Normal 1.11: Local, I Hope
Kekoa
2018
“Should’ve brought a jacket,” you mutter.
Manollo scoffs. “Fucking told you. Colder here than anywhere else in the islands.”
Certainly colder than anywhere on Akala. And you would know. You went to six different schools there ranging from North Point to Konikoni. You thought it was tolerable here. Turns out that daytime on the coast is different from night at the base of Mauna Lanakila.
“What are you even taking me to?” You leave unsaid: ‘And why is it worth sneaking out and maybe getting kicked out of yet another home?’
“Almost there. You’ll see.”
True to his word, you do see once you get to the top of the next hill. A gathering of maybe a hundred people holding flickering lights in front of the mountain’s lift system. As you get closer you realize something else: a lot of those people are wearing black and red clothing. Most are covering part of their face, even the ones who aren’t wearing skull colors. Shit. You glare at Manollo. It’s not that you oppose the skulls on principle, you’ve just had some bad run-ins. Being kanaka won’t necessarily save you from a rowdy teenager who’s heard one side of a story and wanted to kick someone’s ass.
Manollo waves you off and comes to a halt at the edge of the group. You reluctantly stop and stand beside him. Just look like you belong here. Someone in a full, old-school skull uniform comes up to you and hands you a candle. You reach out your hand and take it so that you don’t look too unsure of what you’re doing. The man lights it and moves onto Manollo.
Before you can whisper-ask what you just walked into the few hushed voices in the crowd are silenced. You can see someone climb up the steps towards the lift at the front of the crowd. Black crop top, short shorts, and long multicolor hair. Yeah, you recognize her. Hard not to.
Plumeria turns to face the crowd. Then she just sits down on the top step. When she speaks, her voice carries very well. “Once Pele and Nāmaka had shaped the world, the Sun and Moon looked down and found it empty and themselves lonely. Together in their divine knowledge and power they created man. But the Sun grew fearful as his creation multiplied and innovated. He cast them down the slope of Mauna Lanakila until they arrived on the earth. That was still too close for the Sun and he refused to shine on the islands so that the humans would die in the darkness.
“Nu’u, ancestor of our people, appealed to the masses and calmed their fears. They used what little they had to build altars and provide sacrifices to the gods. Five gods answered. Tapu Bulu provided the wood for a fleet of canoes. Tapu Lele provided knowledge of how to build them. Tapu Fini provided knowledge of the seas. Tapu Koko provided the courage and resolve to make the long voyage ahead of them. As for the Moon, she provided a map to guide mankind across the waters.
“In time, the Moon could no longer stand to see her children living in exile. She provided the descendants of Nu’u with a path back across the sea to the seat of the heavens. When the Sun saw mankind return he was outraged and the Moon grew distraught. But clever Tapu Lele had a plan. As the Sun descended the slopes of the Mauna to smite his children, they offered him a gift, not of gold or fruit or blood, but of song and dance. They told the Sun of their lives in exile. They told the Sun of their journeys across the waters. They told the Sun of their love for him, the Moon, the Tapus, and the earth itself. They told of sorrow and joy, war and peace, love and hate. The Sun was moved. Without a word he turned around and rose back up the mauna.”
“The Sun entrusted the earth into our care. The Moon gave us a future in the heavens. Her oracle birds guide our souls to this point. The children of Poli’ahu take us the rest of the way so that the Moon may take us into her wings and usher us into our next adventure.”
Plumeria pauses and rises to her feet. You blink in surprise. You’ve heard the story enough but her charisma and the mauna behind her added new meaning and sucked you into the story until the cold and skulls ceased to exist. “So it was.” The words hang over the assembly until the faint echoes stop and silence reigns. No one dares break it until she does. You don’t even breathe.
