enunciated as a question, and a strange one at that. Why would he put it under his own name when it was my birthday?

"Table for four? Right this way."

He HAD reserved in his name. Had he no social decorum at all? I was aghast. It was my day, not his, and yet he had shifted the focus.

Asaph and Helen trailed down the stairs, and we were led to a round table next to the garden area. To continue the symmetry, we sat in a x pattern, complimenting our surroundings.

"How about this, huh?" my father asked, and I was dimly aware that it was directed at me. "Turning ten, having a big fancy dinner...I tell ya, it seems like just yesterday that you were this little baby."

Helen was smiling. "Corbin, honey, I think Jiri may be a bit overwhelmed."

I wasn't, though his presence was quickly changing that. I was simply enamored with my surroundings. Perhaps someday I would dine with royalty in settings near to this. No, I rethought, I most certainly would.

Asaph placed his napkin on his lap and looked at me to do the same. In the rush, I'd forgotten, and wondered if my distraction made it excusable. "Jirarudan is an excellent student," he stated, as though clearing the fog. "As I was saying, he absorbs information incredibly. I've never met anyone who seeks out knowledge as much as he does."

"Hey! Good job!" The plainness of my father's words stood out starkly against our surroundings. "Yeah, he's always got a book in his hand or something. And he's really into international stuff. That's why I thought he'd like this place. He cuts out pictures and stuff of different locations and paintings and puts them on his wall."

My stomach tightened, Asaph's prior warning coming to the front of my head he wouldn't understand this is our secret...

But Asaph just smiled in a small way. "Seeing the world without leaving home. It really is magnificent, to have that sort of mind."

It wasn't just that. It was my escape from the dullness of Seafoam, my injection of colour into it. I felt rather wobbly to think of it, and wanted to hide under the table. Just a few years ago, I would have. Thinking of that, however, of how far I'd truly come in such a short time, straightened my back and focused my mind. "Seeing the world," I echoed. "Someday I will; I know I will."

It had been a comment to myself, so I was a bit surprised by Helen's words. "What do you want to see?"

I paused. It couldn't tip my hand. "Well...I'd love to see Hengduan. It's supposed to be beautiful. And Kalos, of course..."

"Aah, the Parfum Palace," Helen sighed, in a tone I'd learned was called wistful. "I used to read all about it. Maybe we can go there together."

There was a lot more to Kalos than one building, though I wanted to see the magnificent castle as well. "Maybe," I humored her, thinking of our conversation earlier.

"I took a vacation in Hoenn once," my father said, as though the conversation concerned him. "Really hot there, but the beaches are incredible. And you gotta take a trip on a yacht. It's amazing."

"I'm sure it is," Asaph chuckled. We'd gone to the Lilycove museum together, the distance taking us only a weekend. It was another of our secrets. "I tend to vary between being a rambling man and a homebody. I suppose that's why I ordered such a ship from you, Corbin."

"Oh yeah? I'm glad to hear it."

Before we could delve further into the subject, a server placed two small trays of sliced fruits and candied nuts on either side the lazy susan, and another set cups of jasmine tea before us. All were things I'd had before, but here amidst the finery, they seemed a world apart.

Though my mind had wandered, thinking on the great museums of the world, I quickly snapped to attention at the scent of the tea. It was as if a bouquet had been set before me, inviting me to drink the entirety of its being, and I took a sip, remembering halfway to draw in air around it.

Though it was hot, it was far from the scalding messes found in that cliffside house, and I was able to enjoy it without burning my tongue.

It was at that time that I realised that I knew very little of Hengduanian customs. Was I to drink before the servers were finished? Was I to say something beforehand, a prayer or an address? I dropped my hands to my lap, fidgeting with my ring again.

But Asaph had said nothing to correct me. Perhaps I was doing everything right. Yes, I had to be. Though I continued turning the ring around my finger for a moment longer.

"I think we should toast the birthday boy." It came not from my father, as I would have predicted, but from Helen. She held her cup up at about face height, looking every bit my previous image of her as a flapper toasting a wild life.

Everyone followed suit, and in the moment before I did I marveled at the differing images the other two presented in their action. My father was a mid-century Shikaakwa piece, the working man raising a glass in an unfamiliar environment, while Asaph was a courted gentleman in a Brittanian intimate, gilded scene. I hoped to present a distinguished figure myself, though my thoughts were of my surroundings and I knew I couldn't possibly fit the model of Hengduan style.

"To Jirarudan--may your days be short and your years be long!" It was a toast meant to invoke the idea of a leisurely life, but it had always confused me. I had protested it in the past but for the time I pushed that aside.

"To Jirarudan!" We all brought our cups forward in imitation of the ceremonial clinking of glasses, and drank at the same time. It was a strange feeling, that shared action.

We began on the food before us, the candied nuts being my favourite. Similar confections were sold in Seafoam, but their quality was far below, made for the masses. These were light, with the slight glaze neither overtaking the core nor being dominated by it.

The normalcy of the fruits was odd. Though they were clearly simple supermarket offerings, their presentation changed their taste. I laughed to myself, something that struck my father's attention, as I mused over my own simple beginnings. It was nothing, I told him.





The opening course, and then the appetizers, were without incident, and soon a bowl wafting lightly-scented steam was placed on the round in the middle of the table, and then another, and another. The dishes were larger than the cuisine's standard, indicating a meal of fewer courses than the class would normally hold. I felt as though I was a guest of a monarch, the finery of the region around me.

"Oh wow..." my father gasped. "Hey, this is neat, don't you think?"

I pretended not to notice that he was probably directing it at me, and hoped Asaph wouldn't think it rude. We hadn't covered these sorts of situations in our lessons, of what to do when addressed by someone utterly ignorant of social mores or manners.

Glancing across the table and him and Helen, I saw that they both nodded to the servers, so I did the same. They nodded back, and I felt somehow accomplished.

I admit that I didn't know most of the dishes, but the enticing smell was wild, appealing to some newly uncovered part of my mind. There was a distinct spice to most of them, though I remembered that banquet dishes were milder than those of the everyday. How funny, to think that milder was special!

"Jirarudan." It was Asaph. "If you could have anything in the world, what would it be?"

I hadn't expected to be put on the spot like that. Knowing our arrangement and our secrets, there were many things I couldn't say. It was a test, but I wasn't certain how to pass it. Likely to name something without those hidden elements. "Well..." I pondered, twisting the ring around my finger again. I thought of the freedom I had with him, and how we could go anywhere in his ship, one that was steady enough to display priceless works in security, and the answer became clear. "I would like an airship."

It made perfect sense, and I didn't know why I hadn't thought of it before.

My father sat back, grinning. "Well! I had no idea!" Was that sarcasm or did he genuinely not know? I hadn't known, but people seemed to be able to guess qualities of others. I would have to speak to Asaph about it.

"Ooh, what kind?" Helen asked, leaning forward with her head on her hand. Her elbow was on the table but I said nothing.

I was a bit dizzy. "Oh...who knows? It's a flight of fancy. I'm not certain." Though, in that moment, I was. The elegance of Asaph's ship had always captivated me, and for a moment I felt as I did when I was soaring over the land and sea.

"He looks so happy," I heard her whisper to someone, perhaps even herself, but it was faint. I'd closed my eyes to focus on my dream, images of the surface below as clear as life.





The rest of the meal proceeded without incident, aside from the continued magnificence of the food. Although by now I would simply repeat myself to describe them all!

Hengduan banquets had no sweet dessert, and I was grateful that it would prevent the classless cake that my father had presented me with the year before. Though we capped the meal with a sweet, it was in the form of a milky, tea-like drink that tasted of almonds.

"So," my father pronounced, "if you'd like, we can do presents now."

That was something else I wasn't sure of, if presents should be given in public. It seemed horribly rude, but again, Asaph nodded me on. "All right," I muttered, looking around as I did just in case.

Helen smiled, which I caught only briefly. "I'll start." She retrieved her purse from under her chair, drawing something out from it and handing it to me. Again I looked at Asaph and again he nodded for me to proceed, so I did, drawing my finger under the tape holding the wrapping paper closed so as not to rip anything.

Within was the image of a distant castle, the famous Neuswaronessstein, dream of a mad king. I'd dreamt of it once, a few months before, and the idea of an unfinished palace, lost without its dreamer, was incredibly tragic and appealing. Turning the book over to the front cover revealed that it was on palaces around the world.

"I hope you like it," she grinned. "You seem to love all those faraway things. I saw this and it just fit."

Though her words were off in the distance as I stared at the back cover again, finally setting it down when I realised that we were to continue.

Asaph had prepared a fancier gift, a small hinged fabric box with the name of a jeweler in town in small foreign letters across the top. "I've looked forward to this. It took a considerable effort to keep it a secret."

Carefully I tilted open the lid, the contents shining in the dim overhead light before I could see it entirely. I could hear Helen oohing in anticipation as I drew it back, revealing a gold brooch with a highly stylized hiragana "Ji" engraved lightly into it. When I drew it out of the box, I could hear my father laugh sharply, causing me to nearly drop it. "Fancy! That'll be something you keep your whole life."

"Ji", I said to myself, running my fingers over the engraved surface. It was ever so slightly coarser than the polished area around it, and it was an interesting sensation. "Ji..."

Asaph chuckled. "I'm glad you see that. I worried it may have been too calligraphic to discern properly."

I recall being entranced by it, still feeling that emery-like area and repeating "Ji" as though it was a holy mantra. Even then I didn't understand why.

"Jiri, can you show us?" I'm not sure who said it, but it broke me out of the trance. I tilted the box to show it to them and the two gasped simultaneously.

"Asaph..." My father dropped his voice and I believe he thought that I couldn't hear him. "Are you sure? That looks really expensive."

Asaph waved his hand ever so slightly. "Don't think of it." It was slightly softer, but it was still very audible.

I put the cover back over the brooch, brushing the surface again as I did, and took another sip of the almond tea.

"Oh, that's right!" my father exclaimed, though I knew that it was an artificial energy. "My present!" He extended the second word in the manner of a teen idol, and Helen lightly slapped his shoulder I assume for it. Grinning, he presented me with a red envelope, the telltale sign of a gift of money.

Again I felt uncomfortable, and again I looked around to see who was watching, but I opened it anyway. It was a novel sort, the kind held closed with a wind of string, and I peeked inside without withdrawing the funds. It wasn't money itself, but a bank note made out for an embarrassingly high sum.

I felt a bit woozy, although the money was minor compared to what I had already made. It felt as though he was attempting to buy my happiness, and it bothered me to no end. "I'm not certain I can accept this," I told him.

"Oh come on, it's a drop in the bucket compared to what Asaph must have gotten that pin for." I followed his eyeline to the box that held it.

Asaph turned towards me, reaching his hand to mine. "No matter what it is, it's fine. Accept it graciously."

I lowered my head. "Very well. Thank you, father." Although it did nothing to sway my opinion, I could set it aside.

"Father now, huh? Heh, you're making me feel old. So, you can do whatever you want with that, of course. You've been so responsible with what I gave you before, buying your own clothes and books and all that." He shook his head. "I couldn't handle all that when I was your age. I don't know how you do it."

Though I was a bit lost in thought. The meal, the generous gifts, the opulent surroundings, the mélange of smells still drifting around the table, even the distant rain, grown stronger since our arrival; all together it drew round in my brain, too many things to sort through all at once. It was odd how I could handle such things in other situations.

"Jiri, have you had a good birthday?" I refocused to see Helen smiling at me.

"I have. Thank you all. It's been an honour. I feel like nobility."

"Oh shucks." Obviously my father, with his plain language. "We were hoping you'd feel like royalty."

"Royalty has too many obligations. I've not got the head or want for matters of the world."

He stared at me for a moment, as did Helen, who at least was smiling. Asaph carried on with his tea as though nothing was unusual. "That...that just came out of you, didn't it? You spend a lot of time thinking about that kind of stuff, don't you?"

"I read a lot about them." More specifically about their treasures, and those of their regions and nations. The art of every area of the world...I sighed just thinking about it.

"Getting tired? I don't blame you; you've had a long day." He laughed softly, under his breath.

I was tired, come to think of it, although he had misinterpreted my sigh. It wasn't important. "A bit. It must be near midnight by now."

He checked his watch, a surprisingly expensive-looking piece for a man who lived so pathetically despite his fortune. "It's close to ten. We should hit the road, since I think they close at ten. I had a great time."

"Me too," Helen added. "Corbin, we'll have to come here sometime, just the two of us."

"Oh?" Asaph quirked an eyebrow, his voice turning up at the end. "Jirarudan never speaks of these things, so I'm terribly behind on you, Corbin. Considering that your son is my business, I feel that I must."

Helen laughed, something high and bubbly. "We've been seeing each other for a while now. Almost as long as we've known you!"

But the discussion of relationships seemed inappropriate. Petty gossip had no room in these situations, and it was strange to see Asaph entering into it. Why was he so interested? "So, we spoke of leaving?"

My father turned to me, eyebrows furrowed. "I...guess we did. Everyone ready? I pre-paid so we can just go."

As we all stood from the table, I tucked the book under my arm and the envelope into my inner jacket pocket, taking the jewelry box into my hand. "I had a wonderful time. Thank you all for coming." Saying so, I bowed midway.

"Ooh, our little society boy," Helen said as she bowed back, at a smaller angle, and Asaph followed suit. Though my father had already wandered off, seemingly unaware of my gesture.

When I looked back from where he had vanished to, Asaph was offering his arm. "Shall I accompany you up the stairs, young sir?"

Helen laughed, and she looked what the pictures had called amused. "Two gentlemen."

For some reason I wanted to ignore that. I took his arm and he led me up the grand staircase. The sound of the rain outside, pounding against the door and window, was soothing in a way, and I thought back to something I had read about how there was something in our psychology to find rain relaxing, though I couldn't remember why. "I believe Corbin went to fetch the car."

