Chapter 5 - Shadow Tag
The following two months were a blur. Espurr would rise at the crack of dawn each day, adhering to a rigid routine. Two pills with breakfast, hastily thrown together. A blue scarf with orange streaks tenderly fastened around his neck. Some Orbs, twenty-five Blast Seeds, two Apples, two Oran Berries, and the pill bottle, all stuffed haphazardly into a brand-new satchel with ‘Nine’ messily scrawled on its clasp and an insignia with all the colors of the rainbow on it. Those items never seemed to run out. Perhaps Es was wealthier than Rho imagined. Most days, Es would stumble back home in the evening, bleeding from a variety of wounds after finding a creative way to injure himself. He would clumsily smear Oran Berry salve over them before collapsing into bed in exhausted silence.
If he was particularly injured, he would sometimes attempt a strange experiment where he would unfurl his ears and look at Rho in deep concentration. Nothing would ever happen, and Es would stagger off to bed muttering something about how he “wasn’t able to replicate that feeling from that day”, leaving Rho befuddled.
Rho didn’t fully grasp why, but Es clearly saw the stretch of land between Post Town and Noe Town as his territory, and he was fiercely protective and oddly proud of it. At least, that’s how it seemed to Rho. On the rare days Es wasn’t too beaten up, he’d regale Rho with tales of his adventures. For instance, there were stories about the explorers he supposedly saved in the Tempting Path and Forest Grotto—though they were likely more creeped out than grateful, not that Rho knew. There was one about the Scraggy outlaw he defeated in Hazy Pass and another about the rare artifact he discovered in Ragged Mountain.
On those days, Rho would seize the opportunity to plead for help with his past, trying every angle he could think of.
“Can I come with you?”
“Could you talk to the guilds for me?”
“Did you see any Zorua? Can you search for one?”
“Can you help me with my memories? Please?” he’d ask, pulling off the best puppy-eyed impression a Zorua with a partially metallic face could handle.
But Espurr’s answer was always the same, just in different words: “No. I work alone. I have more important matters to handle. People could be in danger if I’m not around. I don’t deal with the guilds.”
In the meantime, Rho practiced how to walk.
Front left and back right, front right and back left. He would pace around Es’ shack for hours on end (because he was bored to death). There was an old sofa in Es’ room—Rho had been overcome by the impulse to dig through its interesting texture, and was rewarded with some old Gummis and somebody’s old tome about
Dungeons and Apparitions. It sounded like a fun game—but he soon realized that it was a boring wall of text, and tossed it aside. Es had given him an Encyclopedia about the world, just in case—another boring wall of text, tossed aside.
Rho only lasted about two weeks of this boredom before he started venturing into town on his own. To be fair, Es had never tried to stop him. In fact, Rho was given an allowance of gold coins with a letter P engraved on them every day, along with the vague instruction: “Give this to people and ask for things”. The only thing that slowed him down was his anxiety about not being able to communicate and the mysterious ‘Boss’ trying to eat him, but his curiosity eventually overwhelmed that.
Those excursions were usually uneventful—until today.
***
Post Town
As Paradise had grown over the decades, so had Post Town. The humble tents had given way to taller metallic buildings that the locals had somehow integrated into the lush natural surroundings. Windows were adorned with vibrant flora, while creeper plants wound up the sides, creating a beautiful blend of steel and greenery. At the peak of the hilly town, a fountain had been decorated with the statue of a nine-tailed fox that Rho had never seen before.
The streets, too, were alive with a colorful array of vendors, their stalls overflowing with goods, each one contributing to the town’s lively atmosphere.
Every Wednesday, Victini would appear, playing an upbeat tune in front of his curious wheel contraption. Rho found himself humming along, drawn to the melody that seemed to resonate with the hope and optimism pulsing through the city.
