Mr Maple approached with an ingratiating smile, eyes sparkling with interest behind his thick glasses. He had a drink in hand, something dark that swirled in his glass as he walked. His assistant hung back, keeping a respectful distance as Mr Maple joined the conversation. He walked straight up to them, placing himself between Sasha and Emilia.
“Miss Firesong, a pleasure to see you again,” Mr Maple nodded to Sasha. Firesong that was it. Not Firelight. A stage name if Cashe had ever heard one, and a bit cheesy, too. Though he was hardly one to point fingers.
“Mr Maple,” Sasha gave him a polite smile, “I haven’t seen you since the last True Rookie Tournament. Are you still trying to recruit your little researchers from its participants?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Cashe noticed Mr Maple’s assistant wrinkle her brow at Sasha’s tone.
“Not for researchers, no,” Mr Maple, shook his head, “Luckily, I have more than enough people helping me now.” He turned and nodded to Emilia, “Miss Oak, I haven’t seen you since you were still in diapers. How is your family?”
Emilia blinked in surprise, her brows raising at his greeting, “You know me?”
“It would be more accurate to say I worked with your father for a short period around the time you were born,” Mr Maple said, giving Emilia a good natured smile and taking a small sip of his drink, “We haven’t seen each other in years. I’m not the best at keeping in touch, I’m afraid.”
Emilia nodded, “He’s doing well, I think,” she said, “I haven’t talked with him recently, he’s been pretty busy.”
“I can imagine,” Mr Maple nodded, “In the same month he discovered a previously thought to be dead trainer of legend and published the most significant scientific paper in years. One does not do that without filling their schedule for some time after.” Mr Maple took another sip of his drink and turned to Cashe, “Ah, but we wander off topic. I believe you were speaking of your rather unique circumstances before I so rudely interrupted, Mr Cashe. My apologies. Please, continue.”
“Nothing to worry about,” Cashe said, trying not to let his discomfort show on his face. Mr Maple reminded him of his old boss. There was an expectation of inclusion there, a presence that demanded familiarity where none existed. “I was just mentioning how I am not familiar with much of the culture here in Kanto. Or wherever we are now.”
“I believe we have recently crossed into international waters,” Mr Maple smiled, “But that is indeed unfortunate, Mr Cashe, to be so far from home. Did you say it was a pokemon that brought you here?”
“Uh, yeah,” Cashe said, frowning slightly as Mr Maple leaned closer in interest, “I kind of just appeared outside Emilia’s hometown.”
“Fascinating,” Mr Maple said, his eyes locked onto Cashe, “I understand there are scientists that study these phenomena. Have you met with one? Have they confirmed the pokemon that did this to you?”
“Uh, no,” Cashe said, “They haven’t shown up yet.” He scratched his head, “It’s actually kind of weird, now that you mention it. I think Misty told us they were in Pallet Town over a month ago, but we haven’t seen them at all. I didn’t think it would take them so long, it’s not like I’m hiding or anything.”
“Scientists tend to be a little strange in the head,” Emilia said, “Trust me, I know. Both my parents are scientists. They probably just got distracted by something.”
“Speaking of distractions,” Mr Maple said, “I must apologize again. I am distracting you two lovely ladies with our conversation. Mr Cashe, come this way, we will give the women their space.” Mr Maple put a friendly arm around his shoulder, pulling him gently, but inexorably away from the group.
Cashe shot a glance over his shoulder at Emilia. She shrugged and nodded at Mr Maple’s back. Cashe caught her meaning. She would be nearby, just in case.
Mr Maple pulled him to the side of the stage, bringing him to the railing that overlooked the main dancefloor of the party. He leaned against the metal, peering down at the people below.
“We met previously in a similar situation,” Mr Maple mused, "You were on the balcony overlooking the docks in Olivine. Do you remember?”
Cashe joined him at the railing, “I do.”
“It seems we are both drawn to similar things, doesn’t it?” Mr Maple said, voice smooth as silk, “Pokemon,” he took a pokeball out of his jacket, flashing it to Cashe before putting it back, “Women,” he turned and nodded to where his assistant stood, now chatting amicably with Emilia and Sasha, “Power.” He turned back to the railing and looked down on the party goers below, letting out a deep sigh of satisfaction.
Cashe took a long swig of his ridiculous drink, turning his eyes slowly away from Emilia, “I don’t think that’s true.”
“You don’t think it’s true, or you don’t want it to be true?” Mr Maple swirled his own drink and took a sip, “We are more alike than you think.”
Cashe furrowed his brow at him.
