The ranger was really stressed about something, or maybe Leaf isn't a great emotional support… I still don’t know if he’s closer to a fox or a plant. Maybe a wolf? In any case, Maya stuck around for a while, just petting Leaf and complaining about 'stupid, uneducated, rich, arrogant, idiots.’ …I’m pretty sure she had a bad day at work.

It had taken me perhaps a tad too long to notice the turtwig watching from the north path. Our interaction afterward had been interesting.

“So… who are you?”

“Partner.”

“And are you going to join them or…?”

“Watching.”

…We mostly ignored each other after that.

Leaf and I have been quiet for the most part, listening to the ranger complain. Though we did share some commentary about the complaints.

“I've met some electrike before, they're very friendly.” Leaf lazily says.

“-And, yeah, it’s what we were expecting, but I don’t understand how some people can be so disrespectful-” Maya continues her tirade.

“I don't get why someone would keep trying after the first shock,” I comment. “Seems pretty obvious she’d up the voltage from there.”

It’s a pretty good time all together, but it’s also starting to get late. Maybe I should just leave, and try and find Weaver some other time.

And of course, right as I think that, Maya carefully moves Leaf off of herself, “But I think that’s enough, it’s getting late and I’ve got to head back to base. I’ll have to see you later Leafy,” She says. Standing, the woman gives me an appraising look before nodding slowly, “Thanks for helping him, I know he doesn’t have a lot of friends.” And with that, she starts walking.

Hmm, Leaf not having a lot of friends makes an unfortunate amount of sense. He’s not mean or anything, just a bit high-

I had a plan. Right. “Do you mind if I also take off?” I ask the leafeon, raising myself in the air slightly.

“Oh, no. Uh, sorry about all that earlier,” He apologizes. “I didn’t really- I mean, I don’t want to be a burden…”

“Leaf, it’s fine. So I’ll see you at some point soon, yeah?” I say, waving as I start to fade out.

“Oh. Yeah!” Leaf says brightly, relieved about something.

And then I’m gone, completely within the not-space. Now I just need to catch up with the ranger, and it won’t be hard, as I can see her rather clearly ‘here.’

I follow, Maya heading north at the moment. However, as soon as we reach a split she starts heading east, clearly familiar with the paths. I follow her for around twenty minutes before I almost miss someone. A 'someone' who was the entire point of doing this.

Focusing, I can just pick out a silhouette against the not-space.

Weaver’s near-invisible form seems to give the ranger's bright one a wave before she breaks the silence of this place, “Hey Smokey, are you doing anything special?”

I don’t think I’ve tested if she can hear me while I’m phased out, so I give it a shot, “Following her to find you,” I say into the void.

Weaver doesn’t respond, though whether she’s messing with me or she genuinely can’t hear me I’m not sure. She is still tracking me, however.

I look at the ranger for a moment before deciding I'd rather she not know I was following her. So I float close enough to Weaver to touch her and then start drifting away a bit. And she seems to get the idea, moving to follow me.

Maya doesn't seem bothered by the weasel-cat's behavior and simply continues jogging.

Once I think it's safe, I phase back in. “I was looking for you,” I tell Weaver.

“Oh,” She says. “That kind of makes sense, we are pretty close to the base right now.” Then she exaggerates suspicion, stroking her chin, “But why would you be looking for me? Hmm?”

“Because I have questions that I don't think any pokemon would ask? Also, I need to learn to read,” I try not to mumble the last part.

“So you want to hang out, basically,” She says. “Sure, I’ve got some things I need to say too.”

“Oh?” I’m interested.

“Oh yeah. Come on, I’ll show you the base.” Weaver says, beckoning me to follow her.

“So what kind of things do you need to say?” I ask as I float beside her.

“Well, I just learned that Ryu was partly, maybe mostly, raised by her grandparents,” She says, almost angrily.

“Okay?” I don’t see where this is going.

“Yeah, but one of them is a pokemon, a zoroark.” Weaver looks at me, “Please tell me you know what that is because he refused to say anything beyond species,” She pleads, but there’s something hostile in her eyes.

I feel my own eyes narrow. I do recognize that one. “Uh, black and red, foxy looking, long hair?” I ask.

“How should I know, I never actually saw him, just his illusion,” She huffs.

