Pokémon Spring

[WildBoots]

Summary:
"It feels like I'm not a real trainer until I do this."
Chris Nakano has worked hard to become a trainer his dad would have been proud of. But his plans for the Indigo League slip sideways when he discovers a strange girl lying in the snow. A bittersweet, leisurely-paced coming of age story.

Rating: PG
Somewhat violent battles, off-screen death, and brief alcohol use

Spoiler: Rating Details

Like my other stories, this one is set in a realist version of the pokemon world. Trainers start at age eighteen instead of ten—pokemon can be dangerous, and so can the wilderness itself.

Regarding blood:
Chapter 7: Someone is bitten and it's bloody--message me for an edited version of the chapter.

Genres:
Coming of age, adventure

Status:
Moving slowly while I work on other projects! (More on that here.)

Other notes:
I took up this story as a writing challenge: I wanted to know if I could make a good narrative from the story my friends and I made up as little kids. That means it's had some growing pains, and I periodically go back and fix things. The most recent patch notes are here. I always appreciate comments of any kind!

Hope you enjoy!

--

Table of Contents:

Prologue - The Successor
1. Green
2. The Volunteer
3. The Tower
4. The Exchange
5. Visitations
Interlude: Compass
6. The Dead
7. Backbone
8. Shouganai
9. The Threshold
10. Armistice
11. The Fluke
Interlude: Fractals
12. The Mirror
13. The Gift (coming next!)

On AO3 | On FFN
Crossposted reviews appreciated but totally optional


Art by other people (😭 ❤ ):
Una and Suicune by @kintsugi​

 

[WildBoots]

Prologue: The Successor

Jasmine didn't immediately recognize the young trainer, even though she should've. He'd arrived early for his scheduled challenge, the first morning slot: not typical for the fall, but not unheard of either. The Olivine gym slowed down this time of year; most new trainers came at the end of spring, after graduation, and the middling trainers always tried to cram their challenges in before the winter conference.

This kid was definitely fresh out of Trainers Ed: his clothes were still too new, the single pokeball on his belt too shiny. She knew without having to ask that he only had one badge, if he had any yet. Had it been the busy season, she might've encouraged him to start in Violet or Azalea instead, both straightforward gyms and wilderness between here and there, which offered the opportunity to train and build his team. But it was fall. No one was in a rush.

She preferred a battle that made her think, but she could still give him a fair challenge.

It'll have to be Gimbal, she decided. From the tray set into the wall, she selected the ball that held the small, peevish magnemite she'd caught the other week.

The young trainer stood stiffly, like he was afraid to scuff the floors. He tipped back his head to gaze up at the domed ceiling until she called to him, "Welcome to Olivine Gym. Um. Thanks for being so punctual."

An odd look flickered across his face, so quickly she almost missed it.

She smiled through it. "I'm Jasmine, the gym leader. What's your name, challenger?"

He swallowed and stood a little straighter. "I'm Chris Nakano."

Jasmine tried to keep the surprise from her face. After all, she'd known to expect this when she took the job. Of course Hiro Nakano's only child would want to try his hand at pokemon training when he turned eighteen. She should've noticed the resemblance sooner; if not for his hairless cheeks and blue eyes, he'd look exactly like the former gym leader.

She remembered being startled a year ago when she'd seen Hiro's face looking back at her from a Pewter City newsstand. The strangeness of it had made her pause, and homesickness had made her buy a copy. On her lunch break, Jasmine had settled under the beech tree behind the gym with the paper and had finally seen the photos of the Olivine gym. Roof half-collapsed. Chunks of rubble the size of a human head and larger.

She and Muno had stayed after the gym closed to spar—rock smashing against rock until she couldn't tell if she felt sturdier with such creatures at her side or only terribly human and soft. Walking home, she'd still felt echoes of the vibrations coursing through her legs.

What was she supposed to say now? A year was too late to say sorry for your loss, even though she was. After all, Hiro had been the Olivine gym leader when she was growing up, too. When she'd returned home to fill the gym vacancy, she'd brought the Nakano family a fruit basket because she hadn't known what else to bring. Mrs. Nakano had invited her in for tea, but so clearly out of only politeness that Jasmine had excused herself.

And now she had welcomed Hiro's son to the gym where he must've grown up playing. Better not to say anything else now.

Chris Nakano wore the same expression as any other gym challenger: a little fierce, a little nervous. If he bore her any special resentment, it didn't show. She wouldn't blame him if he did—grief wasn't linear or rational.

"Well," said Jasmine. "I see you have one pokeball, so we'll make this one-on-one."

He nodded, then added, "I don't expect any special treatment."

She managed a smile. "Of course not."

Under the referee's gaze, the two of them shook hands and then moved to opposite sides of the room, footsteps echoing. Jasmine raised her arm to throw her pokeball and then stopped short.

"I'm sorry. One moment," she said and then turned back for Radican's ball. A gym leader's kid would've trained some already, officially or not. He could handle a magneton.

If there had been any doubt who's son Chris was, it vanished when he called out his pokemon and—oh no, a cyndaquil. Clearly family tradition.

Jasmine sent out Radican and let the young trainer have a moment to size them up. Then the League referee blew her whistle and Jasmine ordered, "Thunder wave."

The first few blasts missed—the cyndaquil was quick on its feet. Until it wasn't. Within minutes, Radican had knocked the cyndaquil onto its back, and then it was still.

Jasmine watched Chris crouch to check on his pokemon. He spoke to it in low tones, but she didn't catch the words from where she stood.

She offered, "Most trainers, um, don't manage it on the first try." And she'd overshot it.

The magneton circled her head, gleeful at their victory. She fanned them away like a fly.

Chris nodded. "I know." Gathering the cyndaquil into his arms, the young trainer started to turn away. He paused and looked back at her. "Thank you," he said, and with that, he left.

Jasmine watched him go, picking at her hangnails. Nothing she could do for him, not without giving special treatment. Instead she called to the referee, "If anyone else comes in today, could you, um, tell them I've gone for a walk?"

—

Jasmine had expected Chris to return to the gym, but she hadn't expected to see him again after only two days.

This time he had a sandshrew with him—a good idea. The second battle lasted longer than the first, but Radican left the sandshrew dizzy and clutching its head. The result was much the same as their first battle.

Chris sucked in his cheek, then recalled his pokemon. "Thank you for your time," he said again.

"I guess I'll see you around," she said, flashing an uncertain smile.

"I guess so."

—

The third time Chris Nakano challenged the Olivine gym, his mother came too, a little after the battle started. Out of the corner of her eye, Jasmine saw her creep in to take a seat in the empty bleachers, still wearing her hospital scrubs.

Over the years, Jasmine had hosted Indigo League Elites in her gym. Celebrity researchers. Foreign dignitaries. Even once, unknowingly, a mob boss. Being watched by Hiro's widow made her more nervous than any of them.

Jasmine stammered her commands to Radican. She won anyway, but at least the battle lasted longer than the others.

—

Before Chris Nakano's fourth challenge, Jasmine hesitated, passing Radican's pokeball back and forth between her hands. Finally, she said, "you know the gym will be here, right? There's nothing wrong with, um, coming back later." After a stomach-wrenching silence, she added, "There will always be a spot in the schedule for you."

His face was grim. "I need this badge. I want—I have to start things right."

She nodded. "Well … then … go ahead and choose your pokemon."

—

At the end of Chris Nakano's fifth challenge, Radican hit the tiles with a resounding clang, their buzzing gone quiet. He let out a sigh of relief before he grinned and ran to hug his sandshrew.

Jasmine sighed and smiled too.

In the bleachers, his mother jumped up with her hands clasped over her mouth. Proud … or distraught? Either way, she stood back to let her son have his moment.

When Chris recalled his pokemon and rose, Jasmine held out the badge to him. "Fair and square."

"Only took me five tries." He flashed a smile, a dimple in his left cheek but not the right.

"It pays for trainers to be a little stubborn."

At that, his smile faded. He carefully pinned the badge to the first slot in his worn leather case, turning away.

That was all right. Her job was to test trainers and give out badges, not to be their friend. She had almost ten years on him—she didn't need him to accept her.

All the same, she said, "You'll have to give me a rematch when you come back, um, after you've gotten all your badges." Jasmine chewed over the next part for a long moment, but Chris waited patiently. "You've done a lot in a few weeks. You could go far if you keep working this hard."

He narrowed his eyes—ah there it was, the anger and hurt she'd expected—but then he relaxed. "Yeah. I think I'd like that. I … I'm sorry. Thanks for taking good care of …." He waved a hand to indicate the gym, or maybe even Olivine more broadly. Then he shrugged, smiled, and pocketed his badge case.

She took a deep breath and made her final peace offering. "I've got big shoes to fill."

For a long, quiet moment they simply stood and shared the space.

"Yeah. Me too."

 

[WildBoots]

1: Green

Two years later.

Chris spotted the tree from up the slope, the orange patches along its trunk a shock in the gray landscape. Zip, his jolteon, bounded ahead to investigate, confirmation that something was off. As Chris drew closer, he realized with a sinking heart that the patches were claw marks, deep cuts that extended high above his head. He reached up to touch the grooves, and his fingers came away sap-sticky. Recent, then.

He looked around, but the surrounding pines were still, apart from Zip scuffling in the snow. In the distance, delibird called to each other. Then, through the branches ahead, Chris spotted the orange bark of another scarred tree. And beyond that would be more. Something had definitely passed through here, something big, and he hoped he was wrong about what it was.

Sliding out of his pack, he took his pokedex from the side pocket. It was an older model, one of the heavy-duty ones that looked like a graphing calculator. He'd managed to fend off automatic updates until a finger slip back in Goldenrod, and now the new software oozed sluggishly through the old machine; before it would scan, Chris had to turn it off and on and wipe the camera lens with the bottom edge of his shirt. Eventually, the pokedex vibrated once, and then the data for ursaring appeared on-screen.

He sighed, his breath a white plume. "Yeah, that's what I thought …."

Chris paged through his dex, screen lagging with each finger swipe. Finally, he came to the habitat description and map. Ursaring most commonly inhabit mountainous forests, the screen read, rarely living at elevations higher than 1,200 feet. In winter months, they dig dens for hibernation, often favoring hillsides.

But winter was over. The tree branches were tipped in buds almost ready to burst. Mud flowed beneath the crust of snow. In July, spring had finally come to the Ice Pass.

The rush of warmth wouldn't last beyond September, so the wildlife had to make the most of it. For an ursaring, that meant fighting for mates—trading blows that could smash trees—and then rearing cubs they'd defend to the death. This was absolute worst time to run across an ursaring.

Chris shut his pokedex and glanced back at his footprints winding up through the ravine. High limestone cliffs framed the ice-capped peaks known to locals as the Dragon's Spine. Breaks in the cliffs were cluttered with skeletal scrub brush and anemic trees. Alcoves and cave entrances dotted the wall, and the snow hid more underfoot—all too easy for a traveler to twist an ankle. The view ahead was more of the same. A sliver of sun peeked over the cliff wall, but within the hour it would sink and cast the canyon into shadow. This was his second day in the canyon; navigating through the ravine to open ground in either direction meant at least another day of travel, assuming the best conditions.

The memory of Dad's words rose up as clearly as a whisper in his ear: The only way out is through.

Looking back just once more, Chris shouldered his pack, called for Zip, and continued deeper into the canyon.

—

When Chris made camp a short while later, the first thing he did was string a line between two trees and hang his wettest clothes to dry. There was no wind, so he didn't bother to clip anything to the line. There wasn't much sun either, and he hoped it was enough to make a difference. Of course, his clothes would dry faster with help from his typhlosion, but Kosho made a show of how much he hated the cold every time he was out, so Chris tried to minimize the amount of time he had to spend in the snow.

Even Zip had been worn down by the cold, dripping and droopy-eared after crashing through a snowed-over hollow that had looked like solid ground. "I'll call you out again when I get the fire going," Chris said, recalling him.

Then, alone, he set about stomping out a flat space to set up the tent and then digging a fire pit. Before long, his face was flushed from the exertion, so he peeled off his coat before the sweat could soak through. As he turned to drape his coat over the drying line, he realized one of his socks was missing.

Chris had exactly three pairs of socks: two for hiking and one reserved only for sleeping, to help keep the tent clean and dry. If he lost a pair, that meant he no longer had dry ones to change into. And out here, wet feet meant frostbite.

Stupid! Why hadn't he taken the time to clip them in place?

He scanned for scrap of red wool among the pine needles, until a thump behind him prompted him to turn around. Low in the branches of pine perched a delibird, the first one he'd seen up close. From its beak dangled a red sock.

"Hey!"

The instant the shout left his mouth, the delibird made a graceless hop to the next tree, sending more snow thumping to the ground.

Chris scrambled to release his jolteon. At the sight of the delibird, Zip let out a bark, wet fur fizzling back into bristles. The delibird took off with a hoot, half-gliding and half-hopping, and Zip tore off after it in a spray of snow. The two of them disappeared into the trees.

Something red flickered in the corner of Chris's vision. He spun around in time to catch a second delibird tugging at his coat's dangling sleeve and a third landing on the drying line next to it; under the delibird's weight, the line sagged almost to the ground.

"Get out of here!" He ran waving his arms until the delibird scattered. The drying line bounced back and, like a slingshot, sent clothes flying. Cursing, Chris dove to collect them.

As he shook dirt and snow off his shirt, the two delibird toddled toward his coat again. "Stop that!" He snatched up the coat, sending the delibird fluttering out of reach, and balled it up under one arm.

Huffing and puffing, he watched them watching him from a safe distance. "What?" he demanded. "What do you want?"

Their eyes were huge and unblinking.

At last, Chris turned away … and when he looked over his shoulder, the delibird were shuffling closer again. An exasperated sound ripped out of him. "For the love of— what?"

Then he felt the lump in his coat pocket and remembered the pack of PokeBlocks. Fumbling and nearly dropping his shirt again, he dug out the package. "Is this what you wanted?" He chucked a block into the snow, and the delibird were on it in a heartbeat, jostling and squawking to get to it first.

Chris resealed the bag, his mouth a thin line. The PokeBlocks were supposed to be for his pokemon to reinforce their training, but ….

"Hey, guys." He held the bag up and shook it. When the delibird snapped their heads up to look, he smiled grimly. "Want these? Go get it!" With that, he flung it into the trees as hard as he could.

As he watched the delibird bumble and flap after the PokeBlock bag, Chris chuckled despite himself. Problem solved.

As Zip trotted up beside him, Chris turned wearily—and then broke into a grin. Panting, butt wiggling, Zip held one half of a red sock in his teeth.

—

Chris was sitting by the fire with his pokemon, mechanically shoveling rehydrated chili into his mouth, when Zip suddenly jumped up with his sparking fur bright against the dark woods. Kosho lifted his head from Chris's lap and growled. Chris squinted until he picked out movement among the shadows. The delibird were back.

Chris sighed. "Easy, Zip. Don't waste your energy."

Sure enough, even when the jolteon begrudgingly tucked his legs, the delibird came no closer than the firelight's edge. Still, there were a lot of them, an entire carol shuffling and cooing and fidgeting just out of sight—except for the occasional glint of yellow eyes.

"I don't have anything else for you," Chris called into the darkness. "I already gave you jerks all my PokeBlocks."

Something rolled across the snow until it bounced off Chris's boot: a black button. It hadn't come from anything of his. So, where—?

To the left, a delibird cooed, and a plastic fork clattered into the firelight. Another coo, then a penny landed in Chris's bowl. A pen cap bounced off Kosho's side, and the typhlosion snorted in annoyance.

"Hey! Watch it!" Chris warned, prompting Zip to hop back up, bristling with electricity.

The carol stilled for a moment.

Chris nudged the button away with his foot. He'd heard the stories about delibird leaving gifts on doorsteps and rescuing travelers, but he hadn't expected those stories to be literal. Or that the delibird's gifts would be so ordinary. Maybe the plastic trinkets looked more spectacular in wavelengths Chris couldn't see. Maybe the delibird thought they were giving up their greatest treasures for more PokeBlocks.

"Sorry," he said, chuckling, "but I still don't have anything!"

A prescription pill jar rolled out of the darkness and hit his foot, one remaining pill rattling inside. Clearly, he wasn't the first passing trainer these delibird had robbed. Or maybe someone had simply been careless packing up.

Chris picked up the bottle and read: Penelope L. Tait. No one he'd heard of. He wondered if she'd already made it to Blackthorn. While Chris sat in the snow with one and a half pairs of dry socks, she was probably celebrating a win at the gym .

Unless, of course … Penelope was just one more trainer who'd never made it to her destination.

He felt a chill that had nothing to do with the snow. Chris was no longer afraid of sleeping alone in the wilderness, but he also knew it was the cocky trainers who misstepped and paid dearly for it. For the first time in months, he had to wonder … what evidence of his journey would be left on this mountain for someone else to find if he took a bad fall?

"Okay, that's it. Zip, go."

As Zip threw himself into the carol, sending sparks and feathers flying, Chris bent to gather up the delibird's plastic treasures. He'd do the responsible thing and pack it out with the rest of his own trash.

When he cleared away camp the next day, all that marked where he'd been was an indentation in the snow scattered with red feathers.

—

On the third day in the ravine, Chris hiked alone, trying to outrace the shadows the poured across the canyon floor.

The air had turned bitingly cold, no longer invigorating; Chris didn't want to be out in this himself, let alone make his pokemon slog through it with him, but that wasn't the real reason he'd recalled them. And although it was true he didn't want to antagonize an ursaring—there were signs of them all around now, including a tree that had been completely splintered—that wasn't it either.

More than anything, he wanted to get through this leg of the journey as quickly as possible. He couldn't bear to wait another year for his shot at the Indigo Conference. His pokemon were slow in the snow, most of them for lack of enthusiasm and the rest for an overabundance of it: Slapdash would climb every tree if Chris let him, and Zip was better at discovering hidden holes than getting out of them. The woods were too quiet without his pokemon, but it was only for a little while.

One more badge and they were in. Just one more.

Thick snowflakes fell with no sign of letting up, the sky flat and gray as paper. All morning, he'd been sliding and sticking in the mud, but now it crunched underfoot. When he wasn't watching his feet, he was watching the twisted pines for signs of movement. A few hours ago, he'd spotted a band of sneasels. They'd kept their distance, but he didn't want to be caught by surprise if they reappeared. The problems he expected were mundane, the kind that could be avoided with preparation and a wary eye.

He raised his eyes again in time to see a green light pulse through the trees ahead and then fade. With a series of thumps, snow dropped from all of the trees at once. Over the swish of branches came a hum, growing louder. Something flickered past Chris, but it was already gone by the time he turned. And then all fell silent.

Chris stopped at the bottom of the slope and stared up into the copse of trees through frosted lashes, holding his breath and listening hard. Wind whistled over the canyon walls. Nothing moved but the tips of the tree branches bobbing on the wind. Snowflakes tumbled down.