“The rest of mankind came to our garden. They poisoned the roots of our plants and our spirits. They conquered our kingdom. They subjugated our proud people and made us strangers in our own lands. That did not satisfy them. They built telescopes on Pele’s mountain to study our stars. That did not satisfy them. They built a throne above our ancient altar, at the point where the heavens meet the earth. Where our father banished us and our mother welcomes us. They installed an ali’i of their own. That did not satisfy them. No, they could not merely have our mother’s home. They had to subjugate our mother as well. This will not satisfy them. They will take and take and take to fill the void in their hearts where alola should be.” She pauses again and inhales. “WILL WE LET THEM TAKE MORE?”
A cry of cheers, “NO!”s, swears, and seemingly pointless screaming rises from the crowd. You’re pretty sure that you get caught up in it but you can’t even hear what you’re saying.
Plumeria raises her hand and the noise abruptly stops. “Damn right we won’t.”
*
October 25th, 2019
The Route 5 Trainer’s Stop doesn’t have the uniformity of a Pokémon Center. It’s just a long, wooden building with a wooden porch running the distance. There’s a normal-looking house across from it made of brick and wood and a few tiny cabins are down the hill out back. Much better than a doctor’s office with some bedrooms.
You walk into the main building. It’s split into three parts. Something like a dining room to the left and a small shop through the right. There’s only one attendant, female, haole, probably early 20s, staffing the desk.
“Welcome to the Trainer’s Stop. You looking to spend the night?”
You step up because Kiwi can’t read paperwork and Jennifer will just idle forever and shift nervously and pretend like she’s got no social power at all. Plus sometimes you feel like you’re the only one with a clue what’s going on. “Yeah. Looking to stay two nights.”
The receptionist starts typing. “Just the three of you?”
“Yes.”
“Alright.” She stops typing and gives you a smile that looks more fake than not. “May I see your trainer cards?” You hesitate but then hand yours over. The name isn’t yours anymore. The picture has longer hair. Maybe she’ll reject it. Hopefully she’ll reject it. Can’t be this boy in front of her.
She doesn’t.
“You’ll be in Cabins 3 and 4. Shower tokens are good for about five minutes. Cleaning supplies are in the closet, make sure to clean up your cabins before you leave. Are any of you willing to help cook?”
Kiwi raises her hand like a preschooler. “I am.”
The receptionist looks at her for a long time. “Are you sure?”
“I’ve done all of my family’s cooking for years. Yes, I’m sure.” Huh. She has a decent glare game. Cataracts probably help a little since it’s damn hard to keep eye contact with her. Not that you’d give her the satisfaction of knowing that.
“Alright. Uh, report here at 4 P.M., 6 A.M. and 11 A.M.” Her cheeriness returns as she speaks. “Anyone willing to clean up before or after meals?”
“I’ll take after. Genesis can take before.” Not interested in getting up early.
“Alright. Genesis, please come up a half hour before meals. Breakfast is at eight, lunch at one, dinner at 6. There’s usually something around the fire pit at 9 P.M if you’re interested. I’ll let Uffe and Eleanor explain more at dinner.”
*
The cabin’s small, just a six-by-six entry area with a desk and a sink and then a tight bedroom with two small beds. Perks of being a boy: you get the place to yourself for two days while Jenny and Kiwi have to share a bedroom not much bigger than the tent.
You set your stuff down and pull a towel off the rack. Now that you’re in civilization your first priorities are getting a shower and washing your clothes. Yeah, you’re a guy now but you aren’t in a rush to give up basic hygiene.
There are trumbeak singing nearby. Should you let Hekeli out while you shower? There are talonflame here and she never had to deal with those on Ula’Ula. Would she know what to do? No, you’ll let her out later when you can watch her uninterrupted. You aren’t going to lose your only pokémon.
Shower time. Now, the eternal question: which shower to use? Are your clothes too tight? Would anyone notice if you went in the men’s side? Are you willing to risk getting caught alone and feminine in a room full of stronger guys? Girl’s side isn’t much better. You hate it but if you raised your voice up a little you could 100% pass as a butch lesbian. No, the problem there is the aftermath. The little validation to dysphoria. The reminder that even on your best day you still look like a girl and you know it. If you got caught you have no idea how you’d start explaining the choice to Jennifer. You probably wouldn’t. Might punch her. And you’ve agreed to stop doing that sort of thing. Or maybe you haven’t. The agreement was only between you and Cuicatl.