“Then yes? I remember that being a thing they could do at least. Actually…” The sun's gone down enough let's see what Weaver thinks.

I gently push my cloud out, twisting and molding it until fuzzy, indistinct characters can be… sort of made out. Honestly, it looks more like a gray mist than anything, though I'd been trying to shape it into 'Can you read this?'

Weaver gives me a raised eyebrow. “That’s a neat trick, looks like you need to work on it though,” She says in a slightly teasing tone.

“I know, and it's part of why I want to learn to read… whichever language I can,” I tell her.

“Well,” Weaver says, and suddenly there’s a building in the woods before us, “I can help you with that, I’m an expert in humans.”

“More so than me?” I say dryly.

Weaver rolls her eyes, “Maybe not you, but I like reading their books at least. And the shows are good too.” Then she looks between the building and me a few times. “Did you not want them to see you?” She asks.

“I just didn’t want her to know I was following behind,” I say. “If you're with me I doubt they'll put much thought into why.” Then, backing up a bit, “Can we go back to Onaga being raised by a zoroark?”

“Only partly, from what I gathered. He was mostly focused on making sure I was taking care of Ryuko, being a good ‘shadow’, as he put it,” She answers, frowning. “They asked me not to let her know, too.”

“Okay, but uh, is he actually her grandfather?” I ask Weaver, thinking about the sheer difference between other humans and the rangers in the not-space.

“No? Yes? I think it depends on what you mean.” Weaver says, running her claws through- Oh, she’s grooming herself. “The two certainly acted like bonded humans. Though if you meant it like Ryu being part pokemon, no.” Weaver says, sounding slightly disappointed.

“You are referring to the adequate one, yes?” Says a new voice, prompting me to look up, Weaver rolling her eyes.

Sitting—more perched, really—on the roof of the building is a staraptor, gazing rather indifferently down at us.

“Yes!” Weaver snaps at him, “Her.”

He hums, gaze shifting from Weaver to me. “I am Blake. Do remember it,” He says, before dismissing us both with a wing.

Now that is a level of pompous asshole I wasn’t expecting. So no, I don’t think I’ll be remembering his name. …Okay, I will. But not by choice!

Weaver sighs. “So!” And she’s happy again. “Inside! Let’s give you the tour,” She chirps, starting to move us around the structure.

“This,” She starts as we reach a set of double doors, “Is the lobby,” She then wiggles her fingers before very deliberately—and unnecessarily—reaching up to grab the long handle.

“Are you still enjoying thumbs?” I ask her, teasing.

“Yes,” She says with a very large smile, pushing the door open.

It’s… a rather small, plain lobby. Lightly patterned tile floor, light beige walls, a reception desk, an odd lack of seating, a door leading back somewhere, and a single picture of a team of people hanging on the wall to our left.

“Yep, that is a lobby,” I say, continuing to tease Weaver.

She chuckles, “Yeah, I know, I’ve seen better in the city. Anyway!” She says, turning to face me and beginning to walk backward, “It's home. And it's a lot better than any den I could dig.”

Weaver walks to the door at the back and, still facing me, bumps it open. Following her, I’m met with the sight of a wide hallway with seven more doors, four on the right and three on the left. Several of the doorways don't even have doors.

There’s also a hum, a thrumming feeling on my still unknown sense coming from down the hall to the right.

Weaver points to the first door on the right, “That's where we all sleep,” Then she points to the first on the left, “Shower-room, storage and utilities, relaxing room, operator room, office, and eating room,” She continues, alternating right and left. “And speaking of eating…” She sniffs the air. “I smell food.”

Weaver takes three steps down the hall before her entire posture shifts, becoming alert. “Oh, that's where they went,” She says, voice flat, before stalking the rest of the way down the hall.

Following her and looking into the room, I’m met with the sight of nine people, three I recognize, three in uniforms, and all eating at two folding tables. There are also two pokemon in the room, a dragon-looking one that I can't think of the name of, and an espeon.

For her part, Weaver is staring daggers at an elderly man, with graying-black hair, fair skin, dressy clothes, and with his back to us.

I'm guessing he's the zoroark since Weaver is glaring at him. He's also seated next to a woman who has to be Onaga's grandmother if I’m assuming correctly.

