----------------------------------------

CHAPTER I

GOODNIGHT, KAKUNA VILLAGE ...

----------------------------------------

(-o-)

I moved to Kakuna Village when I was seven. A tranquil and welcoming settlement not far from the city of Viridian. Thick woods, river streams, and open fields lay all around, but the wild pokémon that inhabited the area were so used to people that they were considered harmless. Berri trees and vines grew in plenty within their seasons, often attracting groups of Butterfree that people, especially kids, enjoyed playing with. Despite its rural setting, there was running tap water and electricity, though outages could occur every now and again.

I moved here from Rustboro City, in Hoenn, when domestic troubles had reached a tipping point.

After months of custody struggles, my parents weren’t on the best of terms and decided to settle the matter with a Pokémon battle right in the middle of the living room. It started off as a joke, but when my dad brought out his Treeko, my mother’s Zigzagoon took it as threat, heckles raised and baring its tiny fangs. They fought with little provocation, screeching and darting after each other, singularly focused on tearing each other to pieces, never mind who or what was in the way. The battle didn’t last very long. The damage did.

In fact, I still live with it today.

One of Treeko’s razor-sharp leaves sliced across my face and left me one-eyed. They rushed me to the hospital, but aside from pain relief, the medical team could do nothing about by sight. My left eye was permanently blind.

When my grandmother heard the news, she wouldn’t let my parents hear the end of it. Gran had always had a soft spot for her son-in-law, my father, but I think she lost it after what happened to me. She took me in, no help needed from the law. Both my parents knew how bad it would look if it went to the authorities and agreed I could do with some months in the countryside. Neither of them would win custody, and Grandma would have some human company around the house. Nobody expected the move to become a permanent thing.

The closer I grew to Gran, the less I wanted to see of my parents. I didn’t hate them, but it just wasn’t the same. I could see the look of guilt on them whenever they looked me in the face, and I don’t think they liked being reminded of their mistake so often. Gran had become my home, though it did take me weeks to get used to her Oddish when I first moved in.

My blind eye still gets an annoying and un-scratchable itch whenever I get overly nervous. One of the side-effects of being violently traumatized as a child, I was told.

It’s fair to say I’ve kept a cautious distance from pokémon ever since. That never mattered in the past, but now… well let’s just say that it may very well come back to bite me in the butt.

***

It must have all began when that van turned up three days ago, because strange things started happening soon after. That night, I woke up feeling so nauseous I almost threw up. Like someone had used defibrillators on my brain. I found Grandma up too. And apparently, so was half the village.

Gran was busy brewing some tea when we got a knock on the door from a neighbor asking for sleeping powder. The Oddish became a Gloom a couple years ago. Her name is Glee, and Gran used to harvest her powder frequently, keeping it in jars. Neighbors asking for herbal remedies was nothing new. She was like the village apothecarist of sorts. She gave a few doses out and we returned to bed with no more interruptions.

The next night, when it happened again, I knew something was going on. We went outside and saw nearby neighbors gathering. Everyone in pajamas. If it hadn’t been for the churning in my gut, I’m sure it would have felt like a fun little nighttime bash.

“You folks too?” said Mr Abde, our closest neighbor. Mrs Abde and their six-year-old, Noelia, were with him. Noelia had a frown on her face and looked quite uncomfortable. Her mother was cradling her, rocking slightly from side to side.

“What’s wrong with the child?” Gran said.

Noelia didn’t even look up.

“She’s got a bit of a headache. She’ll be alright,” Mrs Abde replied evenly.

“It’s that darned professor, mark my words!” Myke said, a twenty-year-old laborer. He usually worked in the greenhouses and sometimes helped out at school. He knew his way around tools and handy stuff like that. “We ought’a pay his lab a visit, I say! … see what he’s up to!”

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

Mr Abde laughed but didn’t say anything. He got on well with the professor, said that our village was put on the map thanks to people like him.

Professor Cid was a wiry old man. He had such an odd, touristy look about him that even after being here for the past six months, he still stuck out like a sore thumb. He spent most of his time in his lab and refused to wear normal clothes. He was always in his grey lab-coat, and wore a pair of trendy, tinted glasses that hung from his neck on the rare occasion that he wasn’t wearing them. They made clinking sounds whenever he moved, like a Meowth with a bell on its neck, and many of us knew him as ‘the old cat’ for it.