You step into the men’s room and dart back towards the showers. No one here. No need to panic. You still close the curtain, strip, turn the shower on, get in as fast as you possibly can. You take a quicker shower than you want. Partially out of fear, partially because it’s really not the best idea to dwell under water as it runs over your many curves.
*
An older kanaka couple come around to the table. You stop eating and Genesis follows. Kiwi very belatedly does as well. “New faces in camp, I see,” the man says.
“Yeah,” you answer before Jenny can fuck it up. “Just got here this afternoon. My name’s Kekoa, that’s Genesis, and that’s Cuicatl.”
The woman smiles. “Yes, I’ve already met Miss Ichtaca. She has some wonderful recipes she’s offered to show me tomorrow.”
Kiwi awkwardly shifts. “Right. Thank you again for letting me cook. Sorry if I slowed it down…”
“Hush dear. The pleasure was all mine. Oh, I forgot my manners! My name is Eleanor and this is my husband Uffe. We’re the hosts of the camp.”
“Hi, nice to meet you,” Jennifer says. “Is the dining room usually this, um, empty or…?”
Uffe sighs. “No. Usually this is peak season. But there was the blacepholon back in August when a lot of the kids who started after the school year in Hau’oli finished up Melemele and would’ve come to Akala. Scared ‘em off to Ula’Ula. Couple of trainers at the end of their challenge, a handful of VStar folks, and a few late starters but it’s been a quiet month.
You move on before Jennifer can fuck up and dig into the VStar point. “That’s a shame. Always liked Akala.”
He smiles. “Well, you’ve got good taste then. So, what’cha planning to do tomorrow? We like to make sure that everyone’s doing something productive while they’re here. Your friend’s gonna be in the kitchen but I don’t reckon’ you two are going to join her.”
Jennifer shakes her head. “No. Um. I can, um. I don’t know. What needs done?”
“Oh, bathhouse always needs cleaned. Or dishes. Or laundry. Or any number of things. Work just keeps piling up around here,” Eleanor answers.
You interrupt before that conversation can spiral into a million rounds of ‘oh, no, I couldn’t possibly, please, you pick.’
“I heard that there were grubbin nearby. I would like to look for one, if you would let me.”
Uffe smiles. “Of course. Darn bugs keep eating the roots in the garden. Now, you have a way to find a grubbin or are we going to have to do this the old way?”
You inhale. Moment of faith. How closely is Kiwi going to hew to the spirit of the agreement. “Kiwi’s vulpix fought a grubbin back in Hau’oli, right?” You remember. You watched it. She got her ass kicked and continued a long, inglorious tradition.
“Yes,” Kiwi responds.
“Can I borrow her tomorrow?”
She shakes her head. “No.” Wait. What? Is she going to fucking fight you on this?
“Why not?”
She grins. Her dumb sly grin that says she’s about to do something. In front of adults? Really?
“Because Kiwi doesn’t own a vulpix. Cuicatl does and she might if you ask real nicely.”
Why? Why does she have to bring that up, context free, in front of fucking authority figures? They’ll get the wrong idea and she knows it. So much for the goddamn truce. But you need the grubbin. You’ll figure out how to get revenge later.
“Cuicatl, can I borrow your vulpix tomorrow?”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
Her unbearable smile gets even wider and she rapidly shakes her head. “See, that wasn’t too hard, was it?”
You almost flip her off, adults be damned.
*
“How’d your friend get a keokeo?” Uffe asks. His voice is gruff but there’s a kindness underneath it. Like your grandfather before he passed.
“Starter. Gift from some rich breeder.”
Pixie—and isn’t that a shitty name—knows she’s being talked about and occasionally pulls her nose up from the ground to make sure that only nice things are being said about her. Uffe always shoots a smile her way and she purrs and looks back down.
“Local, I’d hope?”
You shake your head. “No. She’s some tourist from Anahuac here because her Mom was some bigshot back in the day and she has dreams of glory or whatever.”
