~~~ Chapter 62 - Fillet ~~~

When I had been recalled into the pokeball, back on the train, I was frustrated. I had all that pent-up energy in my chest, and it wasn't going away. Annoyed. I wasn't really thinking straight, well. I was thinking less straight than normal. A lot less than normal, all right? The heat, that pressure, it had only gotten worse.

The…disappointment? Left a sour taste. A sour, bitter, numb feeling. All was welling up inside. I felt the crystals minimized and inside me also vibrating, for what I had thought was a response to the annoyance. The desire to let it all go, to beat on my target. The desire. It wasn't anger.

It wasn't the same as when Fidget had bit my arm, stealing my berries and fruits back in that forest. The only thing I could think of, when recalling that emotion, was when I'd fought off the rockruff. Anticipation. But also, the disappointment of the short fight with the Arcanine from earlier that night. The fire, that energy smoldered inside me.

Every last fight since the rockruff had been either disappointing, left a bad taste, or just was a one-sided stomp. Okay, there were a couple good ones. When I fought the unfezant while back in the professor's town, practicing with Lanky. A few other fights we'd had while practicing in the woods before we took Lanky's demonstration-test-thing before we were taken to the Castelia city gym.

Aside from that, nothing, not even saving Oust from the torture-room in the torture dungeon on the mountain had left a similar feeling. Which, mind, was still a separate feeling I could not place. It was as if I had a heavy weight in my chest.

In my thorax, where my human heart would have been, if I was still human, I had burned. The fire, the desire to let out the building energy and tension within me. In the pokeball, it was burning, screaming to escape, and in the pokeball, I had nowhere to go. Nowhere to go but to sleep. At that point, I had an outlet, anxious and fidgety as I was despite whatever numb form my body took.

There was nothing to listen to except the mute hum of what I could only assume was the train and the rhythmic hum of the moving our traincar. Thus, I made the calculated decision to attempt to pre-empt Darkrai's "gift" and enter their realms. Pulling my anxious, angry pokemagic, the pull was the same. My entire body, in the miniaturized, possibly-ethereal form quietly hummed as I pulled myself into the dream world.

Kael. My older brother.

My grip, my pull wavered, not quite finishing the maneuver, a massive jolt shocked me, and the world around me didn't go black, didn't go pink. It had gone gray. Falling through the abyss, I would have screamed, but could not. For a moment, I was on the floor of the train, booms echoing through the air, with the slightest hint of static.

But no, I wasn't going to be able to battle on the battle sub. I tried again. My abdomen hummed. The pull felt different, but I continued anyway, vision turning grey again. I needed—

"I'm not going to wait… on a list for ten years for a transplant."

The pull wavered, shocking me again. But this time, back in the new, third? Dream world? I fell through the floor. Like, physically? I was also physically shocked. My world lurched. I spun and fell. Like, literally fell, and I hit the ground with a thud, knocking me out of my vision, yet again.

My antennae twitched, bounced, no something was poking at them, playing. The lack of light told me whatever dream I was in, it had been night. But most problematically, the pressure was still there. I smelled new things in the air. Though, I was instead assaulted by the smell of carbon and greasy corn in the air. I sat up, straight into the air, inviting a hiss from what I could only assume was a meowth. Some dog-like pokemon was barking up a storm from behind a chain link fence, whining, rattling against it in the night. I didn't even look.

"Mom and Dad are worried about you, sis."

"Well aware, Kael."

I knew this street. I didn't smell any pokemon. Or see any, either. Letting my eyes adjust to the night, picking up the light emit by the few street lights. Wisconsin didn't have grass. It was more like a moss, really. Flat green stuff. The dirt smelled like ass. The air smelled like asphalt and oil and gas and tar. I looked up at a few trees. They all looked… Useless. I was, frankly disgusted.

I thought I had left all of this behind. But no, these dreams reminded me. I'd been a pokemon for two months, and not even thought of my home state. I looked down at my arms—the dream left me as a Leavanny. I was still a shortstack—the dogs were still pushing and banging against the fence, though they had quieted down.

"You're self-isolating again."

I looked around. The dream recreation of Kael's neighborhood was eerily accurate. I hadn't dreamt of this place, not once. A nearby street lamp illuminated me. I examined my leaf-blades in more detail. They were a bit scuffed. I flexed my arm, the blades were as sharp as ever and as flexible as ever.

"I don't need you to tell me that, Kael."

I awaited for the usual cries and screams which accompanied these draining dreams, the thumping and burning in my thorax still eating away. The dogs hadn't even crossed me as potential opponents, in a similar way that fighting Lanky hadn't.