"He should have said something."

"Yes, he should have. Although he's polite in manners of business, the ideas of everyday manners escape him."

Helen had followed us, and nodded, I assume in agreement. "He's got some work to do. But I've talked to him. I'm going to go wait out there for him, and I'll tell you when he's pulled up." The windows were red, of course, in keeping with the theme, and it was nearly impossible to see out of them.

"Very well. I will see you both later, Helen. Give my best to Corbin."

"I will." She held the door open for a moment, pulling her umbrella open outside before joining it, leaving me with Asaph.

"I must be heading back myself. I'd love to have you over some time, perhaps for a few days."

That sounded like paradise! "And I'd love to join you. Do you have a preference in date?"

"Not especially. Though autumn in the hills is a sight to behold, and I want to share it with you." He smiled, and I didn't need my pictures to identify it as kindly.

"I'll call you and we'll arrange this. Will Veronica be joining us?" Her appearance in Seafoam had been a surreal experience, but I still valued her company.

"Perhaps, if she wishes. I haven't seen her since that trip you both took to Viridian, though I've spoken to her. It's about time I reach out."

That was relieving for some reason. "I look forward to hearing her answer."

The door poked open slightly and Helen told us that the car was ready, so I said my goodbyes and headed out, shielded under her umbrella.



The drive back to Seafoam saw drowsiness catch me, lulling me to sleep with the gentle, repetitive motion of the car over the road, and the feel of the brooch under my ringed finger. I fell into dreams to the sound of the rain.

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

There was a phenomenal magic in the air, the mid-November snow falling gently from the heavens as I came down the long driveway to Asaph's mansion. It was enough to make me forget, at least for a moment, that I'd had to take the bus and walk from the highway, but it had been a pleasant enough journey, allowing me to reflect on the event.

On my approach, I saw Tierney pull out of the other side of the looped driveway, her car the latest style. Veronica was in the doorway, and she waved enthusiastically, dropping her suitcase and seeming not to notice the floor staffer that pulled it inside.

The brief cloud of snow that the tyres pulled up brought my thoughts to my future airship. Though I had pondered on the idea long before my birthday, that declaration had cemented it in my head. It was cold in the atmosphere, colder than this, but I would be safe and warm in my ship, overlooking the snow and fog in my world of fantasy.

"You're looking well, young master Jirarudan." Asaph's address, but it came from Veronica. Somehow I had continued to the door during my vision. "Please, come in."

The doorman chuckled. I suppose he had said the same to her a few moments before. It was strange to me how I was to tip a doorman or valet at a hotel but not at a home, despite both being salaried. There was so much in society that made little sense, and it helped to follow Asaph's word and view it as playing a part, going through scenarios as though they were secret codes meant to unlock our social connections.

"Jiiiii~riiiii~" Veronica had started prodding me gently in the arm. "Don't you have something to say?"

It took me a second. "Oh! Greetings, Veronica. How does the day find you?" I think I had heard a similar welcome from Asaph once.

"Getting a little hazy with the weather there? Maybe Articuno froze your brain?" She was grinning widely, her bright white teeth seeming akin to the snowfall. "You're being a bit of a space case today and we've only just got here. Your dad drop you off at the road, is that why you walked up?"

"He couldn't come. I took the bus."

Her grin vanished. "You hate the bus. And that would mean you'd have to walk from the highway."

"Yes." Of course that's what it meant. Why would she bother to state that?

"Well, what happened? Is he ok?"

"My father?" That was what she was asking, I assumed. "He's fine. Somebody died in the factory and he has to meet with the authorities."

By then her face had taken on the guise of what the pictures had labeled 'horrified'. "Oh my god! That's awful! What happened?"

"Somebody died. That's all I know. Likely an explosion from an out of control furnace, or a falling beam." I hadn't heard any explosions, so the first was unlikely though still possible, though I tended to think the second, as they were working on another C class for an unimportant customer.

She rested a hand on my arm. "That's...so awful. I'm so sorry."

Her reaction seemed odd, and I came razor-close to asking her why, but figured it would be inappropriate. Better to save that for Asaph later. Although on that subject, "Where's Asaph?"

She made a faint choking sound. "I don't know. Here, they said. Somewhere in the house."

Was she disturbed by the change of subject? There was so much guesswork in the delicate uncoding of society. "His employees don't know?" I peeked over my shoulder towards the doorman, who had taken my suitcase and set it with Veronica's. He looked towards me soon after I had him, and shrugged.

"That's strange. Usually he'd be greeting us."

"Last I saw he was in the guest room upstairs. He's probably getting things all set for you. You know what a perfectionist he can be. I can take you two up there." The doorman picked the bags up again and waited for our word.

"All right! Let's go up there together!"

The doorman nodded and headed towards the stairs.




"Wow, it's like a ski chalet up here, with the snow coming down outside," Veronica remarked. The wooden interior certainly gave off that vibe, the heavy beams and minimal decoration evoking that faraway image. The last point was on her mind as well. "I wonder why he keeps it so plain."

"I keep it that way," Asaph said, emerging from the guest room as the heavy double doors closed slowly behind him, "so that my collection stands out even more."

"We were just wondering where you were! It's good to see you!"

He bowed slightly, in a western manner with his arm bent before him. "Greetings. Welcome to my humble home. I trust it's to your liking."

We both returned the gesture, Veronica's bow shallower than mine. "It's been far too long since I've been here," I said.

"Me either," she added. I'd forgotten that she'd stayed there after Mr. Higuchi's party, that fateful night half a year ago. "Asaph, are we going to see your gallery today? It's really beautiful."

He smiled, and pushed his glasses up a little farther. For some reason he was wearing the pince-nez he'd worn that day, and at a few other occasions. "Of course. Get unpacked and we can go there immediately."

"Yay!" She wiggled, I assume in excitement, and hummed as she headed to the guest room.

I remained, unsure of something. "Jirarudan, are you all right?" Asaph rested a hand on my shoulder, the same way Veronica had earlier.

"...Veronica had a strange reaction to something earlier, and I don't understand. She acted as though I was the strange one, and I'm concerned about it."

"Is that so? What was it?"

I pursed my lips in thought. "I had to take the bus today, and walk from the highway. My father couldn't bring me, because there was a death in the factory." At that he gasped slightly, but let me continue. "I feel like it shouldn't affect me, because it doesn't. I didn't know the man, and his life had nothing to do with mine."

He thought for a moment. "Are you happy that it wasn't your father?"

"I'm not sure. It's a world apart. If he died, it would impact me directly. I...don't think I would care otherwise."

A frown. "I think you would. I know you would. You're a smart boy."

What did that have to do with anything? But I'd already asked him so much. Maybe later. "All right..."

"Now!" he exclaimed, patting me on the shoulder with a lightness that belied his emphasis, "go get unpacked. Put your things in the dresser, since you're staying a few days, and then I'll take you both to the gallery."






The much vaunted gallery was along the front hallway, across from the room where his glorious Madame Remi was displayed, and before the library on the end. Opening the doors was akin to entering a museum, which Asaph knew well, setting a scene with his slowness. We savoured the experience, and were greeted with a glow before us, captured in a beam of natural light. This was the gem he had sought before, the fabled Eye of Dawn, and he led us first to it. "Isn't it wonderful? I saw it in a book and I had to have it."

Veronica let out a long breath, ducking her head up and down to view it at different angles. Being an opal, this meant a shifting vision through the spectrum. I followed suit.

It was a remarkable gem, flawless, and regarded highly. I, too, had seen pictures of it before Asaph had ever mentioned it, although it was indistinguishable from other opals save for the smoothness of its round cut. Even the scepter it had once rested in had left no mark.

Perhaps it really was blessed. As the story went, it had been been possessed by an ancient priestess whose region was attacked by brigands, who stole the scepter, yet the Eye of Dawn remained. She claimed that her god had hidden it away until the invaders had left, although a more likely explanation was that they had come from a region where shell resin was used to similar visual effect and they had thought the gem to be only coated.

Even if it was as mundane as that, it didn't really matter. What did was the end result, displayed on a velvet pillow on a dark wood pillar. Its dark surroundings offset it wonderfully, giving it a glow beyond its own properties.

Veronica hadn't altered her view the entire time, staring at the otherworldly gem as though it had put a spell on her. "What are you thinking of, Miss Veronica?" Asaph asked with an uplift to his voice.

"...Buying this. I want to buy it."

His head tilted back slightly, his eyes widening slightly. They were green again that day, and despite the shock of the moment, I realised that I had no idea what colour they really were. "Miss Veronica..." he began, but trailed off.

"I mean it. Name your price and I'll pay it." Normally we would negotiate, but we were dealing with our own mentor.

"Veronica..." This sounded farther away than his prior address. "...I..." Words seemed to catch in his throat. This gem had meant so much to him, to be suddenly propositioned on it was entirely out of the blue. "I'll think about it. I'll have an answer for you by the end of your stay."

She sighed, finally diverting her gaze. "Thank you. I promise that you won't regret it."

He signed as well, nearly twice the length of hers as though he had much more to say behind it, though words didn't manifest. Instead, he simply wandered towards the door.

"Asaph?" Her voice was soft. "If you don't want to part with it, I understand."

"I said I'll think about it. Now, come along." After a short pause, he left the room entirely.




We took a moment to follow, unsure of what to do, and when we did, Asaph wasn't to be found. Perhaps he was in the library.

It was an ancient-seeming room, one no older than the rest of the mansion but kept intentionally old-fashioned by way of dim lights against dark wood, both in past-century styles. The shelves, lining the wall, were hand-carved, ever-so-slight imperfections showing their true nature, and held their strength against the weight of so many volumes.

A few books had their own spaces, contained in glass cases on velvet risers on pillars of the same dark wood. Some were open to pages, some simply modestly displayed their covers. I'd only heard of one, a ridiculous novel of poor literative quality but nonetheless renowned for being among the first to take to a printing press. Of course, there had been several of those--Asaph and I had seen one together--all with their faults and flaws, but all with the same goal of bringing reading to the masses. Though it did nothing to improve the quality of the written word. People could gripe and moan about the modern era, but schlock and pabulum have always been the predominant quality of entertainment.

Which was what made true art all that more important. In every age, they were that which had risen above low expectations to grasp what was important. It didn't matter if they weren't popular, or if people didn't understand them; the only thing that mattered was having something truly worthwhile to say, statements that would ring out beyond their era.

"You're spacing out. Are you ok?" Veronica was standing before another displayed book, this one shown flat on its back with a map centrepiece unfurled around it, showing one of the first attempts to explore the Kata Tjuta region. Of course, they were all colonists, but even the natives had never attempted such a massive feat. It can be amazing what fresh eyes will see. I suppose I must have been thinking of that instead of answering her because she repeated herself, about twice as loud.

"Veronica, please. We're in a library." I smirked to show her it was a joke.

"Well, are you?"

I looked back at the book in front of me. "I suppose. Are you?"

She sighed, moving to sit on a long chaise lounge whose dark green subtly offset the dark brown of the wall next to it. I think, had we been in more relaxed surroundings, she would have flopped onto it. "I don't know. I think he's really mad at me. But he never said no. He always told us to be direct if we're not willing to part with something, and he didn't do that. I shouldn't have said anything though. I know how much that gem means to him."

"Well, as you said, if he didn't want to, he would have said something. I think we ought to take him at his word that he'll consider it."

"...all right." She looked skywards with another sigh. "It's really neat, isn't it? The ceiling." I followed her gaze to the carved panels, all perfectly square and interlocked. "The scrollwork is amazing."

"It is. Though it's a bit plain, just along the edges like that."

She giggled. "You're always one for the more rococo styles, aren't you? All ornate and fancy."

"Not always!" For some reason that made me defensive and to this day I've no idea why. "Neoclassical, art deco, primitives...I love so many styles!"

That pulled her to her feet. "I didn't know you were so protective. I'm sorry."

Something in her demeanor seemed dour and downcast, so I reached a hand to her shoulder. "It's all right. I think I reacted out of kind."

"You rarely come across so passionate. I mean, I know you ARE, but to hear it in your voice was...unexpected."

I pulled my hand back just a bit to pat her shoulder a few times instead. "Is it that rare?"

That prompted another laugh from her. "You really can't tell, can you? That's so weird. You're weird."

I took a step back and bowed shortly. "At our social standings, the term is 'eccentric'."

"Ah yes, I forgot. That's so eccentric. You're eccentric." By this time she was grinning, the strain over her dilemma seemingly forgotten.

With that defused, I considered our surroundings. Perhaps there was something here that could aid in our quests for the legendaries. I started to examine the bookshelves, and was pleased that they were grouped by subject.

"Thoughts are getting away with you, aren't they? What are you looking for?"

It had been a reasonable conclusion, I thought. Surely the same had occurred to her to do. "Information on our legendaries of choice. We may be able to find something here."

"Ooh, that sounds like fun."






We spent a few hours like that, finding nothing but sharing notes on what we thought may be relevant to the other. Though it was nothing that we didn't know, it was amazing to find such information laid before us.

Finally we left the library, and Veronica challenged me to a game of chess in the den. But once we opened the elegant doors, there was Asaph, leaning back on the couch with a glass of something in his hand. The room had been lit only through the windows, and by that hour it was growing dim.

"I'm still considering your offer, young lady Veronica," he said in an uneven voice. "Though I need to clear my head first."

"Where did you go to?" I asked.

He sat up straighter. "The kitchen. I was thirsty." After a beat, he rose, grunting slightly as he did. "I'm not nearly as young as I used to be. Time marches on...Pardon me." With a sigh, he headed for the door, and we both made room for him.