With one hand to his belt, Chris continued slowly into the trees. Whatever was ahead, it wasn't an ursaring. His heart pounded a fearful rhythm, but curiosity drew him forward all the same. He was his father's son, so he knew there would be an explanation if he kept his eyes and ears open.

As Chris neared the top of the slope, he spotted a blue lump on the ground ahead. One moment it was nothing, a shadow on the snow or a fallen branch. The next, peering around tree trunks, he realized it was fabric. An arm.

His heartbeat stuttered. He tried to speak but found his tongue stuck dry to the roof of his mouth. Swallowing, he tried again. "Hello? Are you okay?"

Boots sliding, he scrambled up the slope, and the rest came into view. What Chris had taken at first for a shadow was a woolen cloak with a hood. A girl, sprawled out as if sleeping. Her golden curls spilled free, glittering with freshly fallen snow. The cloak fell partly open to reveal a robe with flowing sleeves quilted in blue and white diamonds. Her forearms and calves lay bare, thin and so pale the veins were visible. She wore sandals, each made from a single piece of leather wrapped around the sides of the foot and laced shut across the top, leaving toes and ankles bare. Her exposed toes, fingers, and cheeks were red with cold. No pokeballs that he could see.

Chris had seen more than one under-prepared trainer on his travels, but this went well beyond a pitiable mistake: this was life-threatening.

He swiveled to scan the clearing and saw nothing but more trees. No pokemon, no tent, no signs of a struggle. Just an unconscious girl dressed for a summer festival. How had she made it this far into the canyon alone?

It didn't matter now.

Chris dropped his backpack, leaving it where it landed, and squatted at the girl's side."Hey, can you hear me?" He rocked her shoulder. "Hey! Come on. Wake up."

Her head lolled to one side from his shaking and then fell still.

Cursing, Chris flung a glove into the snow and held his hand over her nose and mouth. He thought he felt her breathing, but it was so faint he wasn't sure. His stomach gave a horrible lurch. Gods, oh gods. Trembling, he pressed his first two fingers against her neck, fumbling to find the artery … and let his breath out in a whoosh when he finally detected a slow pulse.

"Oh man." Biting the inside of his cheek, he sat back on his heels and stared up through the skeletal branches. Daylight was fading fast. He removed his other glove, rubbed his face, and returned his gaze to the girl. When he felt her sleeve, he was unsurprised to find it damp, snow already seeping through. "Oh man."

He needed to do something quickly.

A golden brooch held the outer cloak shut. He unpinned it, careful to knock the accumulated snow onto the ground. Then, swallowing, he reached towards the sash that held the robe together—but stopped mid-air and clamped his hands around his ankles instead, drumming his fingers on the tops of his boots.

No. Well, he'd have to, even if he didn't like it. But first, he could buy a little time.

He stood, pocketed his gloves, and at last released Kosho from his pokeball.

The typhlosion stretched as he materialized, raking his claws across the frozen ground. Then he raised his bearlike face and sniffed the air. Fully solidified, on all fours, his head was at the right height to nudge Chris's hand for a scratch.

"Hey, buddy." Chris pulled away and pointed. "I need you over here."

At Chris's sharp tone, Kosho perked his ears and became serious, ready to become dangerous.

Chris patted the ground next to the girl. "Come here. Lie down."

Kosho lumbered between Chris and the girl, pausing to sniff her hair. Then he shuffled his paws in the snow and groaned.

"I know it's cold, but I can't help it. Could you lie down, please?"

With a hand motion from Chris, Kosho gave a moaning growl, tongue flopping, stretched once more, and then settled onto the muddy snow.

Chris nudged him with a knee. "Over." Even with his flames retracted, the heat of Kosho's fur was enough to instantly melt the snowflakes off Chris's pants.

Snorting a puff of steam, Kosho shifted and rolled until he lay beside the girl—not as if she were something precious to be shielded but as if she were a pile of rocks.

Nonetheless, Chris bent to rub the tips of Kosho's ears. "Thank you."

Turning his back to them both, Chris grabbed his backpack and knelt to paw through it. At the very top was the first aid kit. He began to set it aside but stopped to take out his last two chemical hand warmers from the zippered pouch. These he tucked into his pockets before placing the rest on the ground beside him. Next were the various piece of his mess kit, which he stacked atop his first aid kit. Beneath the extra set of clothes and the repair kit, he finally uncovered his tent.

The stakes, poles, and the body of the tent itself he leaned against a nearby tree. After stamping down a reasonably flat space next to the girl, he laid the rain fly on the snow. He set the thin foam sleeping pad on top, then the sleeping bag, which he laid open.

That was everything.

He paused, glancing back. Kosho watched with mild curiosity. Beside him, the girl lay as still as a corpse.

Chris wiped his brow and tugged the rain fly a fraction of an inch closer. Chris was familiar with emergency first aid, both from the classes required to get his license and from growing up with a nurse for a mom. But this was a real person, not a practice dummy. Noting the darkening sky, he swept his gaze over the clearing, his stacked supplies, and then finally allowed his eyes to fall upon the girl again. She was shivering, and he was wasting time.

Finally, he reached his hands beneath the girl and rolled her onto the sleeping bag. A smooth transition. But that was the easy part.

He let out a long breath. "Okay," he said to the air, as if the word could calm his fluttering stomach. Even as he reached towards her, his face warmed with shame. But he pushed through it and began to pull at the knotted cord that held her robe together. "I'm sorry. I swear I'm just trying to help you."

Finally, he worked the knot loose, then slid free the sash belt. He fought the urge to avert his eyes, but—he heaved a sigh of relief to see she wore silk slip underneath, dry enough to leave alone. After that, pulling his dry shirt over her head was easier. As he fumbled to get her limp arm through the sleeve, he noticed the one other thing she wore: an iridescent gold feather the size of his hand hung on a string around her neck. He didn't pause to wonder about it. When he bent to remove her sandals, her feet were like ice. He started to rub one of her feet between his palms, then gave up and worked faster to get her into his sweatpants and then the sleeping bag.

The moment before he pulled away, her eyes fluttered open. Her gaze was unfocused for a moment before locking onto Chris, freezing him to the spot.

The hair rose on his arms.

"Cold," she said, so quiet he almost didn't hear.

"It's going to be alright. I'm going to get you help." He leaned over her for the sleeping bag zipper pull.

She reached up to pluck a tiny red feather from the front of his coat. Delibird down. He hadn't even noticed it there. "Rainbow wings," she mumbled.

"You're going to be alright," he repeated, gently turning her onto her side.

Her eyes closed again.

Chris took the hand warmers from his pocket, crushed them to activate the heat, and shoved them down towards her feet. Then he pulled the sleeping bag around her face, wet hair and all. Her arm still dangled out of the bag, the feather stuck wetly to her fingers. When he moved to tuck it into the sleeping bag, her hand closed around his.

She was very pretty, he realized. What was she doing out here?

After a long moment, he spoke in a voice hardly above a whisper, surprising himself, "What's your name?"

She didn't respond with so much as a sigh.

In silence, he watched her breathe for a few moments, ignoring the snow soaking this knees until his free arm began to ache from supporting all his weight. He gently disengaged his hand from hers.

Dusting the remaining delibird feathers off his coat, he climbed to his feet. His heart was still pounding, but the air was still. He motioned for Kosho to lie beside the girl again, steadied himself with a breath, and got back to work.

He set up the tent and, with some effort, pulled the girl inside using the rain fly as a sling. Then he reinstalled Kosho at her side and zipped them in together.

With that done, there was only one task left.

He glanced at his Bitflex, but of course, it still displayed only no signal. Out here, there was no radio, no GPS, and definitely no phone service. It might as well just be a watch. With a sigh, he went to his backpack.

The PLB—personal locator beacon—hung from an outside strap on his pack. It resembled a small, squat flashlight without a bulb, heavy for its size. The switch at the bottom was difficult to move on purpose. He had never had to flip that switch before. Not in Union Cave, seized by panic that he'd never find his way back up to daylight. Not after wandering Ilex Forest for days, unsure whether he was walking in circles. This time there was no other option.

He briefly indulged in the idea of loading the girl onto Thorn, his skarmory. But he'd never tried something like that before. Thorn probably wasn't quite big enough to carry the two of them and, clever though she was, she wouldn't get back to Mahogany without his guidance. Besides, it would be too much jostling and bouncing, and he didn't know if the girl had a concussion or even something worse. The risk was too much.

"Suck it up," Chris scolded himself. He flicked the switch with an audible snap.

Nothing happened. Or, at least, nothing immediately obvious. The signal beaming SOS out to orbital satellites, the screaming alarms at the local receptor station on the ground, orders being barked, the emergency team donning their suits, the computer technician reading the output and tracking the location of the metal cylinder clutched in Chris's hand—this all had to be imagined.

In the meantime, there was nothing for Chris to do but wait.

He turned a circle, snow crunching beneath his feet. Pale sky and blue cliff peeked between the dark trees. The sun sank imperceptibly lower, and the snow kept drifting down. Even with Kosho sitting feet away, Chris had never felt so alone in the canyon. Perhaps never in all the months he'd been training.

He paced around the clearing but dared not go far. He craned his head back to search for a helicopter he knew could not have possibly arrived yet. Not so much as a delibird crossed the sky. After his second lap, he began to pick through the snow for fallen branches, but unsurprisingly the wood he found was too green and wet to burn.

Rubbing his hands together, Chris returned to sit on the tent floor beside his pokemon. He pressed his hands to the warmth of Kosho's back until they no longer stung from the cold. Kosho sighed contentedly and lay his head on Chris's knee. The heat radiating from his fur, even when at rest, was so intense that Chris unzipped his coat. However, the ground beneath them was still cold through the tent floor. He hoped the girl was warm enough.

After checking the girl's pulse again (unchanged, as far as he could tell), he hopped up to re-sort his piles of gear. Finally, he uncovered his mess kit and took out what he needed for tea.

He brought the ziplock bag of loose leaf tea to his nose and breathed deeply. It was a blend of green teas and herbs from the Olivine hills, toasted on the camp stove. The standard in Olivine was to add sugar and milk, but Chris took his tea New Bark-style, like Dad..

When Mom worked the night shift, Dad was the one who'd roused him for school and gotten breakfast into him. Mom taught him how to ride a bike, but Dad taught him how to make breakfast: omelet, natto, miso soup. And a proper cup of tea.

After a moment, Chris resealed the bag and pocketed it. He listened to the hiss of his camp stove, staring at nothing.

He shook his head and turned to look at the girl's cloak and outer robe where they still lay on the ground, and then got up for a better look. The diamond pattern wasn't made of solid color blocks at all but many blue and white stitches that revealed intricate scenes: a stantler under cherry blossoms, a river lined with trees, lotus flowers and bowls of fruit floating before a temple. All of it looked hand-embroidered, the stitches tight but unequal in length. Along the edges of the fabric were even more tiny diamonds. He had never seen a piece of clothing decorated with such care.

Chris peeled the blue and white robe up from the wet cloak beneath, shook it out, and then draped it between two sturdy tree branches. The lack of direct sun would prevent it from drying much, but at least it was off the ground.

After rubbing the sleek fabric between his fingers one more time—it felt like silk—he turned his attention to the cloak. For the first time, he noticed the shape of the brooch pinned to the hood: a bird pokemon, wings spread, feathers suggested by a crude chevron pattern. He thought he recognized it, but he wasn't sure from where. The brooch was blockier than the Johto 'Geottos logo. Like the robe, it looked handmade, hammer marks visible all over the surface and edges ragged in some places.

He picked up the cloak as well, brushing snow from the folds. As he scouted around for a suitable place to hang it, the cloak being much heavier than the robe, something green in the corner of his eye caused him to glance down. He nearly dropped the cloak in shock.

Where the girl had lain was a patch of perfect storybook green, lush grass and clover dotted with tiny flowers. He hadn't seen anything that green anywhere in the canyon. He prodded at the surrounding snow with the toe of his boot and revealed nothing beneath but black earth and pine needles. No grass there. On a whim, he ruffled the grass with his hand and found it wet but warm.

A trainer's pokemon. That was the only possible explanation. But then … where had they gone, and why had they left the girl behind to freeze? No matter how he tried to see it the way Dad would, Chris couldn't make sense of any of it.

Frowning, he hung the cloak in the trees, its weight bowing branches, and returned to sit on a rock beside his camp stove and windshield. Over and over, his eyes returned to that patch of grass shaped like a human body.

Inside the tent, Kosho sighed contentedly as hey lay dozing, curled around the girl like nothing was strange about this at all.

Chris sipped his tea in silence, watching the grass (still there) and the sky (still empty). He checked his Bitflex again, though he didn't need to see the time to know it was getting darker out. And colder. The next time he checked her pulse, the girl was shivering agin. Zipping his own coat higher, he rose to gather up snow to melt for another cup of tea, then waited some more.

He was drinking his third cup of tea when he heard the helicopter in the distance. Heart hammering, Chris leapt to his feet. He paused only to snatch the cloak from the branch where it hung, then ran toward the sound of the approaching helicopter. He half-sprinted and half-slid downhill, jumping over exposed roots and fallen logs. The noise grew louder and louder until his ears throbbed. Just as he broke through the trees, he watched the red emergency services helicopter glide into view over the canyon wall.

"Over here!" Chris shouted, but he could hardly hear himself. With two hands he waved the cloak overhead, droplets spattering his arm with each snap. The wet cloth was heavy, and his arms quickly began to tire.

To his immense relief, the helicopter banked and began to descend. Surrounding trees shivered, shedding pine needles and snow. The racket became even louder, forcing Chris to cover his ears. The wind battered him, ripping back his hood, tossing ice flecks in his face and slapping the cloak against him. He planted his feet and hid his face in his shoulder.

A few feet above the ground, the chopper halted and hovered in place. A side door slid open, and a woman in a helmet, jumpsuit, and a reflective neon vest jumped down. As she jogged to meet Chris, he noticed that among other tools clipped to her belt was a full set of six masterballs. He had never seen them carried by anyone other than a police officer. That was one way to subdue an attacking pokemon, he supposed.

Over the noise, she shouted, "Are you injured?"

"I'm fine," Chris yelled back, "but there's a girl over there in the trees. I left her with my pokemon but she needs help. She's unconscious."

She scrunched her shoulder to speak into the short-range radio clipped onto her jumpsuit. It crackled in response, but Chris couldn't hear over the helicopter rotors. Then she shouted to Chris, "How far is it?"

"Not far. Maybe a hundred feet up the hill."

The paramedic relayed this information via radio, then ran back to the helicopter. Someone fed a stretcher with raised sides and straps through the door, and she caught the end. A second paramedic hopped down, supporting the other end of the stretcher. An espeon in a matching Tyvek vest hopped out behind him, landing daintily. As they approached Chris, the helicopter roared into the air.

"Show us the way!"

With the paramedics and their espeon following closely behind, Chris picked his way through the trees once again. He unzipped the tent door and recalled Kosho to make room for the two paramedics. Before he finished clipping Kosho's pokeball back onto his belt, the paramedics were already kneeling on either side of the girl. One unrolled space blankets, the synthetic fabric crinkling, while she updated the helicopter crew via radio. The other asked questions about the girl and what had happened. Chris had few answers. The espeon crouched beside the girl's head, its eyes wide and somber.

Finally, one paramedic announced, "Let's get her into the helicopter."

They bundled the girl up in space blankets, the shiny material reflecting streaks of light around the clearing. The helicopter rotors clattered louder, softer, and louder again as it wheeled overhead. Red flashed through the trees. Then, "On three. One, two, three—" they moved her into the stretcher and strapped her in while Chris stood aside, chewing his lip.

One of the paramedics radioed the helicopter. The other motioned the espeon forward as the helicopter came into view overhead. The espeon's handler said something to it, inaudible over the helicopter, and its eyes began to glow. Light haloed the stretcher. Another round of back and forth radio static, and then the stretcher began its slow rise to the helicopter's waiting doors.

Chris craned his neck back to follow her gleaming, silver-wrapped body rising through the treetops. His stomach felt leaden, but not until the paramedic spoke did he finally look away.

"We'll fly her to the nearest hospital in Mahogany Town. You saved her life."

"Yeah …" Chris skimmed his eyes over his scattered camp gear, the robe still hanging in the tree. Lastly, he turned to look up at the Dragon's Spine peaks overhead, visible only as silhouettes now. His final badge was waiting for him, but …

She was going to wake up alone. Maybe she knew someone in Mahogany, he reasoned, but it rang false even inside his own head. That robe was too luxurious for the dinky little lake town. And then there was the patch of grass.

Perhaps his final gym badge could wait a few more days.

He spun to face the two paramedics. "Can I come with you?"

 

[WildBoots]

2: The Volunteer

Chris must've slept, because he remembered little of the journey back to Mahogany. As they began to descend, he stretched his arms—because that was all the room he had to move, hunched in the corner with his backpack—and watched the dull orange streetlights below draw nearer. The helicopter made a low arc, and the medical center came into view below.

He hardly had time to digest the fact of landing before the door slid open and the paramedics were gone, pushing the stretcher towards the hospital doors. He tottered to his feet, nearly hitting his head, shouldered his pack, and staggered after them. Moments later, he was squinting against the fluorescent lobby lights. A cluster of hospital staff in pale green scrubs converged on the stretcher. Together with one of the paramedics, they wheeled the girl away down the hall in a flash of silver space blanket.

The other paramedic stayed behind, leaning one arm against the front counter while he gave a radio update.

When he was through, the gray-haired woman at the desk asked, "Another trainer?"

"No, I don't think so."

Chris approached, moving as if waterlogged. "Excuse me, when will we know if she's alright?"

The paramedic turned and said, "Only time will tell for sure, but she's getting the best possible care now. I don't think there's cause for real worry at this point." He clapped Chris on the shoulder with startling strength. "You did the right thing, you know. It's nice to see a trainer with some practical sense."

Chris forced a smile. "Uh, thanks. I was worried she might not …." He trailed off. "I just wanted to make sure she was going to be okay."

The woman at the front desk piped up, "You're welcome to take a seat and wait a little while in case there are any updates. Your pokemon doing okay? You can heal them down the hall while you wait." At the surprised look on his face, she added, "It's the same building. We've just got the one here."

"Yeah, that's a good idea."

Chris dropped off his belt in the other wing of the building and came back. As he walked, he realized he did in fact recognize the beige tile and the waiting room chairs that looked like they had last been upholstered forty years ago. He chose the seat that looked the least worn, propped his feet up on his backpack, and tried to make some progress on his paperback.

