CHAPTER 110

“Um, this isn’t some prank, is it?” The receptionist ranger asked me.

“No? I was just coming here to notify you because it’s important.”

“Okay, well— let me call my boss,” she sighed. “Jeremy, come take over!”

Around thirty seconds later, a short man with a full, thick beard and long hair came over from the backroom and complained about his break not being over, but the woman just ignored his pleas and hurryingly left to get whoever this boss was. I looked at my shoes and groaned. The soles were still intact, but the bottom was half-melted by Turtonator, and it made it hard to walk. I’d need to buy new ones later today, especially since we were supposed to walk down the mountain. You needed good shoes for that. Still, I felt somewhat sentimentally attached to these white sneakers, although they were stained so much that they couldn’t really be called white anymore. I had had them since the start of my journey, and now, I’d have to throw them in the trash soon.

“Is this her?”

I heard a familiar voice, and my eyes widened when I recognized Malcolm Brockhouse— the same ranger that had given us our class days ago before entering the mountain.

“That’s her,” the receptionist said.

“Well, she certainly looks like she fought a Turtonator,” Brockhouse said after a short pause. “Are you sure you don't want to go to the Center first?”

I shook my head. What he had said about how I looked was true, though. The left side of my face and neck were still recovering from burns, and my left arm and both of my hands were covered in bandages. My shoes were half-melted, and my jeans were slightly burned at the knee level. Plus, he couldn’t have known this, but I still heard practically nothing out of my left ear.

“Come with me,” he continued. I just nodded and followed him. I wasn’t exactly nervous, but I hadn’t expected to see Brockhouse again at all. After taking me to what appeared to be his office— there was a huge picture of him and who I believed to be his family on the wall— he seemingly noticed my surprise. “You were in my class. Are you surprised to see me?”

“Um, yes,” I blurted out.

“We have a League-issued Kadabra that lets us Teleport between both sides,” he explained. “I’m in charge of both outposts, and I had some business to attend to here, but that can wait. Sit.”

“Um, I don’t want to dirty your fancy office chair,” I said.

“That doesn’t matter, no one uses the office anyway,” he shrugged. “So, you’ve got the Turtonator. I believe you, but could you let us verify it?”

Well, he had certainly cut to the chase quickly.

“I told this to the other rangers, but I’m keeping him, so I’ll only let you see if you agree. I don’t want to hear anything about how it’s too dangerous, or whatever,” I said.

Brockhouse smirked. “Did you think I was going to say that?” He asked. “That isn’t how we function. You’re fifteen and a trainer. You’re not an adult yet, but society certainly treats you like one, and we already trust you to make your own decisions. I think you’re biting off more than you can chew, but you caught it, so if you want to, you get to keep it. If it ever goes out of control and causes death or injuries, though… then we or the League will be in contact.”

I breathed out a sigh of relief and grabbed Turtonator’s Pokeball on my belt, trying to hide the pain I still felt when I grabbed things. Brockhouse said something, but since it had been my left ear facing him, the voice was muffled and I couldn’t hear what he said.

“Excuse me?” I asked.

He grabbed the Pokeball. “I said I wouldn’t have expected a first-year like you to catch this thing. His old trainer was pretty experienced.”

“His older trainer? Did you figure something out?” I exclaimed. Finding out about this could potentially help me understand Turtonator better, so I wouldn’t let the opportunity pass.

“We did. He was a seventeen-year-old Alolan that had gone through the trials during his first year, and the Johto Circuit the next. He was trying out Sinnoh this year, but as you know, he was killed,” Brockhouse said with a heavy breath. He got up, walked to the corner of the room, and placed the Pokeball into some kind of spherical container in a printer-like device with a screen. “He seemed to prioritize traveling over competing, though.”

“So this was his third year…” I trailed off. Turtonator had lost his trainer who he had known for more than two years, and yet he hadn’t shown any signs of grieving after our battle. “Um, what’s that machine?”

