Following Misdreavus around has been a very interesting experience. They fly from place to place, sometimes stopping to interact with the other pokemon, other times merely drifting along carelessly. They look… sometimes content, sometimes conflicted, and the rest of the time they’re frozen in place.

It was rather fun to leap down a cliff before turning around to see Rowan scowling at me and Ohkido gaping. Of course, I have a rope, so it was relatively easy to get them down without needing to go all the way around the rock face.

Although, where Misdreavus had gone in the meantime required Weaver to track them down, and we found the ghost flying alongside a vespiquen.

The living hive is busily tending to a few grass-types, the symbiosis a good sign of this vespiquen’s personality. Likely one of Prime’s satellite hives.

However, there’s also a problem developing.

“I’m… not such a young man anymore,” Rowan gasps as he recovers from the latest jog to catch up with the mobile ghost-type. “Sam, you can do the rest of the research for us, yes?”

Ohkido laughs through his own deep breaths, not nearly so winded though obviously feeling it, “I don’t know, feel like paying me for the both of us too?”

“Not unless you start doing all my work when we head back.” The professor answers, standing as he regains breath. He inspects the combee hive around fifty meters from us, “Are the hives here generally safe?” He asks me.

“Hmm, Depends on the hive,” I tell him, still smirking at how out of it the two were after only a few hours of running, “There’s one large hive with eleven satellite hives, and there are several other independent vespiquen. This one’s probably one of Prime’s satellites.”

It’s also extremely clear that the hive has noticed us, as several combee link up with each other. Not in a hostile gesture, but certainly a wary one.

I see Misdreavus roll their eyes before saying something to Vespiquen, the hive buzzing back a moment later. The ghost-type nods, says something else, then vanishes.

“The distances make sense if we follow the assumption that they’re scavenging,” Rowan sighs, lifting a bottle of water to his lips, “Though, it’s odd we haven’t seen any competition. Whatever form that may take.”

Ohkido, meanwhile, is busily sketching a misdreavus in the middle of the hive, having already taken a picture of the scene. There’s also a pair of eyes floating behind him, though neither of the men has noticed.

I raise an eyebrow at Misdreavus and the ghost-type fully appears, shrugging at me before idly looking around. Rowan and Ohkido are trying to dissect the ghost’s actions, but looking at what they’ve been doing from a different perspective…

“You’re bored out here, aren’t you?”

Rowan almost chokes on his water when he looks over at my words and sees the ghost pokemon.

“Mis… Dreavus misser,” They bobble in equivocation before rotating in denial, “Dreavus misdreavus,” They continue, making a sweeping, almost frustrated gesture outward.

Rowan finishes his coughing as Ohkido pounds him on the back, “I suppose normal methods were ultimately hopeless,” He says in a hoarse voice, “Perhaps we should simply move on to the interview and tests.”

I keep looking at Misdreavus, the pokemon drooping slightly as they continue staring at… nothing? Hmm, well if they’re not bored, then, “Restless.”

That evokes a sigh and an eventual nod, the pokemon pointing a limb at me, then the scientists, “Misdreavus misser. Dreav mis, misdreavus dreavus.”

Something longer, likely complex, that involves Rowan, Ohkido, and myself. The research? Misdreavus picks up on my lack of comprehension and starts pantomiming. A gesture at themselves, marking the sun’s motion through the sky, and flying in circles.

Hmm, that matches up with what I’ve heard from people in town, too. It seems fairly normal for a wild pokemon, but with how intelligent Misdreavus is, and their apparent memory, I can see it being dull.

Rowan and his student, realizing the dynamic has, inevitably, shifted, start quietly condensing their lists of questions for Misdreavus. I, meanwhile, need to make a quick decision on what we do now.

I’ll be finding or printing a copy of the integration guide tonight, certainly, but since it seems like Misdreavus’ interview is… “How are you planning to continue this study?” I ask, turning my gaze on Rowan.