The book was an easy read, nothing of real substance, but he struggled to concentrate. Each time someone went in or out of the door he snapped to attention, but it was always a nurse bringing out paperwork or fresh coffee for his coworker. Chris kept catching himself staring into space. Finally, he stood to buy peanut M&M's from the nearby vending machine if only to occupy his hands for a few minutes.

He'd been sitting for over an hour already. Did that mean something had gone wrong? There was no way for him to know how long she'd been lying there before he stumbled upon her. He thought again of her fingers and toes red with cold, how easily he could have taken another path up the hill and missed her entirely. He flinched, imagining what could've been.

Stop it, Chris scolded himself, and then he forced himself back into his book.

The next thing he knew, someone was shaking him awake. "You don't have to stay here all night," said the woman from the front desk.

"Have you heard anything?" he said, voice thick with sleep.

"Sometimes no news is good news. Why don't you come back in the morning, after you've both had a chance to rest. You can get your sleeping bag back then, too. You need help finding a place to stay?"

"No, that's okay. I'll get out of your hair."

"It's no trouble."

"I can manage." He collected his pokemon and then set out into the night.

The phone line rang and rang at Chris's wrist as he walked. It was much warmer on this side of the mountain, and Chris had to stop and stuff his coat into his pack. Humidity nullified all other sounds but the crickets. Fireflies hovered over puddles, and the sky was thick with crisp stars so unlike the flat, purplish blur of light pollution above home. Here, the line between town and wilderness was blurred.

Though the street lights were dim, the trainer hostel was not difficult to find. It was as he remembered: one block north of the gym, across from a small grocery market (closed at this hour) was a narrow, a two-story cabin with a wooden sign hanging crookedly above the front door. Like most other buildings in town, The Indigo Chateau was built from blocks of blue-gray stone, but it was the only one besides the gym taller than a single story. Only one of the downstairs lights was lit.

As he rounded the corner and The Chateau came into view, a tinny voice at his wrist called out, "Hullo, Indigo Chateau. Hello?"

Chris brought the Bitflex watch closer to his mouth. "Hi. Sorry to be calling so late—"

"Believe me, that's not exactly out of the norm." The hostel manager didn't have his video feed turned on—or, more likely, didn't have one—but the scowl was clear from his voice.

"This is sort of an emergency. Do you have any beds available for tonight?"

A creak, a shuffling of paper. "There is one." The light in the front room downstairs came on. "That you walking up? I'll meetcha at the front in a second."

A click, then silence.

Chris tried the front door and found it locked, but within he heard footfalls approaching. The manager lived on the bottom level in a back room, he remembered. He had seen the little cot and the potbelly stove through the open doorway behind the front desk, a sight that had made him feel inexplicably sad. Chris must have woken the old man up.

The door opened.

The old man wore a cable-knit sweater, even in this heat. He squinted at Chris. "I remember you," he said. "You left just a coupla days ago."

Chris shrugged and smiled. "I beat Pryce."

"Had a little trouble in the mountains though, eh?" He barked a laugh that made Chris jump in surprise. "Emergency services brought you right back, I see."

"Not exactly," Chris said, reddening.

The old man wheezed another laugh. "You're hardly the first this year, don't you worry." He turned and padded into the cool dark, waving for Chris to follow.

By the light spilling in from the back room, the old manager found the light switch. The lobby remained dim, however, partly on account of the single bulb in the old fashioned light fixture and partly because of the dark-colored furniture. Against one wall stood a longcase clock, atop which perched a horrifying taxidermy hoothoot that looked centuries old.

"Now …." The manager lowered himself painstakingly into the chair. He unlocked a desk drawer, pulled out the ledger book, and cracked it open. Licking the pad of his thumb and flipping to a blank page, he said, "You know the drill. First you pay, then you get your bed."

"Right." Chris clicked a button to open the hollow compartment in his belt buckle and slid out his Trainer OneCard.

"I hope you didn't wake me up for nothing. You know how this works." He hooked his thumb at the sign on the wall behind him: Cash only.

"Sorry, I forgot." Chris pinched the roll of bills from his belt buckle compartment. "How much is it again?"

"How many nights you need?"

"Just one, I'm pretty sure."

"Sure or just pretty sure? We've had more trainers through here lately than you can shake a stick at. Come morning, you might find you can't get a bed if you want one. I can't guarantee you anything you don't pay for here and now."

"I'll be okay with just one night."

The old man grunted and shrugged. "That's thirty dollars then. Towel rental is two."

"It was less last time."

"It's almost the end of League eligibility. Demand goes up, the price goes up."

Thirty dollars for a few hours on a musty mattress. With that money, he could buy two decent bowls of hot stew and rice, a weeks' worth of meals in dry goods and fresh produce, repairs for his boots and tent … His stack was thinning. But because the only other option was hiking to the marshland outside the city and pitching his tent on a mud puddle in the dark, Chris peeled three tens off the roll of bills. "I don't need a towel."

The old man licked his fingers to count the bills. Then he began to fill out the ledger in spidery scrawl. "I'll take that card now."

Chris set it on the desk. He watched the old manager copy down his information for a moment and then asked, "Hey, how did you know about the emergency services anyway?"

The old man wheezed a laugh. "Son, when one of those helicopters goes out, the whole town hears it."

"Oh."

The manager finished writing, tore off the carbon copy for Chris, and snapped the ledger shut. "Bunk 4A, up the stairs on the right. You remember where the bathrooms are? Kitchen? Lockers?"

"I think I got it." Chris hoisted his backpack off the floor. "Thank you. Have a good night."

Up the creaky claustrophobic stairs, down a hallway lit by night lights, Chris found the room. Someone was asleep in 4A, a snoring heap amid blankets. Below that was 4B, occupied by a white guy with dreadlocks whose limbs dangled over the sides of the cot. Atop 4C, a girl read a tattered paperback by headlamp. A vulpix was curled in her arms despite signs posted all throughout the hostel that warned, All pokemon must remain inside pokeballs AT ALL TIMES! She didn't so much as look up to acknowledge Chris when he dropped his pack on the empty bunk below her.

He fell asleep the moment he laid down, still on top of the blankets.

—

Chris dreamed of snow and woke sweating. He'd set no alarm but rose with the sun, as he did every morning. The girl with the vulpix was already gone. The other two were still asleep, though Dreadlocks' head now lay where his feet had been during the night.

Quietly to avoid disturbing the sleepers, Chris pulled everything damp from his pack and laid it across the now-empty bunk above his to air out. He secured his pack in the footlocker under the bunk and then headed out into the crisp morning.

It was six a.m., too early to call home and too early for a hospital visit. He turned north towards the lake instead, walking slowly with no particular plan. However, since there was little of the sleepy town to see, he still passed through quickly.

Between the irregularly spaced houses, The Lake of Rage shone through, dark and glittering. A grassy slope gave Chris a lookout point into the bowl carved by the lake's high and low years. Around the docks, the men of the town clustered, baiting and casting fishing lines. On the western lip of the lake, a pair of trainers battled. Fortunately for the fishermen, the battle was driving the magikarp towards them. To the east, the gradual curve of highlands cut up sharply into the Dragon's Spine Mountains.

He'd be halfway to Blackthorn by now if he'd stayed.

Chris gazed at the mountains with his hands in the pockets, letting the distance tear at him. There were only a few weeks left for him to reach Blackthorn City on the other side of those mountains, challenge Clair, claim a badge, and travel all the way to the Indigo Plateau in time to register for the annual conference. Coming back here was flirting with failure. Dad had expected better from him.

But he couldn't just leave the girl behind without knowing she was alright. His thoughts snagged on unanswerable questions: how did she end up in the middle of nowhere? Who was she?

The aroma of fried food finally pulled his attention downhill towards the lake. Across the road from the docks was a tiny food cart pulled by a bike. As Chris made his way down the slope, he watched the vendor unhook his bike, collapse it, and hang it on the back of the cart. Chris arrived just as the vendor unshuttered the window.

Chris ordered a magikarp-shaped pancake with a red bean filling. It heated his hands through the tinfoil wrapping. He paid the small sum and then, balancing the pancake in the crook of an elbow, retreated to a distance to count the remainder of his cash more carefully. He had a little over two hundred dollars in hand and not much more than that on his OneCard. With a sigh, he returned the money to his belt buckle compartment.

He had also burned his tongue.

Chewing as he walked, he meandered towards the piers. The water grew clearer and brighter with each moment, revealing green muck at the bottom and flashes of red and gold fins. His lapras would enjoy the lake. But he also knew the fishermen would be upset if he let her out here, and so he left her on his belt. They spoke little and in low voices, but not so low that Chris couldn't hear the punchline to a dirty joke.

From the across the water came the occasional shout or splash. One of the trainer's houndoom shuffled out of the lake shallows and shook itself off, head hanging. Chris saw the opponent's reflection on the water first, then tracked it upward. The pidgeot made to dive-bomb again, and the houndoom lunged to meet it—then splashed down with a howl that echoed across the water. But the pidgeot hadn't gotten away unscathed either. It pulled out of its dive with blood spreading across its breast feathers.

Chris could tell the pidgeot was going to win, but he found himself rooting for the houndoom anyway. His dad had trained one named Oji.

The houndoom dragged itself ashore, ducking the pidgeot's talon swipes. It snapped after the pidgeot's tail, huffing out flame with the effort, but it missed. Oji would've put this houndoom to shame.

When Chris was fourteen, Dad had once invited him to command Oji in a sparring match against one of the gym trainers. "Go on," he'd said, stepping back and folding his arms.

Of course, Chris knew all of his dad's command words and managed to stammer one out. Still, it came as a delicious surprise when Oji complied and sprang forward with shadow licking out from between his teeth. Probably the houndoom had only obeyed because his trainer was standing there watching, but it had still felt good.

When they'd returned home that evening, Mom had said, "I heard your father is having you do his job." Her tone was teasing but her fingers drummed on the table.

"It's perfectly safe as long as I'm there," Hiro answered with a shrug and a smile.

"I know." She said it like it pained her.

Chris had ducked his head and tried to squeeze past, but she'd caught him and pulled him into a hug.

"I just don't want you to grow up too fast."

For a moment Chris closed his eyes and let himself miss them both.

Across the water, the two battling pokemon tangled so tightly they looked like one creature. Now and again a wing emerged. A tail. A horn. Their trainers' shouts grew louder and more plaintive, but it seemed to matter little at this point. Soon there would be an obvious loser, then the other would collapse too, a their trainers would have to deal with the outcome.

Now was his chance. He dusted crumbs off himself and unhurriedly made his way towards them.

The houndoom's trainer was handing the other trainer a few bills. Chris was close enough to see his scowl. The pidgeot perched atop the fallen houndoom, announcing its dominance to any onlooker. It held one bloodied wing away from its body but kept its head high. As its trainer recalled it, she looked up to see Chris approaching.

"That's an impressive pidgeot."

"Thanks."

"I'd really like to battle you, if that's alright. Do you have any pokemon left?"

"So polite." She looked Chris up and down. "I have three."

The other trainer folded his arms.

"What would you say to a hundred for best two out of three and an extra fifty for a complete knockout?"

She squinted. "How many badges do you have?"

"Seven. For now."

She grinned and reached to shake his hand. "I'd love to double my earnings."

Chris swallowed but shook her hand firmly. After watching the last fight, he knew her style. The money was his.

"Release on three?"

"Let's go."

To her credit, she didn't underestimate him. In the first round, her steelix literally drove Pocky, his girafarig, into the ground. Chris felt it too, an echo of pain shooting through his head when his mental connection with Pocky broke.

Round two was a surprise for them both when Chris released his jolteon and she a raichu. Their preliminary stabs of electricity fazed neither pokemon—a form of bragging with no actual force behind it—but left Chris's hair standing on end. His opponent tried to leverage the raichu's weight to push Zip into the lake and pin him underwater. She came close, but Chris hadn't named him for nothing: Zip ran circles around the raichu, getting in a quick bite or pin missile before darting out of reach. The raichu was too worn down to fight him off when he finally pounced.

For the final round, Chris sent out Thorn and she a gengar. At the look on her face, Chris knew he had secured his payout. Thorn tore through the gengar's smoggy veil—Chris and his opponent pulled their t-shirts over their mouths—and made quick work of it with a few swipes of her wing blades.

The houndoom trainer smoked a cigarette beneath a tree and watched the gengar sink in on itself and fall.

"Wow," said the girl, recalling her fallen pokemon. "I hope that's not a preview of how the Indigo Conference will go for me." But she smiled as she shook his hand.

"Good match."

Chris felt a weight lift off his shoulders as they transfered credits from her OneCard to his. That was a little more padding between him and rock bottom. At least he hadn't doubled back for nothing.

As Chris put away his card, she fiddled with her necklace. "What's your TN handle? I'll tag you."

"My what?"

"Your Trainer Network profile?"

"Oh, I don't really use it." He hadn't realized she'd been filming the fight, but now he saw the glint of a camera lens in the necklace charm she wore. He wished she would've warned him or asked. "It's … not really my thing."

"To each his own, I guess. You can make decent money as a brand-promoter though, you know. Takes some of the pressure off."

"I'll keep that in mind," he said, already starting to edge away. He snuck a glance at his Bitflex. Surely the hospital's visiting hours were open by now. "I gotta go take care of a few things. Thanks again for the battle."

—

Even in daylight, the fluorescent light hurt his eyes. He went to the desk where the gray-haired woman from the night before either still sat or sat again. "Hi, I'm here to visit the girl who came in last night."

"Of course. You think I'd forget your face that fast?" She typed something and squinted at her screen. "It looks like visitors are allowed, but you'll have to check your belt and pokeballs here. We'll send them across the hall to the pokemon center for you if you like. Don't worry, you'll get them back when you leave."

"What? Why?"

"That's the policy for all psych ward patients."

Pysch ward. After finding her in the snow dressed for summer, he shouldn't have been surprised. The phrase made him uneasy, though. Would she even be coherent when he walked in? Still, he should try. He'd already come all this way.

Chris begrudgingly unbuckled his belt and signed the visitor registry. She directed him towards the girl's room. A few moments later, he found the door and, before he could supply himself with reasons not to, gave it a knock.

"Come in."

She was sitting up in the hospital cot, frowning at a Reader's Digest. Her hair was a wild cloud of blonde curls, but her face had color in it again. The golden feather still hung around her neck. Chris wondered if there was a story behind it.

When she looked up and caught sight of him, she jolted, letting the magazine drop to the floor with a smack.

"Sorry!" Chris blurted. "I didn't mean to …"

"Should you be here?" She drew up her blanket.

For an instant he wondered irrationally wether he'd knocked on the wrong door—except, of course, that he recognized her. This was the girl he'd meant to visit. Maybe it had been a mistake to come after all.

"I didn't mean to bother you. I just wanted to see how you were doing, make sure you're okay."

"Oh." She loosened her grip on the blanket. "You are the traveler who … who found me."

"Yeah." He smiled nervously. "Um, hi."

She rubbed her temples, letting her head sink into her hand like a flower wilting. Chris was wondering if he should leave when she lifted her head and spoke again. "My apologies. Things have been … confusing. I was expecting the nurse, but certainly not a man. I am unsure why I … I thought … Well, never mind. I should be thanking you. If you not for you, I would not be here at all." Her smile was faltering but warm. "Will you tell me your name?"

"I'm Chris."

"Chris. You saved my life."

"Oh no, I'm just the guy who called the paramedics. They did the real work."

She met his gaze, eyes bright and lucid. "I am in your debt," she said and folded her hands over her heart. "Thank you, truly."

Chris looked away first, ears reddening. "Anyone would've done the same." He cleared his throat. "Um. What's your name?"

She paled. "I … do not know."

He couldn't stop a look of alarm from sweeping over his face. "What do you mean you don't know?"

She smiled again, but it was a sad one. "I fear I cannot remember much from before you found me. They say it is shock. Gods willing, my memory will return before long. For now, they call me Jane Doe." Forcing a laugh, she repeated it. "So strange."

Well, that explained the psych ward. Probably the strange lilt in her voice too, not an accent but a shift out of rhythm. It didn't explain the rest of her situation, though. If there was something … wrong with her, that might be all the explanation he'd get.

Chris masked his disappointment with a gentle smile. "It must be scary not being able to remember things."

Jane breathed out, "Yes."

"So you don't know how you got there?"

She shook her head.

"Not at all?" Not even a pokemon to keep her company while she tried to find her bearings, he thought. It wasn't right.

"The doctor believes I have what he calls teleportation sickness. It would appear I was spirited there, so to speak."

Chris had never been teleported by a pokemon, but he'd heard it could be disorienting, even sickening, especially the first few times. "So, it was an accident." He paused. "Or … maybe not an accident?"

Jane shrugged, still smiling. "Who can say."

"I'm sorry that happened to you."

"The gods must have their reasons."

He thought a trainer was more likely at fault than gods. But would someone really do that to her on purpose?

They were interrupted by a knock on the open door frame, and then a doctor poked his head in. Beneath his lab coat, he wore a shabby sweater, patches on patches. "Hi, Jane. Mind if I come in?"

Jane had drawn up her blanket again and seemed to relax with conscious effort. "Of course not."

"I'm Dr. Stratus, and you must be the kind traveler everyone has been talking about."

Bashfully, Chris introduced himself and shook the doctor's hand.

"I was just coming to let Jane know that the emergency services team was able to lend us one of their interns to escort you. So as long as everything is still looking good in the next few hours, we'll have you on your way back to Ecruteak first thing in the morning."

"Ecruteak?" Chris said.

"Yes!" Jane brightened at the city's name. "That much I remember well. I am unsure how I have come to find myself so far from home, but I have been told we are not far now."

"Not far at all," agreed Dr. Stratus.

"That reminds me." Chris set down his backpack and unhooked Jane's rolled up robe and cloak from the top. "These are yours."

"Oh! Thank you kindly." Jane accepted the roll and set it on her lap, fiddling with the edge of a sleeve. She looked equal parts happy and puzzled to have it.

Dr. Stratus leaned forward. "May I?" He took the robe from Jane and unrolled it partway. "Well if this isn't an emblem of Ecruteak, I don't know what else would be. Beautiful craftsmanship. Maybe you're involved in historical reenactments, Jane."

She frowned. "Perhaps."

"Well." Dr. Stratus refolded the robe and stood straighter. "Having you back where you're meant to be is going to be the best thing for your health, I'd say. You'll be feeling more like yourself very soon, don't worry."

"Thank you. I would like to go home, the sooner the better."

Chris said, "I'm glad it sounds like … everything is working out." He smiled, but unease still tickled the back of his mind.

"How would you like to meet him?" Dr. Stratus said to Jane.

She startled. "What?"

"Your escort! I thought you might like to touch base before we send you off into the wilderness with him. And I think a bit of fresh air will do you some good. Why don't you get dressed and then we can go outside and say hello. Though, of course, let us know if you feel dizzy or lightheaded at all." He placed a bag on the end of the bed. "One of our nurses gathered these for you. Hopefully the fit is close enough. Meet me in the hallway when you're ready."