There were occasional murmurs about a ‘Zorua with a metallic face’ making rounds in Post Town, but these whispers lacked malice. If anything, they came from curiosity and intrigue. Not that Rho could conceal himself even if he wanted to. Much to Espurr’s disappointment, Rho’s lack of disguising ability had foiled Es’ odd plan to use him as a doppelganger to amplify his own presence.
Once again, there were no clues about who he was. No one had heard of a ‘Rho’. The shopkeepers showed no signs of recognizing him, and none could recall ever selling him anything. After exhausting himself trying to politely pester the townsfolk with questions about his past—thankfully, they were all remarkably friendly—Rho eventually gave up. He found a quiet spot by the fountain and slurped Spinda’s new flavour of ice-cream as the town bustled around him, everyone absorbed in their daily tasks.
As he sat there, a shadow fell over him. He turned around, curious, to see a figure standing behind him. It was a Gothitelle. “Hmm?” Rho cocked his head, wondering if she needed something. “Heya! Can I help you?” he chimed brightly. The town’s friendliness had clearly rubbed off on him. But instead of responding immediately, Gothitelle slowly bent herself to his eye level, her gaze never leaving his.
“Ah, she’s staring,” he thought, his smile fading slightly. “Why are the psychic types such spooks sometimes?”
“Hello there, little Zorua,” Gothitelle finally spoke, her voice slow and dreamy, as if half-lost in thought. “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it? What’s your name?”
Rho hesitated, unsure if this was the town’s usual friendliness or something more intrusive. Still, he introduced himself. “Rho.”
“Rho (ϱ), hmm?” she repeated, her gaze distant yet piercing. “It’s the name of what humans of lore would call a Greek glyph. Quite elegant.”
“My name is Madeline,” she continued, her eyes now filled with a tired, almost sorrowful expression. “May I tell your future?”
Before Rho could answer, she closed her eyes, her brow furrowing in deep concentration. The silence stretched, heavy and tense.
“A soul… taken too soon. Destined to die twice,” she murmured, her voice trembling as tears began to trickle down her cheeks. Rho’s breath caught in his throat. “In the two centuries I have lived, I have never seen a fate so burdened with sorrow.”
“Even the most deranged criminals suffer like the rest of us. Oh, the world is full of tragedy…” She wept. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the moment passed. The Gothitelle opened her eyes, slowly wiping away the tears.
“It’s too bad, but I’m here on official business, Rho,” Gothitelle said as she straightened herself up, her voice still dreamy and ethereal but now laced with a subtle, creeping malice.
“We’ve been tracking a group of dangerous outlaws on the Ice Continent. Some of them slipped through our grasp. There was a tip-off that a Pokémon matching their description might have found its way to Post Town. I’m here to ensure everyone’s safety,” The Gothitelle finished.
The air seemed to thicken around them, as if the very atmosphere was closing in on Rho. The town’s usual warmth seemed to fade away around them.
“There are rumors about a half-metallic Zorua in town,” Gothitelle continued, her gaze distant, almost lost in thought, though her tone had grown cold and unsettling. “Life is… adaptable. When flesh fails, sometimes we turn to machinery. So, I was wondering… What if
you were the Zorua I’ve been searching for?”
He hadn’t been on high alert before, but now his ears were swivelling frantically, picking up the sounds of voices nearing the riverbank. “You’re just dodging work, Detective Steve!” one voice complained. “Cut me some slack, Joe,” another retorted, exasperated. “I’m an old Farfetch’d ready to retire, not chase down dangerous outlaws in person! That’s not my strength.”
“I-I’m not the Zorua you’re looking for,” Rho stammered, the anxiety finally getting to him. “I don’t even remember who I am! H-how could I have traveled alone from the Ice Continent to the Mist Continent?”
Rho tried to back away from the Gothitelle, but an unseen force yanked him off his feet. He crashed to the ground with a startled yelp, the wind knocked out of him.