"He seems really upset," Veronica remarked. "And is he drunk?"

I'd smelt his breath as he passed, laden with alcohol. "It seems that way. He never drinks to excess." I thought I should continue. "But if he'd been adamant on keeping the gem, he would have said so, so I doubt that's the reason."

"I guess. But he still seems upset."

"Perhaps he received unsettling news. We only got here around noon; who knows what happened this morning."

This time she did flop onto the couch, where he'd been sitting. "I guess. Maybe he heard about what happened in your father's factory."

I doubted that was the case. He'd seemed surprised when I brought it up, and even if he had prior knowledge, he'd have no reason to react so poorly. It would certainly make the news, but not until the evening, after any necessary people had been informed. "I feel a bit odd."

"Eh?" She looked back at me. "About the factory?"

That took a stretch of the imagination. "No, it's...I feel like I ought to have expressed my interest first. And yet it didn't occur to me. I would like to possess the Eye of Dawn as well."

There was that light laugh again, every bit the society lady. "Who knows? Maybe someday you will."

"Maybe I'll have to obtain it from you." I was certain to make my laugh match hers.

But it didn't seem to work, and she changed the subject as abruptly as she often claimed I did. "Jiri...I'm so stressed out. School is getting harder every day."

"I'm sorry to hear that." I sat beside her. "What subjects are you in?"

"The usual. You're so lucky that you don't go. And I wish I could take you to the dance, but it has to be someone else from the school, and you're too young too. I don't like anyone there. They're all so shallow."

"Compared to us shining stars, anybody would be."

"You still remember that, huh? That was a nice trip. I want to go to Goldenrod again sometime."

"Oh?" I leaned back a bit. "You didn't seem to enjoy yourself at all. You were very melancholy in the air, and you had that to-do in the hotel. I wouldn't have thought you had any fun at all."

"Aaah," she sighed, "but the art was divine, and the party was otherworldly. It was, yeah, it was like going to another planet where everyone was so classy and beautiful."

"And your dance won't be nearly as glamorous."

"Not at all! Ugh, teenage boys are so gross. Teenage girls for that matter, but in a different way. You're lucky you've got all this knowledge going into it. I don't think you'll get gross. I know you won't."

"Well, thank you for that. Though I'm not looking forward to puberty. I've started it already, a little bit, but I've got to prepare for the skin issues that will arise." I realised after I said it that it was impolite to say such disgusting things.

She noticed it too, and tisked slightly. "Jiri my boy," she had lowered her voice to say that, imitating Asaph's tone, "you need to think before you speak." In her normal voice, she continued. "If I may share too much, it can take a lot to mask those things. I think I told you about that before, how my mom hired these makeup people to make me 'presentable'."

"Yes sir," I replied to the first part, and she looked at me strangely.

Before she could say anything, one of the servants opened the door. "Pardon me, but Master Asaph invites you to dinner."

"Oh!" Veronica exclaimed. "I didn't even notice it was that late. Jirarudan, will you accompany me?"

I rose from the couch and offered her my arm. "M'lady."

She linked hers in mine with a giggle. "M'lord."




The dining hall was the same as always, with low lights and full place settings though it was only the three of us. I'd half been expecting some manner of après-ski menu given our prior comparison, though that idea had only existed in the minds of Veronica and myself. Asaph was seated at the head, by the far window, so we arranged ourselves at his sides. His expression was impossible to read, even with all my studies--nothing in my cards had resembled that.

Veronica seemed equally puzzled, her brow low and eyes indirect. "Asaph, are you well?" she asked.

His attention first went to the attending servant. "Another glass, please." The man nodded and headed to a low wine cabinet that lined the wall. "...I'm fine. I'm still considering your offer, however."

"It is just that, an offer," she reminded him as she set the cloth napkin on her lap. "You're free to decline, of course."

"I'm still considering your offer," he repeated, a slight bit louder. His glass was refilled and he nodded a thanks. "This is the sort of thing you have to learn to deal with."

Oh? Had this been a test? Was his reaction exaggerated to teach us how to deal with difficult collectors? He was overall a calm man, and overall a generous man, so this was uncharacteristic to say the least.

"I understand. You seem to be under stress from it, though."

He shook his head. "Don't make assumptions, Veronica. Consider the facts and examine your target with detachment."

"I am. And the fact is--"

"Veronica. I'll give my answer soon enough. Be patient." His voice had returned to normal, and his expression to neutral. "...Would the both of you care for some wine? Just a taste, of course, but you're under my supervision."

She smiled, and I did as well. "I will," I said, wondering what it would be like. "Are we to bear anything in mind for it?"

Veronica had requested some as well. "You mean things like terrior and legs and stuff? I know legs means how it stays on the glass when swirled, but I can't remember if that's good or bad."

Asaph chuckled. "Concord, fetch them a taste." The man nodded and retrieved two glasses from the cabinet, as well as the same bottle from before.

The smell was strange, though Asaph would buy only the best. I swirled it around as I'd seen at parties before taking a sip, and I immediately regretted it. It was sour and bitter and went straight to the tip of my nose. But it was what people of class drank, so I sipped again, pushing the resistance away.

Veronica seemed to be doing the same thing, pondering each taste as though it was a fine gem, though her thoughts on it were impossible to tell. "It's a bit dry."

"Yes, it's supposed to be. What else?"

"Uh...I'm going to guess it's got wepear berries in it. And maybe a bit of bluk too."

I wasn't picking up on any of that. The fermentation seemed to overpower everything else, and I wondered if I should say that. After another sip, though, I found myself muttering "I'd rather just have water."

Hearing that, he laughed. "You'll be expected to drink wine at many occasions. You should get used to it. Tell me, how does it taste?"

In my head, the answer was simply "bad", but I couldn't very well say that aloud. "I can't really taste much of it. The alcohol is so strong that everything else is lost."

A nod. "That makes sense, if you're not used to it."

"I feel like it isn't a good match to dinner. I don't know what it is, but going by the smell it seems like they'd counteract," Veronica mused, in her own world.

"I suppose time will tell," he told her. "Speaking of..."

Concord nodded, something I only noticed out of the corner of my eye, and headed into the kitchen.

Veronica was watching Asaph, I presume to pick up on any reaction he may have towards her, and didn't take her eyes off him until after our plates were set before us. It was Kantan fare, the clam and leek soup over rice so popular in Celadon. Briefly I thought back to the time we'd had Farfetch'd salad, and wondered what Veronica would have thought of that.

After we'd begun on it, Asaph instructed us to try another sip. A moment passed once we had before the tastes melded. "That's di--that's not very good," Veronica remarked, lips slightly tight. "They don't go at all."

I looked down at the bowl, trying to sum up the words to describe the disjointedness of the tastes. "It...seems like somebody attempted to dress a clam up with fruit juice and sat it in the sun."

Veronica giggled, but Asaph wasn't amused at all. "Jirarudan, you're being very rude. You know better than to make such insulting comments. Now, sit outside."

That was confusing, and I stared down while I pondered what it could mean.

"Sit outside." It was a bit louder.

"Sit outside? I don't understand."

"Concord will take your chair. You'll sit in the hallway until you can restate your thoughts elegantly."

I'd heard about such actions, in stories both fiction and fact, though they were all set in older times. Modern variants were only found in schools, I'd thought, and involved water buckets, but even those seemed sensationalised. It was as though I'd suddenly been taken elsewhere, much farther than the hallway.

My distance from them was more than a few metres. How far had I gone? Was this part of Asaph's strange behavior or had I truly been so offensive? It was a bit over the top, I knew. Was that enough? The sour taste in my mouth was from far more than the wine.

I could hear them talking inside, reduced to pure voice without distinct words. Was it about me? About the wine or dinner? About our fantasy through Seafoam--no, he wouldn't know about that. I wondered what he would have thought of it, and remembered his anger at our excursion to Viridian.

Asaph had changed. Or maybe I hadn't noticed these things to begin with. He wasn't the calm man I'd first met, taking on strange nervous traits. Though he was getting older, and seemed far more concerned about it than before. He had taken to slightly dyeing his hair, returning more yellow to it, and had added brown contacts to his rotation (unless that was his natural color). His wardrobe hadn't changed, though from pictures I'd seen, he dressed much the same throughout his life.

Instead of thinking further about Asaph, I took the path set by the wardrobe. I liked the clothes I saw around, though I had yet to find my ideal look. Once I did, though, I wanted to wear nothing but. Something for all weather, that would look classy in all circumstances.

My mind again took a branched road, to the weather. Last winter, Asaph had mentioned a heated pool for his Milotic, which he hadn't brought up since. The grand double doors to the back garden were down the hall from me, and I considered heading over there. But I'd been told to sit, so I did. Milotic could wait.

I'd sat there until I lost track of time, when Concord retrieved me. I returned to my seat as Veronica and Asaph chatted away, and I wondered if they noticed me. But Veronica smiled at me as I drew up my chair.

"Have you thought of a better way to phrase it?" Asaph asked with an arched eyebrow.

I hadn't been thinking of anything like that. Had I been meant to? "I...suppose it tasted of low tide," I mused, thinking of the clamdiggers in Seafoam. "The clams are fresh, but the wine made them seem old. It acted against the miso as well, giving them a sweet and sour taste where it should be salty. It throws the taster off."

He leaned back. "Very good. You have to reign in your words. You're a gentleman now."

That made me feel better, somewhat warm. "I'm glad to hear that. May I ask what I missed?"

"I was telling him about the summer line that mother is working on," Veronica filled in. "The world classics line that we modeled was a hit, so she's looking to more varied regions now."

"She never released mine, did she? I haven't seen it in the catalogs or stores."

"No she didn't." A slight giggle. "It was deemed impractical for trainers, due to the fabric. It isn't meant for travel."

"Mm, too bad. It was a classic look. Though I wouldn't expect a trainer to appreciate that."

She sat back in her chair, tilting her heat back to gaze at the ceiling. "Someone called it 'poncy'. I was surprised."

"That isn't a word you hear often," Asaph added. "Jiri, was it you?" He was smiling slightly, with only one corner raised.

I waved my hand in front of my face as if dispelling the thought. "It does sound like something I'd say, but I rather liked that design. What other regions is she looking to?"

"Uh...the Mara region was one she brought up." It was in far off Kenya, known for its enormous pokemon populations. "She's planning a safari look with local style. I don't remember the others. She was thinking Mn Nefer as well, but she stopped because she was only relying on the ancient past for it."

Another faraway region, modern, but once the home of powerful pharaohs. "Yes, we have to have both. The past is the past, but the present can draw from it."

Asaph finished the draught he was taking before replying. "That's very wise. The both of you are very intelligent."

Veronica smiled, broader this time. "Thank you. We're shining stars, after all."

It took me a moment to remember why that term made my stomach sink.

"Of course. Although, I must excuse myself." He patted his mouth with the cloth napkin before gesturing for Concord. "Please tell the kitchen that it was excellent. Pardon me." Standing, he bowed to us deeply and left the room.

I watched Veronica, who was looking towards the door where he had exited, expression back to plain. "Don't worry about it." I hoped I was being reassuring.

"It's what I said." She seemed to droop as she spoke. "It's always what I say. I make things worse all the time."

That had never seemed to be the case. "No you don't. I've always found you to be very polite."

After a pause, she set her spoon over her bowl, the signal that she was finished as well. "Really?"

"Really." Since we were all finished, I set mine as well. "Have you known me to be anything but forthcoming?"

That merited a smile. "I guess that's true. You're sly, you have a devious side, but you're honest."

Sly and devious? Those were unusual. "How do you mean?"

"Well, you had no trouble with the offer Lucrezia's son came to us with, or for my adventures. And you're always looking for opportunities for your collection. You've got a keen eye that's always open."

I sat straighter. "Thank you very much. I admire the way you look at the world, your uniqueness and quirks. You seem like an artist that way." Talking in that way...whatever it was seemed comforting to me. Putting it into words made me think about it in ways that I couldn't when I simply thought about it.

"You're so sweet." She waved a hand in front of her face. "I wish I was as creative as you though. You seem like you're seeing everything for the first time, and it gives you a great fresh perspective."

That was a positive way of looking at things. Better than my frustrations with the world. "That sounds good."

"Still..." she sighed, "I wish that I knew why he left so quickly. Have you ever wished you were psychic?"

"Sometimes, I suppose." The change of subject was a bit baffling. "I assume you specifically mean that you wish to be telepathic rather than, say, telekinetic."

That giggle seemed to indicate that she was perking up. "I guess I do! Yes, that's what I mean. He's so hard to understand today." Even though the conversation had returned to Asaph, she smiled and continued to.

A servant came to gather the dinnerware, so I relayed Asaph's message and posed the offer to Veronica to return to the library.




Despite us being culturally mature, for the purposes of society and manner, Veronica and I were still considered children. It was a matter of frustration that we would have to become adults twice, but for the night it meant that we shared the single bed in the guest room. Asaph entertained frequently, but usually those making the short journey from Viridian, and so he was equipped to suit that.

For all her modern style, Veronica's nightdress was of an old fashion, and foreign, all ruffles along the sleeve and collar, draped to the ankle. Most exotic was that she wore a nightcap, her long blonde hair tucked mostly underneath it. Mine was more typical of our location, a pajama set in dark blue, with a breast pocket for show. It was plainer than I liked, but the material was far more comfortable than her cotton garment looked.

She adjusted the elastic along her cap as she sat, then took a moment to turn off the bedside lamp. "Want to know a secret?" she asked conspiratorially.

"Ooh, palace intrigue?" I leaned in, across my side of the bed. "Go on."

"I don't need my night light now."

That was impressive, after the to-do in Goldenrod. "Wonderful! What changed?"

She laid back against the pre-fluffed pillows. "I dimmed a light a little each night for a while until I was more used to it. Though it still bothers me a little."

