It’s been days of trying to use Moves now.

And staring at a wall.

And giving in to screaming. …Repeatedly.

Still nothing. Still feels like I’m missing something so, so obvious. This fucking sucks. Whatever, it’s morning again and I told myself I'd try to meet the neighbors once the sun was up. That was a few days ago, but who’s counting?

Shortly after I float outside, while trying to figure out what to do next, I’m startled by a booming female voice, "You're th'one who's been causing that racket!?"

I spin for a moment, several arms flailing until I find the source.

She’s tall, scary tall, eight and a half feet at least with two thick yellow lines going up her sides to- No, a line encircling her neck. Dark orange fur giving way to cream around her stomach, hands, and tail tips, with some kind of crest-fin thing coming off the back of her head.

Webbed hands on hips with their blue fins out to the sides and squinting at me is a floatzel, her expression changing from annoyed to surprised. Again something looks different from my memories, but I'm… expecting that now. I think?

One mystery—sort of—solved though. Even if I can’t place the accent, I can understand her. More questions now.

What changed? How can I even- Don’t think about it.

“…You’re a fresh one, aint’cha.” She says. Then quietly enough that I struggle to hear her, “So small. You just a kid?”

Am I? Shit, I was—possibly re—born less than a week ago.

Is that why my mood is so unstable? Ha! Fuck no, but I’d bet it isn’t helping.

Don’t think about it.

While I’m having another internal crisis, she speaks again, louder this time, “You scared my son half to death with all that noise.” I flinch at that. I knew I could be loud, knew I was being loud. But I hadn’t thought of what that would mean for everything—everyone, I correct myself—around me.

"Sorry," I say, genuinely feeling it.

She sighs, expression softening somewhat before speaking again. “I believe ya kid.”

“No, I-” I get out before she interrupts me.

"Look, I know a spook like you ain't a normal kid what needs fussin' over," she says placatingly. And then glaring at me, "But you do need to apologize to my son, come on." And with that said she turns and starts walking.

Doesn’t need fussing over? No… Just don’t think-

Oh god.

This pokemon knows something about ghost-types that I don’t like the implications of. I’ve been trying to put a lot of things out of mind because fuck I don’t want to think anything about that right now, but she has me doing it anyway.

Where do ghosts come from? Why am I here when I died as a human in a completely different universe?

Am I just some dead man's memories inside a pokemon?

I don’t fucking know, do I? I felt that yank when I was out there, but that's just a memory, isn't it. Fuck I don't like this, but according to the—now very concerned looking—giant poke-otter, I don't think ghosts mature like other pokemon. Do they- Do we all start with memories of past lives?

"Kid? Are you… naw. You wouldn't be screechin' like you was if you were okay." comes a worried, faraway voice. "I'll be right back."

I want to disappear, to go back to that all-consuming peace I felt before.

Can I even die again? I don’t think I want to be immortal.

I can’t breathe. I don’t breathe, but I wish I could, Just to help calm myself down.

I don’t know when I start crying—god, it’s been twenty years since I cried last—but I’m hanging there and I don’t want to move or cry or stop crying or sit here or- Why can’t I go back to that peace?

***

I'm a hollow shell. I don't know when I hit the ground but I did. I feel empty, nauseous, and completely exhausted, I want to throw up but I can't.

“Here hon, this’ll make ya feel better.” Says a gentle voice, right before something is placed in front of me.

I try to focus on it and see some kind of small frui- No, a berry, and It’s green, that’s all I can bring myself to care about it. I look up and see the floatzel crouching there watching me, she looks a little worried now.

Can I eat berries? I do have a mouth, even if I don't seem to normally use it to eat.

Whatever, why the fuck not at this point. I wrap an arm around the berry and move it to my mouth.

It tastes like cough syrup without the bitter tang, but I swallow it like she wants me to.

Looking less worried now, she says, “Good, and here, since you probably didn’t like that one.” She sets another berry down, this one pink with lighter blotches on it.

I look up at her again and it takes me a second to realize that I’m already feeling better.

Glancing down at the berry I ask, “What is it? What was that?”