My attention is more drawn to the espeon though, since he’s the source of the humming on my holy-shit-I-wish-I-knew-what-it-is sense. Oddly, his eyes are always looking at whatever Onaga’s are and it’s a bit weird. Especially when they both lock onto me at the same time.

Onaga doesn't say anything, looking between Weaver and me. Nobody else seems to notice, all too engaged in their dinner conversation, but she does raise an eyebrow at Weaver.

Weaver just sighs, grabs one of my left arms, and starts pulling me back down the hall.

“Why-” Weaver cuts me off with a gesture.

It’s not until we’re outside that she starts talking. “I don’t like him,” She says simply, her expression twisting.

“Okay…” I start, a little confused. “That kind of answers why you dragged us away. But why don’t you like him, then?” I ask.

“He's lying to her,” Weaver growls. “Directly to her. And I don’t think he would have told me anything if I didn’t figure it out.”

“Uh, how did you?” I ask, slightly concerned with the look on her face. “Figure it out, I mean.”

“I heard him,” Weaver says. “I caught the tail end of him speaking normally and paid more attention when I could see him,” She preens a bit, “It was obvious after that.” Then her eyes go cold again.

I don’t think this is something I want to get in the middle of. “So, uh, was there anything else you wanted to show me?” I ask her, masterfully changing the subject.

It looks like she grinds her mental gears for a moment before managing to get back on track. “Yeah, but mostly inside. You want to see the runner calling area?”

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

“Sure,” I tell her, happy she doesn't look ready to eviscerate someone anymore.

“It’s around the other side, come on,” She says, gesturing for me to follow along again.

“I still have some questions about other things,” I say as I move after her.

“Go ahead and ask,” She responds, not turning to face me this time.

I glance at the roof of the building, feeling a bit better when I don’t see the bird from earlier, “So, um, are Moves a thing here?” That one’s been starting to bug me.

“Depends on what you mean,” She says, stopping at a tall, chain-link fence. “I know the humans named some of our more common powers ‘Moves.’ And that trainers will call just about everything a Move,” She answers, turning to face me with a thoughtful expression. “How human do you consider yourself?” She asks. “I’ve been thinking about that all day.”

I wasn’t prepared for that. “I… um, don’t know. The first day I was here, I thought ‘I’m a pokemon now,’ and then immediately panicked because… Well, I’d died and then woken up as something else,” I explain. “And I’d be lying if I said that becoming this wasn’t part of that, but it wasn’t a large part. And then there was-” I cut myself off. I’ll think about it when I’m back home. “Something I’d rather not talk about yet,” I finish.

Weaver considers, then nods and turns back to the fence. “Okay. So anyway, this is the runner station. We shouldn’t go in right now, but it’s not like the fence could stop us,” She says, waggling her eyebrows.

Past the fence is something that looks a bit like a stable, but somehow wrong. For starters, it’s only mildly enclosed and I don’t see any gates except the one in the chain fence. The stalls, such as they are, are too tall and square as well. The saddles I can see hanging at the back of the roofed space clearly aren't meant for horses, and there's a horn-looking thing sitting on a bench.

“I'd rather not,” I admit. “Maybe if there was a dodrio I would, but I came here for other reasons.”

“That’s a disappointingly reasonable answer.” Weaver pouts.

“I still have more questions about Moves, or… powers, I guess,” I say, drifting right up to the fence. Let's see if she notices what I'm doing. “Like, I’ve got these- I don’t know, things sticking in my head. Is that normal?”

Weaver narrowed her eyes when she saw how close I got to the fence, but she still answers, “Maybe? I don’t know how I’d describe them myself, I just… know how.” As a demonstration, she lifts a claw and I watch as it’s near-instantly coated in something so dark it’s almost like looking into a void. And then a particularly unpleasant taste reaches me, one I don't even have a name for yet, too. “Like that.”

How helpful. Also, fuck that tastes nasty. What is that?

“Yeah, okay,” I say, watching as the darkness dissipates. “But… I’ve only got a few real days of experience, so I don’t know what I’m doing. I suppose what I’m actually trying to ask is, how?” I tell the oddly feline weasel.

“Normally you’d learn through fighting and experience, but I can see why you wouldn't want to,” Weaver says, prompting a snort from me. “What?”

