~~~ Chapter 21 - Shoes ~~~

We propose a new term for use in describing the relationships between trainers and their pokemon: "Synchronization." We define/categorize the term using three aspects:

The physical—the extent to which physical abilities of a trainer’s team reflect onto the trainer.

The memory—how well pokemon and trainer understand, interpret other’s intentions.

The temperament—how much the trainer and pokemon reflect each other’s personalities.

~~~

Little dresses and large ribbons for pokemon surrounded me, more than a few lined with deep, attractive violets that glowed like morning springtime flower petals. It wasn't? The girl had pulled a large piece of ribbon off the shelf, and now it was wrapped around me, at the point where thorax met abdomen. It was a bit much if you asked me, but the purple was impossible to turn down. Quite mesmerizing. Lanky held out his hand, grabbing the tip of my tarsus, and I gave him a good little twirl. My feet squeaked under the newfound grip of shoes, bands of velcro pulled tight, keeping the shoes moving in almost-perfect harmony with the bottoms of my legs. The ribbons floated up my sides as I looped, pushed out by the spinny force, and the shopkeeper girl giggled at the bug in a bow. When I didn’t slip or slide on the short little riser, the teen seemed satisfied.

Juniper had apparently taken note of my lack of grip. A quick check of the small, almost-fuzzy barbs on my lower leg, and after lunch, I found myself with Lanky, here in this oddly-specific novelty shop. This little bug dressed like an Americana doll. Well, I wasn’t going to put on any decorative pants or shirts. I’d already hissed at least twice when they proposed actual clothes. My leaves and Leaf’s necklace were more than good enough for me. The shopgirl tugged at the ends of the purple tassel, removing the bow. And with that, I was done with the little show.

What remained were on the appendages of the bottom of my legs. Little booties! That slip on the docks and light dip in the ocean put all my issues with grip from the last few hours on notice. At least, until whatever sticky substance the barbs on my limbs produced were replenished. Of all the shoes, the violets had really stood out. The most attractive ones were a deep, bright and glowing violet, which only increased under sun-lamp and actual sun. So much so that Lanky, or others probably couldn’t actually see. At any rate, fluorescent hallways, I’m on my way!

I tapped my feet and scraped them along the little stand I was on. They resisted the slide, vibrating like that stuff you use to keep rugs from sliding on hardwood floors. These booties were made for me.

You might ask where the kid got the money for this stuff. Don’t know. He didn’t seem stressed, at least, and because of that, I had no reason to care! Green and glowing purple are my jam. Lanky bowed to me, as if to say "ladies first."

What a gent.