The two men pause their conversation, Rowan bringing a hand to his mustache in thought, “I’m sure there are still insights to be gained from seeing how the misdreavus acts and interacts in various circumstances,” He says, glare shifting upward, “I’m also aware that, with the way things seem to be going, standard methods for wild pokemon are unfeasible. Doubly so as the pokemon is a ‘partner’ in aid of your organization.”

Rowan continues thinking for a moment before nodding, “Still, I think we will continue observing. Simply put, any information is more than we had before.” His glare moves to Misdreavus, “Though I think we’ll be interviewing the pokemon today. And perhaps… Well, we will see.”

Okay, that gives me a better timeline. Glancing at the sky, then at my watch, it’s a little past noon. “As good as a bag of trail mix sounds, if you’re going to interview Misdreavus today, how about you do it over lunch?”

Both men share a look at the question, Ohkido inclining his head slightly at Rowan. “…I think that’s amenable enough,” The older of the two says after a moment. “I assume you’ll be joining?”

“I’m required to,” I confirm, quickly orienting myself—and thus, the group—toward the closest trail. “In any case, I was just going to head to base, and it’s a good opportunity to learn more about misdreavus as a species.”

“Mmm, yes. The lack of published literature on any of the true ghosts is rather…” Rowan pauses to think for a second, “Embarrassing, in all honesty. Not to mention concerning, given the volume of historical accounts.”

“’Historical accounts’?” I question. “I read similar phrases when we were trying to find anything on misdreavus, but I never saw any actual references made. Just vague allusions.”

“Ah, well,” Ohkido begins, sounding bashful, “I assume you haven’t read Laventon’s surviving texts, then? I… suppose that’s understandable.”

Laventon… There was a unit about him in the history of Sinnoh course, wasn’t there? “Wasn’t he the man who started the myth of pokeballs shrinking pokemon? Oh, that’s right, and he claimed that his best assistant was a messenger from another world. Or… was it the future?”

There’s silence for slightly too long, and I glance back to see Ohkido with a finger raised, staring into the distance. “Are you okay?” I ask.

“O– Oh, yes. Just… thinking of a friend,” He shakily responds.

Rowan picks the thread up, “While it’s true that Laventon made exceptionally outrageous claims…” He trails off. “No, I simply can’t defend the man’s clear insanity. However, many of the insights in his surviving work are quite good. That is, in fact, how we knew what ghost-types use for sustenance.”

“It– It’s worth noting,” Ohkido adds, an odd tone still in his voice, “That he was the first person to attempt the creation of a full encyclopedia of pokemon, even if so little of it survived. And there was an entry about misdreavus at one point.”

That makes me glance back as we hit the trail, eying my fellow Kantonian, “Really?”

“It’s only a name and part of a physical description,” Rowan confirms, “But the information was there, though… perhaps not translated well. This was long before modern naming conventions, so It was called ‘The Bewitching Nightmare,’ and the description lines up. A ‘frilled lower body’ is certainly present, as are ‘gemstones the color of blood’ and ‘dark, royal colors,’ but ‘large head-covering’ seems like an easy mistranslation.”

“Don’t forget, ‘it’s voice brings pain,’” Ohkido adds, seeming to have recovered. “That one makes more sense now, having heard Misdreavus.”

“Wasn’t Laventon… I want to say Galarian?” I ask.

“He was,” Ohkido nods. “Why do you ask?”

“Rowan said the entry on misdreavus hadn’t been translated well, but Galarian to Sinnohan should be relatively straightforward,” I reply.

“How well do you actually know Sinnohan history?” Rowan asks me.

“Just the classes at the Ranger academy. It’s only mentioned in passing back in Kanto,” I say, turning my gaze back to the trail.

“Ah, well,” I can almost hear how Rowan straightens his tie, “He was a Galarian working for a venture from Indigo that was itself made up of people from all around the world. And, notably, this was before the emergence of modern Sinnohan.” The man clears his throat, “What’s still legible is made of multiple languages in some parts, and rather rough throughout. It makes me wonder what ever happened to his assistants’ notes, in all honesty, as I doubt they would be written…” Rowan trails off as we run into a group coming down the trail.

