After a very slow walk, his neck craned upward as he searched the sky in vain for another glimpse of the mystery Pokémon, Slate finally reached the edge of Almony’s residential district. Beginning the journey down the long, winding road that led to the village below, he released Cryote from its capsule. They had a stop to make.
“You ready, boy?” Slate asked the pup.
Cryote replied with a nod, a soft bark, and a determined glare, then began sniffing around. It followed its snout off the road and into the undergrowth. Slate trailed a few paces behind. After a few minutes, Cryote signaled to Slate that it had caught the scent, and the pair took off, deeper into the tree line of the sloping hill.
Soon enough, Slate caught up to the pup, which had paused ahead of a rocky protuberance in the cliff face. The outlines of several slumbering Pokémon were just about visible, veiled in the shadow of their natural shelter and the surrounding brush.
Cryote announced its presence with a howl, and the Pokémon showed clear signs of movement. Suddenly, four more Cryote emerged from the darkness and assembled before their den. Unlike Slate’s snowy white companion, these Cryote were gray in color.
Keeping one hand on Eevee’s Poké Ball just in case, Slate watched on as a cacophony of barks, growls, and snarls ensued. One of the wild Cryote seemed particularly vicious. It bared its teeth and snapped its jaw with every utterance.
Despite their number, Slate’s Cryote remained calm as it faced off with its former pack, its fuchsia eyes staring down their turquoise ones.
Slate couldn’t help but fill with pride. Before they left the island, he figured his Cryote deserved the chance to confront the packmates that had ostracized it.
After another minute of back and forth, the wild pups showed no sign of relenting, and the most vocal of the bunch abruptly released an Echoed Voice. Cryote was ready, though. It returned fire with a booming bark of its own. The incoming sound wave was swallowed by the trained Pokémon’s superior one, which went on to blast the opponent.
The foe was lifted off its feet and sent hurtling into the cliff face. It fell to the floor, unmoving. Its compatriots growled aggressively but began to back away. Just then, a deep howl reverberated around the area.
Slate couldn’t tell where it had originated until he spotted movement in the wild Cryote’s den again. From further in, a fifth creature appeared. It closely resembled the others but was at least three times larger, with a longer snout and tail, and a different fur pattern on its more mature and menacing face.
The other wild Cryote whimpered and parted as their larger ally approached with bared fangs. Slate’s Cryote attempted communication, but the unknown monster fired an Echoed Voice without warning. Once again, Cryote responded in kind, but unlike before, the two sound waves collided with a deafening thunderclap and canceled each other out.
Consulting his Pokédex, slate thought back to the day he met Cryote, yelling like a lunatic while waving that big stick around, and envisaged five attackers fleeing the scene, not four. *Ping*.
SPECIES
#066 Bayta
DERIVATION
Bay + Beta
CATEGORY
Howling
COLORING
Gray
Dark Gray
Turquoise
TYPE
Normal
-
ABILITIES
Rattled
Anticipation
Quick Feet
DETAILS
When around others of their kind, they are known to compete for dominance. The losers of these contests often break off from the pack to lead groups of Cryote.
Evidently, one of the pack members had evolved. "So, this is Cryote’s evolved form, huh?” Slate said to himself, imagining what a Shiny version would look like. He had wondered previously whether Cryote’s evolved form would become dual type upon evolving. Apparently, it wouldn’t. That was okay, though. Bayta was still a cool-looking Pokémon, and pretty much what he had expected.
Cryote held its ground and tried to communicate again, but the Bayta charged.
“Doesn’t look like he’s going to listen, boy,” said Slate. “Let’s show ‘em what you’re made of. It’s secret combo time!”
Cryote barked affirmatively and crouched down.
Just as the Bayta lunged with its open jaw, Cryote sprung upward and twisted in the air, then released an Echoed Voice at the opponent below.
Sandwiched between the pulse and the ground, the Bayta took the full strength of the attack, its legs sprawling beneath it. Before it knew what had happened, Cryote had landed hard on its back and bitten its neck. The Bayta yelped in pain. It got to its feet and thrashed hard, but Cryote held on with its mouth clamped down.
“Just how we practiced,” Slate remarked with pride, marveling at Cryote’s use of one of its new moves, Bite.
Eventually, the larger Pokémon managed to shake Cryote free, flinging it into the air, but airborne attacks had become second nature to Slate’s Pokémon during their target practice sessions.
“Use Bellow!” Slate ordered.
