Normal 1.9: Did It Hurt?
Kekoa
2015
It’s kinda boring outside the window. Going into Minamo you either wind up on the land side (like your brother is two rows up and across the aisle) or just staring at water and the occasional island until the very, very end. None of the fun of watching big things go from tiny back to big. It’s probably why Mom’s ignoring it entirely and reading something on her phone.
Eventually there are ships, then rainforest, and then buildings. That’s the other kind of boring thing about Minamo: it’s a lot like Heahea or Konikoni. Just bigger. Maybe even bigger than Hau’oli. Your grandmother says that Hoenn is maybe the closest thing in the world to Alola so it must be really boring being stationed there. Nothing new to explore.
The plane touches down with a slight jolt and slows to a stop. Then it spends forever waiting to go to the airport. Then you have to stay in your seat for forever as everyone in front of you (which is pretty much the entire plane) gets out. And then you can finally walk down the aisle and through the weird tunnel and then go to the bathroom and then go through the rest of the airport to the exit. To Dad.
You beat Jabari to him. By a lot. Like he isn’t even trying. Dad wraps you into a hug and picks you up. You were wondering if he could still do that since you’re pretty big now.
“There’s my darling little girl.”
“Dad…” you whine. He knows you hate being called that. Too old.
“Right,” he says while setting you down. He walks over to Jabari. “I suppose now that you’re an adult you just want a handshake, right?”
He smiles weakly. “I’ll, uh, take a hug.”
He gets one.
*
Less than two days after you arrived, Dad gets called away. He said it was an emergency. Hopefully it’ll be over before you have to go home on Sunday. You barely got to see him at all.
“There’s enough money on the shelf for lunch and dinner. I should be back by nine if the ferries are on time. You shouldn’t be out then—that’s pushing Allana’s bedtime. If there’s an emergency—”
“Call you. I know,” Jabari says while rolling his eyes.
Hine steps towards him and reaches up to put a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll just be in Tokusane. I can take the first ferry back if anything comes up. Promise you’ll call?”
Jabari nods. “Promise.”
Hine gives some final pointers, hugs you, and finally steps outside.
Jabari closes the door and slowly turns back to you. “Want to watch something you probably shouldn’t?” You nod. Of course you do! “Good. Don’t tell mom.” He digs through his bag, pulls out a VCR, and puts it into the player beneath the hotel room’s TV.
The movie starts with a bunch of men with guns watching a cage. With something alive in it. Something with big claws that pulls one of the men in. Then there’s awful screaming (human and pokémon) and yelling and gunfire.
The screen pauses. Jabari turns to you. “Sure you can handle this?”
“Of course.” Wait, when did the blanket get pulled up to your neck?
“Alright…”
The rest of the movie isn’t as scary. Until the end. And some of the fossil pokémon look really, really cool! You’d read about them in books and some books even had pictures but it’s really great to actually see all of your favorites moving. And hunting. Tyrantrum is incredible! And the aurorus are super, super pretty. Tyrantrum’s still your favorite, though. Always has been. Always will be.
No feathers though. That’s kind of weird. And weren’t tyrantrum scavengers?
At some point it starts raining really hard but Jabari just turns the volume up and everything’s fine again. Except when the tyrantrum kills the pyroclaptors and roars at the end, an alarm goes off. At first you think it’s just in the movie but then Jabari turns the screen off and it’s still going.
You turn to your brother. He stands up and starts walking to the door. “Stay here. I’ll figure out what’s happening.”
*
Jabari comes back a few very long minutes later. He rushes to the counter, stuffs the cash in his pocket and then moves to his bag. “Something’s up. They’re moving everyone to a shelter. Put your shoes on. We’re going.”
“You called Mom?” This sounds like an emergency.
He shakes his head. “Tried. Phones are down. Probably best that she doesn’t come here if they’re sending everyone to a bomb shelter.”
“Bomb?”
“Not a bomb. Something else. They wouldn’t say.” Jabari stuffs some more money from his bag into his pocket and speedwalks to the door. “Put your shoes on. Follow me.”
The entire hotel is in the halls. Many people, especially the old ones, are waiting in a massive clump of bodies by the elevator. Jabari presses through them and you follow close behind to avoid getting cut off as the parted crowd smushes back together. The staircase is also busy, but less so. Not so crowded that you’re being crushed but definitely crowded enough that the echoes through the cold, plain shaft are almost as loud as your heart.