Looking back at her I can still see and taste the traces of her earlier worry, but she smiles anyway, “A cure for whatever ails ya. And that there’s a treat, just cuz I think ya need it.” She says. And while motioning me to it, “Go on, eat.”

I already trusted her once, though I don’t think I was—or am—in a healthy state of mind. So I eat it.

Good god it’s sweet. It tastes like someone took the sweetest, ripest strawberry I’ve ever had, and made it twice as sweet, and it’s so fucking good.

Once I’m done I glance up at her. “Sorry.”

Now shaking her head, she replies, “Don’t be. Not for that at least.” And then looking straight at me, “What had you twistin’ yourself in knots like that?” With how she’s looking at me I don’t think I can make myself lie to her, not that I think she’d believe me if I said I was okay.

I don’t try to stall myself, I need to say it. “Why am I here? Am I me or am I someone who remembers being them?”

She stares at me a moment before her gaze moves to the ground between us. Then one of her hands moves to her muzzle and starts rubbing it. “Damned,” she breathes. “That kind of thing really is normal for you spooky-types huh?” Sighing, she looks up now, hand going from her muzzle to her ear, “Don’t know why anyone’s here hun, don’t think anyone knows.” She’s silent for a bit after that, and I notice that yellow line of hers swelling up a bit before flattening out again. Finally, and a little uncertainly she asks, “Do ya feel like… you?”

Do I? I guess I do, but I’ve been so busy trying not to think about my last life. All the stress, the job I loved at first, the burnout from years of the same shit over and over again.

Abby.

Wonderful, beautiful, smart Abigail. How she stopped being herself, stopped wanting to go out, stopped reading or wanting to eat. The first time she swung a knife at me, The second tim- No, that wasn't her.

I still love my parents, but I haven't- Stop.

My friends from work- Stop.

How long was I drifting out there?

Fuck.

I can't go back, can I?

I’ve been distracting myself as best I can, trying not to think about my situation. I couldn’t keep that up forever, I’ve been on the brink of a meltdown for a while and it finally happened. At least before I died I was doing… I- I wasn’t okay, was I?

I feel myself start to cry again, maybe I truly did need this to happen. No, Not this, this is too much, but something like it at least.

I’ve been silent for almost a full minute, the floatzel is looking worried again. “Yeah,” I say, not wanting to keep putting it off, “Yeah I think I do.”

She puts a hand gently on my head. "Okay then. Let's get you apologizin' to my boy, then see if we can't have you feelin' better tomorrow too." She moves her hand to one of my arms and starts to stand, pulling me with her. Christ, I'm tiny compared to her, maybe that’s why she pegged me as a kid.

“um… do you have a name?” I ask, tears drying and feeling extremely awkward as we leave the cabin clearing, presumably in the direction of her home.

She scratches her neck with the hand she’s not using to guide me, “Some o’ the humans around here started calling me Marshal…” She hums, looking back over her shoulder, “Years ago now, it’s stuck with everyone so far.” She’s looking around now, seeming to want to avoid looking at me. After some awkward silence, she finally asks, "Did- Sorry, do you?"

Don’t think about it. She brought up a good point earlier. Just don’t think about it right now.

“Charlie.” I manage to say. Her expression shifts, looking like something just fell into place.

She was right, I still feel like me. Don’t think about it.

“Right, sorry. That’s gotta be hard on you, and I’d hate to think if I made it worse.” She says. I can see it on her face, hear it in her tone, and taste it in the air, she means that.

Just don’t focus on it right now.

My honest response comes without thinking, “I think it would have been worse if you hadn’t been there.”

Stay calm.

She looks at me, then back behind us thoughtfully before nodding to herself, “Okay.” Is all she says.

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

I need to ask, I need the reassurance. “I’m still me, aren’t I?” I speak the words quietly, wanting to make them heard and afraid of them at the same time.

She’s silent again, then, “You remember a name right? Probably a bit more I reckon, th’rest is up ta you.”

Ah, shit, direct confirmation, and a choice.

She was right though, I remember being me, not someone else. I just need to focus on that.

“I’m not the first ghost you’ve met, Am I?” I ask her. She seems to know enough about them—us—that I can’t be.