With that, Dr. Stratus ushered Chris into the hall with him and closed the door behind them.

"So the memory loss," Chris began. "That's not permanent, is it?"

"The human body is full of surprises but, no, I don't think so. Typically, amnesia and other symptoms of teleportation sickness go away after a few days, especially if the patient is able to return somewhere she knows well. You ever wake up in an unfamiliar place and forget where you are for a second? It's a little like that."

Chris nodded and tightened his backpack straps. "Well … I guess this will be a good moment to say goodbye. It's a long way to Blackthorn." He would set out from here.

Dr. Stratus smiled. "I think you've already done more than the average person would've. We don't see too many trainers here without a broken arm or yellow fever or what have you, and even then we have to fight to get some of them to slow down long enough to submit to some doctoring."

"Ha, I can imagine."

"It's kind of you to stop by. She seems to appreciate it."

"I couldn't just leave her."

Dr. Stratus flashed a sympathetic smile.

Moments later, Jane stepped into the hall wearing clothes left behind by trainers over the years, a pair of leggings and a long sweater. She could be almost anyone now, except …. There was still something strange about her, maybe the look in her eyes or the way she carried herself. Chris wondered again who she really was.

"How do you feel? Lightheaded? Any tingling or numbness?"

"No. None at all."

"Wonderful! Then follow me."

Dr. Stratus led them out a side door that led into an outdoor seating area partially enclosed by trees. Chris was surprised to see one of the trainers from earlier that morning on one of the stone benches, a cigarette tucked behind one ear. His houndoom sat at his side, looking sullen but healthy again. The trainer was practicing sleight of hand tricks with a pokeball, but looked up and waved as the group came through the door.

"Jane, this is Benny, and he—What's the matter?"

She had interrupted with a loud gasp. When Chris turned to look, he saw her face had gone white. She backed away to the wall, pointing a shaking finger. "Why is a beast like that here?"

Benny laughed. "Hotshot? He's not gonna hurt you." Seeing the look on the doctor's face, he wiped the smile from his face and recalled his pokemon.

But Jane had her hands up to shield herself, backing away until she was against the wall.

"What is it, Jane? I know you don't know him yet, but Benny is very responsible. He's escorted people between here and Ecruteak lots of times."

She squeezed her eyes shut. "I cannot go with him. Forgive me, but I cannot."

"I have other pokemon," Benny chimed in. "You could meet my furret if you want."

"No, no, no." Jane spoke to the doctor, not the trainer. "Please, I cannot. Not with him."

A nurse escorted her back inside. As she passed, her eyes seemed to snag on Chris as if pleading for him to rescue her a second time. Or maybe she was only embarrassed he'd been there to see.

"I'm sorry, Benny," Dr. Stratus said with a sigh. "Thank you for your time."

"I don't even get what I did," he said sulkily.

"You probably didn't do anything. We don't know what kind of trauma she might have experienced before she came to us. She doesn't remember, so she can't tell us. Any number of things could be a trigger for her."

"Alright, well let me know if she changes her mind, I guess."

"We will, thank you."

With that, Benny slipped out between the trees.

Dr. Stratus heaved a sigh. "Well, that does complicate things."

Chris began, "Couldn't she just … ?" But even as he spoke, he saw the answer.

Most cities were serviced by airlanders, high-efficiency dirigibles, though a small, old-fashioned town like Mahogany might still only have a dragonite bus—that is, a tame dragonite with a double saddle. Either way, it didn't matter what transportation was available if Jane didn't have any money. Ecruteak wasn't far, not really, but it was still far enough.

With a wry smile, Dr. Stratus said, "Our Jane Doe might be waiting a while." He motioned for Chris to follow him down the hall. "It's great that the rangers let us borrow their interns for things like this. They have enough of the training, they're available, and they're looking for odd jobs, but it's obviously not a perfect system. It's too bad, but maybe she'll remember a relative who could hire a local trainer to come from Ecruteak."

Chris winced, then nodded. Not many trainers were likely to be traveling near Mahogany Town now, not this late in the season. Anyone who wasn't gunning for the Indigo Plateau would be looking for a summer job and saving up to restock in the fall when the gyms reopened.

"And she's just stuck with her memory all …?" He gestured vaguely.

Dr. Stratus laughed, but it sounded forced. "Only time will tell. Sometimes patience is the best cure."

Chris saw what the doctor was offering him: plausible deniability. He could continue on his way and imagine her shaking her head and fully waking up one day. But he couldn't quite picture it.

"Where would she even stay?"

"Well, it depends what she wants to do, but she's well enough for a work exchange. It may not be the ideal circumstance, but we'll manage something. Anyway. I imagine you wanted to say your goodbyes and head out, right? I'll check in and see if she feels up for it."

Chris chewed his cheek for a minute. "You know … it wouldn't be hard for me to get to Ecruteak from here. I train a lapras, so it would just be a matter of cutting across the lakes."

Dr. Stratus gave him a long look. "We can't pay you, you know. Benny's arrangement is through the rangers—"

"Oh, I don't need money. I just … She needs to go home to get better, right?"

The doctor raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? Aren't you trying to get to Blackthorn on a deadline?"

Chris forced the thought away and put on a smile. "It's a little out of my way, but I don't think it'll take long. It's the right thing to do." His ears turned red again. "I mean, if she even wants me to take her."

The doctor smiled knowingly. "Why don't I ask."

As Dr. Stratus had promised, they left first thing in the morning.

 

[Chibi Pika]

Hello there! I've been wanting to check out some of your writing ever since you posted that Pokefic guide, so I'm glad that I got matched with you in the Catnip Circle! 😺

So, to start things off, can I just say, those lovely banners you make aren't the only thing that's atmospheric here. Wow. It's not just the scenery descriptions (although that's a big part of it)--I love the way you weave in all sorts of small details about both the setting and the characters. Details that might normally seem too mundane to bring up, but the way you use them just adds so much charm. It makes everything feel kind of... cozy. Is that weird to say for a chapter spent in a snowy wilderness? Maybe, haha. xD;

And speaking of the setting, while I'm normally a big proponent of Accessible Journeying, you make the hostile journey trope work. There's a lot of detail that's been put into how a trainer would have to approach their journey; it's not something they can just charge into without a plan.

Even though I prefer less animalish Pokemon, I really enjoyed the charming details you added for their behavior. They may not have had much screentime yet, but Hero and Sonic have already had some cute moments to show some personality, which leaves me wanting to see more of them. Not to mention the wild Delibird, lol. So that's two areas where, despite not being my preferred headcanon, you're grabbed my interest. ;D

Quotes and such~

The first few blasts missed — the cyndaquil was quick on its feet. And then it wasn’t. In minutes, the cyndaquil was on the floor.

ahaha this actually caught me off-guard for how matter of fact it was! I had to reread it like "she seriously just skipped the battle? you can't do that!" xD Of course, this kind of fic really has nothing to gain from showing it, it just was amusing. :P

He narrowed his eyes— ah there it was, that anger or hurt she'd expected — but then he relaxed. "Yeah. I think I'd like that. I… I'm sorry. Thanks for taking good care of…” Chris waved a hand to indicate the gym, or maybe even Olivine more broadly. Then he shrugged, smiled, and pocketed the badge case.

I happen to enjoy sentences ending with vague gestures to people or surroundings. :P

He picked up the bottle and read: Penelope L. Tait. Had the jar rolled away from her one morning as she was packing up? Or was she one more careless trainer who never made it home alive? What evidence of his journey would be left on this mountain for someone else to find if he took a bad fall?

O-oh. There's a lot of sobering moments like this. The fic doesn't beat you over the head with the idea that training is dangerous, it moreso slides reminders across the table when you're not looking.

Chris alternated between watching his feet and gazing up the slope through frosted lashes into the copse of twisted pines ahead. Old snow was scribbled over by fallen pine needles here, disappearing once more under the fresh snow. Directly overhead, the sky was a featureless gray slab. With any luck, the storm would fizzle to nothing—he had already seen how the pokémon of the area stirred up flurries throughout the day, often ending as suddenly as they began. But he knew better than to count on it. He tugged his hood further forward and kept moving.

Argh, have I mentioned how much I love your scene-setting.

Then Chris bent to collect his sleeping clothes. He swept his gaze over the clearing, surveying his stacked supplies, noting the blank but darkening sky and the deepening shadows, and then finally allowing his eyes to fall upon the girl. “Okay,” he said to the air, as if the word could calm his fluttering stomach. His face was red and his hands shook, but he lay them on the girl’s stomach with a touch so light it wouldn’t have made a ripple in water. He fingered the red cord, bit his cheek, and pulled the knot loose. Before continuing, he told her, “I’m so sorry about this. I promise I’m not trying to be gross…I just want to help you. So I have to.” He took a breath. “Whether we like it or not.”

ahaha, aww, Chris is a good. And this is adorably awkward.

After checking the girl’s pulse again (unchanged, as far as he could tell), he hopped to his feet and strode to his pack. He re-sorted his piles, stuffing a few things inside the backpack again, until he could access his mess kit. He took out what he needed to heat water for tea. Chris brought the ziplock bag of loose leaf tea to his nose and inhaled deep. It was a blend of green teas and herbs from the Olivine area, which he toasted himself. The smell always reminded him of days spent watching his father battle at the gym. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine he heard the hiss of water on hot rocks and smell the sweat. After a moment he resealed the bag and pocketed it. He listened to the hiss of his camp stove, staring at nothing…

Even such a mundane thing as making tea has all these memories and details that sort of... give the feeling of a full life to a character that we've barely met.

Where the girl had lain was a patch of perfect storybook green, lush grass and clover dotted with tiny flowers. He hadn’t seen anything that green anywhere in the canyon. He prodded at the surrounding snow with the toe of his boot and revealed nothing beneath but black earth and pine needles. No grass there. On a whim, he ruffled the grass with his hand and found it wet but warm.

Given the lengths you went to make this setting feel grounded in such a short amount of time, this appropriately manages to stand out as really weird.

He thought he recognized it, but he wasn’t sure from where. It was blockier than the Johto ‘Geottos logo.

oh my god

One of the paramedics radioed the helicopter. The other released an espeon from a pokéball. Like them, it wore a Tyvek vest with the emergency services logo. Within minutes, the rotors grew louder and the helicopter came into view overhead. The espeon’s handler said something to it, inaudible over the helicopter, and its eyes began to glow red. Then the air surrounding the stretcher glowed red. Another round of back and forth radio static, and then the stretcher began its slow rise to the helicopter’s waiting doors.

Always a fan of seeing Pokemon assistance used to change how real-world operations would play out.

 

[WildBoots]

ahaha, aww, Chris is a good. And this is adorably awkward.

Yyyyup. Good. Awkward. Congratulations -- you've met Chris, hahaha.

ahaha this actually caught me off-guard for how matter of fact it was! I had to reread it like "she seriously just skipped the battle? you can't do that!" xD Of course, this kind of fic really has nothing to gain from showing it, it just was amusing. :P

Yeah this story has shockingly few battles for a journey fic. It does have one proper battle (and a half?) later on, but it's definitely a story that's primarily preoccupied with quieter, lower stakes encounters. I am entering my tournament arc now though, so there will eventually be more pokemon knocking each other around.

The fic doesn't beat you over the head with the idea that training is dangerous, it moreso slides reminders across the table when you're not looking.

The old prologue really did hit you over the read with it, lol -- glad it sounds like the new framing is hitting this tone though! Much closer to what it ought to be doing.

And speaking of the setting, while I'm normally a big proponent of Accessible Journeying, you make the hostile journey trope work.
...
So that's two areas where, despite not being my preferred headcanon, you're grabbed my interest.

It always pleasantly surprises me whenever I find myself enjoying a headcanon that differs wildly from my own. The canon is so dang pliable. So this is very good to hear!

Thanks for all the kind words! I'm so glad to hear it sounds like you enjoyed what you read.

 

[WildBoots]

3: The Tower

"We might be able to see Ecruteak from the top of this hill," Chris called over his shoulder. He paused to flash a smile at Jane Doe as she climbed the slope behind him.

Wiping sweat from her brow, she returned the smile, though hers was strained. She wore her curls tied back with a scarf, and despite Chris's cautioning she'd also selected a long skirt from the hospital lost and found. To his great surprise, she didn't seem to have trouble with it catching underfoot or snagging on things, the skirt a natural extension of her body. She also hadn't complained or asked for a break once all morning. Chris was going to have to insist she rest at the top of the hill.

Bringing up the rear was his sandslash, Mojimoji. Normally she hiked at Chris's side—after all, she was the first pokemon he had caught in the wild, and they had a long history—but she'd taken up a defensive position instead without being asked. Occasionally, she paused to investigate an ekans burrow or sharpen her claws on a boulder, but each time she immediately returned to Jane's heels with maternal vigilance.

"Good girl, Moji," he said under his breath.

At the top of the rise, Chris shrugged off his backpack and stretched while he waited for Jane and Moji to catch up. He'd guessed right: the Ecruteak City skyline glittered beyond the trees. Bell Tower's tiers were visible even from here. There were few other tall buildings to confuse with it, and even the tallest could hardly be called skyscrapers—Ecruteak was defensive of its traditions. Below them were Lake Mortar and scattered ponds. The water was low from the lack of rain, but they'd still be spending the afternoon with Asagi.

Behind him, Jane crested the hill with a sigh of either relief or appreciation for the natural beauty. Maybe a bit of both. She drank deeply from her water bottle, the only thing she carried.

When she finished, Chris pointed and said, "There it is. See the tower? We'll be in Ecruteak by dinner time."

Jane frowned. "It looks … strange from here."

"The fog will burn off. And then you'll see it up close soon enough."

"Yes, I am eager to be home." She tightened the knot in her scarf. "Shall we?"

"Why don't you sit down for a minute. We should eat something. Here. Jerky?"

Jane took what Chris handed her and smelled it. She watched, frowning, as Chris tore off a piece for himself and stuffed it into his mouth. "What is it?"

"Um …." He chewed. "Stantler, I think. You don't usually see tauros in this part of the country."

She looked aghast. "I cannot eat the flesh of another creature. I know it is disrespectful to reject a gift, but …." She shook her head. Pleadingly, she added, "What if it were my sister?"

Chris paused mid-chew. "What do you mean?"

She looked at him incredulously. "Have you not heard it said that the dead return to us in new forms? To guide and protect us?"

"Like reincarnation?"

"Yes!"

Chris was momentarily speechless. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know that you … I hope you're not… I have some dried fruit instead?" He took the jerky pouch back from Jane and searched his bag again, red-faced and chewing fast as if to rid himself of the evidence.

Jane bowed her head as she accepted a bag of trail mix from him. "No, no. Thank you for the offer. I do not wish to be a burden."

"You're not! I'm sorry I didn't ask."

"I appreciate you sharing your food."

They lapsed into silence.

Nearby, Mojimoji cleaned between her scales with her long tongue, paying the two of them no mind. She was pretty smart, but there was definitely nothing human hiding under the surface. Still ….

Chris rubbed a thumb over Kosho's pokeball. "It's nice to imagine pokemon as spirits of the dead watching over us. I like that."

"I am surprised you did not know. I thought it was common knowledge."

"Maybe it's a thing in Ecruteak. I wouldn't really know." With a smile, Chris said, "You're an interesting person."

She averted her eyes. "I hardly know what sort of person I am at the moment."

"Hey, we just learned you're a vegetarian. That's something!"

"I suppose that is true."

"So you're remembering some things. Probably, seeing familiar places will jog more memories, like the doctor said."

"I hope so."

He gazed down at the distant Bell Tower. "There are a few familiar places I wouldn't mind visiting again, actually. Ecruteak is a nice city. I can see why you're in a hurry to be back."

"You have been before?"

"Oh yeah, a few times. It's not far from home. Stayed there for about a month at the beginning of my journey."

"Oh! Then perhaps you could tell me … has there been any rain?"

"I wouldn't really know. It's been months since I've passed through."

She slumped a little at that. "I am not sure how long I have been away. It cannot have been too long, can it?"

Chris gave her his best smile, but his insides squirmed. "I could find out the last time it rained there if you want?"

"That would be good of you." Sighing, Una scanned for clouds overhead. "Oh, I hope the gods have blessed us with rain. It has been such a dry year, and I worry the mareep will have nothing to eat …."

Mareep? Chris wondered, but he decided not to press it. People kept all kinds of pokemon as pets, after all. It was good that she was starting to remember things.

After a few taps on his Bitflex screen, he called out, "Looks like it rained in Ecruteak last night. So, there you go."

Una stared at him. "How do you know that?"

With an awkward chuckle, Chris tapped his Bitflex. "I looked it up. The service isn't great out here, but I guess being up on a hill helps."

"Oh. I see," Una said uncertainly. "Yes, I suppose that makes sense. That is good, then."

She still looked so sad and confused. Maybe if he could help her remember more, it would help. "There was this coffee shop I used to go to for breakfast," he offered. "Medialuna Cafe, I think. You know that one?"

She sat up straight, wide-eyed. "That is my name!"

He scrambled to find a name in what he'd said. Finally he tried, "Medialuna?" He thought of it as the name of a pastry, but … was she somehow associated with the cafe? Wait, no—"Or Luna?"

"No. Una." Eyes closed, she smiled and tipped her face to the sun as if to receive a divine blessing. "My name is Una."

That's pretty too, he thought. "Nice to officially meet you, Una."

—

Chris held up a hand for Una to stop, pointing wordlessly. A wild spearow perched in a nearby tree, close enough that they could see the gold of its eyes. It glared down at them. After a beat, it took off—Una gasped in delight—and disappeared in pursuit of some prey invisible to them.

"They're scruffy and mean," Chris said with a grin, "but they're beautiful sometimes too."

"It is a good omen," she said.

"Uh, sure. Yeah, why not."

As they continued down the path, the breeze brought them the smells of the lake: wet earth, algae, and leaf mold. The trees thinned until the travelers came to the rocky lakeshore. To the left, the rocky heights of Mount Mortar cut through the lake at an angle. Water ebbed in and out of cavernous rifts in the rock face, and the echoes of water rushing deep within were audible even from the shore.

Straight ahead, Ecruteak City stood out in ever brighter detail. Behind, Chris could barely see the snow-capped peaks of the Dragon's Spine in the hazy distance. He squared himself against the Ecruteak skyline and firmly put on a smile.

"See you in a while, Moji," he said, recalling her.

Una gasped so loudly that Chris stopped with a hand still on his belt. Had the recall beam reminded her somehow of the moment she'd teleported?

"I didn't mean to startle you. It's just that we need my lapras to cross the water."

Una shook her head. "I apologize. I— I must still be confused."

"You okay? Are you dizzy?"

"I will be fine."