Darkness. You almost fall on the steps as you figure out where your feet should go. Then some light comes back. It’s not as bright but it’ll do. Jabari keeps going without so much as a glance back and you struggle to keep up as he goes two or even three steps at a time on his stupid long grownup legs.
The emergency exit leads outside. There are cars on the streets but they’re all stuck in place. Some have angry drivers adding their honks to the blaring alarms and shouts and sound of footsteps and nervous people. Others just sit abandoned, the owners deciding that it was worth trying to walk through the mass of hundreds—thousands?— millions?—billions?—of people. More people than you’ve ever seen.
None of that’s what really catches your attention, though. That’s the heat and the light. It’s blinding from above and you have to bring a hand over your eyes just to see anything. The heat is like the feeling of burning sun on your skin at the beach except it pierces past the skin and it also feels like your hair is on fire and your blood is boiling. Jabari presses on and you have to almost run to catch up. At first you can do it, but soon you’re soaked sweat and you’re panting like you just ran for an entire recess in the heat.
A small tremor comes through the ground like when the mining company sets off dynamite down in the valley. Something crashes to the ground in the distance. It joins the sounds of moving earth and alarms and pokémon and people and cars. You see Jabari mouth a word with an expression that you’ve never seen before on his face. “What?” you shout.
That catches his attention. He looks at you, shakes his head, and grabs your arm. Then he ducks into a side street and starts running. Except that there are too many people on the streets. Some are still in shock as the second, bigger earthquake passes by. But some are moving. With you, against you, perpendicular, everything. It slows you down until Jabari’s not running so much as slipping through people at varying speeds and jerking you along.
It’s not just sweat and heat anymore. You feel… less. Like there should be more you in you. And you want to sit down and drink water and nap. But he keeps pulling with a slightly weaker grip. Eventually the pavement beneath your feet starts to actually burn your soles through your shoes and Jabari rushes to the strips of green at the edge of the street along with everyone else.
You finally see the shelter. Or what you think is the shelter. Big and gray. What you can’t see are the gates behind the crowd of people pressing in. All in the same situation as you. Or worse. An old woman collapses a few feet away and you move to help before Jabari pulls you in.
She isn’t the last person to collapse in the heat as you slowly get closer to the shade and cold. One woman’s scarf catches on fire. So do a few buildings. Maybe. It could’ve been a dream. Sometimes you shut your eyes and open them again when Jabari pulls you or the earth moves a little bit stronger than the last time. At some point you stop sweating. That’s probably good, right?
There’s another quake. Far, far stronger than anything that came before it. Some of the taller towers tremble and there are crashing sounds and fire hydrants and pipes spewing water across the entire road. It hisses like oil in a frying pan. Another rumble matches the last, this time above you right before the sky bursts open and quenches the heat. It isn’t welcome. The raindrops feel like bullets as they hit your skin and it only barely wakes you up. The rain leaves actual ripples in the pavement because the asphalt is that soft and the water’s impact that hard.
A loud voice comes from the shelter. Looping over and over again. Your Japanese is only good enough to catch the word “rain” and “closed.” Jabari pulls you tighter and he’s shaking or you’re shaking or the ground is. Maybe all three.
He strokes his hand through your hair and you almost tell him off. But it’s just so hard to care. “It’s going to be okay,” he whispers over and over again like he believes it. You know he’s lying; you’re eleven and you’re smarter than you were when you were ten. You close your eyes and breathe, aware of the trembling and the roars and the burns and the bullets but not really feeling any of them.
This is the end.
It’s time to go to sleep.
“Good night, Jabari.”
*
There was a dream. You know there was a dream but you just miss it as your eyes open. White. The world is white. The room is white, at least. Almost blindingly so. You try to sit up but can’t quite find the energy. Because as everything in your body starts responding to you again you realize that everything in your body, inside and out, hurts.
You don’t know how long you spend alone. Thoughtless. Existing. Staring at the white ceiling. Eventually you must fall back asleep because you wake up again with a nurse over you. She shines a light over your eyes, feels your heartbeat, asks you in heavily accented Galarian if you can speak. You try and a dry croak comes out. You shake your head instead.
There are more questions. You fall asleep. There are more nurses. You fall asleep. Eventually you wake up and there’s not a nurse there present. But Jabari is. Badly sunburnt. An arm in a sling. Alive.
You push yourself up to the very limited extent that you can and he rapidly stands and waves an arm. “Hey, don’t push yourself.”
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Jabari’s here. Alive. Alone. A thought crashes into your heart. Two thoughts. “Mom? Dad?” you whisper, ignoring the pain in your throat.