"Every little bit," I murmured, sliding under the soft covers. The blanket was every bit as fluffy and thick as an Altaria's wings, and the faint howl of the wind through the woods just outside the window gave an air of gothic drama. Briefly my mind wandered back to the events of the morning, of the sirens and fuss in the factory, and wondered what the employee's family was doing against the cold right then. I'm still not sure why.

"I hope Asaph is all right," she sighed, her arms folded over the top of the pulled blanket. "Where do you think he went after dinner?"

"I couldn't guess."

"Aah, but I can't stop thinking about that jewel! It's so entrancing, like a magic ball."

The light on my end of the bed was still on, but I turned towards her instead, lying on my side and propping my head up on my arm. "You're a true collector, to be so impassioned. I hope to find that sort of passion in my career. It's admirable."

I would, as you know, come to that consumed life in due time.

"Yeah...you will, I think. You're the type that won't have any trouble with it." Smiling a bit and closing her eyes, she added "are you ready to go to bed?"

It had been a long day, feeling like two of them if not more. "Of course." I turned off the light, letting only the dim perimeter lights and the moon off the snow in. "Good night, Veronica."

"Good night, Jirarudan. I hope tomorrow is easier on both of us."

I hoped so too.

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

The night had refreshed us, and we were awakened by the morning call of a Dodrio from a distant farm. Veronica yawned and stretched her arms out to brush against the wall. She seemed untroubled, and that she had slept through the night relaxed me as well.

"Pleasant dreams?" I asked, standing from the bed and drawing the thin curtain open. No doubt my hair was a mess, but hers was its typical fluff. Perhaps I ought to invest in a nightcap myself, I mused.

"I don't really remember. But it's better than bad dreams." She smoothed out her side of the bed despite servants to do so. "It's funny. Even that sudden moment when the memories of the day before hit you...it didn't bother me."

"Perhaps you're becoming a true collector."

She stood silent for a moment, putting a hand to her forehead. "...Maybe. Would you mind if I showered first?"

"Not at all." She left without a word and I took a seat by the window, looking out at the landscape. The thin forest surrounding the mansion gave way to grassland and farms. The soft chatter of Pidgeys in the trees came through the thick glass with unusual clarity, and a Raticate stalked for prey in the snow, gathering frost on its fur and leaving a brushy track behind it.

I felt as though I was simply viewing a painting. Something hung on a wall that would be replaced with a different scene in time. But truthfully, I wouldn't have had it any other way.

"It's your turn." It had only been a few minutes, but when sharing quarters with someone it was simply polite to be quick. Even her hair had been blow-dried in the short time.

"Ah, thank you."





We met Asaph for breakfast, and conversation remained light and free of the tension from the night before. Though in theory it was pleasant, in practice it was unsettling, like an exercise in surrealism. I had in mind the image of a painting I had seen, an otherwise ordinary looking man with no nose. The picture had disturbed me, and I'd slept fitfully the night after. I hoped that breakfast wouldn't lead to a similar situation.

As we finished, however, he took the last sip of his coffee and cleared his throat. "Veronica. I have come to a decision."

She sat upright, having adopted a slight slump during the meal. "Yes?"

"...By my calculations and estimation of your wealth, the price we discussed will nearly wipe you out, correct?"

That was odd. It was nearly forbidden to discuss money in public, and I was far enough outside the situation to qualify.

Veronica gulped, but remained steadfast. "I don't care."

He made direct eye contact with her, and I shifted with discomfort. "With that understanding, the Eye of Dawn is yours."

She gasped, a broadening smile forming. "Thank you so much! I won't disappoint you. I'll treat it with the reverence it deserves."

"I do have one condition, however." At his word, she seemed to jump ever so slightly.

"Yes?"

"You will not take ownership of it right away. As you know, I've been invited to participate in an exhibit of the Fuchsia Museum, and I intend to display it there." Though there was nothing left in his cup, he raised it to his lips in a social gesture. "I will list it as on loan from you, but possessed by me, and will surrender full ownership to you after the exhibit closes."

"Yes, of course." Ever the demonstrative speaker, she nodded rapidly, though within the outlines of manners. "I'll have time to set up a proper display for it by then."

"Yes, that should give you plenty of time." It seemed sarcastic, though he would have no reason to be. Perhaps he was genuine and simply tired; I doubted that he had slept well.

Her smile had wavered but never disappeared. "I'll have the full payment to you within the week."

"I expect you will. You're very responsible." That was said without any suspicion.

Maybe it was the light from the high window hitting her just right, but she seemed in that moment to glow.




Asaph forbad me from taking the bus back to Seafoam, and made sure I was bundled up and sent back in Igasho's care. The chauffer rarely spoke, but I was company enough for myself. I'd developed the habit some time before of talking to myself quietly, enough to scarcely be noticed by those around me.

"He'll be busy," I mused, thinking of my father. "So much paperwork and damage recovery. I'll get to be alone, so that's nice. I've got plenty to do." I had a report due for class, and intended to brush up on some of the languages I had studied. Thinking of that, I lapsed into ancient Kantan simply because I could. "<I wonder if anybody can understand me when I say these things...It isn't as though it's common to hear. And there isn't much literature to keep it alive, either.>"

I could hear a chuckle from the front seat. Perhaps Igasho had heard me and somehow understood, or perhaps it was simply a coincidence.

"<The servant must have great hearing.>" Of course, the word for servant was difficult to translate, as it referred to all the staff of a private residence, though in later stages was used to speak of all public employees, such as carriage taxis and merchants.

He chuckled again, and whispered something that sounded like "<They does indeed.>" Ancient Kantan had no gender modifiers, and what would translate as "they" was treated as singular.

"When did you learn it?" I'd reverted to my native tongue and conversational volume.

"A while back. I studied literature before I became a driver. I took this job because it wasn't much work, and I could read between trips."

It was unusual for servants to share their personal lives, but I had asked. "Formal study?"

"A bit. I never went to university, but I read a lot. You read a lot too, don't you?"

He'd never seen me with a book, but Asaph would likely have spoken of him. "Of course. The world is there to unlock."

"That's a nice way of looking at things." That chuckle again. What an odd way of laughing.

"I hope so. I'll be the shining star of the collector world."

"It's nice to have goals."

Neither of us said anything after that.




Seafoam was windy, beating against the buildings and sending the sparse winter populace inside. Tourists stayed away that time of year, and with them their money. Although that didn't affect the factory, with consistent business no matter the weather.

The heat from it, though tempered considerably through distance, kept the house from having to run heat until night. It was one of the few pleasant things about living there. But being the room directly over the ocean, mine was the coldest of all.

I had to spend time there, though. Wearing heavier clothes helped me train for my professional life, a world of formalwear and meetings. And they were more comfortable than lighter clothes, even when it was hot out.

And, of course, that elsewhere I would be pestered by an unpleasant element.

I took up a book on gemstones, the discussion of the past few days putting my mind on them. The usual diamonds and emeralds dotted the pages, but more uncommon ones such as pyrope and kunzite. I idilly flipped to the section on opals.

"Oh," I remarked to myself, "I didn't expect that..." Though there was no accompanying picture, it brought up the Eye of Dawn, devoting half a sentence to it alongside another, larger one that had belonged to a king. The article spoke of histories of certain deposits, as well as artificial ones. The science of artificial gems was an interesting one, but all I cared about was how to detect them. So many collectors, even well-established ones, were fooled by them, although I trusted Asaph in his acquisition. After all, he was the one who taught me to look for them.

Veronica hadn't looked, though. If it had been a fake, she would have been swindled. "I hadn't either, but I wasn't looking..."

She was naive, I thought. Unpolished, to use the language of the book. But I thought of the supposed diamond star, far away in space, and imagined her shining from the heavens someday. "She could be brighter than me."

The thought of her surpassing me inspired a faint jealousy, alongside fainter pride. I wondered how Asaph felt about it, knowing that it was inevitable for us to outshine him.

I'd have servants of my own someday, although it was discomforting. Having to deal with people around my collection on a daily basis as a disturbing thought. Even if they were entirely trustworthy, accidents would be more likely to happen, but that wasn't my primary reason.

To say that I disliked people would be untrue. I liked Veronica. I liked Asaph. I liked Helen. I even liked the bustle of the deal, the rush those dealings gave. But I preferred to be with my collection. Even as sparse as it was in those days, I felt as though I was surrounded by dear friends.

I rolled off the bed where I had come to read, remembering that Asaph had instructed us to sit and stand. I'd wondered about that, since it wasn't a social rule when we were by ourselves.

My mother's ring was slightly twisted on my finger. The ruby wasn't of any reasonable quality, and I suppose a man of sense would replace the stone. But then it wouldn't be her ring.

My other hand rested on the latest addition to my collection, a small netsuke of the prior century, in the shape of a more compact Pikachu. The style of the time had started the trend away from the older designs and towards cuter variants, although it had yet to achieve the Hi Skitty level of commercialism. The ears lay back and the tail wrapped around the body in order to provide a smoother surface, as the carver was still a beginner at the time. But he had gone on to become a master at his craft, even in the decline of the kimono style, and earlier works were sought. I had been lucky to nab it, but the seller didn't seem to know what they had.

"There's so many idiots in this field," I told the carving. "You're fortunate to have been plucked from a life of obscurity. I'll give you the attention you deserve." Until I sold or traded it, of course, as the piece didn't interest me directly, but even something held temporarily ought to be given respect.

Strange as it may seem, I swear I felt as though it was happy.

I'd do that. I'd make a collection the pieces themselves could be proud of.



I had returned to my schoolwork, finishing my maths in short time. I didn't mind it, and I knew it was commonplace for students to hate it. Initially it had been difficult for me to understand, but when a teacher failed to make something clear I knew how to research what I needed.

History was less grasping. Kanto is a land of rich history and fascinating figures, but the textbooks were dry and lifeless. The essays I wrote on it were similar, dull and apathetic. I could do better, of course, but lower quality was already doing very well to them. It was pandering, but it was all they deserved. Initially I had done so to see what would happen. Maybe I was like that sculptor then, satisfying the masses and hoping my real talent would shine through while knowing that it would be wasted to show it fully.

What I had thought earlier, about there being so many idiots, came to mind again, but I hadn't time to think as the doorbell rang.

My father and Helen were in the factory and wouldn't hear it, so I had to leave my sanctuary to answer it. I nearly didn't, admittedly, with that frustration in my head.

But I primed my best manner as I drew open the door at the base of the steps. "May I help you?"

The man wore a shirt embroidered with the name and logo of a nearby television station. "Yes, I'm looking for Corbin."

I had nearly forgotten about the events of the previous day. "Of course. He'll be in the factory. Please try there first in the future."

He pulled back a bit. "Oh um...I just assumed due to the hour...I apologize. Are you his son?"

"Yes. I'll show you there." There was an entrance through the house, but I wasn't about to take him there. "Pardon me for a moment."

If I had to guess, I'd take him for confused when I closed the door. It was still snowing, and I had to dress for taking him through the back. The shoes I had just taken off would suffice for a short jaunt, though they wouldn't be appropriate for longer walks in those conditions.

He had already started to walk around the back of the house, nearly out of sight around the corner, when I returned to attention. I had told him I would show him there! "Pardon me."

"Oh? I'm sorry, you closed the door and I thought you had changed your mind."

"Why would you think that?"

He shrugged. "Aah, I don't know. Anyway, lead the way!"

I did as I had offered, taking him to the gigantic wide doors designed for the delivery of large materials. They were wide open, as they usually were to aerate the factory, and I was able to lead him in without waiting.

"Hey, thanks. Say, what's your name?"

"Jirarudan," I answered as I looked off into the depths of the factory, which was considerably quieter than usual.

"Oh, that's an unusual name. What do you think about the tragedy in the factory?"

How unprofessional. "It's got nothing to do with me. You print hundreds of obituaries every week; do you have thoughts on all of them?"

He backed off a bit from where he had knelt down to address me. "I...see. I guess that's all right. Is that the office in there?"

I could see my father and Helen inside. "Yes. You'll be able to speak with either of them."

"Hey, thanks there J--" I could tell that he had entirely forgotten my name. "kid."

I didn't feel like wasting any more time on him, so I bowed slightly and headed back to the house. He hadn't done any wonders for my sense of disappointment in those around me.

It was pessimistic of me, looking back. The foolishness of the age combined with my awakening of the world past myself...I suppose that always leads to negativity. But I had difficulty looking past those reactions.

Perhaps I had come across as too grim. Saying that the tragedy had nothing to do with me seemed to shock the man, but it was true. Veronica and Asaph had confirmed that for me, and even my initial concern had regarded my lack of reaction to it.

The art world was full of shocking things. Every day I was moved by things that didn't concern me. My world was filling with them like a plungepool under a giant waterfall, and I had all I needed in it.

I returned to my small world, the wonders of it embracing me.



"Hey, Jiri?" Some time later, it was Helen. "Can I come in?"

I had nodded off, my face in a book. "Mm...all right." It was too late for a nap anyway, the sun already down.

She closed the door behind her and stood against it. "Thank you for bringing that reporter to us. They've been coming to the house all day."

"You're welcome." I sat up on the bed, but didn't stand as I should. "There's more to your visit than that."

"Haha yeah...I wanted to talk to you about something he said. Jiri, I know you think that this tragedy doesn't affect you..."

When she paused for words, I added my thoughts. "It doesn't though. The factory is covered against these things, and you have cameras throughout to prove that it was an accident, so you aren't in any danger of closing. Even a lawsuit would be inconsequential."

She sighed and came closer. "I guess you're right. But it comes off as cold, and people can misinterpret it. Even if something doesn't affect you at all, if people are worried about it, you should show some concern. You're so polite! It should be easy for you." With a tilt of her head, she smiled. "What would Asaph say you should do?"