He gives you a strange look. Not quite sympathy. “I meant ‘did she get it from a local breeder.’ As a joke.”
“Oh.” Pixie paused for a moment and you almost trip over her by accident. She looks at you like apologies are demanded and you offer them profusely because you’re not a monster. “Wait. Do they even breed keokeo here?”
Uffe shrugs and starts walking again when Pixie does. “One breeder down the road has a male ninetales paired with a glaceon. Don’t think anyone’s got a female on Akala.” Pixie lowers her tails and sniffs the ground and for a second you think that maybe she’s found something. Then she props a leg up, pees, and moves on.
“Mr. Radcliffe, right? He’s the ice-type trainer?”
You get a smile in response. “Yes. You live around here?”
“Sort of. Grew up in Paniola Town. He came down sometimes around the solstice. Seemed nice enough.”
His smile grows wider. “He absolutely is. Gentlest soul in these parts.” Uffe stops walking and turns to you. “Sorry if this is too personal, but it doesn’t sound like you like your partner much.” You shake your head. “Then why travel with her? It’s a big commitment to spend months in close quarters with somebody.”
You don’t want to tell him you work for VStar. He seems cool and you don’t regret your path—you did what you had to do to break another system—but maybe he wouldn’t get it. “Weird coincidences. Might ditch her at the end of the island. We’ll see.”
“Alright, then.” You meet his gaze and find that he’s looking you over. For a second you wonder if he read you but then he looks away. Not angry. Or disgusted. But intrigued. “Tell me more about your partner then. You said she’s got a famous mom?”
“Sort of.” She had mentioned that her mom was a trainer. Maybe. Pretty sure you wouldn’t have just made that up. And it explains why Miss Bell gives a solitary shit about her.
“You catch her last name?”
“Ichtaca. Her mom’s Unovan though so it could be anything.”
He nods. “Makes sense. Rare starter and all. I take it she has all the other advantages her mom could give. TMs, a pokédex, top-tier camping gear, personal training in battle strategy?”
You laugh. And then catch yourself. He seems to like this tourist bitch for some reason. And you want him to like you. “No. None of that. Apparently. Didn’t have any gear. Sucks at battling.”
Pixie barks and wags her tails. She points her snout down before glancing up at you and then pointing her snout down again.
“Well, that’s your cue. Send out your pokémon and dig.”
It’s hard to tell if you’re shoveling too fast or not fast enough. You don’t want to let the grubbin get away but you also don’t want to accidentally push a shovel through its shell and kill it. Not that you’re sure you could. Pokémon are tough. “Slow down a bit,” Uffe eventually says. “You’re at the depth they usually hang out. Just scrape a little off.”
You see yellow. That’s good enough for you. in one motion you jump backwards and cast the shovel aside. “Hekeli, echoed voice!”
Your pikipek stirs to life and fires a shockwave into the hole. Rather than dig deeper the grubbin slowly unburies itself and lifts its head to the sky just in time to take the second hit right to the face. It doesn’t seem to care and a cloud of dirt rockets into the sky a moment later. Hekeli dodges the earth and throws out another shockwave. This time the grubbin really seems to feel it and you think you can see it retreating a little bit into the ground. That won’t do.
You reach into your pocket, prime the pokéball, and throw it. There’s a flash of red light as it connects and the grubbin is sucked in. A small ‘thud’ as it falls deeper into the hard earth. Then shaking. And a click. You caught your second pokémon!
Uffe claps. Too fast to be ironic. “Congratulations.” And that feels good. Being praised for something by an adult. A kānaka maoli adult. How long has it been? Two years? Three? Probably Mr. Perkins. Seventh grade at whatever middle school you were in that semester.
“Just a grubbin.” You say. Can’t let your ego get too big over a bug. However much you want it.
“Yeah. But someday it’ll be a vikavolt. And I’ve never heard anyone say ‘just a vikavolt.’ Congrats on the first step to an awesome insect.”