Chris hesitated a moment, then released his lapras into the lake. She hadn't fully materialized before she trumpeted joyfully and dove beneath the water. Moments later, the lapras resurfaced, spraying Chris and Una; they both cried out in outrage and delight.

"Alright, alright! Hi to you too," he said, laughing. "Una, meet Asagi."

With some coaxing, Asagi flipper-crawled partway onto the shore and lowered her head. Chris showed Una how to pat her between the horns. "You can touch her. She's gentle."

Una reached out tentatively.

Asagi, impatient, butted her head into Una's palm, drawing the first real smile out of her that Chris had seen all day.

"You are a marvel," Una whispered to the lapras.

Chris removed his hiking boots, strung them from his pack, rolled up his pants, and waded into the shallows. "Come on up," he said extending a hand to Una.

One hand still on Asagi's head, she stared across the water towards Ecruteak.

"You coming?"

Una flashed a smile. "Yes, of course." Then she cast a wary look at Asagi, who swiveled her long neck to peer at them. "We are going to ride her? Is that …?"

Chris chuckled. "Asagi doesn't care. She does it all the time, huh, you big ol' dinosaur."

Asagi keened and snorted more water at them, eyes sparkling.

"Well … how should I …?"

"I'll give you a leg up. Here. Put your foot in my hands. You're not gonna hurt me—go ahead. Okay. On the count of three, push up with this foot and grab onto her shell. One … two … three!"

Una squeaked as Chris boosted her up, but she managed to scramble onto Asagi's back. Once she was settled with a leg on either side of the lapras's muscular neck, Chris found himself some handholds and swung himself up and over to sit sidesaddle between two horns.

"Alright, Asagi, let's go!"

The lapras rumbled cheerfully. They lurched and wobbled as the lapras clambered out of the sand and rock, and then they were gliding through open water.

"That wasn't so bad, right? Mostly dry?" Chris leaned back on his pack, letting the sun warm him. "The very first time I tried to catch a ride on Asagi, she rolled me. I think we're on the same page now though."

Breaking in was how the online articles had recommended Chris handle his newly-caught lapras. But the phrase snagged inside him. From their first meeting, he'd noticed the cleverness in her gaze. Shamed though he'd been when she dunked him, he'd been too proud to turn down the challenge. It had taken him longer to recognize it as an invitation to play. He hoped he never broke that.

What he'd offered her instead was patience and quiet. He'd sat silently on the bank for hours, hair dripping, while she swam slow loops just beyond the reach of his pokeballs. She'd kept a wary eye on him, but she'd also surfaced to greet him each time he returned to her shore. A love of quiet turned out to be the first of many things they shared in common. Months had passed before she'd let him climb onto her back, but it hadn't felt like a waste of time.

Una turned to face him, a little awkwardly, grabbing a horn for stability. "Thank you once again for bringing me home. I am grateful for all of your help."

"It's been nice to have company. Besides, I couldn't just leave you there."

"I would not have liked to have been there much longer," she agreed. "Everyone was very kind, and Mahogany Town was much more advanced than I had expected, but … it simply did not feel right for me. It was not home."

The glib comment took him by surprise. What had she expected Mahogany to be like, mud huts and witch doctors? But, seeing the sincerity in Una's face he said instead, "Well, you mostly saw the hospital."

"I suppose so. All the same, I feel much more myself since departing. I am sure everything will make sense again once I return to Ecruteak."

As they floated along, they fell into a sleepy daze, lulled by the heat and Asagi's gentle rocking. The only sounds were birdsong and the slosh of her fins churning the water. Una leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Asagi's neck, resting her cheek against the scales. Chris sat with one knee tucked to his chest and the other foot trailing in the cool water. He alternated between watching the reflected light rippling on the cliff face and staring up at the clouds. He saw a few that looked like pokemon: a suggestion of a paw, a horn, and—oh, maybe a houndoom.

He found himself remembering Oji again, how his horns had curled back so far they made almost a perfect circle. As a child, Chris used to hook household objects onto Oji's horns—clothes hangers, coffee mugs, colanders—trying to pile on the weirdest and largest items before Dad noticed and made him stop. Oji bore it with astonishing calm, showing his annoyance only with an occasional eye roll.

Chris stole a glance at Una, thinking of her horrified expression when she'd seen the other trainer's houndoom. He'd seen that sort of reaction before—people who had never met a dark-type in person sometimes had misgivings—but never quite like that.

"Can I ask," Chris finally said to Una, "what was going on with you and that houndoom? Do you remember?"

Una sat up slowly, frowning into the distance. "There was … a stranger. A man. He should not have been there."

She'd been upset when he'd first entered her hospital room, he remembered. His brain bubbled with questions, but he fought them down and let her stumble through the memory.

"The houndoom came with him, from his shadow. He commanded it to attack. I saw the fire building in the back of its throat, and …" She shivered. "It was terrible."

"And this was in Mahogany Town?" Chris's first impression of another trainer had been wrong before, but he struggled to imagine the guy with the houndoom going as far as actually attacking someone. You could lose your license for less.

"I am not certain." Una thought for a moment. "Perhaps not. I remember trees. I must have been in the woods."

Odd, how easily she said it. Even though he'd first found her among the trees, Chris had a hard time imagining her spending time in the woods on purpose. She seemed too delicate and tremulous.

"A different houndoom then."

"Yes, I suppose so."

"But why? What did they want?"

She only shook her head.

"Huh. So you don't remember how you got away?"

"I do not remember anything more."

"You think that had something to do with how you ended up in the Ice Pass?"

"It is possible."

He felt a chill. "Una … do you think you'll be in danger when you get home?"

"I … I do not know." Without her seeming to notice, her hand flew to the feather that still hung around her neck. "But I hope I will understand more soon."

Chris wanted to pledge himself to remain in Ecruteak for a few extra days to keep an eye on things, but he held his tongue. That was a promise he couldn't keep if he still wanted to keep the promises he'd already made to himself. He'd already given up almost three full days of travel.

All he said was, "I hope so too."

"Whatever I may find in Ecruteak, it is my home. It is where I need to be." She turned back toward the skyline, growing closer by the moment. "I have the feeling that there is something important I was meant to be doing there, but I cannot remember what …."

"Don't push yourself. I bet you'll remember with time."

She smiled distantly. "You are most likely correct." And she turned away to lean against Asagi's neck again.

Chris couldn't help his frown. He had been talking to her all day, but he knew scarcely more about her now than when he first saw her in the snow. After today. he would likely never see her again, and her mysteries would only be her own—if she even got answers herself. Knowing he had done his best to do the right thing would have to be enough.

They passed the remainder of the journey saying little. Chris didn't want to bother her with more questions, and he was accustomed to solitude and silence anyway. Una seemed happy to be left to her thoughts.

Several times, they dismounted from Asagi, recalled her, hiked a short way, and then clambered onto her shell again when they came to the next pond. The path was rocky but not steep, and they reached Ecruteak's eastern gate without incident.

At the sight of it, Una beamed and made a sound of longing.

The gate was a wooden archway with two crosspieces, a dull brown that might've once been red. Beyond the archway, a few carefully restored traditional houses were visible along the tree-lined path. The gate was flanked on either side by fruiting shrubs and statues, so worn down by weather and wars they were unidentifiable now, their original shapes long forgotten.

"These are in poor condition …. Strange," Una said. Then, "Oh no. Where is the sage?"

"Sage?"

"Of course," she said, impatience creeping into her voice. "There should be a basket of sage smudges and striking flints hanging from the crossbar so we may purify ourselves before we enter the city."

"I don't remember seeing anything like that when I came through here before."

"We cannot simply walk in."

That was exactly how he'd entered Ecruteak each previous visit, but he kept the thought to himself.

Instead, he shrugged off his backpack and knelt to dig through it. "I don't have sage, but …." He found his matches and held the pack out to her. "Better than nothing, right?"

She turned the matches over a few times, then looked up at him helplessly. "I …."

"Right, I guess most folks don't use matches much anymore. Here." He took back the pack, struck a match, and carefully passed it back to her.

"I suppose this will do." She studied the flame for a moment, then blew it out. In smoke, she drew an X over Chris's head, intoning, "North, south, east, west. Cleanse him with fire."

The hair on the back of Chris's neck stood on end.

She repeated the motions over herself. "North, south, east, west. Cleanse me with fire." Then, folding her hands together over the extinguished match, she closed her eyes.

He waited a long moment and then said, "You ready to head in?"

She looked up and forced a smile. "Yes. Yes, I suppose we should."

They crossed the threshold and followed the path between the houses. Una squinted at the mailboxes and gardens they passed.

"Anything looking familiar?"

She bit her lip and shook her head. "No, not yet."

"Let's cut through the park. That should bring us closer to the dance hall and the main downtown areas. That should help, right?"

"Yes, that is a good idea," she said, not sounding very sure.

He led the way, crossing the creek at a stone footbridge. Lanterns hung from the trees, but they hadn't been lit yet. In the shade of a tree, an old woman sat with an eevee in her lap and a screen in her hands, the chatter of young children chiming from the speakers. Chris dipped his head in greeting, and the old woman returned the gesture.

Una lagged behind, staring and frowning deeply.

Chris paused for Una to catch up. "Is something wrong?"

"I am … not certain."

"What do you want to do? Do you want to keep going?"

After a moment, Una stood straighter and said, "I wish to see the center square."

"Okay …." Chris studied Una's face for a long moment before turning and continuing on.

She trailed after, fingers knotted together.

They passed a picnicking family, people walking their pets, and a band of teenagers on bicycles. Una squeaked as they flew past. Then, steadying herself, she said, "Do you hear that?"

He cocked his head. "I just hear traffic."

Glimpses of concrete and buildings began to show between the trees. The dirt path disappeared, replaced by sidewalk. Chris led them to the edge of the park where it met a narrow street buzzing with cars and bikes. Across the way, lights glittered along shingled awnings, subway entrances, and vending machines. The elaborately carved roof of the dance theater was visible from here, but it was many blocks ahead. Turning one way, Chris caught the scent of meat on a charcoal grill. Turning the other, he smelled gardenias and the chlorine in the sprinkler system. Familiar, reassuring smells.

He glanced back to ask which way she wanted to go, but stopped when he saw the look on her face: slack-jawed, eyes like blown out lights. She pressed both hands to her stomach as if to staunch a bleeding wound.

"This is all wrong," she said, doubling over. She flinched as a car passed. "This is not Ecruteak."

Chris laughed nervously. "Sure it is. Look, you can see Bell Tower from here." He pointed northwest to the distant pagoda tiers.

Una furrowed her brow and shook her head. Then her eyes went wide and she snapped upright. "Where is the other one?"

"What?"

She shot him a pained, earnest look. "Chris, something terrible must have happened. Where is Brass Tower?"

"There is no other tower," he said, instantly regretting it. "Or I guess there was, but it burned down. Er, more than once, I think."

"Burned down?" She started to pace and wring her hands. "How could you say such a thing? How could it have burned down? That makes no sense!"

Passersby shot them odd looks as she raised her voice.

Somehow, it hadn't occurred to Chris until that moment that bringing her to Ecruteak might worsen her condition.

"Maybe we should sit—"

He reached to put a hand on her shoulder, but she squirmed away.

"Una, let's sit. Please."

He managed to coax her off the sidewalk and toward a bench, but she wouldn't sit.

After a few moments of watching from the bench while Una paced, Chris offered softly, "I think maybe your memory is still mixed up."

"No. I know I remember two towers." She finally stopped pacing and closed her eyes. "I helped polish the floors. It was always warm inside, even in winter." When she opened her eyes again, her gaze burned. "I know I remember it. We have to go there and find out what happened."

Chris bit his cheek. "I think there's a historical marker and a museum where the tower used to be, but I think that's it. Do you really want to see that?"

"Yes. We must go there right away."

"It's kind of far from here. We'd have to take a bus."

She hesitated, but only for a moment. "Please. Show me."

What else could he do?

Stomach knotted with dread, Chris pulled up the map on his Bitflex and navigated to the nearest bus stop. Una followed slowly, gawking at the cars and lights. When a fire engine screamed past, she froze in the middle of the crosswalk to cover her ears until Chris pulled her forward.

They arrived just as their bus drew up to the stop. Una sniffed, then covered her nose and mouth against the diesel fumes, but Chris herded her aboard anyway. She clung to his backpack with white knuckles while he swiped his OneCard for the both of them. Then, lurching precariously, she let him guide her to an open pair of seats and half-fell into one.

Once seated, she squeezed her eyes shut, one hand to the feather around her neck. Under her breath, she chanted, "As the sun rises in the east, as it sets in the sea. As the sun rises in the east, as it sets in the sea …." Each time the bus braked or made a sudden turn, both hands flew out to brace herself.

Chris watched the streets whiz past. He didn't know what the next step should be—he wasn't good at this kind of thing. Should he call the hospital or would that only upset her more? Bringing her here by himself had been a mistake.

When they finally disembarked, she staggered to a nearby wall and sighed as she leaned into it.

"So that was your first time riding a bus?"

She nodded miserably.

"Well …" Chris picked at his sweat-dampened shirt. "We're almost there."

This part of town was quieter: less foot traffic, no cars, fewer shops. Flowering trees lined the cobblestone streets. With another nervous glance at Una, Chris waved her toward the historic site.

Ahead was the Ecruteak History Museum, minimalist and gray. Beyond it were the ruins.

Four pillars stood alone beside a man-made pond studded with lotuses. The water's surface reflected the roofs and windows of the houses that looked down from the surrounding hills. Between the pillars, a block of tempered glass was set into the earth, displaying blackened tiles and a beaten brass incense burner.

"That almost resembles …" Una froze and stared for a moment before rushing ahead. "No, no, no, no."

Chris hung back. As she knelt and pressed her hands to the glass, he averted his eyes.

At the edge of the ruins, where there might've once been an entranceway, was a plaque. The left side bore a pair of images stacked one on top of the other: first was a illustration of the original design, with labels for architectural features and notes, and below it was a black and white photo of the tower crumbling and radiant with flame. The right side of the plaque was covered in text. Chris flicked his eyes briefly to Una, then set down his backpack and bent to read.

The Brass Tower was built during the Itun period (1300 A.D.) to honor a mythical bird pokemon. It first burned down in 1519, possibly due to a lightning strike. The tower was later reconstructed but burned down a second time during the Third Wave of the Tohjo Wars (1589–1599). In 1950, the tower was set on fire for a third time by an unknown arsonist, and it was never rebuilt. The ruins were demolished in 1983 during the development of the Grand Hyatt Ecruteak Hotel. Remaining tiles and replicas of the original pillars were relocated to this historic monument site in 1985.

It was more or less what he'd heard about the tower before. He hadn't remembered the exact dates, only that it had been a long time ago, and the mysterious arsonist was news to him, but everyone knew the legend. Everyone except ….

He glanced up to see Una circling one of the pillars, tracing the carvings. Hands in his pockets, he moved to join her.

"I do not understand," she said with mournful eyes. "This is Brass Tower, but … I was here mere days ago. I was given robes in this room."

Maybe she'd dreamed that in the snow. Maybe she was confusing stories with memory. A day ago, Chris might've believed that. Today, he thought of the matches and her strange chants and the way she'd frowned calling a mud puddle town like Mahogany advanced.

"What if …." Chris tried to swallow but his mouth was dry. He spoke in a voice barely above a whisper. "Una, do you think it's possible that you lived here … five hundred years ago?"

It sounded impossible, raising more questions than answers. But it felt true.

She pressed her hands to the feather around her neck. "How could that be?"

"I don't know. It sounds crazy … but maybe it's not. I mean, that would be more than just teleportation. Then again, pokemon can do lots of things we barely understand."

"Five hundred years …." Una put out a hand to steady herself against the pillar. Her voice trembled. "But that would mean … my parents. The priests. My friends… Everyone is gone."

Chris opened his mouth and shut it again.

She slowly spun in place, eyes tracking from the museum to the shops and apartments that spread in all directions, overtaking the hill beyond the memorial site and the one next to it, too. Every square foot throbbed with music and ads and the hum of electric lines. In the distance, a siren howled.

Una repeated in a whisper, "Everything is gone."

 

[kintsugi]

it! is! after camp! i am free

most new trainers came at the end of spring

I do believe this is the earliest title drop I have ever seen

And, oh no, the name—

oh no oh NO

Radican’s

what's the name meaning here tbh?

In minutes, the cyndaquil was on the floor.

very stupid nitpick, but I think "on the floor" only registers as being the same as "fainted" to me when the pokemon doesn't normally walk -- otherwise, where else would he be except on the floor, haha? Sprawled out on the floor, unconscious on the floor, etc might convey that a little more clearly.

He took the badge and turned away to pin it carefully to the first slot in his worn leather case.

it's his dad's isn't it oh no

she called to him,"Welcome

missing a space here btw

once, unknowingly, a mob boss.

g i o v a n n i ? ?

The third time Chris Nakano challenged the Olivine gym his mother came too, a little after the battle started.

haha I love this detail
one thing I struggled with in this prologue was the progression of time. The fights are glossed over (which is a good call), but the first one ends "in minutes", but Chris's mother comes in "a little after", so if she's two minutes late does she miss half the fight? Was the first one just abnormally short?

This is certainly different from the prologue I remembered. I like this one more. Little details like gym leader succession or having multiple rosters for challengers still give the world a grounded feel without making it quite so blatant -- you have the rest of the fic to tip that hand, haha.

The broad strokes of the characters in this chapter are really well-done as well. Jasmine comes across as quiet, observant, a little awkward. Chris is new, eager to prove, very awkward. The ending bit about big shoes to fill is really well done; I think it's clear in all of their interactions that they're both struggling to fill papa Nakano's legacy in different ways. Which! Is a really strong character beginning for everyone, and I think it sets up well for the rest of the fic all two chapters that i've read, where Chris has fulfilled the battling part of that legacy and has to do the real journey instead.

! really dumb nitpicks in this review, sorry. It's because I have nothing more critical to say! Big picture this is really well-executed, and a good start. circling back for the other chapters soon (TM)

 

[WildBoots]

it! is! after camp! i am free

Oh sh-- Buckle up, everyone.

! really dumb nitpicks in this review, sorry.

You say this like I don't live for a nitpick. Never. Not. Editing.

I do believe this is the earliest title drop I have ever seen

Hahahaha it really is. It's easier when it's a common word and your world is really obsessed with nature and cycles. :D

Radican! Glad you asked. You, maybe more than most people, will like this. Radicans means "stems that take root." It's part of the Latin name of the trumpet creeper specifically, but as I'm sure you know better than I do, there are lots of plants you can regrow from stem cuttings. I liked the idea that if, god forbid, your magneton gets split up, it could just form into three new magnetons. Growth of many from one. It also sounds a little like "free radical" to my ear, which I also don't hate in a discussion about magnemites.

it's his dad's isn't it oh no

Yup, new clothes old badge case. RIP.

g i o v a n n i ? ?