Cryote complied, releasing its guttural stream of sound waves as it fell. Despite, the circumstances, the move hit its mark, causing the Bayta clear signs of mental anguish. The pup landed deftly on all fours in Slate’s vicinity, where they exchanged glances. Their foe was shaking but snarling aggressively. It didn’t appear ready to submit.
“Finish it with Headbutt,” said Slate, and Cryote dashed forward.
In response, the Bayta fired one last Echoed Voice, but Cryote deftly dodged the incoming blast and picked up speed. Once in range, it launched itself skull-first, channeling all its momentum into the base of its foe’s neck. The impact sent the now unconscious Bayta flying in the direction of its pack, who watched in silent disbelief.
Cryote howled in triumph.
To Slate’s surprise, the gray pups then stepped around their fallen leader and gave what appeared to be a deferential bow to their white counterpart. Cryote barked out a message, which Slate presumed to be something along the lines of, “too little, too late,” and departed with its snout held high.
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With it still being so early when Slate reached Marcona Village, he stopped in at the High Street coffee shop. Its early opening hours made it popular among Almony Island’s ferry-bound commuters, who could often be seen sporting corrugated card cups or travel mugs. Currently, however, there were only two other patrons inside.
Slate unabashedly ordered a hot chocolate with whipped cream and sprinkles, then took a seat on an overstuffed leather sofa. The nearby customers were deep in conversation, which he couldn’t help but overhear.
“I don’t know what to do,” said one young woman to another. “I’m completely cut off from my family. They must be worried about me.”
“I know what you mean,” her friend replied, “My boyfriend is away on business in Unova. This is the longest we’ve ever gone without speaking.”
“I’m thinking about leaving, you know.”
“You’re not serious?”
“Coming to Nutera was supposed to be this big opportunity to establish a presence in an untapped market, but how are we supposed to run a business without internet or even a phone line?”
“Well, I suppose you wouldn’t be the first to leave. A bunch of Pistachion businesses have closed shop. The mayor was talking about it on the news. If something isn’t done soon, the region’s capital city is going to become a ghost town.”
One of the women checked her watch. “Come on, the ferry will be here soon,” she said, and the pair exited the shop.
Slate recalled their conversation as he made his way over to Professor Larch’s apartment half an hour later. He hadn’t given much thought to how the rest of Nutera was coping with the current situation. Apparently, there were people cut off from their families, losing their livelihoods, and maybe even struggling to survive. Then, there were all the other memory sickness victims at the hospital that day... And it was all because of Team Shade.
Attempting to banish the creeping anger and negative thoughts from his mind, Slate shook his head. There was no point in getting worked up. He would do something about Team Shade eventually. For now, his mission was to gather information on them from a distance, while improving his skills as a Trainer. That, however, could take some time, so he wanted to say a proper goodbye to his mother.
Upon arriving at Professor Larch’s apartment, Slate didn’t knock on the door. Instead, he sent the professor a text, saying he was outside. He didn’t want to appear during one of his mother’s episodes if it could be avoided. After a few minutes, locks and chains could be heard beyond the door, and it opened.
The kind, bespectacled face of Professor Larch appeared in the doorway, her light-brown hair tied up in its usual messy bun. She welcomed him inside, where Heather Davy stood with a smile on her face. She immediately stepped forward and embraced her son tightly.
“How are you doing, honey?” she spoke into his ear. “How’s your training going? How are Eevee and Cryote? Are you eating right?”
“I’m fine. We’re fine,” Slate insisted, grinning widely. “How are you?”
“Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ve just had a lapse, so we should be good to talk for a few minutes!”
“Slate, hand me your Poké Glove,” said the professor. “When I registered your Pokédex with your Trainer ID the last time you were here, I forgot to do the same with your glove. I’ll take care of that while you two sit and catch up.”
After releasing Eevee, who leaped into his mother’s lap, Slate explained what he had been up to over the last month, speaking rather faster than usual but omitting any details about his diet.
Seeing his mother smile and nod, listening with rapt attention as he recounted details of his training, it was hard to believe that she was sick. Somehow, it felt like everything was as before. In the back of his mind, though, Slate knew that there was no going back now. Once he left the apartment, he would be embarking on an adventure that would change his life forever.
“Okay, here we are,” announced the professor, returning from her kitchen with Slate’s glove in one hand, and a strange device in the other. The latter was a metallic box, about the size and shape of a large toaster, and with a handle on top.
“What’s this?” Slate asked when both items were presented to him, and his mother pulled out a tiny red parcel from behind a sofa cushion.
“Happy birthday!” said Professor Larch and Heather in unison.
“Happy…what?” said Slate, his mouth agape.
“Happy birthday!” Heather repeated.