He freezes and breaks eye contact, arms crossed. “Tokusane was hit pretty bad. The island’s built on an old reef. Parts of it collapsed into the sea. We don’t know yet. But Mom’s smart so I’m sure she found a way through...” He sounds like he believes it. He looks like he doesn’t. “Dad’s ship went down. He still could’ve survived. There are stories about wild pokémon bringing people to shore.”
You hear it. You understand it. You don’t quite feel it. Not yet.
He seems to notice and moves to reassure you, voice low and comforting. “Phone lines aren’t working in most places. The rest are emergency only. And there are still a lot of emergencies popping up. Even after…”
You would later learn what happened. Volcanic eruptions. Rogue waves. Sunstroke. Hail and lightning. Fires. Entire islands sinking into the sea. Landsides swallowing towns. Jabari didn’t tell you that then. You didn’t need to know. He just sat down on the edge of your bed and stroked your hair when the feelings came and you finally started to cry.
*
The house feels so much emptier with only two people in it. Quieter too. Jabari cooks, cleans, and does the adult stuff. Sometimes he’s at work. It’s still the summer. No school. Sometimes Kanoa comes over but you never want to play.
Jabari’s here now. You aren’t alone. Might as well be. He reads the paper and drinks his coffee and you finish up your toast and eggs in silence. They’re not as good as Mom made them. And she usually talked to you about your day or fussed with your hair even when you’d rather she didn’t.
Now you’d rather she did.
Two weeks since you got home. Five since the burning light and piercing rain. The longest and shortest weeks of your life.
Jabari puts the paper down and looks at you. He doesn’t talk. For ages. You finally put your toast down and clasp your hands. Meeting his gaze. Waiting for something. You aren’t sure what.
“I’m joining the army,” he says. And the silence shatters. You hear the words. You repeat them to yourself over and over again, figuring out what they mean. What they mean for you. “What happened in Hoenn? Bad people did that. Woke up some gods. Killed hundreds of thousands. Killed Mom. Killed Dad. And there are other bad people like them all over the place. Remember that blizzard in Unova? Or that cruise ship that got lost near California? All bad people. Bad people trying to control gods. And they’ll just keep doing it unless someone stops them.”
You don’t know if any of that’s true. You vaguely remember Mom watching a video of some snowstorm on the TV. He says it like it’s true. It’s not what you care about.
“What about me?” you ask so quietly you’re not sure you said it at all.
He breaks eye contact and looks at the refrigerator magnets behind you. “I’m sorry, but this was never going to work. I’m eighteen!” His voice cracks and his eyes hide fear and for a moment he doesn’t look much older than you. “I don’t know how to raise a kid. I’d just screw it up and leave you worse off for it.”
“Then what happens now?”
He stops looking at the refrigerator and pushes his seat back to stand. “The government will find an adult who can take care of you. It’ll be better that way. Trust me.”
You want to hug him. You want to hit him. Say goodbye before he leaves. Make sure he never does.
In the end you just sit in silence until he goes upstairs.
*
October 14, 2019
It’s not the same Paniola you knew, but it’s pretty close. The grocery store Miss Smith probably still runs if she hasn’t died or retired. The arts store Mr. Palakiko owned. You tried to learn the ukulele there one summer until you both admitted that it wasn’t to be. You’re almost tempted to step into that one. You stop yourself at the door. You don’t want to talk about who you’ve become or find out if he still runs it and, if not, what that means. At least you could seek out Kanoa. See if she still lives in the same house when she isn’t up giving trials in the jungle. Ask her all about her new life. But then they’d ask you about yours.
No. You won’t seek anyone out. The Paniola in your memories can stay just the way it is.
The butcher shop on the corner of Puna and Ekolu is still there but it has a new name. The playground down Ekolu Avenue is similar enough that if you close your eyes and think with your arms and legs you can almost remember how to get from one end of the playset to the other as quickly as possible if you’re being chased. Or chasing. Sometimes both. You’d always thought of it as its own island and ocean. Now it’s some cramped little boat on a tiny puddle of wood chips.
The Pokémon Center finally updated to a more modern design from its old wooden exterior, the unofficial theme of the town. You learned in school that it was to preserve the paniola heritage of this part of Akala. Now you’re pretty certain it’s a tourist thing. An effective one, too, judging by the kind of people on the streets.
The neighborhood has some differences. The yards and spaces between houses used to be much bigger. Probably. Maybe that’s just a consequence of growing up. Or maybe there are more houses.
