It’s only a short distance to the Memorial Hill. The walk along the path, through the meadows, leaves little time for thought. Before I can drift off, the first graves come into view. Some visited by a few people, others left behind and covered in moss.

Low hedges offer privacy, immersing the resting place in a world where you can actually spend two minutes in solitude. Something that I only savour briefly before my eyes glide over the gravestones. On some, people mourn Pokémon. On others, deceased people have been buried near their favourites. Names upon names in a small field of silence. Not even the surrounding knee-high grasses dare to rustle. Yet I am sure there are Pokémon nearby.

In slow steps, I walk through this world of the deceased, surrendering to the silence and following the labyrinth of small hedges - until I discover a figure crouched next to a grave in a corner. A middle-aged man. His restlessness makes him constantly rock back and forth. His shoulders tremble, he sobs quietly and as I step closer, he only raises his head briefly before shaking and lowering it again.

“Are you all right?” I carefully get down on my knees to place a hand on his leg. “Do you need anything? Can I-“

“Go!” he answers far too loud, pulls his head up and looks at me out of cloudy eyes. The dark bags under his eyes look almost black. “Leave!”

I don’t know what to do. On one side, he looks like someone who needs help. On the other, like a person who is long past any hope. It would probably be better if I left him alone, but my common sense suggests staying. Leaving him in this state would be irresponsible.

“Can I help you?”

“N-No. N-No help...” His gaze drops to his shoes. “I-It’s daytime, b-but ... they’ll come. They always come. I-It won’t stop those monsters.”

I swallow. “What are you talking about?”

“The cursed ones,” he replies in a pointed tone. “The monsters who will rise. The cursed ones, you understand?” This time he moves, grabs my arms and pierces me with his gaze. “You have to let them go! Run away! Hide somewhere! Before they rise again!”

His roar forces my body to flinch. Flight reflexes kick in. Part of me wants to run away, but the rest of me is lost in his eyes. Dark. Inconceivable. Incomprehensible. Whatever he’s talking about, he seems insane. Too crazy for me to believe him. So I free myself from his grip and stumble back a few steps. He looks after me, his hand outstretched in my direction, only briefly, before he buries his face between his fingers. It seems as if I have never spoken to him and yet my heart is hammering against my chest in such panic that I can no longer find peace in the sight of the graves.

The silence drives me away, far from the graves and even further from the stranger who won’t budge. The surrounding meadows begin their scattered rustling under barely perceptible breezes and the heat on my skin sticks to me as a shuddering cold until I reach the straight path on the other side of the cemetery.

From here, it is possible to hike to the Ruins of Life and a quick glance over my shoulder makes the ascent seem more tempting than having to think again about who the “cursed” are. Only the name gives me goose bumps. It’s better not to listen to some fairy tales before lying awake at night with nightmares and questioning your life choices.

I shake my head.

The way up tugs at my muscles. In the end, I’m still sore and the further I get, the more I want to turn back. Scary stories on the flat are more comfortable than adventures in the hills. However, I don’t come to a decision until I’m halfway up the climb and come face to face with a girl who is probably somewhere around my age.

“White hair, purple tips, doesn’t look like she’s from around here...” Without further ado, the stranger tilts her head. “You must be the girl the other two told me about.”

“The other two?” The question leaves my lips faster than I can control. Judging by the look on her face, there’s a vague thought in the back of my mind, but part of me doesn’t want to believe it until she says it.

Meanwhile, my counterpart crosses her arms in front of her chest and sighs. The long side braids sway, clinging to her movements, and for a moment I admire how neatly she has divided her hair into four sections, wearing one half in vibrant pink and the other in piercing blonde. It’s different, wild, and eye-catching enough thanks to her black outfit that it’s hard to look anywhere else.

“The two from the berry farm. They told me how you jumped in and attacked them,” explains the stranger. “I’m Plumeria, a member of Team Skull. I ... keep the gang together. I’m like the big sister of everyone there.”