“You didn’t forget you were turning sixteen today, did you?” asked the professor.
“I… I guess I did. Today is the fifteenth? I didn’t even realize it was September.”
Heather chuckled. “Well, no wonder! It sounds like you’ve been working hard. I can see the change in Eevee. His fur’s so shiny and he even looks a bit more muscular. I was never much of a Trainer, but it looks like he’s in good hands with you!”
Eevee squeaked approvingly at this.
“Open it, then!” urged the professor.
“Huh?” said Slate, still dazed. “Err, how?”
“Press the button at the bottom, then twist the handle and pull.”
Slate did so, removing the metallic cover from the base of the device like lifting a cloche from a fancy dinner. Beneath the protective cover, the base unit held a glass canister, which housed a large, spotted egg.
“It’s an incubator,” the professor elucidated.
“With a Pokémon egg! For me?” added Slate excitedly. “Oh, wow! What kind is it?”
“That’s a surprise!” said Heather.
“Even from us,” the professor added cryptically with a raised eyebrow. “Actually, it could be one of two Pokémon. You see, after I left my lab, I took the final two eggs from my starter Pokémon breeding program with me. I was planning to restart it, but with things the way they are, I decided to give one to April before she left. She couldn’t make her mind up which she wanted, so she mixed them up and chose at random.”
“So, I won’t know what’s inside until it hatches?”
“Or until April’s hatches.”
“But it’s a Nuteran starter Pokémon?”
“Yes. Not one of the four Silph offer now, though,” the professor said with a note of disdain. “One of the three that I used to offer new Trainers who purchased a Deluxe Starter Set.”
“It seems only fitting that you both get a starter after Silph canceled our orders for you and April,” said Heather.
“This is so cool, thank you! How long will it take to hatch, Professor?”
“Well, hatch rates vary from species to species,” she replied thoughtfully, reminding Slate of her daughter for a moment, “but as long as you keep it incubated, it should hatch within the month.”
“And, err, April…? I take it she’s not joining me?” asked Slate.
The professor’s expression and demeanor changed noticeably. “Ah, no, I’m afraid not,” she said. “Not now at least. I can’t get a straight answer out of her one way or the other to be honest. She’s been very cagey about what she’s up to. I’m going to try to get the truth out of August, though, and I’ll let you know if I do.”
Slate had been expecting this, but it was still a little disappointing. “And what’s this?” he said, changing the subject and turning his attention to his mother’s gift, which fit in the palm of his hand.
“It’s not much. Just a little something for luck,” said Heather apprehensively as Slate unwrapped the small parcel. Inside the red paper was an iridescent gem on a simple gold chain, the necklace that Heather often wore, a memento of her late husband. “Like I said, it’s not much, but I’ve also topped up your Trainer Account with some League Points. I can’t exactly go shopping right now, or even order online for that mat—”
“No, I love it!” Slate interrupted with a hug. “Are you sure, though? I know you don’t have a lot of dad’s old things.”
They separated and Heather beamed while nodding vehemently, “Your dad would have wanted you to have it.”
The two of them admired the beautiful jewel in silence for a few moments, as did Eevee, who seemed mesmerized by it. Then, the professor cleared her throat, and said, “Right, well, Pistachion City should still be your destination. Silph Co.’s regional headquarters is based there.”
“Right,” said Slate.
“So is the Pistachion Chronicle,” added Heather. “Go there and talk to my colleague, Joseph Quinn. Before communications were cut off, he hinted that he had some information on Team Shade.”
“Okay,” said Slate, getting to his feet and gathering up his things.
“Jan says there’s also a League Gym in Pistachion, so you’ll be able to put your training to the test!”
“Got it,” said Slate, trying to keep his sentences short as a rush of emotion came over him.
Heather was teary-eyed. She reached out, hugged her son once more, and kissed him on the cheek. However, when she pulled back, Slate could tell that there had been a shift. He had stayed too long.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she said accusatorily. “Who are you?”
“I’m your… I’m no one. Just a visitor,” Slate replied with a heavy heart. “I’m leaving now. Come on, Eevee.”
The Pokémon looked confused but followed Slate to the door.
“Jan, is that you? What’s going on here?”
“It’s alright, Heather, everything’s okay,” said the professor calmly, placing her hands on the woman’s shoulders. “Don’t worry about things here, Slate. Good luck, be safe, and keep us updated.”
“Don’t dismiss me, Jan. I asked what’s going on here!” Heather continued indignantly.
Slate didn’t want to leave but knew he had to. His presence would only make things worse. He silently nodded goodbye to the professor and exited the apartment without looking back.
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