My guide shakes her head, “Naw. But I only met four others I didn’t have to chase off, you’re th’fifth now.” She says before we descend into silence.

We’re still walking, neither of us has said anything for a bit, and she’s still slowly leading me by the arm. She’s still treating me like a kid.

Do I tell her? What does she already think of me?

Does she think I’m only getting flashes of memory, moments of being someone else?

Does she think I was some trainer’s pokemon, maybe some pet?

I don’t want her to start treating me differently. But would she, if she knew?

I'm not even sure how much it all matters. I don't think my old life means much here, aside from my own thoughts, and I can only remember so much about Pokemon.

“You know I’m not a kid, right?” I say. I don’t want her to keep treating me like a child.

Not even bothering to look at me she responds, tone frighteningly even and unyielding, “I know. But y’are compared to me, and just lookin’ at ya I can tell you were sheltered.”

That makes us lapse into silence, because firstly: Wow, stern mom treatment. Secondly: How old does she think I am? Or… I was? And thirdly: Ow, my pride. Even if I know that that's not entirely inaccurate to say about me here. At least now I have an idea of what she thinks I was, a pet. I briefly consider correcting her but choose to remain silent.

With the conversational lull a thought I’d pushed down resurfaces: How can I even understand her?

Her voice is strange, the more I focus on it the less I hear her words. I go from hearing words to barking noises that sound a bit like variations on ‘floatzel.’ And oh my god the weird accent is still there, but the meaning in her words doesn’t change. That’s a little creepy, but I want to put that down to ‘Pokemon can understand each other.'

Except I haven’t understood the others I’ve heard talking, so it’s back to weird.

And then another thought surfaces: Can I trust her?

I’ve had a strange feeling in her direction ever since she got close to me, and I don’t know how to describe it, it’s just… something.

But I’ve also been able to taste the emotions coming off her—god that sounds creepy—a lot more clearly since she started holding my arm. She's concerned about me, but it's mostly an undercurrent of self-assuredness with simple joy running through it. It’s making me feel…

Goddammit, what I eat affects my mood, doesn't it?

Or maybe I haven’t been eating enough. I thought her joy was making me happy, but that’s not it. I don’t feel so empty anymore. I actually feel kind of full? I don’t think it was the berries, it’s not the same feeling as when I was human, I feel… whole? It’s definitely an interesting feeling, I don’t think there’s a single word that can describe it. But I’m also feeling significantly better than I have the last two days, which…

I’ve been trying not to think of what I eat, and I was starving myself without realizing it. Shit.

Ignoring my thoughts was obviously a bad idea in hindsight. Why didn't I realize what I was doing, fuck! And now that I know I’m going to have another breakdown at some point if I keep putting this off, what do I need to do?

I need to really think about my situation without ignoring everything I find too uncomfortable or disturbing.

Christ, okay, Marshal will probably help if it gets too bad. Let's start with-

“And here we are! Buizel, out of the berries, I know you’re in there!” My guide all but yells, voice blasting out over the small lake we’re now at, cracking a few scattered sheets of ice.

We were in the middle of something, right.

I look out over the lake and it’s as beautiful as the rest of this place, startlingly clear water spreads out at least half a mile in front of us, some sheets of ice drifting around the edges, and waves fading from when Marshal called out a moment ago. I can see a small pier on the other side of the lake, so people—humans. I need to break that habit—have been here.

And about forty feet to our left on a more southern stretch of the shore, I see a small, fuzzy, orange otter poke its head out of the bushes. Face red and eyes downcast it slips into the water, I can taste the shame from here, though not literally, this time.

No, wait… Why can't I? Come to think of it, Marshal had to get pretty close before I could taste… No, fee- Nope that’s just as bad. Before I could Sense her.

I almost phase out before I realize Marshal might not take that well. She somehow notices, however, but instead of getting angry she just smiles at me.

“You nervous about saying sorry to my son but not me?” She asks, genuinely enjoying the teasing question.

“It’s not that,” I say, trying to pull my thoughts together. “I’ve had a few realizations since you found me.”

