There was nothing quite like walking down the stairs and seeing a small mountain of presents below a tree. Even despite the catalog-sterility of the decorations, Sammy knew that he would remember this day for the rest of his life. Everyone was still dressed in gowns and robes and clutching various mugs filled with their hot brew of choice. More importantly, even Sammy’s mother had been wheeled out to enjoy the festivities.
It was obvious that Miss Summers had spent quite a bit of effort to ensure that everything was as perfect as could be and had gotten up quite early to do it. Deep bags hung below her typically youthful eyes that gave her a pall that even the strongest brew would be hard pressed to fix. She sat burrowed partway into a blanket, one hand nestling a cup of sludge that could generously be called coffee and the other gently held Sammy’s mother’s. A content look was on the caretaker’s face even as she fought back sleep by taking sips and grimacing at the flavor.
Mirabelle Himada had similarly undergone a transformation thanks to Miss Summer’s magic. Prematurely graying hair had been arduously curled and set with crimson ribbons that pulled it away from her face. Creams and powders had been applied to chase away the shadows of sunken cheeks and brighten her complexion. A knit sweater with tessellating Stantlers and holly branches was the highlight of the entire ensemble. Its eruption of color added vibrancy and life. To Sammy’s surprise, Crescent lay upon her lap, purple ears draped across her stomach.
Sammy couldn’t handle it. He broke down in tears right there at the foot of the stairs.
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It had taken the combined ministrations of every adult present and Blaine’s frustration at present opening being delayed before Sammy’s tears and hiccuping had abated enough to force down a mug of hot chocolate and a piece of toast. Now seated at his mother’s feet, Sammy clutched Cresent’s body close to him and relished in the warmth that radiated from everywhere. The rabbit-like creature squirmed in his grasp a bit but made no serious effort to escape his clutches. If anything, Crescent was much happier in Sammy’s arms than free and dodging Blaine’s sticky grabby hands. Much to the dismay of Dean and Sandy, the boy had not elected to demonstrate proper table manners even as a guest. This, combined with poor hand washing, had led to Crescent licking honey from breakfast from his fur.
Thus far into Christmas morning Sammy had received one complete Westwood Encyclopedia of Pokemon set, two new sets of overalls, four pairs of knit socks, a slinky that was somehow already in tangles (Grandpa said Paul might be able to fix it), and a new backpack that had more pockets than he knew what to do with. Blaine had been more thrilled with the Encyclopedias than his own presents, but thankfully Sandy had intervened before the pages could be stuck together.
“But I wanna read it!” Blaine had to be physically restrained from touching the fresh pages.
Sandy was unapologetic as she dragged him to the bathroom for another hand wash. “We have a copy at home.”
“But we only have the second edition! That’s the new third edition! Who knows what new stuff it’s got!”
“Okay honey, but we ask before touching other peoples stuff. Maybe after a bath later today Sammy will be nice enough to let you read it.”
Sammy found the entire thing to be as enlightening as it was humorous. He didn’t mind if Blaine read it (after being de-honeyed) and was certain that his new friend would be extra careful of the books’ spines. Nothing was worse than when someone borrowed a book and just wrenched the thing open without a care. More than once Sammy had lent Aggie a book only to have it returned with its pages bent in the place of bookmarks and forever broken so that it’d lie flat on a table. She wouldn’t be allowed to take these home. Not that Aggie would care to read an Encyclopedia. But still, the idea that there was new information on Pokemon species constantly being discovered was news to Sammy. He figured that after thousands of years everything would have been written down by now. Now that he knew that was not the case, Sammy was more excited than ever to crack open the tomes of knowledge. Maybe he’d find something cool inside that Miss Brunch wouldn’t know.
The adults were presently handing each other their gifts to each other and gasping in appropriate levels of awe at the various trinkets and baubles. Mirabelle Himada looked positively silly garbed in a pink silk scarf and sunhat that were much better suited for warmer weather. A pair of earrings still in their box resided upon her lap and a chagrined Sandy had apologized for the apparent blunder. Sammy hadn’t known that piercings could heal over time, further cementing the fact that he didn’t know nearly as much as he thought did. He had just assumed that it was a permanent process for any girl who had them. Or any boy, for that matter. A couple of sailors he had seen before had sported one, and a few grizzled old men had four. If he remembered, Sammy thought he should ask Captain Xu next time he had a chance about whether they meant anything. The veteran ship captain had three.
Crescent finally had enough snuggles and escaped to the kitchen to see if Miss Summers had left any scraps out. This was enough to bring Sammy out of his reverie and his gaze upon the tiny pile of presents still under the tree. Most had Paul’s name on them, and another was from Sammy to Aggie (a fancy mechanical pencil complete with a box of lead replacements), but he recognized the box addressed to him from the Rogers still lying there.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
As if catching his glance, a small hush came upon the room as Dean stood and retrieved the box. Sammy felt the breath catch in his throat as he stared up at the man. Dean’s voice was… not happy but not exactly sad either. It was as if Dean’s words were far away in another time where things were different.