With the first wave over—and Marshal having shown her displeasure—the tourist groups are smaller and much less frequent, but they’ll still keep passing through until mid-summer. This group is only six people, led by a gangly woman I don’t remember the name of.

They’re making the rather long hike to Breeze Hill if I had to guess, given the supplies I can see.

The guide and I give each other a nod as we pass, and the professor thankfully ignores the curious looks he receives from the others. I’d imagine he’s used to it.

“As I was saying,” The professor resumes, “The man’s assistants’ notes are absent, and we’re lucky enough to have what we do. Even if they are from a time when… Well, when pokemon weren’t considered sapient.”

“Actually, that reminds me. Could we do the intelligence tests first?” Ohkido asks, his distracted tone making me think he’s reading from his notes. “Misdreavus appears unusually placid compared to other sightings, and I think some data on that could be useful in the future.”

Placid is an… accurate descriptor, although they seem more prone to keeping to themselves specifically around humans… Is there something I’m missing there? There must be.

I look around for the ghost in question for a second, and spot them to my left, with Weaver. Both watching the conversation, one as a pair of floating eyes, while the other appears to be trying to imitate Rowan’s permanent glare.

“You’ll need to ask them,” I say to Ohkido, “But I don’t anticipate any issues.”

***

Misdreavus continues to be confusing. Though this time it’s rather obviously on purpose, as they don’t quite manage to hide the amusement on their face at Rowan’s reaction to them taking a bite of Weaver’s grilled fish.

“Does it make them… Mmm, not carnivores, Omnivores?” The man mutters, rapidly tapping one end of a pen against his head as he leans over the table.

“It makes them someone who enjoys messing with you,” I answer, halfway through my own meal. “Unless they can go weeks on nothing but the occasional tea or coffee.” I go to take another bite of my sandwich, then think of something, “I have seen them eating other things the same way, but you were mostly taste-testing, right?” I ask the now hazy pokemon.

Misdreavus hesitates for a second before nodding.

“Eating implies that the pokemon has a digestive system capable of consuming the material…” Rowan trails off, simply staring at my partner.

“Or,” I say, grabbing the man’s attention, “They did it to get a reaction out of you, which would feed them.” I give the pokemon a questioning look.

Misdreavus shrugs, “Dreave mismis misdreavus.”

I glance at Espeon on the kitchen counter, the lilac feline readying some form of translation.

Contrition. Desire.

I get that he wants to be useful, but it’s still easy to tell that, more than wanting to be helpful, he feels like he needs to be.

“Yes, I suppose that could be an explanation…” Rowan begins slowly, nodding, “But then, where does the mass go? Is it broken down and absorbed? Atomized? Or perhaps something more akin to the spontaneous mass alteration during evolution?” He keeps staring at Misdreavus, “Having a deceased specimen would aid in learning about the biology, though I doubt one will be found anytime soon.”

I give the man a flat look. I know it’s part of the process to learn about a species, but he shouldn’t say it directly at a member of said species like that.

Weaver starts talking to the ghost-type, likely diverting their attention.

“How long until Ohkido returns with the test material?” I ask, returning my focus to lunch.

“We brought a standard suite of reasoning tests,” Rowan says, blinking at my food before seeming to notice his own for the first time. “…As well as a few puzzles and memory challenges.”

I’m about to comment on the memory tests, but of all people, Katie walks in, “…I thought you were in the field today?” She asks, blinking at me. “And wasn’t there–” She stops short, staring at Rowan, “Oh.”

“Up early, or late?” I ask.

“Early,” Katie grumbles, dismissing Rowan for the moment. “Karlos gave me the next two days off, then Barry, then Francois.” She moves to start the coffee maker but stops as one of the two psychically able pokemon do so instead.

It’s Misdreavus, oddly. Then again, they’ve been ‘watching over’ Katie at night. And they probably know better than anybody else how she feels having been on twelve-hour overnights these past few months.