She nods thoughtfully, “How long have you been there?” She asks. Then looks back to what has to be her son, as the small otter, only about twenty-five feet away now, practically boils himself alive with his blush.

I wonder how I can see that through the fur?

“Two- No, three days.”

I can feel her focus whip back to me. Glancing up to her, I see an appraising gaze looking back. After a moment she says, “Well, you’re somethin’ special then, aren’t ya?”

What's that supposed to mean?

My confusion has to be all over my face because the giant just smiles knowingly and looks back to the comparatively tiny pokemon now only ten feet from us.

But I can taste the… victory? No, there's some of that in there but I think she's more satisfied about something.

What the hell lady? I need to ask her what she means by that, but I think we’re about to start the protective mother section of the proceedings.

As the buizel starts to leave the water he wastes no time in addressing his own transgression, eyes downcast, “Sorry momma.” I can taste the shame now.

After that, Marshal just raises an eyebrow, seemingly waiting for more. A full minute passes in silence.

At least I know what she wants from me beforehand now.

The little guy practically starts glowing red, eyes trying to look anywhere but at his mother, “I’m sorry for eating your berries when you said not to, cause you want to save them to plant more.”

That makes Marshal give what I can only call a motherly smile to the small weasel, “Good, and I know you feel bad about it. So let's just leave it at that.” Then she moves her eyes to me. “And this is Charlie, they’ve got somethin’ they need ta say to ya.”

God how I wish I could say I haven't been here before, but both my parents did the exact same thing when I was younger. And the longer I wait the more awkward it's going to be because she's not going to push for it. She's going to watch and wait, letting her sheer presence and my own shame do the work, even if I do have enough experience to not fall into that particular parental trap.

Steeling myself in an attempt to stave off some of the awkwardness, I turn to the buizel. And, in as steady a tone as I can, say "I'm sorry for scaring you, I knew I was being extremely loud, but I didn't consider what it meant for everyone else." …Nope, still feels pretty much the same as when I was a kid.

Marshal nods approvingly at me, even if I can see the ghost of a smirk on her face, but the buiz- Buizel, I need to start correcting myself. Buizel just looks a bit scared now. “You’re the shrieker we all heard?”

Before I can answer, His mother steps in. "They're just a ghost, you'll see them occasionally. Most aren't all that friendly though, they don't got what it takes to stop and accept help. Too busy ignoring their problems."

Oh, is that what she meant about me being special? She thinks I hadn't been trying to do exactly that. Or maybe she knows and was happy she put a stop to it, and the 'special' part was because I let her help me.

“And on that thought,” She says, turning to me. Oh yeah, definitely that second one. “You think you’ll be okay on yer own now?”

I almost say yes, the response ingrained from decades in human society, but stop myself. And actually try to think about the question.

As much as it pains me to admit: No, hell no I won’t be okay on my own just yet. I have too many questions about… Everything. Even if I don’t ask her any of them, I know that I’ll need the support, if she’s offering.

"Probably not," I say. And that makes her smile.

Goddammit, she’s been two steps ahead this whole time hasn’t she, leading me to the answers she thin- she knows I need.

How smart is she?

I realize I need to stop letting my thoughts show on my face when her smile gets even wider, “I have been around a while hun.” is all she says before picking her son up by the scruff and walking into the lake.

Once she’s in the water I see that yellow line of hers swell until she looks like a life raft. Then she turns around and falls back with a large splash, before setting her son down on her stomach and beckoning me to follow. I can’t think of a good reason not to at this point, so I float after them.

As I move up to them, Marshal speaks, soft and low, "I know this might sound like empty talk to you boy," She says while looking at Buizel, then she looks at me, "Maybe not to you though, kid, and it's a lesson we all learn the painful way eventually." Now looking back at her son, "The hard things in life don't get easier if you wait for them. I learned that the painful way, and I don't want you to learn it that way, but I don't know if you can otherwise. So just promise me that you'll listen to what I teach ya and do your best with all th'rest."

I know that the last part isn't aimed at me, even if I suspect I'm the cause. So I do my best to remain out of the moment as Buizel says, "I promise, momma."