“Yeah.” You’re beaming. You shouldn’t be but it feels nice. Hekeli warbles and lands on your shoulder. You give her headpats. She did a good job. She can stay out on the walk back to the shop. And you’ll see if you can find her some worms at a decent price. Although maybe you shouldn’t be rewarding her with bugs right now. That could end badly.
Uffe starts walking back to his home. You follow. “Now, not to rain on your parade or anything, because that was great and you should be proud, but there’s something else we should talk about.”
You frown but keep pace. “Go on.”
“Your partner. Now, I might be off base, but,” he waves his hands in front of him, “just hear me out. Teenage girl comes from Anahuac. Unstable, theocratic, impoverished country that people have been streaming out of sense the 80s. She comes alone with no money. Or experience. Or resources. Says that her mom is someone famous from The States. Won’t specify who her mom is and the rest of the story doesn’t check out. Now, she could be telling the truth. Or.” He looks at you and gauges your expression for a moment. “Or she’s a refugee who just got out of hell, knows no one here, and is telling stories to impress the only people she’s met.”
You grimace. Yeah. Maybe. It wouldn’t change anything. “She still came to our country when she has her own.”
He hums for a moment. Not quite answering but still conveying disapproval. “What causes a person to get up and move across an ocean to a strange place with strange people and no guarantee of food, shelter, or safety? How bad does your life have to be when that’s your best option?” Uffe sighs. “I get it. I was a radical when I was your age. Still am. But she doesn’t sound like a monster. Just sounds like she needs Alola. Lower and uppercase.”
“Not obligated to give that to tourists,” you mutter. Radical? He claims to be a radical? While coddling settlers he’s never even met?
“You’re not obligated to,” he responds, somewhat exasperated. “But I think you’re looking at a potential friend and automatically thinking the worst of her.” You’ve finally reach Uffe’s home. He extends a hand to you and you shake it. Reflexively. Not sure if you would’ve still done it if you’d had time to think about it. “Just some advice from a man who’s been there. You don’t need to take it. Congratulations again on the grubbin.”
He’s holding the shovel. You forgot about the shovel. Why’d you let him carry it when you were the one using it? “Thank you for your help.”
Uffe laughs. “Oh, I don’t think I did much of anything but go on a walk through the garden. But thank you for the thanks.”
*
You pass by the girls’ cabin on the way back to yours. Kiwi’s out front in a patch of sunlight with Pixie curled up in the shade, four paras around her, and one sitting on her head like a hat. You have to stop and make sure that, yes, she really does have a paras on her head. Isn’t she worried about spores and shit?
“What are you doing?” you finally ask.
“Meditating,” she answers.
“No, I meant what are you doing with the paras on your head.”
“Meditating. With a paras on my head.”
“Why?”
She frowns. “It’s good for focusing. Don’t you do it?”
Of course you meditate. Sometimes. When you remember. And someone makes you. “But why is the paras on your head?”
“Because she wanted to be closer to the sun.”
The head-paras chirps in response.
Well. There’s your answer. How did she know the paras wanted to be closer to the sun? Why did she agree? Who knows? Certainly not you. And at this point you’d rather not ask.
*
You settle down in a secluded area near the cabins. After taking a deep breath, you hold out your arm and whistle. Hekeli flies in from gods know where and perches on you a moment later. Alright. Taming time. You prime, aim, and release the pokéball.
The grubbin forms a second later. You deliberately puff yourself up to make yourself larger and throw your voice down in pitch. “Hello, I’m your new—” A string shot hits you right in the face. Hekeli moves and you can hear a fight break out. You half-consciously withdraw the bug and bring a hand to your mouth to assess the damage. Damn it. Webbing everywhere. Is it water soluble? It had better fucking be.
*
It isn’t. You still to get most of it scrubbed off before the water stops flowing.
*
“You have something on your mouth,” Jenny says as soon as you sit down. You ignore her bar a simple “mmm-hmm” and look down at your plate. Tacos, rice, and beans. Definitely Kiwi’s thing. You take a testing bite. It’s actually pretty—holy shit your fucking mouth is on fire. You quickly grab your glass and pour down as much water as you can.
“I labeled the ones without chili sauce.”
