It’s been all sunny skies and pleasant weather since I woke up here, so that had to change at some point. And it has, a few hours ago the sky started turning gray and now it’s absolutely pouring outside. Of course, the rain doesn’t truly bother me anymore, I barely phase out and it all just falls through me. It also doesn’t seem to bother any of the grass-types even if they’re a little sad at the lack of sunlight.

The rain has also meant that no tourists have come out here today, oh no, woe are we. ‘We’ in this case being not just myself but the pikachu family that very earnestly and politely asked to shelter in my cabin so that their children wouldn’t shock themselves in the rain.

I had thought that they would dig burrows. Then I thought about an electric pokemon digging into the ground and I wanted to slap myself. They, in fact, hollow out trees. But in this case, I was reminded of the numerous complaints I’ve heard about the local beedrill.

This family, Pikachu, Pikachu, Pichu, Pichu, and Pichu, had been pushed out of their hollow by the beedrill. When they approached they only asked to remain until the storm had passed, and, as I’ve yet to meet a truly unfriendly pokemon, I allowed them in. Though, I had to do some quick cleaning up.

“Okay, it’s safe back here.” I declare, floating the last shards of glass into a kitchen drawer. Alas, poor Mirror, at least you taught me how to lift many things at once. I’m a bit embarrassed I hadn’t realized how before, you literally just need to make a bigger zone, it's that simple.

“Thank you, you genuinely didn’t need to though…” The mother, Pikachu, trails off. “But I suppose it is the warmest and safest place in here. Come on kids, let’s not waste the nice ghost’s hospitality.” She continues, walking—on two legs—into the back.

I had at first thought it strange that the bedroom had no windows, but I’m beginning to suspect it’s for the same reason the cabin has held up so well. It’s designed to withstand harsh, cold conditions and possibly pokemon attacks. My first clue was when I took a good look at the windows and sliding door. The glass wasn’t glass, I think it was some kind of high-quality composite and it was thick. Two panes, each a little under one-and-a-quarter inches.

The exterior walls are also thick at just a bit under fourteen inches. This place was built tough. And yeah, if an idiot lived out here then it would make sense, except that I’m certain dedicated pokemon would get in quickly. Also, I don’t think an idiot would live out here. For all I know that could just be the building code. At least with the location and grade, I won’t need to worry about flooding.

“I don’t suppose you have anything soft for bedding?” The father, Pikachu, asks.

“I mean,” I say, looking at my couch. The only way I can see to move it would be to start breaking it again. “Not really, sorry. I don’t exactly need it so… Yeah, sorry.” I say, feeling a bit sheepish. He nods understandingly and follows his… wife? Mate? Mate.

They’ve been perfect guests so far, polite and not letting their kids damage anything. And the noise from excited kids is unavoidable, understandable, and easily forgiven.

My as-of-yet unnamed and unclear new sense is buzzing in the back of my head, pointing skyward, and beginning to bother me. Given that the first time I felt it was with Marshal I don’t think it’s a sense for weather, but I’m still not sure what it is.

I take a quick look into the bedroom to see the family settling into a pile before heading back to my living room—ha. My half-reassembled couch is waiting to be completed because, as it turns out, Marshal’s Miracle Glue works wonders on wood, old as it may be. However, it has become clear to me that someone did disassemble it in the first place, taking every metal part with them.

I briefly consider continuing my work on it before turning to another new project of mine. Marshal’s glue also works quite well as wood putty if you mix enough ‘sawdust’ and water in, and I’ve been filling in the carvings that were left in my walls. The ‘sawdust’ is easy to make by just tearing a log apart with my mind. I’m not sure if psychic powers can get old, but I hope they can’t, they would have made my last job so much easier.

And I just had to go and remind myself, didn’t I? Well, now that my desire to work on anything even tangentially construction-related is dead, how do I pass the time…

I might be able to go find Leaf and the Grotles, I’d bet they’re out enjoying the rain right now. Or maybe Marshal, a lake-dwelling water-type has to love the rain right? I could just drift around, that’s typically what I do when I’m bored. Eh, why not?