“Thanks,” The Unovan mumbles, switching targets to the bread, cheese, salad, and dressing still sitting out.

“Are you fully literate?” Rowan asks, actually addressing Misdreavus for once. Although he’s watching the bag of coffee grounds empty itself into the hopper of the appliance. “I assumed so due to your status in the Rangers, though that is a failure on my part.”

The floating bag and water-filled coffee pot stop in mid-air, while Misdreavus’ look of extreme concentration shifts and they shake their head. Then they fall still, considering for a second before equivocating instead.

Now that I think about it, they have finished the tapes, haven’t they? And I think they’ve even been skimming through some of the books here. I should probably get them evaluated on that.

“Even single-word answers could help, if you can write them down,” Rowan tells them, leaning back and patting his pockets for the pen still in his bag, with his notes.

“Misdreavus,” The ghost says, taking a few seconds to finish their task before turning to Weaver, “Misser mis?”

Weaver raises an eyebrow before handing Misdreavus her pen, “Vile. Weavile?”

Katie crashes down in the chair next to me, salad bowl in hand, “What do you think they’re doing?”

Misdreavus promptly demonstrates that they are, well, demonstrating something. The pen whips up to eye-level before starting to make fast… Too fast movements through the air. A frown crosses the ghost's face as the pen’s motions become more steady, smoothly looping—still at high speed, I note—for a few seconds before Misdreavus sighs and the pen drops, Weaver snatching it out of the air.

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“It takes too much concentration?” I ask.

▲▲▲

▼▼▼

“It’s like trying to aim a telescope using a sledgehammer,” I reply, frustrated. “And it’s only while I’m trying to move small things!”

I’ve been working on moving said small things without breaking them, but I think I’m running into a physics problem. Or something like physics, at least. There’s a point where it’s hard to put less force behind my telekinesis, and an object as light as a pen makes it very obvious.

My focus isn’t exactly helped by the amount of intrigue, excitement, and fascination pouring out of the man across the table from me.

“Fascinating,” Professor Rowan says, mildly. I’m really starting to wonder if he’s putting up a front or just incapable of showing what he’s feeling. “Given the weight capacity observed, it may be that the species selected for strength… Hmm, or perhaps the pokemon is simply too young.”

I don’t bother to hold in my eye-roll. The way he talks about me is like he’s dictating to someone, but as far as I can tell, there’s nothing recording him.

“Yeah, Smokey, you think you’re too young?” Weaver asks, rubbing her chin with one three-clawed hand, lidded gaze turned to me.

I almost reply immediately that, no, obviously I’m not, but stop myself. I genuinely don’t know enough about pokemon in general and my own species in particular to really answer that. “…Is it normal to have so much control of one thing but not another?” I ask instead. “And to have a power that makes control easier?”

Weaver takes a moment to answer, “Yeah, I’d say it is. Especially before evolving. I don’t know if I’d say it got better or worse during that, but the build-up before it was rough.”

That’s something I’ve been meaning to ask her more about, evolution. However, I’m interrupted before I can by Oak reappearing, carrying a briefcase, “Sorry I took so long, the tests weren’t exactly organized.”

Guess this is starting then. Test-taking, fun.

“Need me to leave?” Katie asks around a mouthful of food.

“We… wouldn’t wish to impose–”

“No, I get it,” Katie says, standing. “This is the best place in here right now. I need some sun anyway.” With that said, she pours herself some coffee and carries her food out.

She tastes a bit disappointed.

Oak sighs, “I was simply going to ask if she could remain quiet…” Taking a seat, he continues, “So, shall you conduct the testing, or shall I?” He asks, looking at Rowan.

“I will,” The mustachioed man decides. “Although you’re better at performing interviews. That will fall to you. Did you bring the recorder?”

Oak responds by hefting the briefcase onto the table. When he opens it, I see quite a few papers and flashcards organized into pouches, as well as a tape recorder.

Huh, the cassettes are a bit different here. Taller. Weird, considering VHS is a thing.