"I asked him," I recalled. "He said I was just happy it wasn't my father."

"Oh huh." She had been in the process of kneeling down but at that, tilted back slightly on her heel. "That makes sense. Yeah, I can see that. But do you see what I mean?"

It wasn't the easiest thing to answer. I understood what she meant, but the approach to the subject was unusual. It didn't make sense, like so much of the world; it was a cloud passing around me. "I'm confused. But I'll try."

"That's good!" She rocketed upwards, back to her feet. "You'll do it. I know you will." Another pause. "You know fathers. They worry. But you're such a smart boy, I don't think we have anything to worry about."

'We' didn't go unnoticed, but I didn't really care. "Thank you."

"What are you reading?"

I closed the cover, marking my place with a finger. "A history of political art in the Cascadia region."

"Oh yeah? I didn't know you were into that. I thought you liked more classical stuff."

"I don't much care for it. But I like studying the evolution of techniques."

Another smile. "Studying is good for you. You're lucky that way. In a way, it's good that you don't want to be a trainer. A lot of kids miss a lot of education that way, even when they take distance classes like you. They don't devote the time they should."

I leaned back against the wall, putting the book aside and drawing my hand away from its place. "You were a trainer briefly, correct?"

"Ah, for a few months. Tried to do the league and everything. I did get a few gym badges, but eh...it's not for everyone. Although I'm glad I did it. Vulpix and I got super close during it, and we had some fun."

I could hear the waves out the window. "She's a beautiful Ninetales."

"She is. Have you thought about having a partner pokémon? Even if you're not a trainer, they're wonderful company. It's a mutual relationship."

I could feel my hairdo become ever so slightly out of place as it rubbed against the window frame. "Someone told me that I remind them of a Xatu."

"Oh, that's clever," she chuckled. "I can sort of see it. Though I think of you more like a Pidgey. Destined for greatness!"

Pidgey were so common, though. I know she meant it as a compliment, more or less, and I suppose I was of common birth, and Pidgeot was so elegant. "Thank you."

"Would you want to have a Xatu? Or anything else?"

Oh, the pokémon I could have listed. Lugia even then was at the top of my list. Likely a Milotic, for show and later trade. Anything sufficiently beautiful or legendary, of course. But nothing that would be usually seen, I thought. "Not really."

"Well, if you change your mind, we could help you find someone."

"No thank you." Such a strange offer. "I can make my own connections."

"Haha! I wish I'd sounded as sophisticated as you when I was your age!" There was a certain charm evident in her voice. "You really are an impressive kid."

That was my aim, of course. I wanted to be that shining star that both my mother and Asaph had said. And I knew I would be. It was fate, destiny, whatever one wanted to call it. "Thank you. I hope to be an impressive adult as well." It came out more serious than I wanted, so I smiled.

"You will be. There's no doubt in my mind about it." I think her smile was more natural. I still hadn't mastered that. "I have to get back down there, but it was nice having this conversation with you. I feel like I understand you more now."

I nodded back. "Thank you. I had a pleasant time as well."

She laughed as she headed back down the stairs, and it sounded like something in a dream.

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

The night had refreshed us, and we were awakened by the morning call of a Dodrio from a distant farm. Veronica yawned and stretched her arms out to brush against the wall. She seemed untroubled, and that she had slept through the night relaxed me as well.

"Pleasant dreams?" I asked, standing from the bed and drawing the thin curtain open. No doubt my hair was a mess, but hers was its typical fluff. Perhaps I ought to invest in a nightcap myself, I mused.

"I don't really remember. But it's better than bad dreams." She smoothed out her side of the bed despite servants to do so. "It's funny. Even that sudden moment when the memories of the day before hit you...it didn't bother me."

"Perhaps you're becoming a true collector."

She stood silent for a moment, putting a hand to her forehead. "...Maybe. Would you mind if I showered first?"

"Not at all." She left without a word and I took a seat by the window, looking out at the landscape. The thin forest surrounding the mansion gave way to grassland and farms. The soft chatter of Pidgeys in the trees came through the thick glass with unusual clarity, and a Raticate stalked for prey in the snow, gathering frost on its fur and leaving a brushy track behind it.

I felt as though I was simply viewing a painting. Something hung on a wall that would be replaced with a different scene in time. But truthfully, I wouldn't have had it any other way.

"It's your turn." It had only been a few minutes, but when sharing quarters with someone it was simply polite to be quick. Even her hair had been blow-dried in the short time.

"Ah, thank you."





We met Asaph for breakfast, and conversation remained light and free of the tension from the night before. Though in theory it was pleasant, in practice it was unsettling, like an exercise in surrealism. I had in mind the image of a painting I had seen, an otherwise ordinary looking man with no nose. The picture had disturbed me, and I'd slept fitfully the night after. I hoped that breakfast wouldn't lead to a similar situation.

As we finished, however, he took the last sip of his coffee and cleared his throat. "Veronica. I have come to a decision."

She sat upright, having adopted a slight slump during the meal. "Yes?"

"...By my calculations and estimation of your wealth, the price we discussed will nearly wipe you out, correct?"

That was odd. It was nearly forbidden to discuss money in public, and I was far enough outside the situation to qualify.

Veronica gulped, but remained steadfast. "I don't care."

He made direct eye contact with her, and I shifted with discomfort. "With that understanding, the Eye of Dawn is yours."

She gasped, a broadening smile forming. "Thank you so much! I won't disappoint you. I'll treat it with the reverence it deserves."

"I do have one condition, however." At his word, she seemed to jump ever so slightly.

"Yes?"

"You will not take ownership of it right away. As you know, I've been invited to participate in an exhibit of the Fuchsia Museum, and I intend to display it there." Though there was nothing left in his cup, he raised it to his lips in a social gesture. "I will list it as on loan from you, but possessed by me, and will surrender full ownership to you after the exhibit closes."

"Yes, of course." Ever the demonstrative speaker, she nodded rapidly, though within the outlines of manners. "I'll have time to set up a proper display for it by then."

"Yes, that should give you plenty of time." It seemed sarcastic, though he would have no reason to be. Perhaps he was genuine and simply tired; I doubted that he had slept well.

Her smile had wavered but never disappeared. "I'll have the full payment to you within the week."

"I expect you will. You're very responsible." That was said without any suspicion.

Maybe it was the light from the high window hitting her just right, but she seemed in that moment to glow.




Asaph forbad me from taking the bus back to Seafoam, and made sure I was bundled up and sent back in Igasho's care. The chauffer rarely spoke, but I was company enough for myself. I'd developed the habit some time before of talking to myself quietly, enough to scarcely be noticed by those around me.

"He'll be busy," I mused, thinking of my father. "So much paperwork and damage recovery. I'll get to be alone, so that's nice. I've got plenty to do." I had a report due for class, and intended to brush up on some of the languages I had studied. Thinking of that, I lapsed into ancient Kantan simply because I could. "<I wonder if anybody can understand me when I say these things...It isn't as though it's common to hear. And there isn't much literature to keep it alive, either.>"

I could hear a chuckle from the front seat. Perhaps Igasho had heard me and somehow understood, or perhaps it was simply a coincidence.

"<The servant must have great hearing.>" Of course, the word for servant was difficult to translate, as it referred to all the staff of a private residence, though in later stages was used to speak of all public employees, such as carriage taxis and merchants.

He chuckled again, and whispered something that sounded like "<They does indeed.>" Ancient Kantan had no gender modifiers, and what would translate as "they" was treated as singular.

"When did you learn it?" I'd reverted to my native tongue and conversational volume.

"A while back. I studied literature before I became a driver. I took this job because it wasn't much work, and I could read between trips."

It was unusual for servants to share their personal lives, but I had asked. "Formal study?"

"A bit. I never went to university, but I read a lot. You read a lot too, don't you?"

He'd never seen me with a book, but Asaph would likely have spoken of him. "Of course. The world is there to unlock."

"That's a nice way of looking at things." That chuckle again. What an odd way of laughing.

"I hope so. I'll be the shining star of the collector world."

"It's nice to have goals."

Neither of us said anything after that.




Seafoam was windy, beating against the buildings and sending the sparse winter populace inside. Tourists stayed away that time of year, and with them their money. Although that didn't affect the factory, with consistent business no matter the weather.

The heat from it, though tempered considerably through distance, kept the house from having to run heat until night. It was one of the few pleasant things about living there. But being the room directly over the ocean, mine was the coldest of all.

I had to spend time there, though. Wearing heavier clothes helped me train for my professional life, a world of formalwear and meetings. And they were more comfortable than lighter clothes, even when it was hot out.

And, of course, that elsewhere I would be pestered by an unpleasant element.

I took up a book on gemstones, the discussion of the past few days putting my mind on them. The usual diamonds and emeralds dotted the pages, but more uncommon ones such as pyrope and kunzite. I idilly flipped to the section on opals.

"Oh," I remarked to myself, "I didn't expect that..." Though there was no accompanying picture, it brought up the Eye of Dawn, devoting half a sentence to it alongside another, larger one that had belonged to a king. The article spoke of histories of certain deposits, as well as artificial ones. The science of artificial gems was an interesting one, but all I cared about was how to detect them. So many collectors, even well-established ones, were fooled by them, although I trusted Asaph in his acquisition. After all, he was the one who taught me to look for them.

Veronica hadn't looked, though. If it had been a fake, she would have been swindled. "I hadn't either, but I wasn't looking..."

She was naive, I thought. Unpolished, to use the language of the book. But I thought of the supposed diamond star, far away in space, and imagined her shining from the heavens someday. "She could be brighter than me."

The thought of her surpassing me inspired a faint jealousy, alongside fainter pride. I wondered how Asaph felt about it, knowing that it was inevitable for us to outshine him.

I'd have servants of my own someday, although it was discomforting. Having to deal with people around my collection on a daily basis as a disturbing thought. Even if they were entirely trustworthy, accidents would be more likely to happen, but that wasn't my primary reason.

To say that I disliked people would be untrue. I liked Veronica. I liked Asaph. I liked Helen. I even liked the bustle of the deal, the rush those dealings gave. But I preferred to be with my collection. Even as sparse as it was in those days, I felt as though I was surrounded by dear friends.

I rolled off the bed where I had come to read, remembering that Asaph had instructed us to sit and stand. I'd wondered about that, since it wasn't a social rule when we were by ourselves.

My mother's ring was slightly twisted on my finger. The ruby wasn't of any reasonable quality, and I suppose a man of sense would replace the stone. But then it wouldn't be her ring.

My other hand rested on the latest addition to my collection, a small netsuke of the prior century, in the shape of a more compact Pikachu. The style of the time had started the trend away from the older designs and towards cuter variants, although it had yet to achieve the Hi Skitty level of commercialism. The ears lay back and the tail wrapped around the body in order to provide a smoother surface, as the carver was still a beginner at the time. But he had gone on to become a master at his craft, even in the decline of the kimono style, and earlier works were sought. I had been lucky to nab it, but the seller didn't seem to know what they had.

"There's so many idiots in this field," I told the carving. "You're fortunate to have been plucked from a life of obscurity. I'll give you the attention you deserve." Until I sold or traded it, of course, as the piece didn't interest me directly, but even something held temporarily ought to be given respect.

Strange as it may seem, I swear I felt as though it was happy.

I'd do that. I'd make a collection the pieces themselves could be proud of.



I had returned to my schoolwork, finishing my maths in short time. I didn't mind it, and I knew it was commonplace for students to hate it. Initially it had been difficult for me to understand, but when a teacher failed to make something clear I knew how to research what I needed.

History was less grasping. Kanto is a land of rich history and fascinating figures, but the textbooks were dry and lifeless. The essays I wrote on it were similar, dull and apathetic. I could do better, of course, but lower quality was already doing very well to them. It was pandering, but it was all they deserved. Initially I had done so to see what would happen. Maybe I was like that sculptor then, satisfying the masses and hoping my real talent would shine through while knowing that it would be wasted to show it fully.

What I had thought earlier, about there being so many idiots, came to mind again, but I hadn't time to think as the doorbell rang.

My father and Helen were in the factory and wouldn't hear it, so I had to leave my sanctuary to answer it. I nearly didn't, admittedly, with that frustration in my head.

But I primed my best manner as I drew open the door at the base of the steps. "May I help you?"

The man wore a shirt embroidered with the name and logo of a nearby television station. "Yes, I'm looking for Corbin."

I had nearly forgotten about the events of the previous day. "Of course. He'll be in the factory. Please try there first in the future."

He pulled back a bit. "Oh um...I just assumed due to the hour...I apologize. Are you his son?"

"Yes. I'll show you there." There was an entrance through the house, but I wasn't about to take him there. "Pardon me for a moment."

If I had to guess, I'd take him for confused when I closed the door. It was still snowing, and I had to dress for taking him through the back. The shoes I had just taken off would suffice for a short jaunt, though they wouldn't be appropriate for longer walks in those conditions.

He had already started to walk around the back of the house, nearly out of sight around the corner, when I returned to attention. I had told him I would show him there! "Pardon me."

"Oh? I'm sorry, you closed the door and I thought you had changed your mind."

"Why would you think that?"

He shrugged. "Aah, I don't know. Anyway, lead the way!"

I did as I had offered, taking him to the gigantic wide doors designed for the delivery of large materials. They were wide open, as they usually were to aerate the factory, and I was able to lead him in without waiting.

"Hey, thanks. Say, what's your name?"

"Jirarudan," I answered as I looked off into the depths of the factory, which was considerably quieter than usual.

"Oh, that's an unusual name. What do you think about the tragedy in the factory?"

How unprofessional. "It's got nothing to do with me. You print hundreds of obituaries every week; do you have thoughts on all of them?"