I let the mouse family know that I’ll be heading outside before floating out and letting myself feel the rain for a bit. Physical sensations are different somehow when you can simply stop them at any time. They’re more… I don’t know, real? I can take more enjoyment in them than before, at least, and that’s something I don’t know if I’m thankful for or not.

Hmm… Do clouds stop enough sunlight to allow me to expand my own? …Huh, turns out they do, neat. Fuck, I’m stalling, back to the actual question at hand. Where do I go? Marshal is to the West and most of the other pokemon I’ve met are to the North and East. I haven’t gone south yet, have I? South it is then.

I easily float over the small cliff and stop as I see an obvious hiking trail. Huh, that’s a bit close to my cabin. Then again, people will walk right up to the front door, so it doesn’t change anything.

I decide to move on, drifting through the forest. Nothing seems different so far, but most of the pokemon are hiding from the rain so I only see some grass-types here and there.

And I keep thinking that way right up until I see the first colony. And yes colony, because hive doesn’t do it justice. Combee, hundreds- maybe thousands of combee.

This is another instance of my game-derived knowledge being incorrect, as it seems that a combee can be as small as a single golden hexagon with wings to… The largest ‘individual’ I see has fifteen hexagons and massive wings, so fifteen. All of them are interlocked to form a barrier against the rain. And in the middle of them, I see the much larger, semi-humanoid form of a vespiquen. She’s bigger than I am and that’s terrifying on a level I can’t exactly express because, you see, that’s a bee bigger than I am!

I’d be taking calming breaths right now if I could, but since I can’t I’m just going to keep in mind that my grass-type neighbors spoke highly of the vespiquen.

Before I can say hello the queen beats me to it, “Prime-Daughter-Two greets {non-hostile, non-threat} Apprentice-Of-Order-Bringer.” …I’m constantly surprised by the way different pokemon act. That is a hell of a way to talk though, some of those were barely even words but I still understood them.

“Um, hi,” I say lamely. And then since I need clarification, “When you say Apprentice-Of-Order-Bringer, is that me?” Because that’s an interesting thing to call me.

“Individual’s suspicion correct. Information requested, {reason, purpose} for individual’s entry into {my, our} {home, branch, hive},” She… they? Intone. It’s really hard to pick up on any inflection or change in speech at all.

“I realized I hadn’t…” I flail for an acceptable word for a moment, “Scouted this part of the forest around my home yet, and I had nothing better to do while it’s raining,” I finish.

“Individual’s {reason, purpose} for short term entry is acceptable.” They—it is the whole colony speaking—intone. “Information requested, is individual {source, cause, reason} for recent {audible, loud, noisy, obvious} disturbances?” Says the flat monotone. Please, please don’t be mad at me, you’re fucking scary enough already.

Here goes nothing. “…Yes,” I admit.

The queen cocks her head to a perfect forty-five degrees, “Individual shows {impressive, gifted} strength. Apprentice-Of-Order-Bringer status altered to {non-hostile, mild-threat, potential ally},” They speak. Damn, that’s some open assessment from them.

However, something about the way she introduced herself still nags at me. “You said your name was Prime-Daughter-Two, does that mean there are more colonies farther south?” I ask the queen.

“Individual’s assumption correct, {live, rule, exist} nine {prime, mother, ruler} originating {branches, sisters, hives} farther south,” The colony intones.

“I uh…” I flail, trying to make conversation before noticing something. “Are you not making honey yet?” I ask now that I see how empty some of the combee look.

The queen cocks her head in the other direction, still at a perfect forty-five angle, “Individual’s deduction correct.” She seems to think a moment longer before continuing, “Present {information, predictions, assumptions, anticipations} describe thirty-nine-percent {hive, branch} loss preceding nectar {harvesting, production} approach present needs.” She straightens her head, “Within {acceptable, expected, required} margins,” She alone intones.