Y E S. This comes up again briefly in Chapter 9. The timeline of this story doesn't reeeeeeally matter, since I've clearly already changed around plenty. But it's somewhere between Gen I and Gen II -- Giovanni has been outed and ousted from the gym, but Gary/Blue isn't the gym leader there either.

but the first one ends "in minutes", but Chris's mother comes in "a little after", so if she's two minutes late does she miss half the fight?

Yeah, I'm imagining the fights are slowly getting a little longer as he's starting to figure her out a little better. I'll poke around and see if I can find ways to make that a little clearer.

This is certainly different from the prologue I remembered. I like this one more.

SAME. It's really a much better fit. And I got to address that, no, Jasmine doesn't suck in this world, even if my protagonist might have a bone to pick with her. She did exactly nothing wrong and is a perfect angel.

Thanks for the comments (and nitpicks)!

 

[kintsugi]

a second one landed on a tree up the path with a coo and a thump

I think "an thump" would fit better here.

Until all at once, in a rush of wings, they dove on him.

The sentence structure with the slow build and the em dash into action is *chef's kiss*, but I think "all at once" isn't necessary and separates the interruption from the actual action -- there's a lot of words here before "dove", when that's really the important one. I think it'd be a lot more effective as "Until they dove on him in a rush of wings" or even just "they dove on him in a rush of wings."

his jolteon, Sonic

luh mao

Bird treasures rained at his feet (one or two landing in his bowl): coins, water bottle lids, gum wrappers, a pen cap. The bright plastics were a shock in the monochromatic landscape.

hahahaha I love this

What evidence of his journey would be left on this mountain for someone else to find if he took a bad fall?

maybe don't hike alone huh CHRIS
...although, that does raise an interesting question -- I'm still afraid to camp alone, but I feel like if I survived two-ish years of camping more than not-camping, I think those questions wouldn't be as present any more, or at least not prompted by fairly tame camp debris.

]quote]He removed a glove to touchscreen-swipe past the sections describing height and weight relative to humans.[/quote]
I don't think the word "describe" works here -- that evokes "ursaring is about five inches taller than a thirteen year-old Chris", when I think you mean something more like a picture of the ursaring/human heights + the ursaring weight.

Also, it's a fun detail, but if he started at 18, why is the dex set for 13? I thought it might also be his dad's, but from the prologue that would've happened when Chris was 15+.

Random grammar note but you have the spacing for ellipses different every time they're used. I actually don't know the right way to space it so I say it's fine as long as you're consistent, but. ..

Ice crunched with Chris's every step. Mud did too, though as recently as that morning he'd been sliding and sticking in it.

I dunno if "crunch" is the right word for mud here. Maybe squelch?

Old snow was scribbled over by fallen pine needles here

overall your prose is really strong but this one was A+

Directly overhead, the sky was a featureless gray slab.

Getting a weird idea of time passing here -- if he watched the sun disappear behind a ridge, I'd think mostly clear skies? But then a snow flurry, so it would've been cloudy before, but then it would probably take a while for the clouds to get so uniform that they look continuous like this.

The cloak fell partly open to reveal something part-gown and part-robe, with flowing sleeves patterned in blue and white diamonds.

is this... avatar the last airbender but with suicune??

Fully solidified, on all fours, his head was at the right height to nudge Chris's hand for a scratch.

what a good boi

Beneath the extra set of clothes and the repair kit, he finally uncovered his tent.

and this is why you get backpacks with POCKETS, chris

He hadn't had to practice it since, and he was pleasantly surprised he pulled it off with no trouble. Hero watched with mild curiosity.

I'm a little unsure what tone you were aiming for in this section -- the language here is very methodical, almost clinical. "pleasantly surprised" makes things seem pretty casual when he's rolling this hypothermic girl over, which imo doesn't track with the sense of dread you had when he found the pill bottle a little earlier. And! Maybe this is because I didn't get a cool emergency care class for camping -- can you tell how long someone's been hypothermic, and if there's "eh this is not great but not life-threatening" and "this is real bad news bears" appearances of unconsciousness? Would be useful to get a better insight into how Chris is feeling about all of this.

Ilex forest

I! actually do not know if you should capitalize the 'f' in 'forest' here, but you did it with Union Cave so I figure it should match here

aching and red, Chris rubbed

ok bye

He hadn't seen anything that green anywhere in the canyon.

perhaps because it isn't SPRING yet

Like them, it wore a Tyvek vest with the emergency services logo.

does pokeball tech work on non-pokemon objects? why does anyone have beeg backpacks if things can be shrunk
hi i'll stop asking dumb questions about your fairytale fic but

silver-wrapped body rising through the treetops

space blankets are gold and silver... lugia and ho-oh are gold and silver... think about it...

and its eyes began to glow red. Then the air surrounding the stretcher glowed red

back-to-back "glowed red" here was a bit much I think

Ah! The story begins. I liked this as an intro to higher-stakes journeying/realism -- it was a lot of fun in Postcards but I think it really comes to life here. You do a great job of sketching out a scene in very few words. The delibird bits with their owlish eyes and little characteristics like leaving him gifts from their weird featherpouches, the mysterious patch of Spring in the middle of snow... there's a lot of stuff going on here but you do a great job of making it feel real. Lovely stuff so far. Here's to daddy issues!

 

[WildBoots]

It's really nice to have a line-by-line read on this chapter. It's the oldest by far, so it's also got the messiest prose, I think. Thanks for all those catches.

...although, that does raise an interesting question -- I'm still afraid to camp alone, but I feel like if I survived two-ish years of camping more than not-camping, I think those questions wouldn't be as present any more, or at least not prompted by fairly tame camp debris.

Ooh that's a good point. HMM. I think I can fix it with a little rewording. Remembering mortality rather than thinking of it for the first time. I think if you're hiking alone and you don't occasionally remind yourself that you're squishy and extremely mortal, that's when you get cocky and bite the dust.

Also, it's a fun detail, but if he started at 18, why is the dex set for 13? I thought it might also be his dad's, but from the prologue that would've happened when Chris was 15+.

I'm not thinking of it as "equipment you need to start your journey" but a fun tech toy. A kid who loves pokemon would totally want one, get a head start on all that learning.

but then it would probably take a while for the clouds to get so uniform that they look continuous like this.

Oooooh that's actually a very good point. I'll fuss around with that at some point.

is this... avatar the last airbender but with suicune??

...Maybe...

and this is why you get backpacks with POCKETS, chris

LOL but how much can you realistically put in the outside pockets? Snacks, pokedex, water, maybe a few other things. Clothes? No way.

I'm a little unsure what tone you were aiming for in this section -- the language here is very methodical, almost clinical. "pleasantly surprised" makes things seem pretty casual when he's rolling this hypothermic girl over, which imo doesn't track with the sense of dread you had when he found the pill bottle a little earlier. And! Maybe this is because I didn't get a cool emergency care class for camping -- can you tell how long someone's been hypothermic, and if there's "eh this is not great but not life-threatening" and "this is real bad news bears" appearances of unconsciousness? Would be useful to get a better insight into how Chris is feeling about all of this.

VERY GOOD POINTS. I'll rework these passages.

I! actually do not know if you should capitalize the 'f' in 'forest' here, but you did it with Union Cave so I figure it should match here

Nope, you're right. Ilex Forest is for sure the full name and it should be capitalized.

does pokeball tech work on non-pokemon objects?

Nah, that always struck me as a game-y mechanic. We're doing this Gen I and II style where you could run out of space in your bag. I really don't know WTF pokeball technology is and I don't want to think about it too hard, but my thinking is that pokemon are, like... IDK molecularly unstable? So, zap zap, beam-me-up-Scotty-works-for-them but wouldn't on most other objects. ...Except, you're right, the Tyvek does seem to be a problem there. I'd better just get rid of that. :D

back-to-back "glowed red" here was a bit much I think

That's a real whoopsie-daisy.

there's a lot of stuff going on here but you do a great job of making it feel real. Lovely stuff so far. Here's to daddy issues!

EEEEE ❤ This thing is...not perfect and has some unfixable issues in it down the road, but it is still one of my babies and it's nice to see it getting love. Glad you're enjoying it.

 

[WildBoots]

5: Visitations

The sun had already set by the time Chris and Una left the secondhand store and shambled to a bar-restaurant with cheap food and booth seating, where they dumped their gear and slumped beside it. Other than the two of them, the dining area was empty, and Chris was grateful for the quiet so he could figure out their next step.

Despite the new credits loaded on his OneCard, he was reluctant to pay for a hostel. Any bunk would be pricey with summer festivals and the Indigo Conference drawing close, and the two of them had little to spare after provisioning Una. Making camp in the dark wasn't appealing either, especially not after the day they'd had.

Finally, Chris accepted the only choice was to call an old friend, but it still took him most of dinner to muster the courage to dial the number.

The instant the line began ringing, he regretted it. Would she even want to hear from him? They hadn't spoken in months. What if she was annoyed that he was calling? What if she'd changed her number?

He was about to hang up when there was a click and a familiar voice said, "Hello?"

"H-hi, Miki."

Una looked around for who he was talking to, then, seeing no one, squinted at him in confusion.

He could only point at his Bitflex and shrug as he continued to speak. "I don't know if you remember me, but—"

"Don't be stupid. Of course I remember you, Chris! How've you been?"

"Good, good …. So I'm calling because I'm in town …."

"Are you really? We have to meet up then!"

"Actually, I wanted to ask you for a favor …."

—

Miki's apartment was small and spare, but there was a sofa for Una to sleep on and space on the floor for Chris to lay out his sleeping bag, and that was all they needed. The apartment was also in the middle of Old City, so enjoyed a view of the dance hall while waiting for the water to boil.

"I wish I knew how to repay you for your generosity, Miki," Chris said.

"Don't be ridiculous. It's the least I can do." Somehow elegant even in her jeans and house slippers, she set a tea tray on the coffee table.

Una smiled at the sight of the clay tea bowls. "I have been longing for a proper cup of tea all day. I had begun to fear the traditional ways had gone completely."

"Goodness no. This tea set belonged to my grandmother and her grandmother before that." She knelt on a floor cushion beside Chris. "Is this your first time in Ecruteak, Una?"

She looked down, tucking her curls behind her ears. "Yes."

Chris looked away.

"Oh, you'll love it here if you're interested in Johto history and tradition. Chris, you'll have to bring her by the dance hall tomorrow. I'll be working, but I can make sure someone will be around to let you in so you can at least see original tea room and some of the ink paintings."

"Thank you, Miki," he said, "but unfortunately we're only in town for tonight. I'm racing the clock to get to the Indigo Plateau."

"Hm." Miki smiled wryly, leaning her chin in her hand. Her girlish bob and speaking style made it difficult to judge her age. Some moments she seemed just this side of adulthood and others, like now, she seemed much older. "You never stand still."

Chris smiled nervously. "I guess not."

"So tell me," Miki said, saving him from having to figure out how to change the subject, "do you still have that eevee I gave you?"

Miki's small talk was an art form. She flitted from one topic to another, guiding them past awkward silences and heaviness as if it were easy to do. Why had Chris expected anything less from her? After all, she was trained not just for grace on stage but also in conversation. All the same, he knew her well enough to be aware of the way she evaded his gaze, her careful posture, her questioning glances at Una.

When she retired to her bedroom at last, Chris heaved a sigh of relief.

Even as he nestled into his sleeping bag and arranged a few floor cushions under his head, Chris knew he was going to have a hard time falling asleep, and not only because of the sounds of traffic outside.

Incense, floor polish, and something delicate and floral permeated the apartment, smells Chris had associated with the dance hall but now realized were the smells of Miki's life more generally. Those smells brought him back to the hours he'd spent standing outside her dressing room: his pokemon at his feet, trying to look tough as he glanced anxiously up and down the hallway, his bad arm in a sling. Dancers he didn't know giggling at him from behind their fans as they passed. Knowing he looked young and foolish to them and still so eager to prove himself.

In the dark, he heard Una rustling and knew she was having trouble sleeping, too. The knowledge made him feel both less and more alone.

A bus wheezed past on the street below, and Una said softly, "So much has changed. So many strange sounds. At least a few familiar things remain. It was kind of Miki to give us a place to stay."

Chris made a noise of agreement.

"I like her."

"Yeah, she's nice."

He heard her roll over. "How do you know each other?"

Chris folded his hands under his head and stared up at the ceiling. "I helped her out once. There was this guy …."

A self-described fan, Miki had explained after. The man had been writing her letters for months, but his increasingly desperate ramblings had gotten lost in the tides of dance hall fan mail. Finally, he had decided to take action one night when she was walking home from a show.

"I didn't know what I was doing—I'd only been away from home for a couple weeks—but I stepped in."

"What did you do?"

Chris blushed, glad for the cover of darkness. "I dunno. I tackled him. Stupid."

Una propped herself up on one elbow and gazed down at him. "How so?"

"Well, not stupid, I guess." After all, what else was he supposed to do, let it happen? "Reckless. The gym here has trap doors—ghost-types—and I had a rough time of it the first run through. Sprained my wrist and dislocated my shoulder. Tackling that guy made it worse. I couldn't train or even travel for three weeks after. So Miki paid me for a while to walk her home from the dance hall, keep an eye on the door, that kind of thing. Honestly, she was a better trainer than I was at the time, but I think she felt bad."

Miki's eyes on him under the streetlight. Maybe I like your company.

"You were brave."

"I guess so."

But he wasn't. It would've been wrong not to help her, but at the same time … he'd made things worse in his own way. He knew why she invited him out for ramen with her after practices and performances, though he'd pretended not to know. Technically, there was nothing wrong with sharing a meal with a friend. But each time she asked, each time he said yes, it had gotten harder to imagine telling her no. He hadn't known what to say—still didn't.

And now here he was again.

Una's voice cut into his thoughts, "She seemed a little sad."

"Yeah." He sighed. "Hey … I'm starting to drift off."

"Of course." The sofa creaked as she settled back onto the cushions. "Goodnight, Chris."

"Night."

After a while, he heard Una's breath deepen and slow, and he still lay looking up at the ceiling.

—

The hike out of Ecruteak was harder than the hike in, both because Una was carrying weight now and because they were slowly but surely climbing uphill. Not long after they crossed the first lake, she started to lag behind, and Chris stopped to wait for her and Mojimoji to catch up. He didn't have to badger Una into resting this time. She still didn't utter a single complaint, but she leaned against a tree trunk, breathing hard, while Mojimoji butted her head against her leg.

"I apologize for my slowness," she said after a moment, fidgeting with her shoulder straps.

"No, Una, it's okay." He sighed. "Here, let me take a look at your pack and see if I can put a few things in mine instead."

She straightened and tugged the backpack higher onto her shoulders. "No, I will carry it. You are already carrying so much more than I am." It was true—Chris had not only the tent but also an assortment of pokemon food, medicines, and other training supplies. "I will strive to keep up."

"I don't want you to strain yourself either. I'm used to carrying all of this."

There came a piercing trill from behind them.

Mojimoji rose up on her hind legs and froze.

Chris swiveled until he found the yellow eyes of a massive noctowl staring down at them from a nearby tree. The branch bent under her weight. She preened, but her eyes never left them.

"What a big noctowl. I have never seen one during the day." She shot Chris a worried look. "Do you think it is an omen?"

"It's just another trainer," he said, pointing out the tie-dyed band around one of her legs.

Moments later they heard the trainer's footsteps approaching, and then he appeared from around the bend, lanky with long hair and a bandana. "What did you find, M.J.?" he called to his pokemon. Then he caught sight of Chris and Una and sauntered over. "Hey, strangers! How are you enjoying this beautiful afternoon?"

"Hey. Coming from Mahogany?"

This time of year, few trainers traveled west from Mahogany Town unless they were circumnavigating the Ice Pass, taking the longer but safer route up the foothills outside Violet City. Chris himself was an exception, he supposed.

"Yup. Making a quick trip home before I head to Olivine. I'm working on my cousin's farm to earn a little extra cash through League season."

"I grew up in Olivine. Who's your cousin?" Chris asked, and immediately wished he hadn't.

"Right on. You know Josh Bloom?"

"Oh. No, I don't."

Mojimoji crouched between him and the stranger, spines angled in the noctowl's direction, until Chris shooed her away. Still glaring at the noctowl, she slunk away to guard Una instead.

"So, no Indigo Conference for you, huh?"

"Nah, I'm not gonna try to force it this late in the season. Maybe next year. For now, I might as well enjoy myself, right, M.J.?" The noctowl had closed her eyes and seemed to be napping. Turned back to Chris, he raised an eyebrow. "You're not still going for it, are you?"

Chris squared his shoulders. "Yeah. I am."

"Good for you. Best of luck, man." The noctowl trainer's smile had a touch of pity in it. "Guess you don't have time for a quick battle then, huh?"

Chris stole a quick glance at Una, who paused rubbing Mojimoji's ears to blink at him in good-humored puzzlement. "Actually, I think a quick battle is exactly what I need right now. Let's take a break, Una."

"Cool," said the trainer, recalling his noctowl. "One on one, or …?"

"Sounds great."

"How much do you want to put on it?"

His mind still on yesterday's shopping excursion, Chris didn't have to think long. "Is fifty okay?"

"Sure."

Chris recalled Mojimoji. Then he and the other trainer shook hands, eyes locked, searching each other for clues to weaknesses. The hair on the back of Chris's neck prickled, and he smiled.

Una trailed behind as Chris retreated a few yards. "What are we doing?"

"With a little luck, winning back some of that backpack money." He chose a pokeball from his belt and watched the other trainer do the same. "On three?" he called.

The trainer nodded.

"One … two … three—"

"Let's go, Magic!"

"Come on, Kosho!"

His typhlosion burst out with a fiery display and a roar. When his gaze fell on the other trainer's parasect, across the path, clacking its claws, Kosho glanced over his shoulder at Chris. They exchanged smug smiles.

"Give it some heat, Kosho!"

The other trainer shot back, "Give it a good dusting."

The parasect began to rock from side to side, mushroom shell jiggling. Black dust showered from the mushroom gills, releasing a chemical odor.

When a spurt of flames hit the parasect head-on, it squealed, momentarily stunned. It stopped moving, but black particles already filled the air.

Kosho inhaled to prepare another fireball—but choked. He coughed sparks and dropped to all fours.

"Chris," Una said warningly.

"I know," he said. "Push through, Kosho. Flame charge it!"

With a growl and cough, Kosho flared the flames around his neck and launched himself forward. The parasect tried to scuttle out of the way, but it was too slow. When they collided, the smell of burnt plastic filled the air.

"Chris!"

Una's voice was loud in his ear, so he ducked away, calling, "Again, Kosho! You got this!"

"Hang on, Magic! Leech seed."