He backed off a bit from where he had knelt down to address me. "I...see. I guess that's all right. Is that the office in there?"

I could see my father and Helen inside. "Yes. You'll be able to speak with either of them."

"Hey, thanks there J--" I could tell that he had entirely forgotten my name. "kid."

I didn't feel like wasting any more time on him, so I bowed slightly and headed back to the house. He hadn't done any wonders for my sense of disappointment in those around me.

It was pessimistic of me, looking back. The foolishness of the age combined with my awakening of the world past myself...I suppose that always leads to negativity. But I had difficulty looking past those reactions.

Perhaps I had come across as too grim. Saying that the tragedy had nothing to do with me seemed to shock the man, but it was true. Veronica and Asaph had confirmed that for me, and even my initial concern had regarded my lack of reaction to it.

The art world was full of shocking things. Every day I was moved by things that didn't concern me. My world was filling with them like a plungepool under a giant waterfall, and I had all I needed in it.

I returned to my small world, the wonders of it embracing me.



"Hey, Jiri?" Some time later, it was Helen. "Can I come in?"

I had nodded off, my face in a book. "Mm...all right." It was too late for a nap anyway, the sun already down.

She closed the door behind her and stood against it. "Thank you for bringing that reporter to us. They've been coming to the house all day."

"You're welcome." I sat up on the bed, but didn't stand as I should. "There's more to your visit than that."

"Haha yeah...I wanted to talk to you about something he said. Jiri, I know you think that this tragedy doesn't affect you..."

When she paused for words, I added my thoughts. "It doesn't though. The factory is covered against these things, and you have cameras throughout to prove that it was an accident, so you aren't in any danger of closing. Even a lawsuit would be inconsequential."

She sighed and came closer. "I guess you're right. But it comes off as cold, and people can misinterpret it. Even if something doesn't affect you at all, if people are worried about it, you should show some concern. You're so polite! It should be easy for you." With a tilt of her head, she smiled. "What would Asaph say you should do?"

"I asked him," I recalled. "He said I was just happy it wasn't my father."

"Oh huh." She had been in the process of kneeling down but at that, tilted back slightly on her heel. "That makes sense. Yeah, I can see that. But do you see what I mean?"

It wasn't the easiest thing to answer. I understood what she meant, but the approach to the subject was unusual. It didn't make sense, like so much of the world; it was a cloud passing around me. "I'm confused. But I'll try."

"That's good!" She rocketed upwards, back to her feet. "You'll do it. I know you will." Another pause. "You know fathers. They worry. But you're such a smart boy, I don't think we have anything to worry about."

'We' didn't go unnoticed, but I didn't really care. "Thank you."

"What are you reading?"

I closed the cover, marking my place with a finger. "A history of political art in the Cascadia region."

"Oh yeah? I didn't know you were into that. I thought you liked more classical stuff."

"I don't much care for it. But I like studying the evolution of techniques."

Another smile. "Studying is good for you. You're lucky that way. In a way, it's good that you don't want to be a trainer. A lot of kids miss a lot of education that way, even when they take distance classes like you. They don't devote the time they should."

I leaned back against the wall, putting the book aside and drawing my hand away from its place. "You were a trainer briefly, correct?"

"Ah, for a few months. Tried to do the league and everything. I did get a few gym badges, but eh...it's not for everyone. Although I'm glad I did it. Vulpix and I got super close during it, and we had some fun."

I could hear the waves out the window. "She's a beautiful Ninetales."

"She is. Have you thought about having a partner pokémon? Even if you're not a trainer, they're wonderful company. It's a mutual relationship."

I could feel my hairdo become ever so slightly out of place as it rubbed against the window frame. "Someone told me that I remind them of a Xatu."

"Oh, that's clever," she chuckled. "I can sort of see it. Though I think of you more like a Pidgey. Destined for greatness!"

Pidgey were so common, though. I know she meant it as a compliment, more or less, and I suppose I was of common birth, and Pidgeot was so elegant. "Thank you."

"Would you want to have a Xatu? Or anything else?"

Oh, the pokémon I could have listed. Lugia even then was at the top of my list. Likely a Milotic, for show and later trade. Anything sufficiently beautiful or legendary, of course. But nothing that would be usually seen, I thought. "Not really."

"Well, if you change your mind, we could help you find someone."

"No thank you." Such a strange offer. "I can make my own connections."

"Haha! I wish I'd sounded as sophisticated as you when I was your age!" There was a certain charm evident in her voice. "You really are an impressive kid."

That was my aim, of course. I wanted to be that shining star that both my mother and Asaph had said. And I knew I would be. It was fate, destiny, whatever one wanted to call it. "Thank you. I hope to be an impressive adult as well." It came out more serious than I wanted, so I smiled.

"You will be. There's no doubt in my mind about it." I think her smile was more natural. I still hadn't mastered that. "I have to get back down there, but it was nice having this conversation with you. I feel like I understand you more now."

I nodded back. "Thank you. I had a pleasant time as well."

She laughed as she headed back down the stairs, and it sounded like something in a dream.

 

[Spiteful Murkrow]

Heya, saw this story on TR’s Review Tag a while back and wound up letting it slip through my fingers. Figured that Review Blitz would be as good a time as any to try and fix that. Now, I don’t know a whole lot about this story other than that from your introduction and a quick Bulbapedia lookup that it’s apparently about the villain of the Lugia Movie who was called ‘Lawrence’… which I have never seen outside of short snippets.

But hey, part of this event is putting yourself out there and trying something new, and as something you’ve been working on for 20 years... I figured that I could give things a try.

Obsession 1

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

Oh yeah, totally a good omen for the places this story is going to go given what I know of the mindset of M02’s villain.

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

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

Ah yes, a feeling that’s all too familiar with those of us that get a little dumb about hunting down merch or maintaining collecting hobbies. There’s always another “white whale” to lust over out there if you don’t at some point put your foot down and go “nah, this is good enough.

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

Which ideally is a point well before this one and doesn’t involve living embodiments of forces of nature, but you do you, Lawrence.

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

… Wait, so is this being narrated moments before death or something? Since I could’ve sworn that Lawrence died during the events of M02. But eh, I suppose that’s a sign for me to watch the movie at some point.

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

Okay, getting a little nitpick out of the way since I see that this comes up a lot in your story from a casual eyeballing, but you might want to consider some mechanism of indicating scene breaks other than extra newlines, since at first, I thought that this was a typo until I saw that the paragraph jumped time and place dramatically.

The contents of that envelope changed my life forever.

While I get that you’re doing this as a frame narrative where Lawrence is narrating past events, I kinda wonder if this should’ve come later on in the scene, since something about “The contents of that envelope changed my life forever” feels like it sucks a bit of the tension out of things.

… Or, you could’ve just worked this in with the introduction of the envelope with something like “, one that would change my life forever” in the prior paragraph. Dunno. It’s hard to put my finger on concretely, but something about this paragraph was a little unsatisfying to me.

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

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

I kinda wonder if you should’ve described what the Ancient Mew Card looked like a bit more, since you say that it’s something that Lawrence finds really beautiful and that it’s shiny, but I have no clue how to visualize this. Like I don’t even know if it looks silver, gold, or iridescent from the description you provided.

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

Bruh, you literally build a flying death machine to capture the Legendary Birds. Excuse me if I don’t fully believe your claim there.

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

But….?

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

Some minor typos and extra words. Though that’s a pretty big ‘but’ there. ^^;

So this is one of those “how we got here” stories, huh? Since I kinda gather that that’s how this story is going to wind up shaking out. We’ll see, I suppose.

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

Somehow, I’m not sure if Lawrence’s mom would be so quick to brush him off. Family can be really forgiving of sins sometimes.

When I was but eight years of age old, Mother took ill. She sent for my father, who lived apart from us, and warned me that she may leave me soon. One day, she called me to her bedside, and removed the red ring from her finger.

"Jirarudan," she addressed me, "this ring has been in my family for many years, and I want you to have it." She put it gently in my outstretched palm, and smiled weakly. "Jiri, when you feel alone, clutch the ring, and I'll be there."

I’d recommend breaking this paragraph up into two smaller ones, since you functionally have two separate things going on in it.

So wait, what is the story behind why Lawrence is addressed by his Japanese name in this story? His Japanese name as read directly from its component katakana and not the official Romanization of ‘Gelardan’ at that?

Not necessarily a bad thing, and in the end, authors make the final calls as to how their stories operate, but it is a curious decision that I wonder what the backstory behind it was.

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

… How does Lawrence know this again? Like if Lawrence had mentioned some time earlier in his narration that it was a treasured keepsake of his mother’s that she never let herself get separated from, it might have played up this vibe a bit harder, but this feels a bit “told and not shown”.

"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.

I kinda wonder if there should’ve been more dwelling on this moment and how it impacted “Jiri” there, since these are kinda his formative moments as a person, and the process of him watching his mother go past feels kinda abrupt and like you left some opportunities to twist the knife with readers on the table.

Alternatively, if Jiri wasn’t meant to realize what was going on at the time his mother was dying in front of him and it’s an after the fact thing from whenever’s he’s narrating these events, it might have made sense to play that up a bit more instead.

I dunno, food for thought, since at around 600 words, I thought you had a lot of room to expand your present scenarios a bit without bogging them down. Though I fully understand if you go “nope, focusing on new stuff” and opt to keep the ball rolling forward as a writer.

Obsession 2

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

… How did Jiri’s mom not start to smell from decomposition from sitting around for two days? .-.

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

Oh, that would explain it. Even if I’m not sure how on earth he slept through being physically moved while sleeping.

"He's going to have to live with his father from now on."

"Oh yes, the poor thing. But maybe now, he can grow up right."

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

Would recommend splitting up the two lines of dialogue since they’re from separate speakers, but who are these people again? Since Jiri isn’t exactly telling us who he heard and without a visual component to aid things, it makes this bit a touch confusing as to figuring out what’s going on here, especially if these unseen and presently unnamed others are meant to be important in the future.

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

I… feel as if there’s a lot of detail coming through in this one last paragraph that should’ve been spread out more and established earlier. Like Jiri still had that ring with him and didn’t pull it off a dresser or something? Since you’d think that as a recalled memory, that if it stood out enough for him to remember details like this that he’d recall what happened with the ring, too. Especially since seeing it could’ve easily tipped him off to “Jiri, that wasn’t a dream”.

I mean, alternatively, Jiri’s memories are hazy and he’s remembering this event in kinda disjointed terms but I didn’t exactly get that vibe from his narration.

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

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

Wonderful omen for what Jiri’s dad was like, really.

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

This… also feels like something that could’ve had more done with. Especially since beyond showing off this scene in more detail from Jiri’s perspective it’s a chance to show off a bit about how Jiri views things from the present day.

Like does he resent his father for not being there for his mother when she was literally dying? Does he view him as someone who was a victim of circumstance who would surely be disappointed in how he turned out? Lots of possibilities here, but we don’t really get a solid look at them when it’d have been a chance at showing how Lawrence works in your setting as a character, especially for those of us who don’t have the benefit of having already seen M02 to establish baseline expectations.

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

Wow, like a thousand words in and I’m already feeling down from this story. Certainly are doing a good job at priming your audience to feel sympathy for a guy from what I’ve heard wasn’t exactly a likable villain in his movie.

Obsession 3

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

I can’t believe that it’s taking me this long to realize this, but boy did Jiri have a deprived childhood if he and his family couldn’t afford to bury his mother properly in a cemetery. Though hey, at least they weren’t broke enough to have to resort to cremation, which is the default across large swaths of Asia precisely because available land left to bury someone in is often prohibitively expensive.

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

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

A couple recommendations for some rephrasing that might make sense to go in the rough direction of for your story.

Though boy, I’m sure that this will end well and not lead to totally unhealthy life outlooks. Totally sure.

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

Totally healthy and normal! /s

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

Didn’t Jiri say something almost exactly like this back in Chapter 1? Is there some sort of twist to differentiate the two? Like Jiri just talked about how his mother’s presence is within him. How does he reconcile that with turning into someone he’s sure would bitterly disappoint her? Does it weigh on him? Does he try to ignore it?

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

"Jiri..."

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

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

… Wait, does Jiri’s dad just have no commentary about that Ancient Mew Card lying around there in the open? Since I can’t tell if he’s meant to know that and understand its importance or not, or if it’s meant to just be a random trinket from his father’s perspective that Lawrence took a shine to since he was like 5 when he had it shown to him for the first time.

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

Ah yes, the joys of being a little kid and not understanding figurative speech. That’ll certainly mess up a kid good and hard.

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

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

Wait, is Jiri meant to be zoning out right now, or…?

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

Ah yes, there we go, even if I wonder if Jiri’s “zoning out” should’ve been more explicitly pointed out by his narration. Though reminder that Jiri’s narration is all recounting past events, years after they happened and as such it probably doesn’t make sense to have him dip into present tense. Though I guess I was onto something with anticipating that he’d have lingering resentments towards dad.

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

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

Obsession 4

...I have never liked the water...

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

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

...like before…

Oh, so this is being narrated from the perspective of Lawrence as he’s dying at the end of M02. Though you have a couple of minor punctuation errors. ‘I’ as a personal pronoun is always capitalized, and even with ellipses, you want to capitalize the start of new thoughts, which at least 2 of these lines are.

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.

I’m… not fully sure what’s going on here, but I kinda wonder if you’re laying it on a little thick with the ellipses there. Like I get that Jiri is supposed to be narrating this while drowning, but we didn’t exactly see this in prior chapters which are all presumably being narrated as part of some sort of life recall moment.

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.

Lugia: “*Yeah, in retrospect, I should’ve let him drown back then, shouldn’t I?*”

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

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

And then the world returned.