I shake myself and glance around. This… Is this a mistake? Am I about to mess with… biology? They are biologists, right? Whatever, not the point. Am I even a good example of a misdreavus?

Oak, headless of my mounting anxiety, pulls a gray cassette from one of his case’s many pockets, “Ready,” He says, slotting the tape in and pressing the red switch.

Rowan readies himself before speaking, “This is an audio recording of the reasoning testing of a misdreavus, conducted in Almia, on the date of April eighth, nineteen-eighty-one. Those present are Professor Reynir Rowan, Doctor Samuel Oak, Ranger Onaga Ryuko, a weavile, an espeon, and the subject misdreavus. Notes and transcription by Doctor Samuel Oak will be attached.”

The two men share a look and a small nod before Rowan looks back at me, “Now, Misdreavus, I will present one challenge or set of questions at a time, and would like you to either point to the answer or solution you feel is best or most accurate. If you need me to read the written questions or answers simply let me know. Do you understand?”

I probably take too long to answer since I’m still debating taking the out Onaga offered last night—and this morning—but eventually chose the answer of, “Yes,” Nodding at the man.

“Good,” He says, leafing through the briefcase before pulling a sheet of paper out, “Now, we’ll start with some basic–”

God, they’re both too excited for this.

▲▲▲

▼▼▼

Misdreavus, entirely unsurprisingly, didn’t have any issues with the low and middle qualifier tests. Only the high qualifiers gave them pause, which… is fascinating, honestly.

Pattern recognition? Not quite on the level of a rock or steel-type, but very good. Spatial reasoning? Easily able to think in multiple dimensions. Basic and then intermediate mathematics? I’m not too surprised Rowan decided to test those, but they did shockingly well with them.

Lingual reasoning… was where they had the most issues, not unexpectedly, although they seemed to improve quickly. Which makes sense, given how they were always going to do on the memory tests.

Not a single fail. They froze intermittently but didn’t forget anything. Rowan even went further and gave the pokemon a few challenges, culminating in him asking Misdreavus to sort a deck of cards, only giving them a very brief look at the shuffled order before setting them down. Every pair was matched without turning a single card over.

Beyond that, the most interesting moment was during some morality questions Rowan decided to include. It’s usually fascinating to see how different pokemon respond to the hypotheticals, Misdreavus though… They answered the more mundane ones quickly and fairly enough, though they kept hesitating on the complex ones. Which is probably a good thing, in truth, as it means they actually thought about them.

“…Certainly mid to high on the scale,” Ohkido murmurs, nodding to himself as he compares Misdreavus’ results to the rubric. “It’s still unknown if Misdreavus is an outlier, however.”

“Is that an updated scale?” I ask, although I’m fairly certain it is since the older ones all had human-level at the top instead of the middle.

“Hmm? Oh, yes,” The man says, glancing at me, “And it seems that no one considered how a perfect score on memory would affect the placement,” Ohkido chuckles, “If I don’t adjust down, Misdreavus tops out on the scale.” He looks back down at his work, “I don’t think anyone could deny they are quite intelligent, though perhaps not to that degree.”

Misdreavus themself is frozen in place, and I’m now positive it’s an indicator of when they’re truly deep in thought.

“Are all of the pokemon’s movements conscious?” Rowan muses, eyes having remained on the ghost since he finished testing them.

“I doubt it,” I tell him, leaning back in my chair. “I don’t know why they go that still when thinking, but you can tell how they’re feeling by the mane and frills.”

“You are confident that thought is the cause?”

“Fairly,” I nod. “It makes some sense of how they’ve acted, thinking back on it. They’ll see or be told something new, or sometimes just–” I wave at the motionless pokemon, “–Out of nowhere. And they somewhat confirmed it to me last night.”

“If the behavior is species-wide, it would explain some descriptions,” The professor says, rubbing his chin as he leans to the side, Misdreavus’ eyes not following the movement. “I wonder if that is why the sightings have reported misdreavus as suddenly becoming violent…” Rowan leans back upright, “How long do they normally remain this way?”