“You have an obvious love of pokemon,” Mr Maple continued, “Anyone can see that. And I don’t think I need to explain how you are drawn to women,” Mr Maple smiled. It was not a kind thing, holding no humor, no niceties. It was the grin of a shark, waiting to strike.
Cashe scowled at him, knuckles whitening on the drink held tightly in his hand, “You’re wrong.”
Mr Maple’s grin widened, eyes dancing in dark amusement behind his glasses, “It is a strange thing is it not? Looking down on your fellow man.” He nodded to the people below him, but Cashe knew that wasn’t what he meant. Mr Maple breathed in deeply, taking a long breath with his chest, “It’s intoxicating.” He let the breath out in a controlled burst, “And so frustrating. Knowing you are above them, knowing it like you know that your heart beats and your lungs breathe, but being able to do nothing.”
Cashe clenched his jaw, but did not speak.
“But I can change that,” Mr Maple said, his voice sickly sweet, “I can provide it all for you. Pokemon. Women. Power.”
“I don’t need you for any of that. I don’t want any of that.” Cashe said.
“Of course,” Mr Maple nodded, “You just want to go home.”
Cashe’s eyes widened, “That’s not- I don’t-”
“I can make that happen,” Mr Maple said softly, “I can help you see your wife again.”
“You can’t,” Cashe said, flinching at the sound of his own voice. It was pleading, desperate, “It’s a lifetime of work-”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“Yes,” Mr Maple breathed, “My life’s work. Not yours. Mine.”
Cashe looked at the man, eyes wide. He was dead serious, meeting his gaze with the surety of age and the conviction of a zealot. He leaned in close, whispering in Cashe’s ear.
“I will contact you. If you are interested in what I have to say, follow my instructions, and you will see your wife again.”
***
Cashe leaned back against the railing, eyes wide, thoughts in chaos. How did he know? Mr Maple was still talking, saying something to him in his insistent, plying tone. Whatever it was went through Cashe unregistered. After a minute or more, Cashe couldn’t tell, Mr Maple said a few more words and departed, leaving him alone.
He let his gaze glide over the party on the elevated stage. Marcus and Lisa were bumping elbows with an older man and laughing loudly at a joke. He saw one of the women who had been so enthralled by Lindon dancing gracefully with Damian Dart, the young man looking like a natural dancer himself.
Emilia and Sasha were talking to others now, Mr Maple’s assistant having left with him. They moved together, talking to one group and then the next.
The lighting dimmed and the music sped up becoming louder. The party was moving into its more hectic stages.
Through it all Cashe’s mind buzzed, mind confused. How did he know? He knew the task was impossible for him. He had known that from the beginning and been aware of it for a while now. He had even begun to accept it. It was a lifetime of work. A lifetime of work wasted if it meant only returning home as a stranger to everyone he knew and loved, wasted if it meant pursuing a goal above all else, setting aside his new friends, his new bonds, his pokemon. Wasted if it meant losing two lives in the process of returning to the idea of his old one.
But Mr Maple offered a solution. He had already spent a lifetime on his work. Pursuing something that could send him back, if he were to be believed. And Cashe did believe. He didn’t want to, he didn’t want that horrible choice hanging over his head, he didn’t want to choose between the chance of a familiar happiness and the possibility of a new one. But he believed nonetheless. It was involuntary, potent, and cruel, but he believed. Mr Maple was not lying to him. He had a way, a plan to do it, he only needed a little help from Cashe.
The weight of the idea that it was possible - not the choice or even a decision, but the idea alone - pressed on his mind, a great pulling of his soul. He did not even know what would be required of him, he did not know if he cared.
Someone else was speaking with him. A man’s voice. Cashe ignored it. The man’s tone turned snide, but the words didn’t register. He left. Cashe let him go.
Emotions twisted in his chest as he considered the possibility of what was offered. He longed to see wife again, to simply speak with her and hear her voice. Except the thought of going back scratched at his mind, an insidious itch that made his chest swell and ache.
He pinched his brow, squeezing his eyes tight, curling up on himself until the worst of the chaos passed. He took deep, heaving breaths, forcing his pounding heart to slow to a crawl, forcing himself to stand straight again and open his eyes.
The party had not noticed his sudden panic. Or more likely they had and chose to ignore him. It was fine, better even. He needed to leave and that gave him an excuse. Or was the reason and the excuse.
Cashe scanned the floor once again. Finding Emilia was simple, she stood out among the stuffy and sleek guests in her too short sundress. She was talking with Sasha and someone else. A new pang of anxiety raced through his veins as he recognized the figure as Steven Stone III.
He was dressed like the rest of the guests here, in a summer suit and with a drink in his hand. He had a smug little grin on his face. Emilia had her arms crossed and an unimpressed look on hers.