“Marshal might have removed a lot of the fear I had around that,” I say, then shudder, “Also she’s horrifyingly fast.”

“Wait.” Weaver says, eyes widening, “She started teaching you to fight?”

“Yeah, and then she… disabled me? I guess,” I say. “It felt weird, and it didn't hurt that much either, which I think is strange.”

Weaver takes a moment to inspect me better before speaking again, “When was this?”

“Earlier today. Apparently, ghosts are really hard to maim. According to Marshal, at least.”

“Huh, and you’re already recovered?” Weaver seems almost skeptical.

“Marshal was feeding me a lot of energy at the time.” Then I remember something, “Actually, I think I have a new power to use after that, and I'm pretty sure it's ghost-type,” I say, thinking about how I used it to pull myself together.

“Yeah?” Weaver says excitedly, before pulling back a bit, “Maybe don’t try it here.”

“Probably smart, yeah,” I say.

“So,” Weaver says after a moment, “How much do you know about our- this world?” She asks, tapping her chin.

“I’m not entirely sure…” I trail off, thinking. “Less than I want, but more than I should? If that makes any sense. I’m not even sure how we knew about any of this, to be honest. But if I came here I don’t see why something couldn’t go there.” We both fall silent for a bit after that.

“So, next question. What year is it?” I ask after a bit.

“Year?” Weaver blinks, “Nineteen-eighty-one. Why?”

“Some curiosity, and some desire to figure out what my world got right,” I say. “It was twenty-twenty-one on my old world, and vaguely remember something about the year twenty-ex-ex.” Or was that Megaman? Wait… “We even used the same calendar?” I ask.

Weaver shrugs, “Sure? Seems so, anyway.” She looks at me, considering, “If your old world didn't have pokemon, how did humans even survive?”

So this is what we're doing then. And what a question too, hmm. “Uh, a little too well, actually,” I tell her. “I don't know how many humans are alive here, but we had nearly eight billion.”

Weaver's jaw drops. “H- How!? That's… so many…” She trails off. “You go again, that’s not what I was expecting.”

“Um, I have a new sense that I can’t figure out. Maybe you could help?”

“Sure!” She says, clearly glad to be moving on. “How does it feel, I guess?”

“Let me think…” When has it gone off? “Marshal was the first thing I felt with it, then the clouds yesterday, Leaf earlier today, and that espeon inside was setting it off too,” I tell her. “Marshal and the storm kind of… buzzed, Leaf prickled a bit, and Espeon felt more like a hum. I think I’m starting to become more sensitive with it.”

“Huh.” Weaver says, stroking her chin, “Weird. Wait! How about this!” She starts-

Oh, yep, there it is, a weak buzz. And Weaver has an ice block now too. “Yeah, that did it,” I say. “What is it then?”

“You can sense energy use!” Weaver says excitedly. “What’s the range? Or- Hmm…” She trails off.

“Uh, I can’t feel Espeon right now, but I could definitely feel Marshal at a distance,” I say, thinking about the sense again.

“Yeah, Espeon wasn’t doing anything earlier, so maybe it's not energy use, then. Is it concentration? Or…” She has a thinking pose on now.

“I mean, I couldn't feel your claw-thing, either,” I realize aloud.

“That’s probably just because it was dark-energy.” Weaver waves a hand, “We’re better like that.”

“And evidently humble.”

“Ah, you understand, good,” Weaver says, nodding Regally. “My turn. What was it like, being human?”

Ho boy. “Which part? Because I don't honestly know how to answer that,” I inform her.

“Uh, the human-only parts?”

“Very specific,” I chuckle. “I guess… it started well, quickly became exhausting and stressful, only a few good parts after that, barely worth the price of admission, four out of ten,” I summarize the last thirty-odd years of my previous existence.

“Really?” She asks.

“Hey, it's my turn now,” I say, making Weaver squint at me before she smiles again. “Anyway, yeah. But I’m fairly certain I had some form of untreated depression, so I can’t be trusted on that. I was mostly just going through the motions.” I frown, “I think I was still in that head-space before Marshal pulled me out of it. As for the 'human-only parts,' I don't know what to tell you, genuinely. I haven't been here long enough to say.”

Weaver gives me a look, before nodding. “If you say so. I don’t know what kind of answer I was expecting.” She pauses, seeming lost in thought for a moment, “Uh, your turn.”