“The longest I’ve seen was six minutes,” I inform the man, “But I’m not sure if they’ve done so for longer overnight.”

“I presume it’s unwise to disturb the pokemon?”

“Weaver pulls them out of it regularly. I don’t know how they’d react to anyone else doing so,” I say, giving Weaver an inquiring eyebrow.

My friend shrugs before making a show of the fact that she can’t reach Misdreavus from the floor. I roll my eyes and stand, picking the dramatic feline up by the armpits. She giggles, dangling limply off the floor, and pokes a claw at Misdreavus.

The floating pokemon immediately starts moving again, looking around until they see me holding Weaver, “Mis…”

I unceremoniously drop Weaver, the weavile unbothered as she smoothly bounces onto the table next to Misdreavus, already talking to them. Hmm, she’s being a bit more friendly than normal.

Then again, Misdreavus was a bit twitchy when the tests started, and I’m almost certain that means nerves of some kind. At least they seem more calm now.

But the scientists still want to interview the pokemon tonight. And on that thought, “Alright,” I say, glancing at the clock and then my watch, “You have an hour to finish interviewing Misdreavus today.”

“What?” Ohkido startles, blinking at the wall clock. “Oh. I hadn’t realized we’d spent so long testing them,” He nervously chuckles.

“It was my choice to add more challenges, Sam,” Rowan dismisses, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. “Though I admit to losing track of the time…” He trails off, glancing at his still-uneaten lunch. “I suppose I’ll wait until after the questions before finding supper.”

Ohkido laughs, sitting up from all the notes spread before him, “I’m certain we can find good food in this town.” He looks up at Misdreavus, who is plainly becoming nervous again, “I’ll swap the tape, then we can start on the questions.”

And he proceeds to do just that, swapping one tape for another before giving a very similar introduction to what Rowan did earlier. “Now,” Ohkido says, tapping his second pen against a note journal, “I’m sure you know how questions work, so I’ll simply start. We’ve been assuming misdreavus eat emotions, can you confirm that?”

The pokemon gives a very expected nod, looking less opaque than a moment ago.

Ohkido nods back, “And how exactly do you do so?”

That makes Misdreavus blink at the man before glancing around. After a moment, they shrug, gesturing vaguely at everyone in the room. Except Weaver, hmm. Oh? They’re getting hazier, which means–

The room becomes darker as Misdreavus’ miasma spreads through it. The ceiling lights are still supplying enough to see by, but the light is certainly strained.

And, as quickly as it came, the haze is gone. Misdreavus not having moved from where they’re hovering over the table, looking expectantly at Ohkido.

“…Am I to take it that your miasma is used in feeding, then?” The man asks, slowly starting to nod to himself. Misdreavus nods back, prompting the Kantonian’s next question, “How exactly is it useful?”

The ghost glances around, then stops and puts two tendrils together, slowly pulling them apart.

“Growing… Or larger?”

Misdreavus nods before drifting to one side of the room and pointing at the opposite wall.

Ohkido stares blankly for a moment before it visibly clicks, “Range!” He exclaims. “That explains the size described. Although how does that make it–” The man blinks, “The churning motion, it’s absent…” He murmurs to himself.

After a few seconds of thought, the scientist continues, “Does it act like a scoop or a net?”

The floating pokemon looks surprised for a moment, then nods.

“Fascinating, it also didn’t appear to strain you at all.” Ohkido pauses before clearing his throat, “Is it a strain to use? And if so, how much of one?”

The ghost-type simply rotates in denial.

Ohkido looks surprised by the response, but nods, “I see. I feel it prudent to ask then, why did you not make use of the ability while ranging today?”

I catch the man’s attention, already knowing the answer and how difficult it could be to communicate. At a gesture from Ohkido, I speak, “They dislike doing so in sunlight. They can, though it’s apparently uncomfortable.”