“Pokeball scanner. Helps us identify what’s in the damn thing without having to release whatever’s inside,” he said. The screen machine beeped, and a Turtonator image flashed across the screen. “Well, you were right. Since an official, League-sanctioned trade didn’t take place, I’m going to need you to fill out a few documents to give you legal ownership of Turtonator,” he continued as he grabbed a few papers and a pen. He placed them all on the table in front of me.

I brought my hand forward and hissed in pain when I grabbed the pen and tried to write.

“Um, I don’t think I can hold a pen,” I said embarrassingly. The friction between my hands, the bandages and the pen rubbing against it was just too much.

“Are you sure?” Brockhouse sighed. “Well, you can always come back before you leave. You’re in no state to travel, and you should get yourself checked in at the Center, especially if you can’t even write. Those burns look… bad.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that,” I said as he handed me Turtonator’s Pokeball. With a painful grunt, I clipped it on my belt. “Um, one last thing. Turtonator’s trainer, what was his name?”

“Kamaile Nalanie,” he said. The words felt heavy. Like they mattered.

“Thank you,” I nodded. I would commit this name to memory and never forget it. I stood up and let Brockhouse show me out, and soon enough, I was at the Pokemon Center. I warned the nurses about Turtonator being potentially aggressive or uncooperative, and I walked to the human wing to get a check-up.

——

“Second-degree burns all along the face and neck, and a second and third-degree burn on your arm,” the doctor said. “Another two second-degree burns on your palms, and two first-degree burns on your knees. You certainly went through it, Ms. Pastel.”

“Third degree?” I gasped. “Isn’t that really bad? I don’t feel any pain there.”

“Yes, it is really bad,” he deadpanned. “Did you not pay attention in class? The reason you don’t feel any pain is because the nerve endings have been destroyed. You’ll need a skin graft. That implies surgery.”

I froze. That… that was way worse than what I thought. A part of my arm was completely white— like a sheet of paper, and I thought that had been weird, but since there was no pain, I thought it was improving somewhat, but I had apparently been completely wrong. I had been in denial. It wasn’t that there was just no pain, there was just no feeling there whatsoever.

“I can see you’re anxious, but that isn’t it,” he said. “You said you struggled to hear out of your left ear, correct? Your left ear drum is ruptured, but it’ll heal on its own in a few weeks. If it doesn’t, or if it starts leaking, you’ll need to get it checked again.”

“Thank you,” I sighed. Surgery terrified me, but if it was the only way… “When can we do this surgery thing? And what does a skin graft imply? Will I be put under?”

“The third-degree burn on your arm is relatively small, so it will be local anesthesia,” the doctor said. “We’ll take a thin layer of skin from another part of your body and place it on the burned area. After the procedure, you’ll need to stay for a few days, since the new skin will need to sit very still— but after that, you’ll be free to go, even if the graft won’t have completely healed yet. I hope you don’t mind scars.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” I said. At least the ones on my face and neck wouldn’t be too bad. “What about the area you take the… skin from?”

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“Oh, that takes a week or two to heal back as well, but it’ll be as good as new,” he said. “If you want, we can have your surgery as soon as tomorrow. The rest of your burns will heal on their own with a cream we’ll give you.”

“Fine,” I resolved. The sooner, the better. “Tomorrow it is.”

The doctor nodded, wished me well, and left. A few minutes later, a Nurse Joy came into the room and explained the surgery in full detail, including the recovery process, in which I’d have to take care of the graft site by keeping it dry, clear of fluids, and I’d have to keep the stitches possibly for weeks, and that part of my arm wouldn’t feel right for months. There were also risks, such as an infection on the graft site, and then she gave me some cream to put on my second and first-degree burns to quicken the healing process. After that, she made me sign a consent form, and then I was put into another room with a bed. They allowed me to wash myself, which had to be done with a soft shower glove because the pressure of the showerhead hurt too much to actually shower normally. Hell, even using the Arceus damned glove hurt my hands.

I had never felt as weak as I did now. The human body was so fickle.

Afterward, I was put in a hospital gown, and they placed an IV drip in my arm that would give me antibiotics and electrolytes, whatever that second thing was. I was given a slew of pills, including painkillers, and finally, I was alone.