I could ask her a thousand things, but the fact she’s getting in my way like this doesn’t bode well. And my irritation grows as she lowers her black-painted eyelids.

“You’ve probably noticed that most of Team Skull aren’t the brightest,” Plumeria says. “But I like to think that’s what makes them adorable in their own way. That’s why I can’t just stand by and watch someone tease my cute siblings.” Her eyes open again and the white powdered rims emphasise her harsh stare. Simultaneously, she pulls a Poké Ball out of her black, loose-fitting jogging pants. “I think you understand what I’m getting at?”

A rematch. A fight in which one of us will suffer a defeat. Not necessarily a game I’m keen to get involved in, considering we could settle this easily with our fists. But it’s her decision, and if she sends her Pokémon forward, there’s nothing I can do about it.

“Fine.” I grab one of my Poké Balls too. A quick glance at the worn spots gives me a faint smile. Ying is perfect for occasions like this and she takes in the situation with a glance as I let her out.

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

Plumeria, meanwhile, sends a Salazzle into battle. The hissing of her long tongue reminds me of the Salandit’s raid, which we had to fend off with more effort than necessary. But that’s not the worst of it. In my memories, I am certain that Salazzle is a Fire and Poison-type Pokémon. The latter is a problem we need to be wary of.

“Ying, scratch!” The first thing to do is to measure Salazzle’s strength.

In quick leaps, Ying overcomes the distance to her opponent and extends her claws. Salazzle watches her, barely moving and only raising her long arms at the right moment to fend off the attack. Zorua’s paws strike black lizard claws, bounce off, and her small body flies back in my direction.

She barely catches her breath when I hear Plumeria’s voice. “Toxic!”

“Dodge!” The command rolls over my lips so quickly that Ying only twitches her ears before daring to jump aside - far too soon.

Salazzle hasn’t fully gathered her poison yet. Ying’s sudden movement gives her a chance to adapt and as she spits her sticky slime over to Zorua, Ying narrowly escapes the corrosive saliva with another leap. Purple colour eats into the ground to leave dark stains and elicit an audible gulp from me.

“Tackle! Ram your opponent with force and then scratch!” I keep trying. Salazzle’s mere body is already a problem. It’s so dangerous that for a moment I consider myself lucky to have gone into battle with Ying. Pikipek, being a boy, would probably have fallen for the tantalising smell of her skin.

“Don’t let it get to you! Flame burst!”

As Ying charges at her opponent again, Salazzle takes a deep breath. In the next blink of an eye, she shoots small fireballs at my Zorua, their speed high but unremarkable. Ying realises without hesitation that she has to dodge and just as she makes the first leap back, a whimper escapes her. The fireball hitting the ground sprays sparks, burns her paws and fur. Zorua’s staggering brings her closer to me.

“You need to dodge wide!” I shout at her, catching her quick glance and clenching my fists. I would prefer to intervene. Solving this damn problem with my fists is almost too tempting.

“Your strength isn’t that remarkable,” Plumeria resumes. She doesn’t mock me, nor does she seem surprised at my weakness.

“I’m still practising,” I reply tensely. Punishing her with silence would only complicate the situation unnecessarily. I have to stay relaxed. We’re still in the game. We haven’t lost yet. This situation can end in my favour. I just have to stay alert.

Meanwhile, Ying dodges more fireballs. She has found her rhythm, easily escapes the sparks and just as Salazzle runs out of air, Zorua chases ahead. My previous command still stands and as she thunders head first against her opponent’s body, I can only swallow a small exclamation of joy with difficulty.

Salazzle staggers back two steps. Ying’s claws threaten to land a direct hit. But instead of causing damage, her paws scrape through unsteady, retreating mass. In the next blink of an eye, Salazzle has disappeared into the ball Plumeria is holding out in her direction.