“Hmm, another difference in properties, then,” Ohkido muses. He scans his list of questions before looking back up at Misdreavus, “I think that should do for feeding habits, as we only have so much time. Many pokemon have what are called ‘esoteric sensory ranges.’ That is, senses beyond the near-universal six. Sight, sound, taste, touch, smell, and proprioception,” He explains. “To start, given that you consume emotions, do you taste them?”

Misdreavus nods.

“The same, then,” Ohkido mutters, almost too quietly to hear, while crossing a few lines out. “Perhaps one more question about what you eat, then. Do you have a preference for certain emotions?”

That makes my—still somewhat prospective—partner visibly uncomfortable, though they do nod.

“Would you be willing to communicate them?” Ohkido continues, receiving a denial.

“Okay. Any other senses?”

The ghost considers.

And considers a bit more.

Then they nod. But before Ohkido can ask anything they hold a tendril up and rotate, shaking their head.

“You don’t want to answer?” A shake of the head. “You can’t answer? I suppose it is a complex topic, though Weaver there seemed amenable to translating such things.” Yet another shake of the head. “…Oh, you don’t even know what it or they are sensing?”

This time, Misdreavus equivocates before shrugging. Close enough, then.

Ohkido accepts the answer with a quiet, “Intriguing,” Going back to his noted questions before continuing, “A simple one this time. Was the ranging pattern you displayed today representative of a normal day for you?”

Misdreavus equivocates again but nods.

“And the building along the path in the preserve, do you consider it yours?”

The ghost blinks at the scientist, confusion giving way to realization after a moment. That’s interesting. Misdreavus tentatively nods, and Ohkido continues, “I see. Was there a reason behind how you were breaking it down?”

That makes the pokemon freeze. After almost ten seconds, they slowly nod.

“Is there any way you could explain?”

“Mis,” The ghost states, voice brooking no argument on the matter. Now that’s something. Is it a territory thing? Or maybe something more personal…

Ohkido, realizing he’s kicked a geodude, changes the subject, “Ah let’s see… Do you know of any relatives you may have? Of any species?”

“Misser,” The floating pokemon says, shaking their head.

“Mmm,” The Kantonian man hums unhappily. “Only a month old. Do you know how your species reproduces?” That earns the man an unblinking stare. “I didn’t think so,” He admits. “It would have been nice to know, at least. Although it does connect with my next question,” Ohkido says, pulling out a map of Almia, “Where were you born?”

I miss where the ghost-type indicates, having noticed something going on with Weaver. She’s holding in a smirk. Something about this is amusing her enough that she’s having trouble keeping her expression in check.

At who’s expense?

“Do you believe there was a period of time before you found yourself there that you could not form memories?” Ohkido continues, breaking me from my thoughts.

Misdreavus, blinks, freezes, shudders, and then finally, hesitantly, nods.

There’s definitely something going on there. And it also means we might not have an accurate age.

“Hmm…” A glance at the notes again, “Misdreavus have been reported to attack on sight, have you ever felt the desire to attack someone without provocation?”

The pokemon’s response is a roll of the eyes and a shake of the head.

“Can you think of any reasons that one of your species would?”

▲▲▲

▼▼▼

“How do I feel so tired?” I bemoan to no one in particular.

The rather feline weasel still answers, of course, “I don’t know, maybe because it was pretty clear you didn’t like the whole thing?”

I sink to the ground, fully solid, as I extend my ‘miasma’ to stop the constant stream of tastes for a bit.

We sit there in silence, just… relaxing, I suppose.

“Overwhelmed?”

I turn to the voice, seeing Katie carrying a full-looking bag and walking toward us. Or probably the ranger base, but it’s the same thing right now.

“I thought you were a bit scary at first, but you’re just lost and trying to figure things out, huh?” The woman asks, rhetorically. “Onaga–” She stops, murmuring, “Not professional right now,” Before speaking up again, “Ryuko’s worried you’re not settling in well, you know? From what she’s said you don’t talk to any of us and you barely talk to other pokemon, aside from Weaver and Espeon.”