Turtonator certainly had done a number on me, hadn’t he? I was so used to walking off injuries and letting them heal on their own that I thought it’d be the same here. I’d have to text my dad about it when I could. I had told him I’d be in Hearthome soon, and he was supposed to fly out to see me. He had already booked his flight, so the delay would mean he’d need to extend his stay in the city.

“Kamaile Nalanie…” I trailed off. If my hands hadn’t hurt like hell, I would have looked him up to learn more about him—

The door burst open, and all of my friends entered my room.

“Grace! You didn’t tell us you’d need to stay at the hospital!” Cece said immediately. “You kept pretending to be fine! What’s going on?”

“Well, I didn’t know either, so you can’t blame me,” I said with a thin smile. I lifted my burned arm. “A part of my burn here is third-degree. I need a skin graft.”

“Holy shit…” Denzel exhaled.

“You said it. I’m getting it tomorrow already, and we’ll have to stay for a bit longer,” I said. “It should be fine, though. With all the burned trainers coming through, they’ve had to do this a lot, and it’s always gone well.”

“If you say so,” Cece sighed. “Do you want anything?”

“Yeah, actually,” I said. “Could you grab my phone and text my dad about what happened? I’d do it but…”

I brought my hands up and showed my bandaged fingers. Cecilia let out a small chuckle and grabbed my bag, looking for my phone.

“Hmph. This Turtonator spells trouble,” Pauline said. “You made a deal with him to get out of the cave, right? What if he attacks you now that he’s out?”

“I’ll deal. He’s hurting, but hiding it,” I said.

“You’re too nice for your own good,” Justin sighed. “If it were me, I would have given him to the rangers. A murderous dragon is dangerous.”

“I can’t act like I’m a saint either. A part of me is also doing this because of how powerful he is,” I shrugged. “Denzel, can you look up a name for me?”

“Yeah?”

“Kamaile Nalanie,” I said. “Turtonator’s old trainer.”

He whipped out his Poketch. “Gotcha.”

“Grace, what should I text to your father?” Cece asked. She was holding the phone and trembling like a leaf. It was cute how embarrassed she was around meeting or speaking to him.

“Well, you can either say that it’s you, or you can pretend to be me,” I shrugged. I still hadn’t told my dad that we were dating— I was planning on telling him in person— but he knew her and my friends’ names. “Just start with the fact that I’m actually fine, and then ease into the surgery part.”

“Ease into it?” Pauline said incredulously. “How do you ease into that?”

“Leave it to me,” Cecilia said with a determined nod.

“What?!” The redhead scoffed.

“Grace, I’ve got a some results for your guy,” Denzel said. “What do you want to know?”

“How he looked and what he was like, maybe?”

Denzel showed me his screen, and Kamaile looked like any teenager. He had tanned skin, his face was square-ish, and he looked to be well-built and tall like Denzel was. Most of the pictures were recent from the news of his death and the whole debacle with Turtonator blocking Mount Coronet that the media seemed to have run with, but some of it was older. Pictures of his younger self during his travels through Alola and Johto.

“He made it through four trials during his first year in Alola, which is more impressive when you realize that there are only seven,” Denzel explained. “Then, instead of trying again the next year, he went to Johto and got six badges there. Most of his fights seem to have been won due to his Turtonator’s power.”

So Turtonator was strong enough to compete at six badges— no, probably seven now, because of how much time had passed since last year’s Johto Conference. That was good to know, and it explained why he had been so tough when he had practically been knocked out. Now that he was being healed by the nurses, I was sure that my entire team wouldn’t be able to win against him, especially when he could have such an incredible effect on the environment around him. I always knew fire types were capable of emitting heat, but Turtonator had been on another level entirely. Just having one of my Pokemon approaching him would hurt them. Tangrowth could maybe restrain him, but not for long enough, because his vines would just burn off, and Turtonator was probably strong enough to rip them apart now that he’d be at full capacity. Frillish’s water type attacks were neutral due to his dragon typing, but they wouldn’t deal that much damage either because of all the heat. Togetic lacked in raw power to even hope to hurt him, even with Fairy Wind, and dragons resisted electric type attacks, and Ice Punch wouldn’t do much, so Electabuzz was off the table too. It wasn’t like he’d be able to even approach him anyway with all the heat. Larvitar might be able to do something when she got stronger and evolved, though.