… Wait, so did Jiri’s dad try to drown him or something? Since I’m really confused as to what on earth went down here other than that Jiri apparently almost drowned at some point in the past and Lugia was there to bail him out and kick off what is presumably the titular ‘Obsession’ of this story.

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

I am not sure what the story behind why everything is suddenly smallcaps is and I won’t draw further attention to it beyond suggesting spot fixes, but if that’s not by design, you probably want to take like 15 minutes to do a fast stepthrough to smooth those out since they’re a bit distracting.

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

Yeah, Lugia is absolutely going to become the titular Obsession once again.

Despite this, I have kept the image of the bird in my heart. Perhaps one day I shall see it again, if only in a dream.

Wait, but isn’t Jiri drowning right now? I thought that was the implication of the opening of this chapter. Can someone realistically hope to see something again in a dream if they realize that they’re about to die?

Maybe I’m misreading things, but yeah. Kinda got conflicting signals there.

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

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

Okay, this threw me hard for a moment since it is written in present tense again while the vast, vast majority of Lawrence’s narration is written from the perspective of him recalling things as an adult, so it was a little jarring to see it abruptly shift to present tense to the time when he was still a child with his father.

It might make sense to take some time to smooth that out to make the narration style a bit more consistent.

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

Jiri:

Obsession 5

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

Oh, well that’s certainly different from Jiri’s remark about water in the last chapter. Wonder if that’s something he wound up developing thanks to negative associations later in life in that case.

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

Totally healthy and normal there. /s

But I am getting ahead of myself.

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

… Wait, so was Jiri meant to have been born to parents who were estranged / divorced? Since I noticed that he specifically mentioned that his father already had a house of his own, so I kinda got those vibes from it.

I’m of two minds as to whether or not it should’ve been alluded to more in prior chapters. On the one hand, it’d certainly have been nice. On the other hand, Jiri by his own admission is literally remembering some of his earliest memories of life, so perhaps it makes sense he wouldn’t put two and two together.

… Though then again, he’s narrating it from the present day. Dunno. Maybe I’m overthinking it, but it might be worth something to consider given that Jiri as Narrator has the benefit of knowing things about what was really going on at various points in life that Jiri the Kid did not.

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

Only a week ago, my life was untouched. Now I might as well have been adrift on the open ocean.

… Okay, now I’m really curious as to what the traumatic event that gave Lawrence his fear of the sea was. Assuming that that wasn’t his near-drowning that Lugia bailed him out of sometime later on from this point in time.

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

… Is that supposed to be during Jiri’s time of mourning? Or else what is that alluding to there? It might’ve made sense to have just been a bit more direct and explicit about what this period of time was referring to.

"--don't know, Helen. He's still asleep, so it'll have to wait."

[ ] My father's voice was even and calm as always.

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

I feel like there should’ve been more commentary from Lawrence about what was going on, though this is certainly mysterious and ominous right about now. .-.

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

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

… Wait, is this talking about bed covers? If so, wouldn’t finding the ring again afterwards just be a matter of undoing said covers? I’m not fully sure if I understand the rationale behind Lawrence Sr.’s objection here, even if I broadly agree with the direction of “bruh, I don’t want to have to keep searching for my dead wife’s ring constantly”.

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

… Wait, this was all in Jiri’s room all this time? I did not get that vibe at all from the way things were presented earlier. It might have made sense to have Lawrence Sr. be more explicit about the ring being left in his son’s room, presumably because he noticed that it helped Jiri’s mood or something like that.

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

… Wait, it was necessary for his business? What on earth did this guy do for a living? .-.

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

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

Oh, I guess that explains the massive airship from M02 there. So Lawrence called in a favor with his dad, huh?

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

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

Lawrence: “...”

Lawrence Sr.: “Jiri, come on.” >:|

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

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

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

It feels a little weird that it’s taken this long to find out the name of Lawrence’s mother. I dunno, maybe it’d feel a bit different if everything were all in one chapter, but part of me wonders why this wasn’t mentioned right at the bit with the two women talking in Gloria’s living room after her passing.

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

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

Lawrence Sr.: “... Boy am I not remotely prepared to deal with this right now.”

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

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

… I can’t tell whether or not Lawrence logically should’ve remembered more of how his father’s reaction should’ve played out here or not. On one level, it kinda works as-is since the story’s fundamental framing is that this is Lawrence’s recollections of his past and memories as a young child fade and grow hazy with time. On another level, as a reader, it does make the scene a little harder to visualize.

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

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

I did a double-take here and had to look back at Obsession 1, and right. That was a thing that was mentioned. Given the way that Jiri is reacting so negatively to this mention here, I kinda wonder if it should’ve been reiterated in at least 1 or 2 chapters between here and now, since it feels as if this is meant to have been something that stuck with Lawrence long and hard, but the prior chapters don’t really give off that vibe.

"Jiri? Jiri, what's wrong?"

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

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

Cue things going seriously sideways in 3… 2…

The ring glimmered in my hand, the light reflected from the waves outside catching it, and I mimicked his nod.

"Yes," I echoed, as he picked me up and laid me back in bed.

Live look at Lawrence’s inner thoughts:

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

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

I can’t believe you’re managing to make me feel sorry for a villain that by all accounts is a massive Hate Sink in his proper canonical appearance, though that makes me wonder how much of this is actually canonically alluded to in M02 and how much of it is stuff you cooked up for the sake of the story?

Obsession 6

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

… Wait, but if Lawrence was acclimated to his surroundings, wouldn’t it be expected that things would be uneventful for him? Or did you mean to say that he wasn’t acclimated and that he should’ve remembered more of things but he just didn’t?

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

I mean, it kinda was given that he got ripped away from everything that he had known as a young child to a place that literally only had the sea as a constant with his old house.

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

… Oh, so Jiri didn’t almost drown at sea a couple chapters ago but it was some sort of psychic vision or communication from Lugia. Maybe. I’m not fully sure at this rate.

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

So this story really is being told from the perspective of a life recall by Lawrence from towards the end of M02, huh?

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

I suppose that would explain a lot about why Lawrence wound up developing an obsession with Lugia, since at least when they’re not pissed at you and trying to blow you away, they definitely do a decent job at fitting an “angelic” motif…

Well, that and a seagull motif, even if that’s obviously not what Jiri has in mind there.

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

Boy did this kid get messed with by his mother dying on him something fierce.

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

Oh… Oh no… so this really does set him on course to becoming who he is in M02.

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

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

Oh, so that’s his dad’s name. Even if I kinda wish we’d found it out a bit sooner in the story.

Though wait, just how common are airships in your setting anyways? Since from the way that Corbin is conducting his business, it makes it sound almost as if they’re like the yachts of Jiri’s world.

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

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

He was another ‘Collector’ himself, wasn’t he?

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

… Wait. What is that card anyways? Like is it the literal TCG card, or is it something significantly rarer and more ancient in this world?

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

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

I… don’t have a good feeling about where this is going, but hey, at least we found out that Lawrence still has this thing in the present day? So he probably won’t get scammed out of it by this guy right here and now?

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

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

"My name is Asaph," he introduced.

… Wait, I just realized, but what on earth does this guy look like anyways? Since all that has been described about him is that he has green eyes. Like beyond that and his ‘regal bearing’, I don’t know details as basic about Asaph such as his hair color, general attire, and apparent age.

If this guy is meant to be important, you might want to spell that out a bit more explicitly if you’re still doing revisions of your earlier chapters, since this is basically the audience’s first impression of this guy, and he’s really hard to get a bead on at the moment.

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

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

Wow, this guy really is just going to try and scam a kid out of his card, isn’t he?

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

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

Okay, so it’s not just a TCG card, but yeah. It would’ve been nice to have this explicitly described back in Obsession 1 since it was really hard for me to wrap my head around what on earth that thing was supposed to be, whereas this helps fill in some details.

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

Technically that was Lawrence in narration and I don’t think we saw Gloria do that onscreen, but eh. Close enough.

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

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

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

Yeah, I figured that things were going to go here. I can already tell that Asaph was not a good influence on Lawrence as a kid given the places he’s supposed to go to as a Collector himself.

Obsession 7

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

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

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

On the one hand, I get that Jiri had a life offscreen, on the other hand, I kiiiinda wonder if this thematically would’ve had more punch if it had explicitly come up in Chapter 1 at something like that, since we could’ve actually seen this as readers.

Though I suppose that this is a sign that my instinct that Asaph was going to be a bad influence on this kid was onto something. Let’s see just how many “obvious red flag” vibes this dude winds up giving off in the course of this chapter.

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

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

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

Asaph: “... Well. Awkward… But anyhow…”

[ ]

"It's a remarkable relic, really. There's only been a few on the market in recent years..." He paused to clear his throat before continuing. "Many years ago, that picture was found on the wall of an ancient building, deep in the jungle. One of the explorers who found it that day made a painting of it, but found that he could not capture the brilliant gold sheen of the original. So he hired a goldsmith and a jeweler to make these cards, and gave them to everyone involved in the expedition.”

[ ]

“There were over two hundred people who took part, so the cards are just common enough that people 'discover' them in their heirlooms, and rare and fine enough that people will pay dearly for them."

Asaph’s dialogue where he explains the backstory of the Ancient Mew card is long enough that you should consider chopping it up into pieces. Also, it might make sense to show some description of him going full [riowolu] over this super-rare artifact that only had 200 instances of it ever made (and presumably with fewer surviving to the present day), since how he reacts is presumably something that Jiri noticed and made an impression on him.

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

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

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

Yeah, this is one of those things that IMO should’ve been explicitly described a bit more since this feels more “told” than “shown”

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

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

… Wait, is this literally the same card as the TCG where it’s “Little God… or Evil?” in a cipher substitution into Futhark or…?

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

Oh, so it is a TCG card. Of sorts. I just have one reaction to that:

Since hey, it’s a cute little easter egg, and I myself have done a couple things like that in my own writing. Though that now makes me wonder if there’s also modern ones lying around in this continuity, or if PTCG is explicitly a game played by the ancients in this world.

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

I think you’re missing some words there. I assume that’s supposed to say something like “I later found out what the runes said”, but that’s admittedly a guess based off of context and something you should strongly consider explicitly spelling out.

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

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

This also feels like something that should’ve been shown off more explicitly instead of just mentioned in passing in a single paragraph when this chapter was less than 500 words long, since you had a lot of room to show things off before things felt like they started to drag.

Onto the recap of this whole thing, but 20 years of continuous work, huh? I wonder just how much this story has changed in the time since then, since just from the threadmark list, it seems like your chapter structure definitely evolved with time, even if it’ll probably be a heavy lift for me to get to your newer fare as part of this Review Blitz. I do feel that before diving into my deeper thoughts that it’d only make sense to commend you for sticking to your story for this long and continuing to bump it in the present day, since a lot of people would’ve called it quits on their story well before this point.

Alright, to start off with what I felt were the strong suits for this story. But the big strength of the run of Obsession I read up to this point was that you did a really good job at characterizing Jirarudan/Lawrence, and help with getting inside the head with someone who will wind up becoming a villain who is, well. Obsessive. You presented a sequence of events that feels like it’d be a believable start of darkness and I can already tell that it’s going to be a gut punch watching him transform from a vulnerable child into who he was.

That ties in what I feel is the other main strength of this story which is its accessibility. I admittedly was kinda worried going into this that I’d be super lost since you’re writing about a character that has literally only appeared in one anime movie, but I think you did a good job at framing things in terms such that you don’t need to know about M02 or Jirarudan/Lawrence’s role in it for the story to make sense, even if it. Like the way it’s written already has a decent hook and gives a promise of a downward spiral to come that’s discernible even if you aren’t aware that “oh, the protagonist is the M02 villain”.

As for the things that I felt were the weaknesses of the chunk of the story I read, the full rundown is in the writeup earlier, but there are some things that still stood out to me in general. On the smaller error side, but you have verb tense oopses and drift out of past tense that pop up here and there when the fundamental framing is Lawrence/Jiri recounting past events of his life from the present day. If he’s doing that you don’t want to use verb tenses other than past tense unless it’s something that is happening in the present day in the background of Jirarudan’s narration. But those are things that could honestly be resolved with a quick stepthrough.

As for bigger issues that I noticed, but there seemed to be a recurring issue with certain scenes and moments that were hard to visualize since there’s not a lot of description. Like for instance, up to the point I read, Asaph’s explicitly described appearance was literally his eye color and overall “vibe”, and there were a number of details like the Mew Card where details about what they were like were curiously withheld until like 5 chapters after their initial introduction. As a general rule of thumb that I suspect you’ve figured out in your more recent chapters from how long they are, but unless there’s specific plot reasons for doing otherwise, you want to be upfront with descriptions when introducing people, places, or things to stories since that’s the initial impression the reader has of those things and allows you to get away with not having to explicitly describe them later without undercutting the audience’s ability to visualize things.

Related to the issue regarding a lack of description at parts, but there’s some recurring issues with “tell and not show” in these first seven chapters. Like I get that everything here is technically being “told” by Lawrence to the audience, but at the same time, we’re watching things play out, and sometimes the conclusions that the audience can piece together from the stuff they see. It’s a bit strange to see issues like these since these chapters in general were really short. Enough so that you could’ve easily doubled or tripled their length and they’d still feel short. If you do ever go back to revise them, I’d strongly advise taking the time to just slow down and proverbially sniff the roses a bit more to show off more of these “formative moments” for Jirarudan for the audience since it’s an opportunity to both paint more vivid pictures for your readers and give more insight into the inner workings of Jirarudan as a character for those less versed in his role in M02.

Overall, I liked what I saw of your story @Blackjack Gabbiani , but there were some bigger structural hiccups that were present. I don’t know how much of that is early installment weirdness that you’ve opted to just live with versus stuff that you’re still open to revising at a later date, but after 20 years on the grind, I don’t fault you for choosing to just leave the start as it is and move onto the newer horizons.