“I made that trip.” Gothitelle said flatly, leaning closer, her eyes flaring an unnatural, piercing blue. “But that’s not the real issue, is it? Deep down, you’re terrified that you
are that Zorua. It’s natural to be anxious around law enforcement, but based on everything you’ve been through these past months, you’ve got a gnawing suspicion, don’t you?”
She looked down at the trembling fox. “It’s alright, Rho. We’ll take you to our headquarters, and if you’re innocent, you’ll be free to go.”
Rho’s heart pounded as he glanced down, finally noticing what was happening. His shadow had darkened, thickened, and taken on a more solid form beneath him. Gothitelle’s foot was planted firmly on it, pinning him in place.
“W-what’s going to happen to me if I am guilty? Hy-hypothetically,” Rho squeaked. “That is out of my jurisdiction,” The Gothitelle let the question hang ominously in the air.
Seemed like her backup had arrived. A Granbull and a Farfetch’d rounded the corner, both wearing worn yet determined expressions. “Maddy! You’re so good at tracing them! This is the, what, third time you have beaten us to the perp this month?” the Granbull barked. His enthusiasm was met with silence as Gothitelle focused her attention on the Farfetch’d.
“You’re a great friend, Steve. But by being on the Mist Continent, you’re decreasing your lifespan,” she warned softly.
“Oh-ho-ho! That’s dark, Maddy!” Steve the Farfetch’d chuckled, waving a wing dismissively. “But you know I can’t just stand by if something’s hindering the Purple Corps. They’re on the verge of removing the mystery dungeons! If it means my kids and grandkids live in a better world, I’ll take the risk.”
His tone shifted abruptly as he turned to Rho. “Now, let’s string the perp up. Ugh, what’s that smell?”
“Eep!” Panic surged through Rho, obliterating all reason. His heart pounded in his chest, his eyes bugged out of their sockets, his vision swam, and his breath came in ragged, shallow gasps. Instinct took over as he scrambled wildly against the ground like a cornered animal, desperate to escape the invisible bindings.
“Somehow… Somehow, I know that if I get caught, I will be
destroyed!” Not incarcerated, not even killed.
Destroyed by whoever it was that caused his memories to vanish. That was what his instinct and muscle memory were screaming at him.
It was over.
In that split second of sheer terror, something deep within Rho snapped awake. Just like a bird flung from a cliff with no choice but to fly or fall, he was finally able to make it happen.
The light around him bent and warped, changing his form into a barely visible blur and taking his shadow with him.
Gothitelle’s eyes widened in confusion, her foot pressing down on empty air. For a moment, Rho was nothing but a shimmer, a mirage in the sunlight.
Then, the next moment, the Zorua reappeared, but it was too late to redo the binding. Rho scrabbled through the vibrant street tents, scattering shocked townsfolk as he fled for his life.
***
As fate would have it, yesterday was a day where Es had managed to get himself pretty severe injuries. True to form, he couldn’t be bothered to treat it within the same day, and was now paying the price.
“It’s not just an infection,” Es muttered as he left the Paradise Medical Centre. “Bea had to go and resign. After ten years, too. The service just isn’t the same.”
You know what would cheer you up, Es? A leisurely round or two around Post Town and the forest before going home. “Please don’t talk to yourself. That is weird.”
You’re weird! “That doesn’t even make sense.”
As Es walked into town, what first seemed like the usual bustling of the crowd began to grow louder, more frantic. Then, distinct shouts pierced the noise. “Aah!” yelled a familiar voice, followed by a distant “Get him!” Es tensed up. “Get who, me?!”.
A black streak of fur burst out from the crowd and slammed into his midsection. “Rho?!”
“Es! S-save me!” Rho cried as they hit the ground rolling, but only momentarily. Es twisted mid-tumble, landing on his feet and seamlessly transitioning into a sprint, Rho now slung awkwardly over his shoulder.
Thank Arceus for feline instincts! Without missing a beat, he bolted toward the river.
“Who the hell are we running from? Why are we running?” Es demanded; his breath ragged.