I gave a little curtsy, motioning to my little armory leaf-skirt. We checked out of the small clothing shop for pokemon and walked back to the gym. It had only been about a mile away. Much closer than that western business district that the pokecenter was in. This little area, though still full of tall buildings, was a lot more mum. Probably half the number of people milling about in this little shopping district.

~~~

Walking back to the gym, Leah’s new purple velcro shoes made squishy, squeaky noises with each step. She hopped and jumped and tapped around, seemingly trying to draw as many looks as possible as she explored her newfound grip on the ground. If she’d really been trying to draw looks, it was working well. When they hit the last block before arriving at the gym, Arty spotted a cameraman and reporter up front.

Not sure what else to do, the two backed up and hid behind a corner of a building, attempting to avoid the unwanted attention. Pulling out his phone, Arty sent a text to Aurea Juniper.

"There’s a reporter and cameraman loitering out front of the gym. What should I do?"

Since Alder’s volcarona went into the pokecenter, the man, already aloof, had been unreachable by the media. Artie’s Leavanny continued to twirl and dance, making squeaks in her new shoes as she wiggled. The excitement mirrored his sleepless nights from that first week with the pokedex, poring over the sections on lifetime care and training of bugs. They were extremely motivated by fruit and veggie, and Leah was turning out to be no exception. He pulled out a dried fruit from his bag, Leah slowing her staggered dances, opening her mouth as she twirled in a circle.

Juniper had spotted and checked the problem by the time they were halfway to the gym. Now, Leah danced and spun in place, stopping when the rope pulled her into his hand, before twirling back out again.

His phone buzzed.

"Just ignore ‘em. They’re not allowed in the gym without Alder’s express permission."

Where had the man gone? Leah continued to dance, slowing a bit, looking at her trainer. It had only been a few weeks, but the fun and laughs Arty already had with Leah; the image of his first bug covered in those flakes of gold churned a pit in his stomach. Doctors still weren’t sure what it had been. A disease? A curse?

"Fate is fickle," he decided, dropping another dried piece of fruit in her mouth. They left the shadow of the building and approached. It was the same cameraman and reporter from the pokecenter. They noticed his and Leah’s approach, the camera light turned green, the reporter and cameraman rushed to them, the camera almost unable to decide between the dancing Leah and Art. Her motions had been closer to just randomly shuffling and jumping around than actual dancing, but it clearly wasn’t something they’d expected. Especially when Leah herself ignored their attention.

The reporter ran up to Arty, Leah ignoring the attention. "You’re the new kid that Alder’s taken as his protege, right? What’s your name? Where are you from? Where did you get this pokemon? What’s its type? How's it feel to be Alder's protege?"

Arty replied, "Artemus, the Burghs in Anville to both, and bug." They were just a couple blocks from the gym. He tried to pick up the pace.

"Burgh? All right, Burgh, what’s the name of the bug?"

"What? No! That’s no—"

The reporter interrupted Arty’s attempt at a correction. "Nevermind about that, Burgh, do you think Alder’s going for Region Champion?" he asked, holding the mike out. Leah clicked, rubbing her blades together as they walked, getting as anxious at the short verbal assault as Arty was.

Arty realized his mistake, deciding it would be better to ignore the two-person paparazzi peppering him with questions. They picked up the pace and finally reached the door, bidding the small crew adieu. Leah curtseyed too. Trotting inside, she squeaked her new shoes across the textured tile as much as possible.

Arty looked at the clock. It was two PM. They’d all had lunch long ago. Outside the atreum, he bent down and took off Leah’s shoes. At the rate she was going, they were going to wear out long before they got any real use. He looked into her unmoving red eyes, internally chunked in hexagons. He picked her up and held her in a hug, spinning her around. Pulling his head close to hers, she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"I don’t know what I’d do without you," he said, setting her down, wiping the tears from his eyes. He unlatched the vest, removing her leash. Opening the door, she ran inside, straight to the other Leavanny and the family of swadloon. Notably, she only slipped at the end. Dirt and clay clearly didn’t present the same issues of stability like smooth concrete and tile did. Stuffing her little shoes inside his bag, he went inside.

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"Make it through the paparazzi alright?" Aurea asked.

Arty shrugged. "Not really. I think I messed up pretty bad."

"Oh?" Aurea asked, smiling. She knew all too well how it went. "They know not to approach when Sammy’s out." she said, patting her big dog as they relaxed on the atrium floor.

"As protective as he is, I can see why," he said. "I messed up and told them I was from the burghs in Anville, and now they’re calling me Burgh."

"Don’t worry about it," she said, motioning with her arms in a short, curt gesture. "You’ll have plenty of opportunities to correct it later. Or you could go with the flow and have fun with it." She laughed.

"We’ll see, I guess," he said. The reporters hadn’t even given twenty-four hours before talking about who would replace Alder. Arty moved to sit back against the wall, next to the resting samurott.

"What do you think she’s making?" Juniper asked. Leah had walked under the tree closest to the atrium entrance, letting loose a large strand of silk, attaching it to a lower branch.

"Not sure. She made a swing for one of the swadloons yesterday, though," he told her.

"Oh?" She asked.

"Yeah, it’s out back. She tried to put one on it, and it just fell off. So I think it’s a swing. Or a hammock she can sleep in."

She smiled. "Leavanny is known as the mothering pokemon, you know."

"You don’t think—? She’s not making something for me to sleep in, right?" Leah had already demonstrated many exceptional behaviors.

"It’s been, what, three weeks and change since you met her the first time?"

"Something like that." Closer to two weeks and a few days, really, but who was counting? "That’s not enough for them to learn my habits and bond though, right?" he asked. Leavanny doted, yes, but he didn’t think they’d bonded to quite that point yet.