“Well, I suppose now’s the time. Been saving this one for last. There’s a bit of a story to this little thing Sammy, do you want to hear it before or after I give it to you?”
“Before.”
Dean coughed into his hand as he stole a glance over to Sammy’s grandpa. “Alright. So, years ago… back when your father and I first met, we were young and had just joined up with the military. See, the promise of seeing the world on the government’s dime was just a bit too good for us to pass up but… well, I digress. Anyway, your father and I found ourselves stationed over at a Ranger’s station by Azalea. Nice place, really old school with a lot of heritage. Most of the folks there were craftsmen, making things that machines do nowadays.” He turned the box in his hands as he spoke. “So on one of our trips into town after a payday we decided to stop by the market district and check out a few things. That’s where we ran into Zoppi Hirose. Fifth generation craftsman or something like that. Had all these designs in the window for custom Pokeballs.”
Dean handed Sammy the box.
“Well I didn’t care for the prices, but your father thought it’d make a nice heirloom to pass down to you someday. Ended up using it catching a rather ornery sunofa- I mean very angry Mankey later on, but the idea was that this become yours one day. When he died, as his commanding officer I had the… pleasure of dealing with the remains of his team. None of them made it out that day either, and protocol said to send the balls in for refurbishment. That’s recycling for reuse in case you didn’t know. Had to do some creative… ah, edits… of the documentation, but I couldn’t let such a piece of art go onto some executive’s belt, especially when it was meant for you. Didn’t know if I’d ever find you to actually give it to you.” Dean’s voice choked up a bit. “Was going to give it to Blaine when he graduated if I hadn’t by then. I’ll just have to head back to Johto to get another one later for him, seeing as fate took over.”
Sammy opened the box.
“Well, anyway, it’s late and I’m the one having to do the delivery for you but… Merry Christmas from your father.”
The first thing that Sammy noticed was the smell. It was the same crispness that was on the breeze at night. A fresh, loamy scent that didn’t evoke anything in particular but was somehow a bit floral. Sammy tried to come up with the word that he heard his grandpa use. Invigorating. He was pretty sure that was the right word. Crescent had returned from the kitchen at some point and was nosing his way through Sammy’s arms to get a whiff of the box. His little nostrils flared as he pressed it directly onto the box, leaving a little wet spot and inhaling deeply.
Much like his namesake, a pale yellow crescent moon lay on the top of the ball surrounded by blue and black metal. Both metal halves were etched with all manner of strange characters that Sammy hadn’t seen before in a ring that encircled the top hemisphere. The moon itself wasn’t made of metal, but Sammy hadn’t seen any material like it before. Lifting the oddly designed Pokeball out of the box, Sammy thought that it was much lighter than he expected. Between Rooster’s ball and now this one, Sammy had little reference for how heavy Pokeballs were supposed to be. As he held the ball in reverence, Sammy didn’t stop staring at it or at Crescent’s inquisitive nose snuffling all over it when Dean spoke up again.
“If I remember right, this was one of the shop’s more custom designs. They called it a ‘Moon Ball’. Something about how it catches a certain type of Pokemon better, but I’m not entirely sure which kind.”
As Sammy looked up in wonderment, his grandfather cleared his throat and spoke up.
“Now, Sandy here was kind enough to check the regulations on Pokemon ownership and told me about some article -”
Sandy’s cut in for a moment. “Article 38.1 Section 2”
“Right… that one. Anyway, it’s about minors in possession of a Pokemon. Basically what it says is that as long as your parent or guardian registers the Pokemon in their name and has it listed as a pet, then a minor -that is to say a kid like you- would be allowed to have the family pet accompany them in public areas so long as they also carry the Pokemon’s ball.”
Sammy blinked slowly as the understanding took its time to come to him.
“That means Crescent can go to school with you, and oh man am I super jealous because I wanted to take Rooster to school with me but Dad has him registered as a personal defense Pokemon and that means I can’t unless Dad is with me, but Dad is usually out doing Trainer things so I can’t.” Blaine spilled out the explanation in a tumble of words.
“Oh.” That was all Sammy could manage.
Roger Oak smiled. “Seeing as the pink rabbit has apparently just moved in on us without so much as a ‘May I please stay here?’ I suppose we better do this thing right. Seems mite wrong to keep an animal cooped up inside all day getting into my snack stash when he could just as well walk you to school. Maybe he’ll be a decent deterrent for them bullies.”
“Now Mister Oak, we talked about that. Sammy can’t, and hopefully wouldn’t ever dare, to threaten someone with a Pokemon.” Sandy’s voice was tight as she glared venom at Sammy’s grandfather. “They’re usually registered just like guns are, and as a League representative-”
“It was just a joke. A little bit of humor from a doddering old man. I know the boy wouldn’t do that.”
“Good, because I hardly-”
“He just doesn’t have to tell the bullies that he wouldn’t!”
“Mister Oak!”
Ignoring the subsequent lecture amid loud guffaws from his grandfather, Sammy turned the ball over and over in his hand.
Guess that was it then.
Sammy was a Trainer now, regardless of whether Crescent was registered as a pet or weapon.