Before your mouth cools enough that you can retort that, no, you labeled them as “hot” and “mild” not “atomic” and “mild,” Jennifer butts in. “It’s still there, Kekoa. Just little white strands around your mouth.”
Kiwi snorts and almost chokes on her water. You consider flipping her the bird before catching a glimpse of Uffe in your peripheral vision. Blind or not it would’ve been satisfying.
Jenny blinks. “Wait. What did I say?”
Kiwi finishes coughing and waves her hand to dismiss the subject. “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”
*
Something licks you on the forehead.
You press yourself up and whirl around to find yourself face to face with a very cute white fox. She barks at you in response. Rather loudly.
“Pix, quiet down!” you hear whispered through the trees. A moment later you watch Kiwi’s cane absolutely brutalize the plants on either side of the path. It’s not that you think people like her should never go on the trail. Just, if they’re going to do shit like that to nature then, yeah, they should stay home.
Kiwi stops a few feet away from you, crouches, and holds out her arms. The ice fox turns around (hitting you in the face with her tails) and dutifully allows herself to be held. Then Kiwi just stands there. Right by you. For an uncomfortable amount of time. You hold your breath because you really don’t want to deal with her right now.
“I know you’re there, Kekoa,” she says. Shit. How? “You know that blind people have super hearing, right?” Ugh. Shit. You’d forgotten about that. She sits down cross-legged when you don’t answer. Her keokeo curls up in her legs and glares at you. In the moonlight Kiwi’s harshest features are softened a bit. Brings her up from a four to a five. “What are you doing awake?” she asks.
“What are you?”
She shakes her head and glares two feet to your right. “I asked first. But I was just going to the bathroom when Pix found you.”
You’re tempted to tell her to fuck off because she has no right to know what you’re doing, but you get the sense that it could get loud and wake up other people and maybe get you banned from these places in the future. “Watching the stars.”
She blinks. Surprise? Normal blinking? Do her blinks even mean anything? “Looking for omens?”
“What? No. Just looking at them.” You hold up a hand and trace the sky even if she can’t see it. “The constellations form a curve and lines. A map. They led my ancestors here.” You press yourself up a little bit so your back isn’t on the ground. “You use them to tell the future and shit?”
It’s hard to tell with the light and the cataracts but you think she rolls her eyes. “I don’t use them. But the priests do.”
“No.” You keep your voice hard. “Your priests use the stars in Anahuac. These are my stars. There’s a difference.”
And it sounds like a tiny difference but it matters. There are so many settlers now that you can barely see your stars on parts of the island. The settlers noticed that so they built telescopes so that they could still see the stars. And even if Kiwi doesn’t plan to stay she’ll still go home and tell her friends who will fucking swarm your home and poison your waters, burn your forests, build on your mountains, and banish your stars. Because they aren’t their waters, their forests, their mountains, or their stars. And when your home is destroyed they’ll just go back to theirs.
Kiwi is silent for a second as she maybe finally gets it. But the moment passes and she shakes her head. “Kekoa, I’m not going to steal your stars.”
You snort. “You already have.” You don’t bother waiting for her to answer. “When Alolans die the murkrow guide them to the base of Mauna Lanakila. And then the ninetales meet with the soul and guide it to the top. To the stars. And then they navigate the stars to their next home. You took a vulpix. You’ve made it harder for me to reach my stars.”
For another moment you think that she finally understands. But then she just looks down and ruffles her keokeo’s ears. “I didn’t take her. She was taken, abandoned, and then I adopted her.” She frowns and scrunches up her face. “Would you rather she be alone, miserable, and off the mountain or loved and cared for off the mountain?”
…
That’s a half-decent point. But it ignores the big picture. “Yeah, but you don’t understand this place. You’re just going to keep doing it over and over again and then go back home with a half dozen sacred pokémon.”
She sighs. Like you’re a child who needs appeased. “I understand where you’re coming from. Really. If you walked into Anahuac and walked out with a hawlucha, axlawful, and pantherma I’d be, well, first off you’d probably be dead.” She laughs nervously. “Treason to take any of them without the tlatoani’s say-so and treason’s the fastest way to wind up staring down your still-beating heart.”