"It depends, I guess," Aurea said. Leah clicked twice, observing the two strands sway and then attaching them, wrapping up the current aspect of the task. The strands nearly touched the floor. "I assume my father told you to keep her out of her pokeball as much as possible?"

Arty’s other Leavanny, similarly armored in leaves like Leah, had finally followed her to her tree, observing her handiwork. It got bored and decided to start wrestling with Leah.

"Yeah, she’s been in her pokeball probably twice in the last two weeks, and never for more than an hour," he told her. Samurott shuffled, forcing Aurea to change position or risk falling off. Leah had her partner-in-crime on the floor in seconds. "Wrop!" the otter barked in applause.

"A paper I read on the boat early this morning called it synchronization. Most trainers call it their bond. Bonds between trainers and pokemon can get pretty crazy." She paused. "Sometimes pokemon can click with their trainers right away. Others won’t be able to stand their trainers, through no fault of either party. But the trick is—" Leah had turned and faced the dog, bowing. "—time."

"Time?" he asked.

"Yeah. Time with your pokemon, in particular your first one, has a tendency to boost this bond faster and more reliably than any other method. The more life you see with your pokemon, the more life they see from you."

"Why doesn’t your dad—I mean, Professor Juniper, just say this stuff? He knows, right? Isn’t that why he told me to keep her out of her pokeball?" The two leavanny seemed content to return to their trees, taking drinks from one of the running hoses that dropped from the ceiling.

"Because—" she said, taking a breath. "My father’s seen what happens when we try too hard to pretend humans are pokemon. Live among the wild ursaring and get eaten. Serperior who aren’t properly acclimated will swallow children, improperly trained alakazam hypnotized kids into thinking they’re bugs, the sheer presence of meloetta convinced kids they couldn't speak without singing. Most of these kinds of stories are of pokemon that were kept in homes and not firmly taught by their owners, or their owners were making money off the news. His was a different era, one that was a lot more brazen about humanizing pokemon without putting in the effort to build bonds that help them learn how to live among humans. Or on the flipside, not educating people how to manage or work with humans."

It was hard to imagine Leah and her little swadloon family as terribly feral. He’d told Aurea about the lockpicking, but she’d just shrugged. Pokemon were clever and full of surprises, even among the outliers among their own species. If Leah started demonstrating a proficiency or even an interest in human language outside of what was needed for trainer to pokemon communication, then it would be time to investigate deeper. The bugs were moving to the door to the backyard, the samurott following their movement. Leah was pushing on the handle, her partner moving to join her.

Leah’s way too clever, he thought. It was only a matter of time until she started picking up the greater contexts of human tones and languages, he figured. The door she was pushing on had been unlocked at lunch, and he knew the bugs needed their open air and open sunlight. Knowing what he did about Leavanny tending to their family, so long as swadloon were nearby, he trusted her not to run too far away, though he was still concerned about her general artistry of escaping. Arty began his next question.

"What does your father think—" Aurea cut him off "—of the pokemon rights movement?" She finished his question for him.

He nodded.

She put her finger to her chin. "He doesn’t," she said. "Though, the policies from the movement over the last few years have helped a lot. Catching limits and catching seasons in particular have helped many endangered species. For example, since making catching absols illegal ten years ago, the number of that species in the wild have more than doubled, poaching notwithstanding."

Together, the two leavanny had pushed the door open, all the swadloon marching out into the bright sunlight.

"That does sound pretty good," he said.

"Don’t get me wrong," she said, "he’d tell Ghetsis and his pseudo-religious clowns they’re all morons if they were in the same room."

"What about you?" he followed.

Sammy was beginning to shuffle again. He wanted to head join the bugs. "Cmon, let’s join them outside," Aurea said, hopping off Sam. The three of them approached the big metal door that led out back. Sam bent his head low, his shell of a helmet fitting through as both Arty and Aurea held the doors open for her pokemon.

"I’m not sure what I think yet. We could definitely do more to treat our animals better," she said, patting Sam as he went out to rest in the sun. She pulled out two more pokeballs of her own, releasing an ampharos and mienshao.

"Fy, come here," she said, her ampharos joining her. The mienshao and bugs observed each other in slight standoff. "Time for me to ask YOU a question, kid. Do you really wanna be a trainer?"

"Yes!" he said, nearly shouting. Leah and the swadloon all turned to look at the two trainers.

"Then get Leah in the ring. Fy here—" she said, giving her ampharos a quick pat. "Fy here wants some bug meat before we go up against Grimsley in the elite four tomorrow." She smiled, her eyes turning predatory.

A rock rolled in his stomach. But, how do pokemon grow stronger if not by fighting? He grit his teeth, before sighing. "Leah!" he called. His bug turns from her task and leaves, looking at him. Leah paused and let out a click.

Aurea chuckled. "She’s got a lot of personality. You do too, but you’re still a fish out of water."

It’s literally my second day in Castelia, give me a break, he thought to himself. He knew these weren’t the thoughts of champions, but he hadn’t even managed his first gym badge yet, and the researcher and her team was about to go up against the elite four. Arty shrugged, then put a hand in his pocket. Leah hopped from her spot and leisurely strode over, clicking again, holding her arms up.

"If you’re going to specialize in bugs, you and your team are gonna need to get creative," Aurea said, moving to take her position on the ring across from him. "As the senior trainer," she said, "I’m letting you choose the rules."

"Uh," he said, "ring out or pokeball tap out."

"Sounds good to me."

She just smiled. "Don’t worry, kid. Fy has self-control."

~~~

I faced the electric sheep, Lanky to my back, the smell of anxiety rolling off me. Little sparks of yellow flicked across the tall sheep’s fuzz.

Leaf watched from a tree.

My abdomen buzzed.

At this moment, I knew.

I was about to die.