Fuck, I’m stuck between some serious fascination and the deep, gnawing desire to leave as soon as possible. While this colony is a veritable feast, it’s also a confusing, soupy mess. And that is still a bee larger than myself. Sighing, I make my choice, “I think it’s time for me to move on now, thank you for the answers, Prime-Daughter-Two,” I tell her-them.

“Individual receives {my, our} {joy, gratitude, appreciation} for {my, our, individual’s} communications. {I, We} desire individual’s {extended, prolonged} {health, well-being, consideration}. {I, We} {anticipate, desire, ponder} individual’s return.” They intone. I’m pretty sure that’s a ‘thank you, goodbye.’ So I start flying—slowly—back to my home.

Of all the things I thought I’d see I wasn’t expecting a hive mind, let alone a friendly one. But that voice… it rivals my own for creepiness, and whatever I understand what anybody says held up a little too well with its translation. I shiver at the thought of multiple thoughts at once. Yeah, way too well.

When I reach my house I’m glad I won’t need to find something else to do, something else has already found me. A weavile is standing on my roof, and I only know the one sneasel.

She’s quite a bit taller—she gained a little over a foot of height and is somehow even darker-furred now. Her ears aren’t asymmetrical anymore, she now has a full crest of bright crimson feathers coming off her head and a collar of feathers around her neck, and she seems to have lost both her chest gem and a tail-and-a-half while gaining new fingers and toes. And yet, despite all that, her face is still the same.

“Hey Smokey, long time!” Says Sn- Weavile playfully. Okay, her voice is a bit deeper now as well. “Guess who?”

I blink twice at her, “Hi? I’m sorry, but, who are you?” I ask, teasing her right back.

Her face takes on a look of concern, “You don’t remember me? I hoped you’d recognize me…”

Not to be outdone, I continue, “Oh! You must be Sneasel’s sister! How is she?” I ask, adding some concern to my question.

“She’s doing very well. You know, she even evolved recently.” Weavile muses.

“Oh? Good for her! I hope she visits and shows me soon.” I return.

“She will, you can…”Weavile stops, narrowing her eyes at me, “You can keep going with this, can’t you?”

“I could do this all day. I’ve had practice.” I tell her, grinning.

She grins right back, “As fun as that sounds, I did want to tell you something, I have a name now, Weaver.”

“Does that have something to do with being a weavile now, too?” I ask her.

“A bit. Anyway!” She says, jumping to the ground. “Ryuko’s on her way back from a canceled mission and she had me run ahead to ask if she can stay here while the Rain Dance wears off.” Weaver doesn’t exactly ask. ‘Rain Dance’, is that why my unnamed sense is going off?

Practical questions first, me. “For how long?” I ask her.

“I don’t know, apparently it was five blastiose doing it up north, so it could last a while.” Weaver sighs before giving me a more pleading look. “Ryu’s tough, but she’s been in the rain all day and I can’t exactly warm her up. So, please?” She actually asks this time.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

I need to think about this, Onaga is the only human I’ve had somewhat positive interactions with, she’s also not a tourist though, so I don’t know how much that counts for. As far as I’m aware her job is to make sure the forest and its pokemon are healthy, and the title ‘Ranger’ also points to that. And Weaver has been almost nothing but friendly and seems to think highly of the woman. All that taken together would make me a real asshole if I said no, so obviously I’ll let her stay. Damn, my house is getting full, it shouldn’t surprise me though. My house is the only structure—barring log dams—within a few miles, as far as I can tell.

“Yeah, why not,” I tell her. “Did you already meet the pikachu?” I ask her. She winces at that, oh joy.

“I did, yeah,” She admits sheepishly. “They thought I was going to eat them.” Ah hell, that had to be frightening. I need to check on them. “Okay, uh, I’ll go tell Ryuko then,” she says before darting off, quick as a flash.

I sigh as I enter through the door to not scare my guests further. And looking toward the bedroom, I see the door there closed and latched. Sighing again, I float over and phase out to see what it’s like in there.