“I don’t know,” Rho sobbed. “But they are powerful. Please… don’t turn back. Don’t try to fight them.”
“I don’t think we can use the crossroads to traverse the river if we want to get away. Hang on tight,” Es gritted as he fished for an Orb with his free paw. There was a flash of light as Es warped them south, right over the Post Town’s river to the base of a mountain. A sign warned: ‘Ragged Mountain. DO NOT ENTER. Mystery dungeon up ahead.” He didn’t hesitate, sprinting up the path and past the dungeon’s barrier.
“It’s okay, Rho. The apparitions here are weaklings. It’s nothing like the ruins,” Es huffed.
They were deep into the dungeon before Es finally skidded to a stop, dropping Rho into a heap on the ground as he panted furiously. “I pride myself. On being stronger. Than your average Espurr. But,” Es gasped, wiping sweat from his brow, “Please stop. Making me carry. Someone so many times. My weight. And—ugh—there’s piss. All over my fur. That’s disgusting.”
Rho blushed furiously, mortified.
From the peak of the mountain, they observed through the thin barrier veil as cordons were formed around Post Town, and a search party was sent towards… the west.
“Looks like we might be safe, for now.” Es caught his breath and glared at Rho. “Now, tell me what on earth that was.”
***
Es spent a long time in the shower that evening, scrubbing away the grime—and perhaps the frustration—of the day. Obviously, Rho was forced to take one too. Afterward, Es made sure all the windows were shuttered and the door securely blocked before addressing Rho.
“Now,” Es began, “give me one good reason why I shouldn’t turn you in and take the credit for capturing the infamous outlaw of the Mist Continent… you.”
Rho shuffled uncomfortably, his thoughts spiraling.
I’m taking Es’ food and an amnesiac. I don’t have any value… and Es knows it. Seeing the despair in Rho’s eyes, Es’s expression softened just a bit.
“I’m pretty grateful for what happened after the Ruins, and the last two months have been fun,” Es admitted with a weary sigh. “You can stay here, for now. But I’m not going to sacrifice my ‘duty’ and ‘reputation’ for you.”
“I’m sorry for being a problem,” Rho began, but Es cut him off.
“That apology is about two months too late. If I cared, I would’ve kicked you out long ago. Thankfully for you, I’m skilled enough to provide for the both of us!” Es smirked, the bravado fully taking over whatever concern Rho had sensed earlier.
Right. Maybe I’m still here
because Es is a bit of a blowhard, Rho thought.
Es’s tone shifted, becoming more serious. “I was in Noe Town earlier for groceries. The authorities are saying it’s unlikely the outlaw will come near Noe Town or Post Town again. They’re focusing their search to the north and west. But I don’t trust them, and I can’t be sure no one’s seen you around here in the last two months.”
Rho’s stomach tightened. “So… what now?”
“We need a backup plan,” Es replied. Rho nodded, waiting for direction.
“Wait, sorry.
I need a backup plan,” Es corrected sharply. “I don’t dislike you, but I don’t protect outlaws. If you get caught, I need plausible deniability.”
Rho’s heart sank.
“That’s why I’m buying a house in Noe Town tomorrow,” Es continued, his eyes closed as he made up a haphazard strategy on the spot.
“That’s my alibi: Es leaves his run-down shack for a vacation in an upscale city apartment. It just so happens that the criminal, seeing his empty house, uses it for shelter.” The Espurr finished with a self-satisfied grin, clearly pleased with his plan.
Rho searched Es’s expression, hoping for a hint of reassurance about his situation, but found none. As Es muttered about property values and convenient escape routes, a chill settled in Rho’s chest.
He paced over to the bed of hay in the corner of the room, collapsed on to it, and wept. What was going to happen to him?
Tomorrow, Es would head to Noe Town—alone, as always. For the foreseeable future, Es would be looking out for number one.
And as for Rho, he was left to wonder just how much longer Es’ goodwill would last.