“Holy shit. TMI.”
Kiwi frowns and slouches a little bit. “Sorry. Gallows humor is a big thing in Anahuac. We don’t really hide from death. No point. It won’t just go away if you ignore it.” There’s something there at the end. Real emotion. Sadness? Anger? Both? She moves on before you can fully process it. “Anyway. Yes, I understand what you want. I think that we can make a deal here as well.”
“I’m not compromising on that,” you say as sternly as you can so that she gets the point.
“I said deal. Not a compromise. Deal both people are happy. Compromise neither are.”
You narrow your eyes and try to look into hers, but she’s looking down and away from you. “Go on.”
She sighs again and moves her arms behind her so she can lean back on them. “You can tell what nature’s saying by the winds and stars, right?”
“Among other things.”
{I can listen in a little more directly.}
Holy. Fucking. Shit. Was that—
{In your head? Yeah.}
You glance at her. “Do that again.”
{Again?}
Her lips don’t move. Whatever she’s doing it’s not ventriloquism.
“What is that?”
“I’m psychic,” she says (mercifully aloud). “Language based. I can understand what other people are saying and make myself understood.”
“And you can read my mind?” you ask.
She shakes her head. “Not really. I can tell what words are on the tip of your tongue but nothing deeper. Well. I guess I know what languages people speak. Or at least what language my words are getting translated into.”
“And how do I know that part is real?”
Kiwi turns to look directly at you. “Can you describe my accent, please?”
Her accent? It’s… perfectly neutral. Utterly unremarkable. Nothing you’d ever thought about at all. That’s weird, right? If she grew up in another country.
“I actoly sond like tis.”
You blink. And blink again. “The fuck?”
She laughs. It’s a very good laugh. Is that also an illusion?
“I know, it’s the difference between dirt and sand.” she says with a perfectly neutral accent again. “I can speak a little better if I concentrate, but it never really matters so why bother? As for your other,” unspoken, “question, yes, my voice is naturally like that. Years of music class and singing to myself.”
The bigger picture pieces itself together as the shock wears off. That’s not just a parlor trick. “And you can talk to pokémon?”
Her lips press together for a moment. “Most pokémon. Dark-types give me trouble. Had to learn draconic to properly talk to my mom’s hydreigon.”
Somehow ‘Hold up you can speak to dragons?” isn’t the question you want to ask the most. “That’s how you get along so well with your pokémon. You’re not a savant or anything, you can just talk to them.”
“Pretty much. Doesn’t always help. Some pokémon are jerks. But it does give me an advantage.”
Next follow-up: “What does Hekeli say about me?”
Kiwi shrugs. “You’re okay. She’s very interested in my voice, though, and your battle practice is starting to bore her. Mix training up and play some music around her. Then you should be good. Otherwise, she might defect.” She says that so naturally that you aren’t even sure if it’s a threat. “It isn’t. Just an observation. Oh, I can talk to your grubbin if you want. Worked well enough for the paras.”
“Is that the deal? You get to walk out with whatever so long as I benefit?”
“No, it wasn’t. The deal was that if I plan to put a pokémon on my team for longer than it takes to hand them off to VStar, I have to get the pokémon’s consent before doing so. That way I won’t just take anything from your home. Is that enough respect or…?”
Part of you doesn’t think that it is. She’s an outsider. A tourist. She doesn’t get to take your sacred pokémon. But if you really care about the pokémon you should also respect their choices. And she got a keokeo to trust her. And it’s selfish but she could really, really help you with your own goals. If it breaks the entire damn colonial system you can tolerate one girl taking a few stars.
You stand up. “You said you had to go to the bathroom, right?”
She smiles sheepishly and moves some hair off her forehead. Probably reflex. It was really long at orientation. “Yeah. I was going to have to end this soon if you didn’t.”
You nod, even if she can’t see it, and start walking back to your cabin.
“Good night, Pixie. Good night, Cuicatl.”