The father, Pikachu, is standing alert facing the door while the mother, also Pikachu, is flanking the door. The pichu are all in different corners of the room. All the fear has faded by this point, so no delicious- I shouldn’t think that way.

Rather than risk a lightning storm in my home I move back to the kitchen entrance before phasing back in. “Pikachu, the weavile isn’t a threat. You can open the door now.” I call out to them.

A moment later the door latch shifts and the taste of relief washes over me. Then the door swings back before the mother, Pika- Okay, I think I’ve driven that point home by now. Anyway, the mother pokes her head around the side while the father steps out from behind the door.

“This is quite the defensible den you have.” Says the father. “It took barely a moment to seal it and even has a blind corner, quite nice if I say so.”

“Sorry about Weaver, I didn’t think she’d be coming around today, what with the rain.” I apologize.

The mother just waves me off, “It’s not like we’d be any better off out there, much worse off, truthfully. You’ve been too kind.” She says. Why are the people here so nice? It’s making me feel like an asshole for not being as nice as possible.

I’m not going to try to argue with my guests' assessments though. “A human, a Ranger is going to be stopping here to get out of the rain as well, I hope you don’t mind,” I tell them. They both shake their heads at that, however.

“Nothing wrong with helping the rangers, they’re some of the nicest humans there are.” Says the father, the mother now nodding along.

“Okay, just wanted to make sure,” I tell them before floating back to my living room. Ha! Ah, I’m definitely starting to lose it again, that’s the second time I’ve made that joke today.

I need more to do. I was a workaholic before I died and I’m fairly certain I’m a workaholic now. I wonder, can pokemon have jobs? I remember some of the 'newer' games had pokemon working various jobs, but I don’t know how well that carries over to here. Although Weaver does seem to have a job, even if I haven’t heard her refer to it as such.

Honestly, I’m still not sure if I should be glad I’m here and not out there. It was so peaceful, I was calm and comfortable. Why did-

“That’s the look of someone who’s thinking way too hard,” Says Weaver, right behind me. I don’t jump, but only because I can’t. Instead, I blink out on sheer instinct while Weaver laughs at me. “You were deep in there, weren’t you?” Her voice sounds out in the emptiness. Jesus, why is she so quiet!?

Phasing back in, I try to think of something to say to her but I come up blank. “Hey, you okay? Did I interrupt something important?” She asks me, sounding concerned.

“I- I was-” I manage before I need to stop. I take a moment to gather myself. “I was spiraling while thinking about what would have happened if I didn’t come back,” I tell her.

Her face goes comically suspicious and she starts to speak before realization eclipses her features. “Oh. I, uh. I don’t know what to say to that,” She admits.

Yeah, you and me both. “Thank you,” I tell her. “For pulling me out of that. I don’t like thinking about it, but I don’t have a lot to distract myself sometimes, and it can take a while to… resettle.” We lapse into silence for a bit after that before I feel the need to ask, “So… where’s Onaga?”

Weaver gives me a very weary sigh. “She decided she wanted to talk to Marshal first,” The weasel-thing shakes her head. “She’s shivering enough to rattle and she still won’t think of herself first,” The feathered weasel complains.

We look at each other for a moment. Then I say what we’re both thinking, “Marshal’s going to drag her here, isn’t she?”

“Yep.”

That breaks the mood, and we both start laughing about the image. And we’re still laughing when the real thing comes walking into the clearing outside.

“Marsh, y- you really don’t n- need to…” Onaga trails off when she sees us and our laughing redoubles. Marshal has her in a bridal carry.

“See?” Rumbles the giant pokemon, her eyes sparkling with shared humor. “They was worried about you. Now go, get dry and warm up, you’re freezing.” Marshal says as she deposits Onaga by the door. Then she gives me an assessing glance before she starts walking off. “I’ll check on you tomorrow, kid.”

Now that Marshal’s gone, I take a better look at Onaga. Yeah, she is shivering pretty badly.