“You’re giving up?” Brows raised, my shoulders slump. The tension evaporates and although I have no idea what’s going on, my heart jumps up and down.

“There’s no reason for me to put up a serious fight against you.” Plumeria shrugs nonchalantly. “You’ve annoyed members of Team Skull and I’ll pay you back in equal coin.” She comes towards me in ambling steps. “The rest is in your hands. If you prove yourself halfway competent, maybe you’ll learn your lesson.”

And with that, she leaves me standing there. No further explanation leaves her lips. Her words make no sense. Sure, the fight could have been tough, but if she backs off in the middle of it and thinks I’ll learn a lesson, she’s no less competent than the rest of Team Skull.

Sighing, I turn my attention to Ying and spread my arms wide. This is our victory, and she deserves all the praise in the world. Her joyful tail wagging brings me to my knees. Some days, she is especially cute. She puts one paw in front of the other, starts to jump, gives a strangely cranky sound - and then she just falls over. A sound of disbelief escapes my throat as I lower my arms and watch her. Her hind legs spasm, gasps escape her little snout and as the first pink bubbles of foam appear, I hold my breath.

Poison.

My thoughts are racing. In a flash, I stumble to her side and press her to my chest. My heart is pounding wildly.

“Ying? Ying, can you hear me?”

She rolls her eyes. Rattling in her throat makes her wheeze, and while I’m looking around for help, Plumeria pops into my head. She knew it.

I can’t locate anyone within range. Putting Zorua in her ball and taking her to the Pokémon Center is out of the question. The poison is faster than me.

There’s nothing useful in my bag. Still, I open it. Balls. Rotom. My potion. Maybe it’ll give me a chance, a little more time.

And then I catch sight of something strange.

With nimble fingers, I fish out thick napkin paper. A note slips to the floor between them. Curved words have been written, but only two of them burn into my retina: heals everything.

I immediately open one packet and pull out what looks like a biscuit. Without thinking, I hold it up to Ying’s snout. Her tongue licks it, then she nibbles off a corner. With every crumb she eats, her breathing becomes calmer. The spasms subside. The foam disappears. She recovers and the knot in my chest bursts. My body collapses as I inhale and exhale shakily while Ying gently wags her tail.

Pressing my lips together, I think of Salazzle and the poison. Plumeria was probably waiting for Zorua to hit with tackle so her Pokémon could release toxic through its skin. It’s hard to believe, but on closer inspection, I was fooled.

“Shit...”

I haven’t been on the loose for long, but I want to believe that I’ve already learnt a few things. So why do the same missteps always prove to be the most effective? It’s always similar problems putting me in scary situations. There is no improvement in sight.

My teeth grind at the realisation, so I shoo the thought away and push it to the back of my mind. Then I turn my attention to the note that has slipped out while I massage Ying’s thigh with one hand.

Lava Cookies, heals everything. So you’re better equipped.

No name. Just the bare essentials. Yet I know this small gift has to be from Amethio. He was the one fumbling round my bag while I was trying to get away from Bellro. It didn’t escape his notice that I don’t have enough money to buy more than a measly potion, even though I also wanted antidote or burn heal. His gestures are barely noticeable, but they know how to draw attention at the right moment.

“Why does everyone else have a better handle on my life than I do?”

My head lowers so it almost lands on Ying’s. The defeats are piling up. I want to do so much at once, take so many leaps and achieve so incredible things that every setback is like a reminder. The fun of travelling is slowly fading, and it’s only been a week since my escape.

Suddenly it makes sense that many people return home after a hasty attempt at adventure. Some don’t make it over three days. Most fail between one and two weeks.

Is that why my father hasn’t tried to call or contact me? Because he thinks I won’t last longer than that, anyway?

“Damn...”

I should keep walking, but my legs won’t move. I’m not ready to get up and pretend everything is fine.

My heart needs a little more time.

And for a second, I want to believe it’s okay to want to go home.