You reach the end of the road and see it. Is it the same? The same as it was when your parents brought a baby home? The same as it was when the same child walked out of the door with a strange haole man in a suit? You don’t know. Can’t tell. There’s a fence out back. That’s new. The walls are the general color of what you remembered and the driveway is on the right side. But if you were shown ten random houses in Paniola you’re not entirely sure you’d have been able to pick this one out as your own.
What does it mean if you can’t?
The silence is shattered. “Thought I’d find you here.”
You grimace and turn. There he is. Like he was, but different. Crew cut. Muscles. A sleeveless jacket like a fucking prick.
“Jabari.” You try to keep your tone neutral. For your own benefit. You don’t want your homecoming ruined.
“Allana,” he replies. Smiling. Like he’s a fucking genius. Grow up. “You cut your hair.”
“So did you.”
You half expect an actual tumbleweed to blow by. It is Paniola Town, after all, and it’s close enough to high noon.
“Heard you were on a journey,” he says. The smile is still there. Gods he can’t read the room.
“Yes.”
The smile falters. “And, I, uh, I heard it from a coworker. Wish you would’ve called me. I could’ve helped.”
“You definitely could’ve helped,” you agree in as deadpan a voice as you can manage.
“So, uh,” he’s finally caught the nervousness. It’s almost humorous, seeing some ripped vet looking like a schoolboy asking if his crush likes him. “Why not?”
“Forgot about it.” Not entirely a lie. He had slipped your mind until you were in VStar orientation and almost shit yourself when you remembered he took a job there after he left the army. He offered to adopt you then but you had found friends in your new home. And you’d never be able to trust him again. Or forgive him.
The smile sort of returns and he uncrosses his arms for the first time and sticks his hands into his pockets. “Oh. Well, I got you a gift. Sort of. It’s an egg right now and I thought it would be easier to give it to you once you reach the trial site’s center. Probably won’t be ready to really put in work for a few trials but I think you’ll like it.”
“Already have a team planned out.”
He shakes his head and chuckles. “Oh, I think this will convince you to change your plans.” You step to the side and walk past him. He falls in step. “Want to get lunch or something? Heroes Café is still open. My treat.”
You honestly don’t remember Jabari being this dense. You do remember him being fucking giant but you’d hoped that he would’ve shrunk like everything else in this town. But he didn’t. Even when you’re halfway to powerwalking he’s just going a little bit faster than normal. Damn him. “My name is Kekoa. Not Allana.”
He stumbles. You plow on without so much as looking at him. “Why?”
“Because Allana is a girl’s name.”
Your head is angled down towards your feet but you can guess what his face looks like. Mouth slightly open and eyes a little wide at first before the mouth closes and the eyes go much, much wider. “Oh.” Mouth tilts back and the tongue tests out a dozen words before it finally settles. “You could’ve told me I had a brother, y’know?” You ignore him. “Hey, can we stop walking and talk? This seems—”
You stop. But you don’t turn around. He doesn’t deserve that. “Did it hurt?”
“What—”
“Did it hurt? To give the egg? Was there sacrifice?”
“Kekoa, trust me I—”
“No, then.” You take a deep breath and turn around to look him in the eye. “I’m going to be blunt because you can’t catch a hint. You had a chance to give me the best gift I’d ever been given. You blew it. Went off an ocean away to kill anyone and everyone if it would make you feel better. Maybe it did. I didn’t get that chance. No one gave a shit about how I was feeling.”
You keep looking up to his eyes and do your best to ignore the horrible blurs at the periphery of yours. And the height difference. Is that what you would’ve been like? Would that be your height, your face, your body if the universe hadn’t shit on you?
He breaks your gaze and looks at his feet. Is that shame? It should be. “Al—Kekoa. I know. I was… young. Reckless. Immature. I did the wrong thing. But I’m back now. You’re on the trail and I was hoping… that…”
Now you’ve seen it. A man drown on dry land.
You won’t throw him a line.
“No,” you cut him off “Maybe someday when you’ve given enough that you feel a fraction of what you’ve put me through, then we can talk. But right now…” you try to swallow and realize that he’s not the only one drowning. “Right now you don’t have a brother.”
At least, that’s what you meant to say. The knife you meant to stab right into his heart. But it missed. The words were whispered under sobs and the blade slipped and stabbed you instead.
You start running. He doesn’t follow.
Damn him.
Eventually you stop. Not at the Center but at the playground. It’s a school day and there’s no one there but you.
You find your way to a tire swing you remember curling up inside of, your back curved along the bottom and your legs were pressed out so that your shoes dug into the top. Jabari once ran into the swing going as fast as he could. It knocked you into the air but you pressed your back into the tread and braced your legs and you didn’t fall out. Didn’t even get sick. Your parents—plural, Dad was home—chewed him out.