“I d- don’t suppose you can start a f- fire? Or maybe just have some dry k- kindling?” She chatters out. “I can warm up without it, but it would help.”

Well, while I don’t have fully dry wood, I had been planning on trying the fireplace at some point, and Leaf had helped me find some older fallen trees. I now have plenty of wood chips and dust, too, and I also have the know-how to ignite something reasonably flammable with my vast psychic powers.

I sweep some wood chips as well as a few pieces of a log, into my fireplace.

In reality, it’s very easy to ignite some things, for example, wood chips will just require me to remove wind—there’s none in here, though—add pressure and friction, hmm push some air towards it… and viola. Fire. I just need to watch it now to make sure it doesn’t burn out or out of control. Although out is more likely with this wood.

Onaga and Weaver both blink at that. “T- that was f- fast, thanks.” Says Onaga as she makes her way closer to the flames.

“That wasn’t a fire Move,” States Weaver, staring at me.

Is it that shocking? “No, but it’s pretty easy to make a fire if you know what you’re doing,” I tell her. She Hums, giving me a suspicious look.

I am then distracted by Onaga undressing in front of my fire. I- Huh, that particular human instinct is gone. I’m not sure if I should be shocked at that or not, but now I’m concerned about what I might find… attractive.

I’m getting too distracted, she needs to get her wet clothes off to warm up faster and dry them off.

“Neat l- little bit of psychic work there, Misdreavus.” She says as she finishes stripping completely. At least I don’t feel awkward about it.

“You were freezing. I tell her, knowing full well she can’t understand me. “You really should have come here first.” She shivers at my voice.

“Do you know if all ghosts sound like you in person?” She asks me. I sigh and shake my head. “Damn, would have b- been nice to know.” I shrug and float over to my ‘couch.’ “You sure you want to…” Ryuko trails off thoughtfully. “I guess it’s not like it can hurt you?”

Wait… “What?” I ask her looking between her and the half-assembled couch.

She chuckles, “That’s poly-glass fiber.” Then continues her explanation a bit more soberly, “It’s pretty dangerous for anyone to be around. Near fire-proof, but causes cancer.” I- My couch is made of poke-asbestos. Fucking why? She sees my incredulous look, “I should report it as an environmental hazard, but it is yours.”

“No, go ahead,” I tell her, shaking my head while waving a few arms at it. I am well aware of how dangerous things like that can be.

“Is that a yes or a no?” She asks me. I nod, and she eyes me for a second. “Okay, we’ll probably have a collection team out here in a few days then.” She says before turning back around to face the fire.

I haven’t noticed Weaver recently, so I look around for her. She’s sitting as far from the fire as she can get. “Um, do you not like fire?” I ask her.

“Most Ice-types don’t, the sun usually doesn’t have the power to be uncomfortable for me, but fires do,” She tells me. Was weavile an ice-type? I guess they must be.

“Right, sorry. Is there anything I can do?” I ask her.

She thinks for a moment, “Do you think you could make a barrier for the heat? I’d like to be closer to Ryuko.”

That’s… adorable, honestly. Also an interesting question. Can I? When I use… I still don’t know if it’s a Move or what its name would be. So, When I use psychic power on nothing it does stop things that contact it, but… Is that enough? I don’t think so, because light still passes through.

Could I stop light? There are still a boatload of things I haven’t tried yet, so maybe? I’m fairly certain I’m not using the power right, but it still does things when I try. What would be the best way to stop heat, though? …Start with a concave disc, I guess.

Matching thought to action, I make a disc and push the center out-

I feel a poke, “Uh, Smokey? You with us?”

There’s a ‘thwup’ sound as my psychic disc implodes. “Uh, who- What?” I ask, belatedly realizing it was Weaver who spoke.

“You got all focused before you answered, then just froze there for a minute. And then- Were you trying to make a screen?” Weaver asks.

“Um, yes?” Depending on what ‘screen’ means.

“Oh,” Weaver says. “Sorry. You just kind of… stopped moving.”