“So, I’d like some information on this world in general, but that's not a question…” I trail off. I know I had some more specific questions, but they aren’t coming to me right now.

Before I can say anything else Weaver turns her head and I hear someone else speak, “So, what are you two up to?” Onaga says from the corner of the building.

▲▲▲

▼▼▼

Seeing Weaver drag the misdreavus out of sight had been hard not to laugh at. She had such a serious look on her face and Misdreavus just looked lost.

I may have eaten faster than I should have to follow them. And, after confirming they weren’t inside, I found them by the runner station, Misdreavus halfway through the fence.

“Showing them around?” I ask Weaver.

She nods, glancing back at Misdreavus, before doing a double take. “Vile vile, weavile!” She seems to accuse the other pokemon.

Misdreavus smirks at that, replying, “Dreav, misdreavus.” Causing Weaver to cackle in turn.

I knew Weaver’s social circle was going to expand soon. While sneasel as a species are typically asocial, tolerating at most one other close connection, Weaver had been almost aggressively friendly by their standards. And, now that she's a weavile—which form mid-size packs—she might start looking for members without realizing it.

I can’t help frowning. That might become an issue.

“Weavile?” Weaver asks, pulling my thoughts back to now.

Looking at her, she seems concerned. “It's nothing much. Just thinking about the near future,” I tell her, even as I watch Misdreavus glance between us and then edge ever so slightly farther through the fence.

“Vile,” Weaver says, seeming to accept that. Turning her head back to Misdreavus, she pauses, her pupils becoming slits as she observes the innocent expression on the other pokemon’s face.

“Have you already eaten?” I ask, mostly to Weaver, but I am a bit curious about the ghost-type.

Weaver equivocates with one hand, “ Weav weavile, Weav vile,” She says, and Misdreavus’ eyes widen. I’m assuming that she hunted something then, though probably not something big.

“And how about you?” I ask, now directly addressing the ghost.

“Mis…” They say, eyes darting around before landing on Weaver. “Mis misser, misdreaveus misser?” They ask my partner.

Weaver’s brow furrows as she points between Misdreavus and I, “Weav?”

“Misser. Mis misdreavus.”

Weaver thinks about whatever was said, before pointing at me and miming chewing. Then she points at the now moonlit sky, waving her arm back and forth while still making chewing motions.

The chewing has a fairly obvious meaning, the sky-pointing is something she’s used to indicate time passing before too, but the pointing at me seems a little- Ah. “You're eating now, so you’re eating me right now?” Weaver nods, but Misdreavus seems alarmed. “And you’re always eating, too?”

Weaver gives me a thumbs up, she's been a bit enamored with the gesture since her evolution. Misdreavus, on the other hand, seems a few seconds away from panic. “I'm not angry or anything like that,” I tell them. “I know what you eat, but now I need to ask. Are you only passively feeding?”

“Mis…” Misdreavus says, still looking slightly flighty. Then they shrug.

Maybe I should have phrased that better, a pokemon as young as they are won’t know about all the ways we categorize things. “Sorry. Anyway, it’s fine so long as you don’t start actively feeding on anybody in town.” That makes the pokemon's eyes widen further.

“Moonlit walk?” Asks Holt, having just stepped out of the base. She’s still holding that mug.

Switching my focus from the pokemon to the woman, I gesture to the duo I was just addressing, “Figuring out what my partner was up to,” I answer, looking back at… the now singular pokemon. “And one of them left.”

“One of them?” The woman asks, making her way to the corner I’m at. “I thought Espeon was still inside?”

“The misdreavus, the one from the forest, was here all of five seconds ago…” I trail off as I see Weaver start pointing and poking at nothing. “Scratch that, they’re still here.”

Holt hums as she observes Weaver’s antics. “Freshly evolved weavile, makes sense she’d start socializing.”

“Socializing more,” I correct. “She’s always been social.”

Holt snorts, “Good luck to you, then.” She chugs the last of her drink before sighing, “I take it you’d prefer to review your file tomorrow?”

“I'd prefer tonight, honestly,” I say. “Things have just been a bit odd today, between waiting all morning, the smuggling, Espeon, you, and my grandparents showing up. Twice.”