Both of you snuck out that night so he could do it again and again and again until you finally did get knocked out and ripped your skin open on the woodchips. He didn’t take you back, just stayed there and pulled out a first aid kit and pulled out the chips that remained, swabbed down the wound, and covered as much as he could before he ran out of bandages. Then he sat down and told you stories about past wars and heroes and kingdoms and he listened to your stories about dinosaurs and princesses. At some point you fell asleep or he took you back or something. You can’t remember how it ended or even how your parents reacted. It’s just an island of memory in a sea of moments lost to time.
How many moments? For every hour you remember how many have you lost? How many slip away every day? Every month? Every year? There was a moment back in August when you realized that you didn’t remember your preschool teachers name and you couldn’t ask your parents because they were dead and you didn’t have the number of anyone who still lived here and Jabari—
Jabari was gone. Not dead, just gone. You had his number, sure. You could never call it. Still can’t. Because you relied on him and he broke your trust. Broke you. He doesn’t deserve another chance.
And you lied to him back there. It doesn’t matter what he gives. How much he hurts. He could blast his fucking brains out in front of you for all you care. It wouldn’t undo what he did. He’s not your brother anymore. He never will be again.
But you hope he tries. You hope he suffers. You hope he’s filled with shame for every waking hour of every day until his soul ascends Lanakila. Because he deserves it.
Damn. Him.
*
You drag yourself into the Pokémon Center cafeteria hunched down and walking with short, heavy steps.
“Hey,” Jennifer calls and waves. “Where have you been?”
You get your chili and sit down at the table in silence. Near silence. You don’t bother putting the bowl down gently and a little sloshes out.
“Who pissed you off today?” Kiwi asks.
You take a deep breath. Is she trying to help? Or is she mocking you while you’re down and can’t retaliate because you’re in public and she’s a sympathetic blind girl?
You go neutral. “You have any older siblings?”
Jennifer shakes her head even though the question wasn’t even aimed at her. “Two younger. One brother, one sister. Why?”
You ignore that question.
Kiwi feels around for her napkin and wipes her lips. “One brother. A few minutes older than me. Does that count?”
Something clicks. You smile and start to speak, even though some desperate part of your mind knows you shouldn’t. “Can he see?”
Kiwi fidgets. “He’s sighted, yeah.”
You pause and take a breath, emotional pain swelling and subsiding all at once. Sometimes you need to push your head above the surface and breathe. Sometimes you need to push someone else down to do that. Everyone else does it when they need to. Hell, she does it to you non-stop with her girl jokes. Can't say she doesn't deserve it.
“Well, that explains a lot. Let me guess: your brother was the darling child your mom mentored in her trade while you just had to learn shit from the radio. Eventually you got fed up and fled to Alola to show that, hey, you could make it too. Except you get here and you suck ass just like everyone thought and now you’re too embarrassed to go home and tell everyone they were right.”
“Kekoa,” Genesis hisses.
Kiwi just looks down and folds her hands in her lap. When she speaks her voice is low and even. “You should stop talking now.”
A threat? You raise an eyebrow. “Or what? You’ll cry because you can’t handle the truth?”
She closes her eyes. And taps a finger on her thigh. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Deep breath. Her mouth opens partway and closes.
“Hey, uh, let’s maybe calm down?” Genesis pleads. “I saw that the fast food place down the street has $1.50 ice cream. Surely the wallet can take that, right?”
“I’m not hungry, Genesis.” Kiwi opens her eyes and looks just past your shoulder. Damn. For being blind her glare game is good. “No, Kekoa. Let me clarify: You need to stop talking before I shove my foot all the way up your little trans vagina.”
The wound in your heart explodes and you lose your breath. How did she know? Was it just that obvious? Does she know? Is this another ‘you’re a girl’ ‘joke?’ Do you care? No. No, she doesn’t get to hit you in a weak point like that when she knows you’re upset.
“I bet no one even cares that you’re gone. Probably glad that someone else is burdened with you.”
Kiwi scowls. “Have I told you about Alice?”
Genesis finally snaps out of her stupor and stands up. She wraps a hand around Kiwi’s shoulder and gently pulls. “Let’s not keep doing this. Cuicatl, let’s go upstairs. Kekoa? You started this. Don’t be back before midnight.”
You don’t bother pressing. You already told the damn tourist off. With any luck she’ll go back to her own country and only literally rip hearts open.