“Sorry if I’m interrupting,” Onaga cuts in, “But could you stoke the fire up?”

Looking at the fire, yeah, it needs more small pieces. I only had a few logs I’d been practicing with, but I can always find more. Picking up one of the three-and-a-half remaining, pulling it apart is an easy-

Jesus Christ, pulling a log apart is easy now.

So… anyway, since the fire isn’t out, I just need pieces that will burn readily enough. Seriously, keeping a fire is extremely difficult and super easy at the same time, and this whole thing is starting to remind me of camping.

After placing a few of the log shards on the fire—and ensuring they’ll burn, I turn my focus back to Weaver. “What do you mean I stopped moving?” I ask the weasel.

She blinks at me, then frowns, “I don’t think you need to know.”

“I feel like I do.”

“Maybe,” She replies.

“Weaver, I’m serious! I’ve been freaking out enough recently as it is,” I plead.

Weaver seems to consider for a moment before her eyes shift over to Onaga and the fire. “You just stopped moving,” She says, looking back at me. “No waving about, no bobbing or drifting, nothing.” Her tone is oddly blank, “The same way you were when I walked in.”

I can’t tell if that should be concerning or not. On the one hand, no movement at all isn’t a good sign for most living things, on the other, I’m still not sure how ‘alive’ I am anymore.

“Okay, that’s… interesting, but I was mostly thinking about how to stop heat,” I tell her.

“And I realized that, but it was still weird,” She says, waving a hand, “I like you, you know how to poke back, but then you just stop and I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to bring up ‘that’, but it feels like I might need to.”

I sigh, how do I-

“And how do you do that?” Weaver asks suddenly.

“Do what?”

“You know, sigh? I’ve noticed you’re not breathing.” Her ears flick.

…That’s a great question. I sigh again. There’s no intake, no exhalation, but the sound comes out anyway. “I have no idea,” I say, honestly confused.

Onaga’s watching our back and forth with interest. “You managed to make a new friend?” She asks her partner, looking between us, “I hope, anyway.”

Onaga looks back at the fire, pauses, thinks for a second, then sighs. Turning to me, she starts talking more seriously, “The Union has approved a study on you by the Sinnoh Research Institute. We don’t know the details yet, but they might send someone or we might get contracted to watch you more closely. If they send someone annoying just hang around Marshal until whoever it is makes a mistake, if it’s us…” She trails off for a moment. “Well, you’ll be seeing more of the rangers, then. Sorry if we get annoying.” She shrugs.

Why would they be doing a study on me? Does someone higher up know I’m not from this world?

Fuck, my face is too easy to read now. “You don’t know how rare you are, do you?” She asks me. And it’s a completely normal reason, of course.

I shake my head, “No, why would I?” And I immediately realize I shouldn’t have said that, as Weaver goes still, her eyes narrowing.

“Makes sense, Hmm… To put it in perspective,” Onaga says, waving a hand idly, “We only have four photos of misdreavus, and two of those are black and white. Hmm, we have exactly one audio recording and it was different enough from you that it shocked me at first…” She wags her hand back and forth, thinking. “No one knows for sure what you can do, and…” She trails off, running a hand through her hair. “Ghost-pokemon are rare.” She shrugs, “I think the best-understood ones are shedinja, but you only see them once a decade. And not for long, either.” She finishes.

Really? That rare? Marshal said she’d seen… How old is she, exactly? Weaver had said ‘older than most of the trees’, but I still don’t know if I believe that.

“Where are you from? What are you trying to hide?” Asks Weaver after Onaga’s done. Completely blank tone and expression.

Oh. Well… fuck. I guess it was going to come out sooner or later. “So, you know how I died?” I ask her.

“Yeah, kinda hard to have a ghost without that part.” She says.

“I’m, uh, not from this world,” I reveal.

She raises a claw, lowers it, raises it again, stops, and then just looks lost for words for a moment. “What?” She finally asks, confused. “Explain.”