He didn't live in the biggest of houses, and our whole family lived within a half-hour of the Packers stadium. Wisconsin was a flat state. Taking a glance behind me, the dogs were actually a pair of very large animals—Tibetan Mastiffs. I could never remember their names, but I loved them and they were super nice when I was a human.

"We're all worried about you. You don't have to si—"

I had always worried they would bust out of their containment. But, watching them climb the fence with a practiced ease… at more than twice my mass, they cleared the fence and human-Leah had proven correct. Well, this was a nightmare so it only made sense they would escape.

"Shut up, Kael. It's my decision, not yours."

I set my legs apart. Raised my leaf-blades, as the two dogs circled me. Tails wagging? Sniffing me? Which was fine. Even with the pressure, the desire to release… It felt wrong? Though one did sniff too close to me, and I did get a good whack for the trouble. I was not a chew toy.

Ignoring the two dogs, now spooked enough to keep their distance, I was not going to let this dream just be yet another piece of bullshit. I pulled the mana inside me, as much as I could. I stepped across the lawn, crossing a driveway. The concrete was impressively tactile, for a dream. Not a single house's lights were on. On the street I stood, my brother's car was parked in front of his driveway.

I gathered up the mana, the dogs following behind me. He and Trisha didn't have a lot of money. Most people on the outskirts of Green Bay didn't. But he had enough to have a house and keep nerding out on pokemon during the harsh winters. The mana inside me warmed my thorax, and I focused as much of it as I could, I could at least get some of the tension out. I was a good twenty feet away from his car.

"It's just, you know, an experimental procedure…"

"I'm an adult, Kael. Fuck off."

The pressure built, and I gave both dogs circling me again good whacks, sending the massive bears running with a good whack. They were not worthy opponents. At all. There, in the dream, I still waited for the inevitable crisis, glancing at Kael's car. Sitting there, in his driveway. My antennae tasted oil. I tasted aluminum. I tasted far, far too much fertilizer. Remnants of booze cans, probably from the Sunday ritual that was the state's obsession with football.

There were no stars in the sky. Well, I didn't actually have the vision to tell. But there was no moon. I had to be rid of this one somehow, so I did the only thing I thought to do. I pulled on my mana. I pulled on the refreshed memory of that old conversation, the two of us, sitting at the starbucks. I felt the heat rising up in my body. I grew more warm from the broiling piece of mana inside.

"But it's not prov—" "Kael. Are you my doctor?" "No" "My surgeon?" "N—" "—Credentials? No? Gee look at that. Fuck. Off."

The now-familiar writhing, spinning and screaming sun-like energy in my mouth, rapidly rotating, threatening to tear itself out in a massive explosion. This was my life. I would live it how I pleased. I cracked the flat ridges of my V-shaped mouth apart, pulling the energy from the thorax again, only to release it, feeling my limbs go slightly cold, holding it in, the vibration in my abdomen of the remnants of the rocks that remained inside.

"Look, Kael," I had said. "I already feel bad enough. But I will not be held hostage by their, or your feelings. Not for a chance of something better. Not because it makes mom and dad worried."

"I know. Just. They do care about you, you know."

I tilted my head ever-so-slightly up, the beam screaming out into the air, just skimming above the roof of his shitty Toyota Prius. Instead of blasting my brother's car, the screaming solar beam illuminating the street, the beam crashed through the roof of a house at the other end of the street.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

"Fuck, Kael! I know, damn it! Sometimes… Caring means giving space. If you care about me, you'll stop guilting me each time we have these coffee lunches."

Sparks and flames arose, the beam shooting across the sky into the distance. When smoke rose up from their roof it had definitely been a dream. My solar beam had never set anything on fire. Merely left scorch marks. The second point I knew it was a dream was when no one's lights turned on.

With the solar beam gone, I pulled my mana again, the dogs watching me from a distance, I was sure. I had, against Lyra's Meganium, and Alakazam—the dream I was in rippled—I had managed to summon leaves in those fights—beewooop. It was worth the time to practice those again. I tasted distortion.

It wasn't every day that a nightmare turned out to be so low-key. Would be nice if I didn't have to fucking use the leaves—beewooop—on my leaf-jeans. I wasn't about to check up on—BEEWOOOP—Unfortunately, the house I'd hit, now smoking—BEEWWOOP—audibly angry, and—BEEEWOOOOP—emitting flashes of light from the rising flames, screaming at me in anger with each obnoxious BEEEWOOP.

I hated fire types in these dreams, but at this distance, I could throw some leaves at my opponent. But before I could step closer to my rising opponent, my brother's house, his door opened, I turned, and say his face, peeking out—and I was on the floor of the train again. Not seconds later, Lanky's arms around me, pulling me off the ground. A boom rolled over our train, rocking it, static and crackling filled the air.