He visited the local school a few times, speaking of the wonders of Pokémon and how his research hoped to bridge the gap between the natural and supernatural. He always talked about the same thing. Made it easy to remember.

“Why would you think such a thing, Myke? The professor is a good man. He has helped around here many times, you know that,” Gran said.

“Yeah, true, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t gettin’ somethin’ in return. That new van looks real sketchy. We saw them offload somethin’ big last night.”

I felt my blind eye begin to itch when I heard that.

“I agree! Let’s pay him a visit! What’s all the hush-hush for?” Albert, another neighbor and Myke’s age-mate said.

So, on the second night, a group of us ended up going over to the lab. We stopped by the new van just outside. It didn’t have a number plate.

“It’s super fishy. Parked up for two whole days, no plates, no lights home.” Myke tutted. “This guy is up to somethin’.”

He was the only one with enough guts to knock on the door, the rest of us stood close by behind him. When no one answered, he tried again, and again.

The security lamps came on, blasting us with light and we shrank back.

We watched as the professor fumbled with some keys, glasses on his forehead, looking somewhat annoyed. His wispy, graying hair bobbing around with the slightest movement. He eyed us from behind the sliding doors as his hands worked on the locks. My eye was itching quite furiously at this point, and I had to close it tight.

“Gentlemen!” Professor Cid said when the doors opened. “How can I help?” There was no hiding his irritation. I think I would have been able to tell even without my good eye.

“A-ah professor, howdie,” Myke said, most of the bravado from earlier gone. “We’re just checkin’ up on you. Some of us been having a hard time sleepin’, ya see. We were wonderin’ if everything was alright on your end.”

“Trouble sleeping?” The professor said, eyes glinting. “And you thought to share it, eh?”

“A-ah, no! We just thought – w-well ya see –”

“It’s the second night in a row, professor!” Albert exclaimed, making up for Myke’s sudden shyness. I think he felt like the professor was responsible even though his only proof were half-baked suspicions.

The professor adjusted the glasses on his forehead. “Care to explain?”

“We were wondering if you could explain.”

“Me?” Prof Cid said sourly. “Am I being accused of something here?”

“No! Nothin’ like that prof!” Myke said quickly. “We were just wonderin’ is all.” He glanced over at the van.

The professor regarded us quietly for a moment. It felt like he was memorizing our faces and pegging us in the category of ‘troublemakers (use as lab rats)’.

“The van? Has the van got your panties in a bunch?” the professor said with dubiousness. “Want to see what’s inside?”

The itching in my eye felt like termites crawling all around my eye-socket. It hadn’t been that bad in a long time. I had to massage it with my fingers, but it helped only slightly.

“Is he alright?” the professor asked, gesturing at me.

“I-I’m fine,” I said, rubbing at my eye. Myke knew me well enough to know that I didn’t like attention drawn to my eye. I was thankful when he skipped over the question.

“It’s got no plates, prof. Just seems a bit odd. It turns up in town, this happens… it’s got some peeps spooked.”

The professor laughed as he walked to the van. “I can assure you that all my goods are legally obtained!”

He opened the rear doors and all of us tripped over each other, trying to get a look as the inner lights switched on.

Inside was a box-like thing, big as a washing machine and with a large, rectangular chamber in the center. It had six circular clamps lined up in two rows of three. A dark, faded metal exterior with silver tubes of different sizes ran along its sides vertically. Although the color scheme was different, I recognized it quickly. A pokéball incubator. A healing machine. Industry grade at least. The others recognized it too.

The professor began to explain before we had a chance to assume anything.

“As you’re probably aware, I study Pokémon. It so happens that without such appliances, I find myself having to commute a bit too frequently for my liking.”

A pokéball incubator? In our village? This would be great news for many people. If the professor’s presence hadn’t put us on the map, this definitely would. Trainers would make this a pit stop. We’d be seeing more pokémon, and more frequently too!

I dreaded the idea.

That night, we ended up helping Professor Cid carry the thing into his lab. Nobody remembered to ask him about the machine he had carried inside the previous night. I probably would have if I hadn’t felt so awkward about my itching and twitching episode. I probably would have if I’d thought it mattered.

I don’t think it would have made a difference though.

That’s what I told myself ten times a day. It’s what I told myself before I slept.

By the third night, it was already too late.

(-x-)