“Okay, that’s a good boy now.” She says while stroking his head. “Now go catch yourself somethin’ meaty to eat, I’ve got to talk to Charlie for a bit.”

“Okay, love you mom.” He says, sliding off the larger otter's belly and disappearing under the water.

Marshal watches her son leave with a sigh. Then she looks at me again, “I asked if you’d be okay on yer own, but do ya think you’ll be okay at all?” The worry I’ve been tasting hasn’t gone away, it hasn’t grown either.

“Probably…” I say. And realizing that’s not enough, continue, “I’m going to need help, I mean…”

Oh god, how do I explain what I need and what happened to me? Should I explain what happened to me? How much can I tell her without sounding like I'm making it up?

“I’m not gonna ask.” She interrupts my thoughts, proving again how she can read me. “And don’t feel like you gotta tell me if you don’t want to, just watchin’ you think on it I can tell it’s painful. If ya need help, ask. I’ll be happy ta give ya an ear, a hand, and advice.” She smiles warmly again, “I’m just glad I got ya out of that funk. You seem alright, for a spook.”

I don’t know what to say to that, it kind of makes me want to tell her more, but, with the way she's been steering me around… I shouldn't think like that, though I'm not going to tell her much just yet.

There is something I need to get off my chest, however, even if I'll need to hold—quite—a bit back.

“I was killed by someone I… loved? Used to love?” I tell her, not feeling any better, and also now extremely anxious. Though my words also get a reaction.

Her face falls, first into disbelief, then horror. Finally, I see the wheels turning in her head and her expression shifts to something softer. And then I'm slammed by the emotions coming off her, I can't even make any of them out before I don't taste them anymore. Jesus, that made me dizzy.

“Honestly can’t say I expected that.” She says in a low voice. “You remember that? No, don- Don’t answer that.” The words come in a breath as she looks away. Then, after a moment, her eyes move back to me again. Voice steadier this time she asks, “You been carryin’ that around fer three days alone?” I can only nod. “Are ya carryin’ any worse?”

I- Am I? I don’t think so, secrets of worlds beyond or not I’m pretty sure Abby was the worst of it.

Even if I miss my friends and family. And Abby, back when she was still herself.

“I miss her. I…” I’ve missed her for a while now, I didn’t know if I’d see her again after her brother gained the power of attorney over her. I wasn’t expecting her when I did.

Marshal looks at me for an eternal second, then just lifts her arms and beckons me closer. It takes me a moment to realize she wants to hug me. And honestly? That seems like the best thing I could do right now.

As I drift closer, I can taste the sadness and… affection. She genuinely feels sorry for me. That stings my ego a bit once more, but it’s a drop in the bucket at this point.

Affection?

Once I’m close enough she gently pulls me in the rest of the way. She’s warm, furry, and wet. It’s not the most comfortable hug, but I’m not complaining. I needed this.

There are a lot of things I’ll need to figure out. However, at this moment I think I really can put all that off, for now at least.

▲▲▲

▼▼▼

“-Since we are expecting more traffic from Sinnoh and Galar this year-" The rep from the Sienna Office of Tourism continues droning on. I'm paying attention, but it starts to become white noise after so many meetings.

At least the meetings are starting to taper off. I get that we need to know what's going to happen when all the people who've never actually met a wild pokemon decide they want to come and see Almia in Springtime, but it won’t change any of our reactions to them.

Luckily, there are only a few pokemon around here that might kill someone, most will just threaten or rough up anyone that stupid. Except for the alphas, they're old enough to push back, hard. A lot of people just don’t seem to understand that fact until it’s holding them by the ankles and shaking them hard enough to make all the candy fall out.

“We would ask that you practice patience in such scenarios-” And he’s still going. Yes, we get it, don’t make the country we chose to live in look bad. Or- Not Karlos, but the rest of us did.

I want to sigh, but I hold it in. It’s politics, they know we won’t put the tourists ahead of the pokemon, and they know we know they know, but they still need to prove it was said.

At least things have been relatively quiet recently, so it hasn’t been so bad with how few we have left.

Oh, I shouldn’t have thought that.