As Kosho swung his head, trying to roll the parasect onto its back, white tendrils shot out from the shadowy underside of the mushroom cap and lassoed his legs. The two tangled together and fell, stirring up more black dust. Kosho growled, and smoke filled the air.

Suddenly, Una was pulling Chris's arm, the shock of it unbalancing him. "Chris, stop! Why are you doing this?"

"What are you talking about?" He yanked free and turned back to the battle to see Kosho also trying to free himself.

The other trainer, taking no heed of the spat on the opposite side of the field, called, "Slash! Go for the throat!"

"They are hurting each other!"

"I know, Una!"

His typhlosion bellowed. The parasect's claws scrabbled in the dirt.

"Kosho's going to get hurt more if you don't let me concentrate—"

"Then call him back!" Una grabbed his arm again and spun him to look at her. "End this. Please."

"Let go!"

"Please!"

"Gods, fine!"

Chris recalled Kosho into his pokeball, leaving the parasect to thud to the ground. He turned his back to Una as he clipped the ball back onto his belt.

The trainer blurted, "That's it? You quit?"

"Yeah. I quit," Chris said. "Sorry."

"Too bad." The trainer recalled his parasect with a nervous laugh. "I thought I was about to see Magic beat a fire-type."

Chris closed the distance between them. "Here's your winnings," he said, holding out a few bills. When the other trainer didn't take it, he insisted, "I yielded, so you won. Take it."

"Cool. Thanks for being cool, man. I hope you make it to the Indigo Plateau and all."

"Thanks."

"Well … good luck!" The trainer put his backpack on again and cast Chris and Una one last nervous smile before waving and continuing down the path out of sight.

Chris took a deep breath. "So what was that?"

"I thought you were a good person," Una said to the ground, a hand over her mouth.

"I don't understand why you're so upset."

She spun on him, eyes ablaze. "They are sacred!" Her fists shook at her sides. "They are the voices of the wind and the water and the trees and the earth itself, our guardians and protectors, the souls of our ancestors—and you use them for sport!"

He held up his hands. "I promise, Kosho's fine. Pokemon heal faster than we do. It's not as serious as you're making it out to be."

"You cannot treat the spirits like playthings!"

Chris clenched his jaw. "I don't think of them as playthings. They're … partners. They like the competition as much as I do. They listen to me because they trust me."

"And if Kosho wished to stop fighting, would he be free to do so?"

A snappy reply didn't come to Chris fast enough.

"I am going for a walk," Una said. She turned and slipped between the trees, leaving Chris standing alone on the trail with his mouth open.

After a moment, Chris dragged his backpack to a nearby boulder, took a seat, and began unpacking his pokemon medicine kit. Once he had laid out everything he needed, he let Kosho back out of his pokeball.

He came out swinging and snarling and coughing smoke.

"Hey, hey, easy. The fight's over, buddy."

As Kosho focused his gaze on Chris, he slowly lowered his flames. Then he let out a long groan and flopped over on his side.

"Oh, don't be dramatic. Come on."

The hard part was dosing Kosho with the antitoxin, which had to be sprayed under the tongue or into the cheek pouch. Kosho wasn't hurt badly, which meant that medicating him became a wrestling match. Chris came away with one sleeve singed and the other wet with slobber, but moments later the anti-fungal began to take effect and Kosho's breathing eased. Then Chris checked Kosho over with gentle hands, bandaging small cuts and applying an ointment to bruises. He spoke in low tones to his pokemon while he worked.

"You did good earlier. I'm sorry I had to pull you out. It wasn't your fault." He paused and met Kosho's eyes, red with a suggestion of flame deep within. In a quiet voice, he asked, "You don't mind battles, do you?"

Kosho yawned.

Chris sighed and continued patching up the typhlosion. "We're in a tough spot, Kosho. I want to do the right thing, but I'm not sure what that is. I feel like the more I try to help, the weirder things get. I probably should've let her stay in Mahogany, huh? Well, thanks a lot for not saying something sooner."

When Chris's hands finally fell still, Kosho dropped his head into his trainer's lap and rumbled contentedly. It should've made Chris feel better, but it didn't.

"We're not gonna make it to The Indigo Plateau in time, are we?"

He was cut short by a scream.

"Una!" Chris jumped to his feet. Kosho was faster, already plunging off the path and into the tangled green. Chris ducked between the trees, not caring that he slid on loose rocks and gravel as he bounded downhill. "Una!" he called again. "Where are you?"

"Here!"

Moments later he spotted her golden hair shining through the foliage. He found her with her back against a large tree trunk, clutching a clump of leaves in one hand and her feather necklace in the other.

Kosho sniffed her, then rose onto his hind legs to sniff the air. After a moment he dropped back to all fours and shot Chris a look as if to say, Was that all? Then, with a grumble, he sat.

Chris panted, "Are you okay?"

Una stood straight, tucking her hair behind her ears. "Yes. I apologize if I gave you a fright. Something startled me, that is all. I am unharmed."

"What was it?"

"I have no idea, in all honesty. Something green? It fled when you approached and I could not identify it before it disappeared."

"Glad it was just a false alarm." Chris checked the time on his Bitflex. "Look … it's getting late. Let's find a place to set up camp and call it a day."

—

Chris pitched the tent near the lakeshore and tasked Una with collecting firewood. They ate in uneasy silence, Una fiddling with her feather necklace and Chris craning his neck to watch the sinking sun turn the Dragon's Spine mountains red and then blue.

At last, Chris stood and cleared his throat. "I'm going to run drills with my pokemon for a while. I've got a book and a headlamp if you need something to do."

"I am content to sit with my thoughts."

I'm doing the best I can, he wanted to tell her. Even though he'd never been the right person for this job, he still hated to be a disappointment. But saying it out loud wouldn't change it.

Chris walked almost to the water's edge, keeping his back to the campsite and gathering small pieces of wood as he walked. For a moment, he stood still and listened to the water lapping at the shore. He took up a pokeball and breathed. In through the nose, out through the mouth.

Then he sent out Zip, letting the jolteon run in circles until he was no longer bursting at the seams. Chris couldn't even touch him when he was like this—too much static. Ridiculous, Chris thought, all that full-body wiggling energy. But he couldn't help his smile watching Zip chase the sparks that shot out from his own fur.

When his jolteon had calmed enough, they began their routine and sparks began to dance over the darkening water. One by one, Chris tossed the pieces of wood into the air, calling orders to catch them out of the air or blast them down. Zip didn't miss one.

He didn't hear Una approach until she was almost right next to him. He froze mid-throw. "Oh, hi."

"Hello."

Chris let the stick drop and kicked it away. "Alright, Zip. Come on back." Not until the jolteon vanished in a flash of red light did Chris realize how dark it had become.

"You do not have to stop on my behalf."

"It's okay. I was about done anyway." He put his hands in his pockets, biting his cheek. "So, what do you want to do? We'll be back in Mahogany tomorrow. Do you want to stay, or …?"

"I do not know what would be best."

Mahogany Town might be better for her than following him to the Indigo Plateau … but he couldn't make her stay there if she didn't want to. "I don't know either."

Una was quiet for a moment, then unlaced her boots and waded into the shallows, leaving her new boots in the sand.

Chris followed suit. "I have a hard time believing there were no pokemon trainers five hundred years ago. Didn't you call on them to defend from invaders and things like that?"

"It was not like what you do. Even that word is new, pokemon. We do not trap spirits in our pockets. They come and go freely, and we thank them for their help with food and offerings. It requires an uncommon person to tame a forest spirit."

"It's pretty common now. Growing up, most everybody I knew wanted to be a trainer someday." He bent to pick out a smooth, flat stone and flicked it out over the water. "I can only imagine what it looks like through your eyes, and I don't know what to tell you to make you feel differently about it. But this is who I am. This is the only way I get to be out in the wilderness like this, getting to be close to pokemon every day. All I can tell you is this is where I feel right."

Una made no response but to skip a stone too. It went out further than Chris's had. Then the stone sank and the water was still.

Until it wasn't anymore. Ripples spread toward them from somewhere else.

Chris swept his gaze across the water and in the middle-distance he saw a hazy figure, shimmering faintly in the sunset's last rays. Beside him, Una gasped, and he knew she saw it too. It was moving towards them, quickly. As it sped over the water, the haze resolved into a four-legged shape with horns and a long mane fluttering behind.

The creature stopped at the center of the lake, suspended on top of the water. For what felt like a long, long time, it stood unmoving except for the breeze in its mane. No one and nothing made a sound. The pokemon was still too far away to make out details in the dim light, but somehow Chris could feel it staring at him.

He didn't dare break the silence to invoke the creature's name aloud, but of course he recognized it, a fairytale creature brought to life.

Slowly, with intent, it walked across the water to them, an exquisite impossibility.

Una dropped to her knees in the water. Chris stood straighter.

The creature drew closer, becoming both more unreal and also truer with each graceful step, until finally, Suicune stood only a few feet away. It towered over them with diamond horns forking into the sky, regarding him with unblinking red eyes.

You. Without words and without speaking, she spoke—Chris couldn't help but think of that voice as female. It was a voice made of brambles, quicksilver, and water over stone, neither kind nor unkind.

I never searched for you, she said, but I knew one day we would meet again. And so we have, after all this time. It is good to see you, old friend. But strange, how the years have passed and yet here you are the same as you were.

Chris felt lightheaded. "I don't understand."

Suicune tossed her mane, and Chris thought he heard the echo of an echo of a laugh. We are all scrabbling at the shadow of understanding. I have lived long enough to watch forests die and rise again and for rivers to carve new paths, and still there is little I understand in this world. It simply is, whether we understand or not.

"I … I'm sorry, but I think you have me confused with someone else."

She cocked her head to one side, and he stopped breathing. How stupid did he have to be to argue with a creature like her? He didn't need a demonstration of force to know she could peel him like an onion if she wanted to.

After a long moment Suicune said, Perhaps I have. Memory is imperfect, after all, and change is the one true constant. The boy I remember was kind … but foolish. Perhaps you can still become more than what he was.

She swiveled to look down on Una. And you. It gains you nothing to kneel to me.

Chris watched the color drain from Una's face.

You will wait all your life for permission and approval, yet it is already too late. You are ash on the wind. Then she looked away, dismissing Una with a flick of her tails. No matter. All will be as it will be in the end.

Suicune turned her gaze to Chris one more time, but he couldn't meet her eyes. There was something too nearly human in them. I wish you luck, she said. Perhaps one day we will meet again to learn how the world has changed us and whether we have changed it in return. Stranger things have come to pass.

With that, she darted away, spattering them with water. She didn't look back.

Chris stared long after her ribbon tails had faded from sight, trying to catch his breath. When he turned at last to help Una to her feet, he noticed his hands were trembling. "What do you think she meant?"

He thought maybe he knew, but it sounded too crazy, too arrogant, to say out loud: I think she knew my dad.

How, though? For anyone to personally know a mythical being was unfathomable, but Hiro Nakano was the least likely candidate. If he'd met Suicune, how could he have said there were no gods?

Una only shook her head. "I have never heard of a being like that. She must have come from far away."

His mouth flew open. "But she's from— You've never heard of Suicune?" Too late, he realized of course she hadn't: the only Ecruteak she'd ever known had two towers and two gods. "Sorry," he said, lowering his eyes. "I guess that story's not as old as I thought it was."

Sloshing out of the shallows, he weighed the discomfort of walking barefoot in the dark now against the discomfort of hiking in damp shoes later. Finally, he decided to jam on his boots. He fumbled with them until Una spoke up.

"I would like to hear it."

"Huh? Oh, the legend? I'm not very good at that kind of thing." Stuffing his socks into his pockets, he let out a little laugh. "We should've asked Miki. She's in the dance every year."

When he raised his head again, Una was staring at him expectantly, boots in her hand. She needed so much that he couldn't give her. He owed her at least this one small thing.

With a sigh, Chris said, "Okay, I'll do my best."

As started back to camp, he tried to imagine how Dad would tell it. He was the one who was good with words, who'd had a joke or story for any occasion … but this wasn't the kind of story he'd tell.

Haltingly, Chris began, "I guess there are, you know, a few different versions, but the way I always heard it … the fire started with a lightning strike. The tower, I mean. In Ecruteak."

He glanced at Una to see her reaction, but she only waited blank-faced for him to continue.

"So, everyone managed to get out before it fell, except for three pokemon trapped inside."

Una cut in, "They were inside?"

Not expecting questions so early in the telling, he stammered, "Uh, yeah."

"But that does not make sense. Would that we were so blessed, but to my knowledge no spirit has ever entered our towers, only roosted on top."

"Wait, why not? I thought you said your people cooperated with, um, spirits."

She scoffed. "No bird yearns for a cage, Chris. What would the wind want with four walls?"

When her eyes flicked to his belt, he couldn't help tugging at the hem of his shirt, even though he knew he hadn't done anything wrong, no matter what she thought. There was no covering his pokeballs though, and they gleamed in the moonlight.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "That's just how I heard it."

With obvious effort, Una softened her expression. "I apologize. I asked to hear the story and yet impeded your telling. Please, go on."

"Well …." As he fumbled for his lost train of thought, they came to the edge of their fire pit, where the coals still flickered red and gold. He watched the shifting light, trying to summon pretty, gentle words to continue the story. In the end, all he managed was, "The pokemon inside the tower died."

Unbidden, images rose in his mind: the column of smoke where there had once been a tower, snapped and splintered beams, and crushed beneath it all—

No. That was a different story, and he wasn't going there tonight.

Pushing that the thought away, he continued, "But Ho-oh flew over the ruins, and from the ashes, the three pokemon came back to life."

So quietly Chris almost didn't hear, Una intoned, "Praise be."

Chris continued without slowing, because this was the part he'd always liked best as a kid. "No one agrees what kind of pokemon they'd been, but whatever they were before, they became something else after.

"First was Raikou, jumping from the ashes as quick as lightning and fleeing east. Then Entei burst from the ashes, taking all the heat of the fire with it as it ran north. Last of all was Suicune, who ran over water as it fled south, followed by the northern wind. After that, everything was still.

"The story goes that they still roam the land to this day, and … um."

This was when the moral would normally come in. Sometimes the three became avenging beasts who punished misbehaving children and cruel trainers. Sometimes they were a reward for the worthy or the lucky, a blessing.

Some blessing Dad had received, then. Maybe Chris and Una should be grateful they were still standing. Though surely if Suicune had wanted to hurt them, she already would've.

Chris didn't know what any of this was supposed to mean in the real world.

"And that's the story," he finished wanly. After a moment of stiff silence, he fished the water bottle from his bag and dumped it over the coals. That was something he could do that made sense.

As smoke and steam rose from the fire pit, Una said in a soft voice, "So not all of the gods are dead after all."

And Chris couldn't argue.

 

[kintsugi]

wowowow using my brand new quoting abilities!

He stretched his arms—because that was all the room he had to move

horrifically on-brand for what we discussed today, but you actually *do* toss up your space/no spacing em dash conventions. I think you more commonly do spacing around them, so I wanted to flag this one since it stood out w/ no spaces.

chairs that looked like they had last been upholstered in the 70's

dumb question... is there a 70's? Does that imply that the pokemon world had a similar set of social events that led to 70's fashion? Pokewoodstock? Pokedisco?

the little cot and the potbelly stove through the open doorway behind the front desk, a vision that had made him feel inexplicably sad

I think "sight" rather than "vision" would work here -- the latter implies something mysterious/not real

"It's almost the end of League eligibility. Demand goes up, the price goes up."

Didn't really know where to flag this, but there were some really lovely worldbuilding details in this chapter! Having Chris tour the town was a bit of an aggressive way to show them, but I still enjoyed it.

He had also burned his tongue.

Another! Dumb! Question! Jelly pastries are usually filled after cooking (because heating them will break down the gelatin and make it really watery), so it's unlikely that the filling is hot enough to burn. I think maybe something like red bean paste/something that could be boiled would work better in this case.

But dumb questions aside, the comedic timing of that paragraph was really fun.

"But I recognize your shirt."

"you can't lie to me after selling me bad product that's illegal" never change, Chris

Maybe you're involved in historical reenactments, Jane."

yeah or maybe she's the avatar

"Excuse me," said Chris. "Why not just fly her out in the helicopter?"

this did feel alarmingly meta, but in hindsight I also don't know how else to answer the "why didn't they take the eagles to mordor" questions.

The plot! Thickens!

I'm actually a little further ahead readingwise, so it'd be unfair of me to speculate on what's to come. I do like how you drop some foreshadowing for some of the future conflicts/events -- stuff like Una's robe and strange accent, Chris running low on money -- they're nice hooks that are subtle on the way in but are really fun on the way out.

Otherwise, this is a quieter chapter, but I think it works. The main story beats are mostly to introduce battling and to give a good metric for Jane's situation, and these are pretty critical to the story so I think it works that it's a bit slower here. It's a bit of an ask, but I wish we had a sense of Chris's journey before finding Una -- the doctor acts like it's a big deal for him to be delaying his trip to Blackthorn this late in the season, and maybe it is, and maybe it isn't -- we don't really have a good grounding to understand the weight of that choice, how much time is left to course-correct, etc.

Still! Tons of fun; definitely looking forward to the escalations ahead.

 

[WildBoots]

TLDR: The last person who gave me a detailed response on this chapter was Pen almost two years ago before it was clear what direction the story would be taking. I actually think it might be the chapter I’ve gotten the least feedback on, period. So, yeah, it doesn’t astonish me to hear that the pacing and world-building balance doesn’t quite feel right. Cheers for calling it out! I remember worrying about the pacing when I wrote it and then went, “Welp, enough of this thing—bye, chapter two.” Haha. I think it’s likely that my next round of Big Edits will involve recombining this chapter with parts of number three and/or rewriting parts from scratch. Probably not as radical as completely replacing the prologue, but probably the same number of words to be reworked.

horrifically on-brand for what we discussed today, but you actually *do* toss up your space/no spacing em dash conventions.

Haha yeah, our conversation yesterday made me want to do a round of editing just for em dashes. It’s gonna be a detail that maybe 4 people will ever notice, but I’ll know and I’ll feel better. I wonder if that slip-up is happening because it’s an older chapter or because of being edited across so many programs over the years.

is there a 70's? Does that imply that the pokemon world had a similar set of social events that led to 70's fashion? Pokewoodstock? Pokedisco?

I don’t think they had Pokewoodstock or Pokedisco in Johto, but I think they still had distinct styles and interior decorating trends that would look dated in the present. I went with 70s for the same reason I gave Mark a Nokia: I didn’t see a reason it absolutely could not exist, and it evokes a clear mental image immediately.

"sight" rather than "vision"

Good call!

Having Chris tour the town was a bit of an aggressive way to show them, but I still enjoyed it.