Well, I knew a fight wouldn’t actually happen because I’d just recall Turtonator if he looked like he was about to attack me, but my brain couldn’t help but theorize how I would win. Right now, though? There was just no way.

“There isn’t that much else about him out there,” Denzel said as he scrolled through his Poketch. “He seemed to keep to himself.”

“Well, I know he liked to travel, so that lines up,” I said. “Oh, did you guys send a message in the group chat too?”

“We did. Emi’s worried about you,” Pauline said with a slight smile. “She was beside herself. You know how she does that thing where she uses so many punctuation marks and emojis that you can tell exactly how she’s feeling through the screen?”

We all laughed at that. “Yeah, I know,” I smiled. “Anything about Chase or Louis?”

“Nothing from both of them,” Pauline said.

“Not even Chase?” Denzel raised an eyebrow. “That’s strange. He went through Mount Coronet before us, he should have been out by now.”

“Have you considered the fact that he might just be an asshole?” Pauline shrugged.

“He’s got a lot of redeeming qualities,” Denzel said.

“I think Pauline and Chase could either get along amazingly well or hate each other completely,” Cecilia said. “There’s no in-between. Here, Grace.”

She showed me my phone to read the message she had typed, which was… ridiculously long. Seriously, this was at least five hundred words long, and it somehow followed an essay-like structure with a short introduction where she introduced herself, a body where she described my condition, and a conclusion that said I’d be fine.

“Thanks,” I smiled. “You can send it.”

Chase not having sent a message worried me. He had sent one before going through the mountain, and he wasn’t the type to forget things easily. Even if he had acted all nonchalant about the promise to keep us up to date, I knew that he knew how important it was to me. Louis… well, Louis probably still wanted his space, but I hoped that he was fine.

Denzel sprung up. “Hey Grace, did you know that Craig battled against Gardenia a few days ago? Do you want to watch the battle?”

“Holy shit! You could have told me earlier! Obviously I want to watch. Who won?”

“Craig.”

“Ugh,” I groaned. “I wanted Gardenia to win.”

“Craig would be hurt if he heard that,” Denzel laughed.

“Craig this, Craig that, Justin and I don’t know him, so every time you bring him up, we feel left out. Just put the video on,” Pauline said.

“Let it be known that I have nothing against you speaking about Craig,” Justin sighed.

Denzel put the battle on, but something seemed off about the fight. Sure, high-level battles were incredibly impressive, and they made me wish I was that good. Craig and Gardenia were in a completely different world, and their Pokemons’ attacks put even Turtonator to shame. Still, Gardenia’s head seemed to not be in the fight. She gave Craig a run for his money, but there were none of her usual battle-long traps that she usually set up. She hadn’t even smiled once during the battle, when using her personal team was something that should have brought her incredible joy.

Had something happened to her recently?

Maybe I was just imagining things. None of my friends were saying anything about it anyway. Maybe it was just an off-day for her. Gardenia battled all day long, so I couldn’t really expect her to always be flawless. That would be seriously unhealthy.

We spent the next few hours just fooling around and talking. Justin and Pauline left first, since they wanted to train and battle. Denzel and Cece stayed until visitor hours were over. The next morning, a few doctors and a Nurse Joy came into the room and started the surgery. After the initial pain from the local anesthesia injection, everything was smooth sailing. They took some skin from my thigh to put on my arm, although I had to look away. Seeing my skin get cut off? Ew, no thank you.

It went perfectly well, and it really wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, but the consequences would be lasting. The scars would become a part of me forever, and the pain would stay for weeks or possibly months. A reminder that actions had consequences. I couldn't always be reckless and hope things would work out. Plans wouldn't be enough if the power disparity was as large as it had been between me and Turtonator.

At least I could scratch ‘first surgery’ off my non-existent trainer bucket list. It was bound to happen at some point anyway.