She reaches us, setting her bag down as she lowers herself to the ground, “And yeah, she’s trying to give you time and let you bring any issues up, but that only works if you actually bring them up.” She shakes her head, leaning back to stare at the sky, “I’m not sure what you’re thinking, but you will need to get to know everyone if you want to be here.”

Several seconds pass before she looks back at me, “If you’re worried about being a bad partner here, don’t. Even if you aren’t a good fit you can always just go back to being a wild pokemon. Unlike Weaver there,” She chuckles, “She’s a menace to society at large now.”

“It’s true,” The Weavile confirms, “I got a lecture on it and everything. Even a card, not that you’d understand. I’m special.”

The over-the-top, broody look Weaver gives the middle distance makes me crack a smile.

“Anyway,” Katie continues, “I got you a sort of thank-you gift, for making the last few weeks more bearable.” She starts sorting through the bag next to her, eventually pulling out what looks like an oversized cookie, “I saw these at the market and realized you’d probably never had one, and if you can drink coffee I don’t see why you couldn’t have a poffin.”

“…Thanks?” I end up saying, carefully lifting the wrapped pastry with a thought. Taking a nibble, it’s… very sweet and tart.

“You’re probably tired of all the questions, but I’d like to know,” Katie preambles, standing. “Why are you trying to stay distant?”

“I’m not, though,” I can’t help saying, glancing at Weaver for an explanation. She has an expectant look on her face, “…Am I?”

“Sort of, yeah,” The black and red pokemon replies. “And I’m with her, I’d like to know too.”

Have I been keeping my distance? I mean, I do talk with the other pokemon sometimes. Like Gabite just… four days ago. And it wasn’t even anything substantial because I shut it down before it got there.

“I think my perspective of time is finally falling apart,” I realize aloud, looking up to see Katie gone, the doors to the ranger base swinging shut.

“Uh-huh, and?” Weaver asks, mercilessly.

I sigh. I do a lot of that sometimes. “And I’ve been a bit… detached when I deal with the other pokemon. I couldn’t really say why though.”

The weasel-cat-thing gives me a searching look for a bit, silently probing for more.

“I genuinely don’t know,” I say after it gets to be too much. “I think I did the same thing before I died, though. And I could take a guess,” I just don’t want to.

“What about the humans?”

“…What do you mean?” I ask after a moment.

“I mean, you never talk to them unless they talk to you first, and you stop it as soon as possible”

“I–” Was about to say ‘can’t talk back,’ but I just got through being thoroughly grilled and I managed there. Why have I been…

Waiting, that’s what I’ve been doing. Waiting until I can truly communicate back. And it’s as poor an answer as my progress on that front has recently been, too. I put it in a box for later and ignored it.

Old habits, new life. Going through the motions.

“Katie was right,” I say. “Is Onaga actually just waiting for me to put the effort in?”

“She probably would have had you in the field last week,” Weaver nods. “But she didn’t want to pressure you, and asked me not to bring it up either.”

“Fuck.”

Weaver smiles, and not in her usual ‘I’m planning something way,’ “How did you not notice?”

“Because like you and Marshal keep pointing out, I get wrapped up in my own head. I’d probably see it if I went over everything, but I wasn’t doing that,” I say, deflating. “I could tell she was concerned about me, but it always went away and I really just didn’t want to think about it that hard.”

“You don’t seem to like doing that,” The cat quips, throwing her arm around me as she settles down.

“Yeah, well. I’m apparently a genius now.”

“Nah, you probably were before, just had all that human stuff holding you back.”

“…Thanks? And keep calling me out on any bullshit I start.”

“Course I will, Smokey,” Weaver confirms, “I pulled you in, I’ll help you along.”

“So long as you aren’t told not to?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Yep! Or if I don’t feel like it. Or if it’s funny…” She taps her chin with a claw, “Hmm, at least half the time, sometimes. Most of the time.”

“Have I told you you’re a good friend?” I ask, turning a bit to look at her.

“You have,” She nods, reverently.

“Good. You are.”