I agree! It’s also an awful lot of focus on Mahogany Town considering how the rest of the first arc stays on the move.

Another! Dumb! Question! Jelly pastries are usually filled after cooking (because heating them will break down the gelatin and make it really watery), so it's unlikely that the filling is hot enough to burn. I think maybe something like red bean paste/something that could be boiled would work better in this case.

But dumb questions aside, the comedic timing of that paragraph was really fun.

That’s not a question. But it’s a good point! And an even better point when red bean paste is exactly what should be in there by right—it’s just taiyaki lol. Chefsugi. I bet I could replace burning his tongue with some other minor grievance.

this did feel alarmingly meta, but in hindsight I also don't know how else to answer the "why didn't they take the eagles to mordor" questions.

Ha, unfortunately there are a few of those scattered throughout. This story is held together with staples and a prayer if you look at it too hard, and in places the plot needs a push. It’s possible that with editing I can figure out a workaround but... There’s honestly no great reason Chris should be allowed to be involved in Una’s situation in this way in the first place—no way in hell would it happen in our world. But shh, shh, shh something something magical monsters, something something cultural differences...yeah, goodgoodgreat. The worst offender, IMHO, is the clunky-ass Una name reveal next chapter, which I still have no idea how best to un-fuck. If you’ve got literally any ideas on that front, please advise lol.

the story so I think it works that it's a bit slower here. It's a bit of an ask, but I wish we had a sense of Chris's journey before finding Una -- the doctor acts like it's a big deal for him to be delaying his trip to Blackthorn this late in the season, and maybe it is, and maybe it isn't -- we don't really have a good grounding to understand

I’m not sure it is “a bit of an ask.” Lately my editing strategy has been mostly “hmmmm needs more Dad—let’s add flashbacks!” I think one or two quick reflections on his past journey could fit here much better here than just meandering around Mahogany Town.

 

[kintsugi]

Chefsugi. I bet I could replace burning his tongue with some other minor grievance.

oh, you absolutely can burn your tongue on them if they're red bean paste -- just much less likely if they're jelly for anything to be piping hot

Lately my editing strategy has been mostly “hmmmm needs more Dad—let’s add flashbacks!” I think one or two quick reflections on his past journey could fit here much better here than just meandering around Mahogany Town.

"ah yes, I remember when I had parents plural"

“Welp, enough of this thing—bye, chapter two.”

NEVER NOT EDITING. KNOCK 'EM DEAD!!

but she had taken up the defensive position without being asked

Ahhh! The sandshrew from the prologue is back and she's a sweetie. I love her.

"I am surprised you had not heard that before. I thought it was common knowledge."

There's some really good foreshadowing dropped here -- I'm torn because I like mysteries that span more than oneish (back half of two and front half of three) chapter, but I also think that the reveal definitely had to happen as early as possible to get the plot rolling. I think you ended up striking a really good balance here!

Donde esta el bano?"

Shoulda coulda woulda donde esta la biblioteca
forum formatting ate your ñ

"No, Una. I am Una."

One thing about the pacing here -- not really knowing Una as a character, I feel that this moment could've used a bit more focus -- this is the most concrete thing she remembers about herself, and so far the only thing she can take from the past that's still accepted now. It feels like it should be an important moment, and yet it easily gets overshadowed by everything else in this chapter. But on the other hand I feel like that's almost the point? Set everyone up for a good success and then swipe the rug out from under them with timetravel?

Kelsey made a cheerful noise that wasn't heard so much as felt all through their bodies. They lurched and wobbled as the lapras clambered out of the sand and rock. Then they were gliding through open water.

this is a very good lapras

Breaking in was how the online articles had recommended Chris handle his newly-caught lapras. But the phrase snagged inside him. From their first meeting he'd recognized the cleverness in her gaze, and shamed though he'd been, he still recognized it as both a challenge and an invitation to play when she dunked him. Those weren't things he had any desire to break

i. smell. plothooks about interesting topics. 👀

For a moment Chris closed his eyes and let himself miss them.

haha remember when i had plural

I dunno if this flashback was added in post, but it does feel a bit incongruous with the rest of this chapter. The flow is a little rocky -- the first half is a travel montage and the back half is a very detailed rendition of one or two key conversations (ruins of the Tower, selling the robe), so the flow of time already feels uneven, but not in a natural way (again, haha, maybe intentional?) -- adding the flashback muddles that timeline even further and it does feel a little out of place.

I think the main kicker for me is that he's remembering a tender moment with his parents (hugs! responsibility! don't grow up yet!), but a slightly more aggressive moment with the houndoom (shadows licking out of his teeth). The fond memories pairs nicely with the quietness of the walk, but the battling moment feels a bit too juxtaposed with #notallhoundoom -- the flashback for me went from warm fuzzy parents to warm fuzzy houndoom to angry houndoom to present day to present day houndoom can be scary to but not *that* scary to well how scary are they to very scary to oh that's illegally scary. -- bit of a sine graph when you almost just want a downhill slide. I think maybe if you reduced it to just the fun memories of houndoom, it might be a little less of en emotional roller coaster? unsure

flashbacks are good in small doses -- they blend into the story better and end up carrying more weight when you aren't trying to convey a ton of complex emotion at once

oh and the image of kids hooking coffee cups into houndoom horns is A+

North, south, east, west. Cleanse him with fire."

EVERYTHING CHANGED WHEN THE FIRE CLEANSING ATTACKED

Una furrowed her brow and shook her head. Then her eyes suddenly went wide. "No, there should be two!" she said.

The memory loss is a little unclear -- is she pausing because she forgot there were two towers and it's just coming back?

The priests. Enju, Ranya, Aren...

hmmm... three priests covers one each for entei/raikou/suicune, so that would disprove my working shitpost theory that Una is suicunebender... but... their names only cover flame/golden/eagle so maybe they're all for ho-oh... *gestures wildly at notecards on wall*

He gathered up a few more snacks — no jerky —

ahhhh so tender

"Can I come with you?"

hey i recognize this quote

"I can see if Doctor Lamia is available.

is! she! a snake?????

Beside him, Una's head drooped, all the fire gone out of her at once.

This scene was done really well, and to me this line feels like the climax of this chapter -- all of Una's conflict with her past vs modern society are coming out to play here, and this is where she loses. The gods are dead indeed.

to reveal the faded red bell sleeve of a robe, and in the layer below another in gold

awwwww yeah. suicune theory back online

"I can commit to eight hundred, if you'll take credit on your OneCard." She cleared her throat and collected herself. "That's the best I can do."

I! am purely speculating and have never purchased historic artifacts for a museum, but it feels like they got scammed here. A low-end bridal dress from a boutique would easily go for this much, and that's not handmade or historic, and the more expensive ones would go for several thousands, and this one is part of a matched set and is in pristine condition besides the grass stains. Unless that's the point, and they suck at barganing?

also, dumb thing I realized when I was writing out the original comment of "lol she put her foot down at the first price as an insulting number but $600 more was dandy" -- even assuming that the currency has remained the same for five hundred years, a (presumably extant) inflation rate would actually mean that the $200 she's thinking of is a small fortune. For reference, $200 USD in 1920 has the same purchasing power as $2500 now, toss in another 400 years for inflation to grow... it'd be a lot. Una would probably be blown away at that price lol. Money scales in time travel in very weird ways.

Chris's throwaway line of "a good jacket would cost you $200" is probably a good place to deal with this since the numbers are the same, but at the same time I don't know if that would have had much meaning to Una either, since good jackets were probably expensive as well and also if someone casually mentioned that a good jacket was worth $10,000 I'd probably file them in the same box as "how much could a banana cost, $10?".

I'd almost say fuck it and deal with it offscreen somehow, but it *does* end up being a major scene in this chapter and money is the root of all evil issues in the next chapter. Dunno how it'd incorporate in the already-tight pacing of this chapter, though. Maybe it would fit when Chris buys her snacks and she asks how much she should repay him and he's like "it's nothing it's $1.50" and she assumes he's a prince since he just dropped her equivalent of $1000 on doritos and then they sit on the ground and Chris pulls out Mark's copy of Atlas Shrugged and they discuss economics????

Ahhhhh but the plot thickens and the good stuff happens here. Overall very lovely developments. This is definitely the chapter where I think we really start to unpack the plot of the fic -- it's been lots of themes and hints so far, but now we get some concrete goals for both characters and get to see that they probably will never be able to achieve them in their idealized form!!! hahaha fuck. I also like how natural you make everything feel; little bits like Chris remembering to get vegetarian snacks in the heat of the moment make things feel a lot less dramatic but a lot more impactful, like this is a real person really feeding chips to a suicunebender.

going off of Divides, next chapter is the shit hits the fan chapter, so i'm excited

 

[WildBoots]

oh, you absolutely can burn your tongue on them if they're red bean paste

Oh, for sure, but then it's just a real-world food item. Not that it's stopped me before, of course...

Shoulda coulda woulda donde esta la biblioteca
forum formatting ate your ñ

Yeah, I also hate this device, honestly. The second I figure out a better way to do this, I'm yeeting these paragraphs into the sea. I feel like I could get the name drop by talking about Unova, maybe, but IDK why Chris would bring that up, so... el oh el.

I dunno if this flashback was added in post, but it does feel a bit incongruous with the rest of this chapter.

Hahaha, OOPS. The struggle. It continues.

The memory loss is a little unclear -- is she pausing because she forgot there were two towers and it's just coming back?

I don't think she forgot per se. I think it was more that she knew something felt weird but it was hard to put her finger on what exactly given all the other weirdness and noise. She could react sooner though.

I! am purely speculating and have never purchased historic artifacts for a museum, but it feels like they got scammed here.

They totally did! The reason being that's it's coming out of pocket instead of through typical channels because Chris isn't going to stay in town for a month while the museum board decides on an acquisition plan, etc. They're basically pawning it for quick money now.

Like I said in PMs, I agree about the pacing. I think there's a way to recombine chapters 2 and 3, since I think 2 is too slow and focuses too much on Mahogany Town and 3 has a little too much in it now. Shifting pieces over would give me more space to let Una ogle at money, etc. Like you said, never not editing. It sure wouldn't be the first time I've gutted a Spring chapter. :D I'm glad to hear these pacing issues aren't stopping you from enjoying the fic. But I am also excited to fix them. ❤

And LOL you're not wrong. Huh. Why does Ch 4 always seem to be my "shit pops off" chapter...

 

[kintsugi]

budget spaghetti joint

i don't really have anything to add except that i never thought i'd see these words in succession before

Somehow elegant even in her jeans and house slippers, she set a tea tray on the coffee table.

really fun bit of description!

All the same, he knew her well enough to be aware of the way she evaded his gaze, her careful posture, her questioning glances at Una.

this one too -- the scene with Miki is a nice break. It gives us a lot of insight into Chris as a character through the guise of describing another; it's really well done.

Incense, floor polish, and something delicate and floral permeated the apartment, smells Chris had associated with the dance hall but now realized were the smells of Miki's life broadly

"broadly" here made this sentence hard to parse for me

Knowing he looked young and foolish to them, to himself even, and still so eager to prove himself, somehow.

This sentence was also a little weird. Something about the double "himself" and all of the comma breaks and the "even/somehow" add-ons.

Sprained my wrist and dislocated my shoulder.

I! was sort of wondering how you'd go about putting in gym traps. Glad to see that they're as batshit in this canon as they are in the games; sad that Blackthorn doesn't have any good gimmicks and that we didn't get to see the Pryce slip-n-slide.

But he wasn't. He knew why she invited him out for ramen with her after practices and performances, though he pretended not to know.

I really liked this direction you take with romance. It felt very real, very awkward. Very Chris? idk. Nice dose of realism in a story that labelled as a fairytale -- no star-crossed lovers here!

You want merino wool, not cotton or synthetic, if you can help it." She threw him a panicked look, and he took a step back.

lmao like she knows what synthetic is. oh chris.

As often as not, he'd found almost new equipment sold off by former trainers who'd realized early in their journeys they didn't have what it takes to make it on the road. Most trainers ended their careers that way.

fun detail here! felt very Seattle/Portland lol

Chris remembered her stubborn stoicism on the hike into Ecruteak and realized she wouldn't say so if it weren't fine.

I got tripped up on the double negatives and "say so" -- it was hard to parse what she'd be saying when she said so? I think rephrasing to "realized she wouldn't tell him if it weren't fine" would make it a bit more immediately clear.

She flinched. "But that is men's clothing."

Una is a proud graduate of the Sugimori School of Girls Hiking in the Woods in Skirts

The branch bent under her weight.

Fun detail, and it doesn't really matter either way but -- I had trouble picturing what kind of trees this would be? Noctowl are big, but they aren't *massive* -- they're sort of in a weird weight class where would probably be a tree a forest with strong enough branches to fully support their weight, or the forest is something like fir trees where no tree would support their weight. Maybe?

For now, I might as well enjoy myself, right M.J.?

Dropped a comma here, unless she's Right MJ and there's a Left MJ and a Right Shark etc etc dead horse joke

"With a little luck, winning back some of that backpack money."

I liked this! Actions and shitty bargaining have consequences!

"They are hurting each other!"
"I know, Una!"

Oof!

"And if Hero wished to leave, would he be free to do so?"

This sets up well for the "do you want to leave"/*yawn* bit later in the chapter, but where it's placed in the argument doesn't make sense -- she seems more focused on the fact that they're in pain and have to trust humans not to get hurt, not that they can't leave the company of humans. Something like "wished to stop fighting" would follow the flow of the argument a bit better, I think?

And! Oh! It's gonna be interesting to see where this plot thread goes.

"I have no idea, in all honesty. Something…green? It fled when you approached, and it disappeared before I could identify it."

o n i o n g o d ? ?

It was a voice made of brambles, quicksilver, and water over stone, neither kind nor unkind.

very good description here

Do whatever you like. There is nothing I can offer you. You are already ash on the wind.

also this bit
I seem to recall an earlier version where there was a lot more Suicune praising Chris for being bestest boy, but I think this version works a lot better. Sort of like how we discussed in DM's -- yeah, it's strange that he has gods owing him favors and I'm really curious to see what kind of debt is being repaid, but the entire conceit of this universe is that people befriend forest spirits, so. I think this scene works well. Also, Team No Fucks Suicune is great.

She shook her head. "Who was that?"

it's your waifu c'mon suicunebender
also! Love "Who" instead of "what" here

Chris explained the legend of the three unnamed pokémon who died as Brass Tower burned and what they became.

This is an interesting bit though, and sort of throwing some water on my suicunebender theory but i refuse to stop stanning

I admit I'm a bit of a sucker for myths in stories so it does feel like this is a bit glossed over.

fml time to see if i can navigate ffn review sections now

 

[WildBoots]

I'm pleasantly surprised that all of the corrections on this one seem to be grammar/flow rather than oops pacing and structural issues. Those are easy to fix. Thanks for pointing those out!

I really liked this direction you take with romance. It felt very real, very awkward. Very Chris? idk. Nice dose of realism in a story that labelled as a fairytale -- no star-crossed lovers here!

Nice! I'm so glad. Another one that didn't land on the first pass and has been greatly improved with editing. And, yeah, I think soooome of the gyms have tricky stuff in them, but probably not all and probably not to the degree they do in the anime/games. Some of them are so silly and horribly resource-intensive. But I feel like it's reasonable for a ghost-type gym leader to want to test his challengers' daring and/or bond with their teams.

lmao like she knows what synthetic is. oh chris.

LOL, yup, for real. Behold, camping knowledge! And, behold, world's most adequate babysitter. Also, I very purposefully glossed over this because there's only so much nervous, blushing Chris *I* can handle, but let's imagine for a moment...

Una: And what, pray tell, is this? *Holds up a bra*
Chris: *good golly gee is he ever red* Uhhh maybe someone else can -- hi, yes, can you uh...? My friend here needs ummmm... Yup, great, I'll just be over here looking at tents bye.

Noctowl are big, but they aren't *massive* -- they're sort of in a weird weight class where would probably be a tree a forest with strong enough branches to fully support their weight, or the forest is something like fir trees where no tree would support their weight. Maybe?

Part of my thinking is that this one is *extra* big for being trained. Maybe even overfed.

Something like "wished to stop fighting" would follow the flow of the argument a bit better, I think?

And! Oh! It's gonna be interesting to see where this plot thread goes.

Good call!

And YES it's going to be really interesting to pick your brain about it as we go forward. It's a tricky, fun challenge because obviously uNa kinda makes a fair point. It's dogfighting, it's whack, and it's worth criticizing. But WTF does she want Chris to do about it? And dead dad says...!

o n i o n g o d ? ?

I have no idea what you could possibly be talking about. 😇

This is an interesting bit though, and sort of throwing some water on my suicunebender theory but i refuse to stop stanning

I admit I'm a bit of a sucker for myths in stories so it does feel like this is a bit glossed over.

Isn't throwing water on Suicune good for her? Anyway, yes, some big improvements in the dialogue, IMHO. Glad it sounds like you agree! The point was always meant to be that Suciune is attributing her blessing(?) to a specific action she thinks he's done, but Chris doesn't know WTF she talking about. Huh. Weird. Wonder why.

 

[Adamhuarts]

I read the first two chapters with the prologue and somehow forgot to review D: I might as well get it done now.

First off, I really enjoy your writing style in general. It has this really captivating feeling to it from the way you describe the surroundings, Chris' mental state as well as the smaller bits like character motions and background information. It was all wrapped in one neat package I enjoyed.

I really like Chris as a character honestly. He's not an over the top super hyped character on a pokemon journey nor is he an edgy washed up potato. He feels very real as an individual, which makes relating to him much easier. Jane is still an open book however because we don't really know anything about her aside from the fact that she can make green grass when she lays on snow long enough 😋.

This story is full of intrigue and potential and I'm eager to see where it all leads to. Will Chris' little detour not keep him from going to the indigo league or will he find a different calling in life somewhere along the way? Only time will tell.

 

[WildBoots]

Adam! Thanks so much for reading and for sharing your thoughts. I’m so glad you’re enjoying it, and that you like Chris as a character.

It has this really captivating feeling to it from the way you describe the surroundings, Chris' mental state as well as the smaller bits like character motions and background information.

Since you mentioned in DMs that you’d like to try to emulate this style, I’ll just point out something I try to keep in mind while I’m writing that I think is responsible for the vibe you just described. When I get stuck, I try to give my characters something to do with their hands—it’s rare that I allow them to just sit and think. Chris might make tea or set up targets for his pokémon or climb over a log. All of those things give me something grounding that I can visualize, even if he’s actually thinking ahead to something that’s stressing him out or reflecting on the past. Also, everything you describe (even in third person) should reflect things your character picks up with their senses. What would they fail to notice? What would they fixate on? Everything is character.

It’ll be really interesting to see how you react to later chapters! And this keeps me motivated to work on the current chapter! 💪 Cheers!