Holt nods, “That seems a fair assessment I suppose. Maybe you should see your family off then?”

“Yeah, I'll do that,” I say, giving Weaver one last glance before heading back to the entrance.

▲▲▲

▼▼▼

“Hey, Smokey, they’re gone. Feel like coming back?” Weaver asks, poking me again. I definitely overreacted, but I was also freaking out over another new thing to worry about, so someone else joining the group was a bit much.

I’d assumed that the ranger wouldn’t appreciate me eating her emotions. And I’d been wrong on that, thankfully. Except then she mentioned ‘actively feeding.’ I need to wind down, maybe take Marshal's advice.

I move back to real-space as Weaver somehow pokes me, again. “Sorry, I was just…”

“Panicking for weird I-used-to-be-a-human reasons?” Weaver supplies.

“Sure,” I sigh, “Let’s go with that. Anyway,” I say looking at the wall of the building, “That is definitely a zoroark, I couldn’t see him, but his silhouette was clear enough, and his illusions look weird when I phase out. Although, I think you should be more concerned about the woman,” I tell Weaver.

“Because…” She says, prompting.

“I could barely see anything else. She is by far one of the brightest things I’ve seen while invisible,” I say.

“And what does that mean?” Weaver asks.

“No idea!” I cheerily reply. “I don’t want to keep worrying about everything though, so I’m going to put it down as weird but probably nothing special. On a broad scale at least, since Marshal is even brighter.”

“Just… that.” Weaver deadpans. “After telling me to be more concerned about her than the one actively lying to my partner?”

“I mean, I was only letting you know,” I shrug. “I thought you would appreciate it.”

Weaver follows my gaze to the wall, silent in thought for a bit. “I do,” She says eventually. “I just can’t shake the desire to run in there and start a fight.”

“If it helps, I think they were getting ready to leave,” I say.

“Yeah, that Top-Ranger said something similar.” Weaver nods. “Feel like heading inside after they’re gone?”

“I'd need to find something to do tonight, anyway,” I tell her. “…Probably fixing my cabin,” I continue after a little thought. “There's a lot to do there.”

“And you sound happy about that?”

I shrug, “I like having something to do, especially since I can enjoy doing things again. And it’s something I know how to do, rather well, even.”

Weaver gives me a long look, “You said you had been depressed earlier. What does that actually mean?” She asks.

Um, what? Does she- No, obviously not. Where do I even start? I know I’m not an expert, but maybe just describing it will be enough. “So,” I start. And immediately stop to rephrase my words. “When I look back through my memories it’s obvious, but at the time I just… didn’t notice. I don’t think I could notice. At some point I just stopped feeling hap- No, happy isn’t the right word.” I stop to think again. “Content? Maybe even alive? I don’t know, it’s not just that I was barely able to enjoy myself, but that I wasn’t all that interested in trying, and the worst part is… is that I hardly noticed,” I sigh. “It’s like I said earlier, I just kept going through the motions. And,” I say, feeling a strange mix of emotions, “It took not only dying and becoming this,” I gesture at myself, “But also Marshal forcefully yanking me out of my fugue!”

“That doesn’t sound great…” Weaver says after a long pause, glancing away from me. “But you said you were happy?” She asks, looking back.

“I’m feeling much better, although I’m not entirely sure why,” I tell her. “I've had flashes of possibly unreasonable fear and anger, I was even afraid of telling you anything. And even just now, I shouldn’t have been as frightened as I was. But I’m not the way I was before, or at least I don’t feel like it.”

“But you're also not okay,” Weaver says. It’s not a question.

“I think I’m doing better than I could have hoped, honestly. And I’ve felt better about things in general since last night,” I say, pulling myself out of the fence. “Just… thanks, I guess, for pushing me.”

“Well…” Weaver starts, “I have heard a few things about ghost-types recently…”

“Yeah? I’m guessing the word unstable came up a few times?” I ask, feeling myself smile a bit.

That seems to catch her off guard, “Uh, yeah, actually. How did you know?”

“I heard that myself a few times, the day when all the tourists were walking past my cabin,” I tell the weasel. “It does make some sense to me, although I’m sure there’s more to it than having died.”

Weaver’s eyebrows scrunch together like she’s trying to figure it out as well, before she just shakes her head, “Anyway, inside?”