Cashe made his way over, keeping his eyes on the trio. Stone put his hand on Emilia’s arm. She shrugged it off. Cashe picked up his pace, sliding around talking guests. People were dancing now, forcing Cashe further around, the music from the stage below pounding in his head.
Stone put his hand on Emilia’s waist. She shoved him away. Cashe was almost there. Stone turned as he recovered from the push, noticing him and causing Emilia and Sasha to turn as well.
“Cashe are-”
“Apollo,” Stone spread his arms wide, smirking as he interrupted Emilia, “I was just getting to know-”
Cashe didn’t let him finish. He took Emilia’s original advice and punched him straight in the jaw. Steven Stone III collapsed on the floor in a heap.
***
“Kick him while he’s down!” Connie shrieked, pumping her fist in the air and hopping in excitement, her silver hair blowing across her face in a mess from the beach wind.
Daryl sighed, letting the warm breeze fill his lab coat, its length fluttering with the wind. Across from him was an astonished trainer, the evening sun shading him beneath Daryl’s long shadow. The trainer, Jay, was gaping at his defeated Alolan Sandshrew and the cowering Wimpod quaking atop it.
“I am not kicking him while he’s down,” Daryl frowned at his excited boss, “Why do you always yell that?”
“Your opponents must know the extent of your prowess!”
“I’m sorry about her,” Daryl said, returning Wimpod to his pokeball, “She doesn’t mean anything by it.”
Jay shook his head, still staring at his Sandshrew in disbelief, “How did you do that?”
“Sandshrew isn't very fast,” Daryl shrugged, “I took advantage of that.”
“With a Wimpod?”
Daryl frowned at the trainer’s tone, “He’s strong.”
“Yeah, no kidding!” Jay said, voice sardonic. He returned Sandshrew to its pokeball and walked across the sand and proffered his hand. Daryl shook it and Jay squinted at his chest, “What’s a HOXY HULNK?”
“Please don’t ask.”
Jay shrugged, “Never mind then. And Congratulations on the win. Not many trainers can beat a Gym Trainer with only a Wimpod, even if we are only on the Third Circuit.” Jay smiled and walked away.
Daryl blinked. He turned to Connie, frowning. She was shaking her fist at the retreating form of Jay, but her scowl turned into a guilty smile when she caught sight of Daryl’s grumpy features.
“Oops?”
“You said you would tell me if you were going to tell me if the ‘one exciting thing’ was fighting a gym trainer,” Daryl said, “You promised.”
“It didn’t count!” Connie protested, “You have to go to the gym for it to actually count! I checked the rules.”
“You promised,” Daryl said again, crossing his arms.
Connie scrunched up her face and hung her head. “I’m sorry.”
Daryl harrumphed and trudged down the beach, heading back to their hotel. Connie walked after him, needing to trot to keep up with Daryl’s long strides.
“I said I’m sorry!” Connie said as she got alongside him, “I didn’t think you would be upset. He was just another gym trainer.”
“I’m not upset he was a gym trainer,” Daryl growled.
‘You’re not?”
“No.” Daryl came to a stop.
“Then why are you upset?” Connie stopped in front of him, looking up and into his eyes, a pitiful expression on her face.
Daryl sighed and flopped to the ground, carving a deep grooves into the sand with his weight, “I like you Connie," he grumbled, "I like how happy you are. I like that you’re a free spirit. I like how you are you wherever you go and I like that you don’t let anything stop from doing that, even if who you are is ridiculous sometimes.”
“I’m not ridiculous.”
“I’ve had to save you from your own blanket because you got stuck in it,” Daryl said.
“That was because-”
“More than once!” Daryl interrupted. Connie smiled and joined him in the sand, sitting across from him with her legs crossed. Daryl continued in a low voice, “I like that you aren’t put off by me. I like that you don’t tell me to cheer up, or smile more or anything like that. You just accept me as I am. Not a lot of people give me that kind of respect.”
Connie nodded, serious for once, “You think I stopped respecting you.”
“You broke a promise. You haven’t done that before.” Daryl rubbed his face, “I know you’re technically my boss but-”
“It’s not bad to expect your boss to respect you,” Connie said, “But Daryl?”
“Yeah?”
“You know I’m not your boss, right?”
Daryl stared at her, “What?”
“I’m the lab’s Senior Researcher, and you’re a Researcher. I’m at a higher level and I have different responsibilities, but I’m not your boss. We’re co-workers.”
Daryl groaned. “Then why do I put up with you?”
“Because you like me?” Connie said, shuffling over to sit beside him and watch the sunset.
“Yeah. I do.”
*****