Thanks, Darkrai, for the wonderful dreams and memories. Really what I needed.

A wave of distortion rolled over me—Wait. Was that Oust?—"Leeeee!" I cried, I yanked my arm out of Lanky's embrace—"Ach!"—I was shoved to the ground—Oust's fake leavanny form disappearing behind a closing hole in reality. He was gone. The smell of iron touched my antennae. "You cut me!" Lanky cried. I turned to see him, kneeling on the ground, a stream of blood dripping down his left arm. Leaf stood a short distance from me, a leaf-blade flat over his mouth.

Lanky grabbed the bag on the train floor next to him. He was cut deeply, right at the elbow, a sizable chunk of skin hanging down. "Tourniquet!" Lanky called. I stepped closer to him, not sure what to do—there were no leaves nearby—no, Leaf wasn't gasping, he was pooling silk on the flat of his leaf-blade—Lanky needed a tourniquet, not a bandage. I didn't want to get in his way, but I pulled together my silk, recalling the way I had mixed it back at the gym for specific consistencies. Thick, yet strong. "Shit, shit, shi," Lanky exclaimed, shuffling through his bag. He turned to me.

"I need"—he took a breath—"a Tourniquet." He stared at me, for a half-second, pulling his right hand over his bleeding left arm. "String… shot?" he asked. I was already working on it. I held my blade over my mouth as I slowly released the beginnings of a thin, yet strong rope, with only minimal stick. I needed to pull it tight—the cut was right at the joint of the forearm.

The air was filled with the scent of iron. I looped the string out, cutting off about a three-foot-long rope. I wrapped the first loop around his thin lower bicep, which he picked up the end of, having to massage the silk a bit. With my other arm free, I looped the opposite end around.

"Pull it tight," he said, gripping the other end of the silk-based tourniquet in his teeth. My silk was strong enough to hold a human. I pulled tight. There was a crack. "Gah!" Lanky cried, practically guttural.

"You're so strong that you don't even know," Lanky said, dropping his side of the silk into my leaves. Keeping it tight, I tied the loose ends of the makeshift tourniquet together. Lanky flexed his hand, the blood dripping out of the chunk I'd accidentally tore from him.

"That was almost quite the fillet," he said. I took a step back, and immediately fidget took my spot, Lanky letting out verbal winces as Leaf smothered Lanky's forearm in his own gooey silk.

"Uh, thanks, Fidget," he said, taking deeper breaths, a light shining through the front train car door's window before opening. A tall, burly figure stepped through.

"The hell happened here?"

A sneasel stepped out from behind the man.

Leaf was already in between Lanky and our newcomer.

"Sorry for the mess," Lanky said, fishing through his bag with his right hand, his left arm going pale. More flashes, more screams, and sharp chirps, booms in the distance rattling our windows. They weren't made of glass, and didn't break.

"You gonna tell her to stand down? I know this is the battle sub, but now's not a good time for battles."

"Fidget, c'mere. It's the conductor."

The man kneeled down. "Show me that arm."

My part done, and not really sure what else I could do to help Lanky, I turned away from them, instead watching the windows. I took a first aid class once in highschool as a human, but anything I knew with medicine revolved purely around my… breathing condition… If Oust had shown up, that meant—"Leavanny silk. Clever. But you'll need a week's round of antibiotics. And a visit to the hospital. Those nutribars are miracles, and potions help if you're well-bonded, but you still don't want this healing in-place, kid." —if Oust had shown up, that meant—

"Name's Art."

"Art, then. Name's Korbin."

The sneasel hopped up next to me, looking out the window, as if to try and see what I was looking for. The lightning storm seems to have stopped. How much time had it been? Five minutes? Ten?

If oust had shown up—the dream had felt too real, even with the ripples—it meant the dream wasn't just a dream.

Just like the Volcarona.

I'd nearly nuked my brother's car.

Outside the train, screams of pokemon, mostly flying, continued to flutter about, judging by their silhouettes moving through the window. It was quite a night, little pings and echoes bouncing off the windows as they passed over us, fleeing what had been the epicenter of the electrical storm in the distance.

"Well, kid, you'll be fine for now. But you need a hospital in the next couple hours. The train'll reboot but we might have to wait for the Noibat flock to calm down a bit. Damn pests."

"Why'd we lose power? I thought everything on the grid was hardened against EMP bursts."

"It is, but after a certain threshold, EMP protection won't matter, so the grid and trains have emergency shutoffs."

"Like the pokeballs, I suppose."

Lanky's breathing was still coming in short breaths. I had cut the one person who was sticking with me. Nearly killed him. He deserved better than that. Better than me. I dropped, sitting back in the chair.