Though hey, I wouldn’t have kept plowing into chapters from your story if I didn’t like the idea behind it or thought that on balance it wasn’t a net positive experience. I’ll definitely be back at least once in Review Blitz to get more of this story if I can help it. Perhaps even beyond that, even if it’ll probably take a while since my reading queue is a bit crowded these days.

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

Haha oh wow that's a lot to take in here! A lot of the stuff you're pointing out is basically just *because* the story is 20+ years old. Nowadays this fic takes at least a month to write a single chapter because of all the description I put in, so a lot of what you're saying is fixed as the story goes on.

Two big things though--I call him Jirarudan because when I started the fic that was the only name I saw online. "Lawrence" is said nowhere in the movie, and the VHS closed captions call him "Gelarden". Also he doesn't die in the film. His airship is destroyed but we see him safe at the end, picking up the Mew card from the wreckage. He's implied to die in the CoroCoro manga adaptation but that was a really shitty adaptation to begin with.

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you continue to read more!

 

[K_S]

I am so behind... let's fix that, shall we?

Chapter 29 obsession review/reply.

You know it's hard to imagine Jer' caring but his feelings towards Veronica show he does. And I don't know if warning Ver' would be a better option or not. He's a person fixated on things after all... and I think the person he attaches to after a while might get regulated to precious treasures (things really) in the long run and that might be a dangerous status to acquire considering not only his final fate in his home series but just in general.

Still, right now it seems benign... but between him and Asaph this story feels like I'm in a field of warning klaxons waiting for something to go wrong and set them all off.

Welcome to being a collector and being in the dragon's den Jer'... predatory surrealism for one and all. I wonder what he's going to take away from this... and out come Asaph's sheering blades. With her lack of resources... well it's a one-item collection if she's rash and she's being rash.. and it's not really hers yet, is it? not per Asaph's little stipulations.

Interesting choice of words... just forbidding Jer' sorta indicates he hasn't done so for Veronica.. and that flaunts his favortism doesn't it? but then Jer's a bank account untapped... Veronica's nearly run her course, hasn't she?

out of the main cast I suspect the driver's taken the smartest job. High enough pay to be comfortable, cozy locals to go to, light workload, and lots of time to read... Honestly, I imagined library work to go like that, but then I did my research and realized it was less idealized than I imagined.

Oh, I'm sure asaph has plans to limit that shine and it's called setting you up for a fall... Granted he might grow as a character to cherish a source of greatness without coveting much later down the line as mortality creeps closer... but his character-building chapters, the pokemon training scene, and really most of them... show him to be quite snug in his dragon's den of goodies and quite content to roll amongst the goodies.

and in that Jer's a better match to Asaphs morals than most as things hold more importance than people... and perfection is utterly precious...
You know for a person angling to be a collector of artifacts/legends you gotta wonder how history is the snooze fest since the answers or patterns that lead to answers are squirreled away in those books.

Every time he goes all "everyone is idiots" I imagine Scar's voice ala the lion king. I'm trying not to but yeah... that's not working... and Jer that is not the tactful... or even the safe thing to say. It's a good way to show how disconnected he is but still... since people died/were maimed and that's a media person...

If Jer had a PR team they'd be in tears from all the hush work they'd have to field right now.

While I'm a bit disgusted at Jer's father for not making an appearance to touch base with his kid I am glad Helen's able to break the ice a little and make a connection with him despite their very different views and lives... Still, it seems like everything and everyone is missing all the warning signs this guy is dropping.

Well, thanks for sharing and I look forward to further chapters and the detailed fleecing that's to follow if Asaph gets his way...

 

[Spiteful Murkrow]

Heya, popping in for a quick second taste of this story as part of RB4. Since I did say I’d be back for more, and the next two chapters look like a good fit for a bit of a more time-crunched worknight:

Chapter 8

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

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

I kinda think that we should’ve seen more of this either last chapter or this chapter, even if we’re just getting a list in passing of what some of these topics that got Jiri so excited might have entailed.

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

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

I didn’t realize that Jiri’s dad had an office that was this integrated into the airship yard. Probably could have been described a bit more earlier on in the story, but oh well. At least we know now.

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

"Quite well, and you?"

He placed a hand on my shoulder, and I did not struggle shrink away as I did from others who did the same. [ ]

"Very well, now that I'm here. I was looking forward to seeing you again." A warm smile settled on his face, and he leaned down to whisper to me. "I could hardly wait to come here today. We have much to talk about, don't we?"

It might make sense to drop in some more concrete thoughts from Jiri about why he feels so comfortable around Asaph in a way he doesn’t towards most other people, since I’m not really sure about the “why” for why Asaph is different here.

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

… Wait, did Jiri really talk like this as a little kid, or is this him recalling this as an adult in more formal language? Since I wouldn’t reflexively expect a little kid to talk like this. ^^;

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

Jiri: “I’m sorry, the what now?” ^^;
Asaph: “Well…”

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

Oh, so Asaph really did help set Lawrence down the path he ultimately goes as a collector. I mean, I kinda gathered, but…

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

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

Jiri: “... Since when did you ever refer to me with diminutives?”

Helen: “Since your father asked me to be accommodating and try and help your mood. Though go on, he’s waiting for you.” ^^;

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

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

Jiri’s dad’s going to wind up shooing Asaph off after noticing how clingy Jiri’s getting over him, isn’t he?

[ ]

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

I nodded absently, not really caring what he said.

IMO, it would probably make sense to add some description regarding Jiri’s dad there.

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

Especially since Jiri is already displaying obsessive tendencies right now.

Looking back, I may not have considered it if my father had said it. But he yielded the floor to Asaph to finish the thought. Asaph squeezed my shoulder to get my attention, and smiled at me when I looked up at him.

"Jiri...how would you like to spend some time with me?"

Jiri:

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

"I would love it!" I blurted. "I...I would love to!"

Yup, I called it.

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

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

Getting a good feeling about this socialization winding up causing serious problems form its second-order effects there. Like I get that Jiri is young and emotionally vulnerable, but this already gives off “dude, there is no way this is healthy right now” vibes.

Chapter 9

(Wow, 2005, huh? That’s a full decade before I published the first chapter of Fledglings.) .-.

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

So how much did it look like that one city from the Wizard of Oz in Jiri’s dreams anyways? :V

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

inb4 it was something like a Lugia tee or the like.

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

So a Wingull, then?

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

… Actually, wait. How did Jiri not get dressed in better clothes for this anyways when his dad presumably made some serious coin from all those custom airships? Was his dad of a “stealth wealth” mindset?

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

"Are you ready?" he asked me, and when I nodded my assent he brought a hand to my shoulder and let it rest for a moment as he looked me up and down. "You look very distinguished today," he said, and I smiled.

Would recommend hacking this bit up into two here.

In the next room, my father, who had already opened the factory for the day but was waiting in the house for my departure, looked on.

"Asaph, I want to thank you again," he called, and Asaph nodded before turning to me.

"Have everything?" he asked me, and I nodded to him as well. [ ]

"Enjoy the museum!" he called, having to return to work. I was glad to be rid of him, even though I would be without him for the entire day.

This spot seems like another spot worth expanding, since there’s no real indication that this is Jiri’s dad who’s speaking here and initially I got tripped up thinking “wait, why would Asaph say this?”

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

This should probably be a ‘pilot’, since I’m not sure if it’s possible to use ‘chauffeur’ out of the context of the likes of a driver.

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

… Just how big is this museum anyways?

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

I can already tell that there were some archeologists somewhere else in the world who had an aneurysm over pieces of ancient ruins being used in such a fashion, though I suppose that it’s not without precedent in human history.

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

I’m not sure if it makes sense to mention an “other” hand if there’s no mention of her holding something else with a first one, or else it being held in some sort of pose. You might want to consider touching this up accordingly.

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

I nodded emphatically.

Jiri:

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

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

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

I see that museum visit really wound up coming through in this chapter. Was that always pre-planned and the visit just happened to line up? Or did the actual flash of inspiration for what Jiri would do with Asaph come while actually going to the museum?

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

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

Is that his ex or something?

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

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

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

Scratch ‘ex’, maybe more an ‘active lover’.

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

… Wait, where on earth did this guy come from again? Like is he supposed to be with Lucrezia, or is he a rando gawking at the art here? Also, what is Lucrezia even supposed to look like? Since nothing’s really been described of her.

After a few minutes of discussion of names I had never heard of, during which time I turned my attention to a statue of an ivory butterfly alighting on a silver flower, Asaph returned to me and rested a hand on my shoulder.

"How about you go on to the next room without me? Lucrezia and I have some business to discuss, and I know you're eager to keep going."

Woooooow Asaph. Quality role model there.

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

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

Oh, if only Asaph knew about what Jiri was up to in the hours before his arrival in the morning.

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

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

There before me was the most brilliant and beautiful and terrifying thing I'd ever seen. To other lives, it would not have had such a profound effect, but to me it was as though the rest of the world had dropped away and existence was defined entirely by paint on canvas.

An angel.

She was beautiful, in a white robe that matched her flawless wings with every feather defined and looked as they could begin motion at any moment. Her hand extended in assistance, she bore a look of sorrow that the man she wished to help was unaware of her presence, a look that broke my heart to behold. Whatever was left of the world was walled up as the words ‘I'll be your angel’ resonated through my mind.

IMO, you should probably flatly just say that “Jiri saw an angel” before he gets all poetic about how awesome the painting was, since as readers, we’re kinda waiting a while to get a solid bead on what Jiri saw as-is.

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

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

Boy are we fortunate that Jiri never saw any Reshiram statues or paintings in his young life, since I can already tell his angel complex would’ve gone places with them.

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

Instinctively, I pulled away, to the end of the bench. [ ] and he chuckled.

"Shy? That's all right."

IMO, it probably makes sense to describe who this man looks like if it’s not Asaph here.

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

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

Jiri: “Yes, yes. Could you please go away now-?”
Man:

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

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

Jiri: “Also, being stuck in this room with this creepy and off-putting man isn’t helping.”

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

… Is this man supposed to come back later as a character, or…? Since I couldn’t really tell what he was like or who he was supposed to be.

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

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

Jiri: “Yeah, I guess. But did you really need to leave me all alone there with that creeper?” ._.;

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

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

Is that an artist’s name, or something else? It might make sense to drop in an extra throwaway sentence to help provide grounding / context.

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

… Wait, when was Jiri mentioned to have this again? I actually ran a text search after seeing this here, and this is literally the first time that ‘chain’ ever shows up in it.

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

I nodded again, a million miles away.

"Jiri, are you having a good time?"

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

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

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

Asaph: “Well, you’re honest, at least. Though what exactly’s going on?”

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

[ ]


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

Is Jiri meant to hesitate or grow uneasy at all before answering Asaph here? If so, you probably want to add a paragraph of description spelling that out.

He shook his head, smiling sadly, and whispered something in a language I did not recognize.

"Your father told me about her," he continued. "I'm so sorry."

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

"I understand," he assured.

Another spot where IMO, there could stand to be some more description, but in this case I’m tripping up a bit as to where makes the most sense to suggest. I do think that Asaph’s dialogue works a bit better split off here.

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

Boy is this story living up to the ‘Obsession’ title in live-time. Though I suppose this is as good a time as any to get into the summary:

So I’m pretty sure that I mentioned it in my last review, but one of the main standout strengths of these two chapters is that it does a good job of getting into the head of an emotionally vulnerable and kinda clingy child looking for companionship and validation outside of his dad that he isn’t fully at peace with. I kinda wish there’d been more of a reminder that he has some degree of resentment / estrangement with him, but it comes through decently enough through the lines. I also could tell that you had a lot of fun with the art museum sequence, I kinda wish we saw more of it, but what was described there was fun to read, and it makes me curious if there were other similar moments in Obsession where reality wrote the plot to an extent..

As for weaknesses, the number one area for improvement I can see in these chapters is that things could’ve used a bit more description. Like when Lucrezia and there’s literally no description of what she looks like or even acknowledgement from Lawrence in his narration that he no longer remembers what she looks like. Getting to have some idea of what she’d look like would be handy, especially if she’s going to become important later on in the story. I also noticed that there were some elements are introduced wholecloth when they logically should’ve come up several chapters ago, like Jiri’s necklace with his mother’s ring on it. I’m not sure what the backstory behind why it came along in the plot so late was, but it might make sense to patch in mentions of it and how Jiri got it earlier on in the story, since it’s clearly meant to be a very important personal artifact for him and presumably he’d remember the process of getting it, or at least that he can’t remember how he got it considering how much of an impact his mother’s absence from him affected his childhood.

Not sure if you’ll ever touch up your earlier chapters, but even if you don’t, I thought that these chapters were a nice build off of the last one, and you can just start to see the first shoots of some of Lawrence’s more negative personality traits starting to grow here. I have to wonder where his relationship with Asaph will ultimately go, since I kinda got the vibe that Lawrence cares a lot more about Asaph right now than vice versa, even if he doesn’t see it yet. Though I suppose that’s a story for another day.

Kudos for sticking it out on your story for so long @Blackjack Gabbiani , and even if it’s an open question as to if it happens during RB4, I’ll be looking forward to crossing paths with this story again at some point in the future.

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

Ooh so many things to reply to! Though I'll keep it brief. Again, a lot of the issues of description are owing to how long ago this was written. I plan on doing a rewrite once it's finished but who knows how long that'll be. I also didn't have a beta reader for...like...a decade at least.

I love how everyone is super suspicious of Asaph. I hope future chapters prove fruitful.

Lucrezia and her son will have a larger role later on (chapter 37, which I just finished in November, takes place at Lucrezia's beach house) so we'll have time to explore them.