"You're self-isolating again."

Slouching, I splayed my arms out. It was useless. Why? Why did it have to be that specific memory? At that specific time? Thanks, Darkrai? But that hadn't been a dream, and dreams were his wheelhouse. Instinct? Wouldn't memories be under another god's wheelhouse?

Sneasel sank down next to me, mimicking my exact movements, complete with the slouch and splayed arms.

"You need water, kid. That's a lot of blood. Don't move too fast." The items in Lanky's bag clinked and clanged as he pulled out a bottle.

"Leah! It's okay!"

Lanky, still sitting on the floor, made to stand up. "Whoops, that was a mistake," Lanky said, sitting back down.

"Take it easy, kid. But I gotta go. Looks like the grid's coming back online," the conductor-guy said, pointing out the windows. Sure enough, little lights blinked on in the distance."

"It's going to be okay!"

I turned my head to the one mocking me. She stared into my eyes, her mouth mimicking the exact shape of the leavanny-v. I reached out. To her. And she mimicked my exact movement, reaching out with her arm. It was so stupid. She was so stupid. Why would a pokemon even do that? I waved my left arm instead. She waved her right arm, the motion following mine with uncanny reaction speed.

"Come along, sneasel."

Sneasel hopped off the chair, leaving me with simultaneously too much, and too little to think about. They'd apparently decided Lanky didn't need lifeflight, at least. Or, it had been too dangerous for lifeflight.

With the conductor-man gone, the three of us sat in silence. I didn't have anywhere to go. The lights for the train turned on, the intercom crackling to life. "Testing… One… Two… Three. Normally, we would have to wait for the Mass Outbreaks to calm down, but there is a passenger who needs hospital assistance."

Lanky looked at me. I looked away. The scent of iron was still strong in the air. Leaf had taken to poking at the Silcoon, sitting unmoving on their chair three seats down.

"It's not your fault, Leah," Lanky lied. "Look at your blades. They're sharper than knives. I didn't even let you catch your bearings after Minitina pulled you from the hole! You play with fire, and you don't respect it, you get burned. I… got a bit too comfortable."

The train started moving, fires sparking up in the forests in the distance. I just sat there, on my chair. Lanky pulled himself up onto the bench with a groan. The train began to pick up speed. He had a pack of berries in his hand, holding them out for me. His other hand not exactly operational, I sliced the top open, letting him dump them into my mouth.

"You know," Lanky said. "I was just so panicked, when all of the pokeballs released with that first surge, when you didn't come out of your pokeball, I thought your pokeball was busted… At first, I laughed. It was like, 'here we go again'. But then, the thought hit me just now. Something had happened, with that surge. These Z-crystal-things? The ones inside you. The ones the crazy guy was trying to tell us about? Did you go back? Back to your real home?"

I held up my arms, making an X, but I didn't shake my head.

"Is that a no?" Lanky asked.

I shook my head.

"Well, that's not a 'yes' and you already know what nodding and shaking your head are. So I'm going to say you don't want to talk about it." I nodded. "Well, Leah," Lanky said, sighing, scooting a couple chairs up from me on the subway bench, laying down. "That's fine by me" —he pulled a pillow out of his bag— "I could use the sleep. But promise me that one day, we'll talk all of this through." Lanky laid down, letting his head come up to my spot. The train's velocity had stopped increasing, maintaining a steady pace, blowing its horn for the first time in the trip, alerting pokemon to get away from the rails. The train's progress was at a snail's pace.

Oust had drawn me back. Back from hell. And yet, I couldn't help but think of Kael. My human, older brother. The one who'd gotten me playing pokemon in the first place. His wife Trisha, who put up with his posters and pokemon plushies adorning the shelves and the walls, and even learned enough pokemon to talk with us when we nerded out about it.

Leaf and Lanky were both asleep. If I fell asleep again, would I fall back? Back into the nightmare world? Back into the "real" world?

I'd once joked with Trisha that she had an old woman's name. Who was still naming their daughter Patricia in 1989 anyway? Turned out, her driver's license? Yeah, her first name was literally just "Trisha". She got that joke a lot.

I sat on the train, looking at the window across the way. Had I run from the nest? It seemed like such a simple decision to make. Leaving the nest. Like it had been obvious.

Even if I did return to the real human world, I still couldn't remember my actual human name. Would I knock on their door, say, "hey, I'm a pokemon now, wanna be my trainer, and come to the pokemon world with me?" No, No, because I couldn't even read, I couldn't even write—But hearing words had somehow clicked. It had clicked. Not the least the problem would be I would be leaving Lanky behind. I couldn't do that to him.

Lanky deserved better than that.