The hotel next to the Pokémon Center lives up to its promise. The reception area is huge, the furnishings rustic yet homely, and in every corner, there is a vending machine with a selection of hot and cold drinks. They’ve even thought of a seating area with comfortable armchairs and low tables – a place where you can unwind when you’ve got nowhere else to go.
Half in thought, I run my fingertips over the seat cushion at my side. The soft fabric tickles my skin and arouses the desire to lie down and let the day pass. But I’m sure my thoughts wouldn’t find peace despite everything.
Pressing my lips together, I think of N; of his words, his wishes, his plans, and the possibility that he could play a significant role in Team Plasma. His ideas go wonderfully along with what this organisation is trying to convey. That said, he doesn’t give off the air of an entrenched young man who would insist on his opinion when shown that the world between humans and Pokémon is better than what he imagines. Sure, it’s not perfect and there are many points for improvement, but I think it’s worth working on these areas rather than resetting everything.
“Is everything okay? You look tired.” As Conia comes into view, two bottles of lemonade in hand, I try to push N out of my thoughts.
“Just a little exhausted,” I reply.
Her furrowed brows refuse to believe me, but she avoids asking. She probably knows our circumstances are already strange enough, considering she’s supposed to be on her way back to Castelia City. Instead, she’s stayed here, as if she wants to watch Spinel before he gets the stupid idea of robbing Amethio of another success – in whatever sense.
As soon as she pushes a bottle under my nose and leans back, my thoughts threaten to drift off again – to Amethio and Spinel, to the problems between them and the question of what they are working on.
“Lillie’s been in touch,” Conia begins out of nowhere. “She sent us a letter, but you weren’t at headquarters, so I was carrying it around with me in case I ran into you.”
“A letter?” The thoughts fade. “Why a letter? She could have written or called us with Rotom...”
“She could have, but Lillie just couldn’t stop herself.” Smirking, Conia digs an envelope out of the grey shoulder bag she took from her room twenty minutes ago to go through her inventory and give me some of the powder she and the others carry as standard equipment.
When I pick up the letter and open the already detached flap, it is sky-blue paper facing me. Carefully, I pull it out, unfold it and glimpse at the curved writing, eliciting a smile from me.
Dear Domino and Conia,
I know I could have reached you with Rotom, but they sell
wonderful stationery here and somehow I couldn’t get rid of the thought
that a letter would be nice. Maybe a bit old-fashioned, but who says we have to
move with the times?
I am addressing this letter to both of you because you have asked me
the same questions and since you are following the same path,
I thought it would be much nicer if we were all together for a moment.
Both of you bent over my text.
It’s probably childish, but I miss you and a video call
would certainly have made it worse. Besides, I’ve caught a
cold and didn’t want you to see me like this.
I’m fine. Mum is being treated by Bill and Guzma is with her all the time.
Sometimes he holds her hand when she’s unsure, and I think
they are getting a little closer every day. It’s strange to see my mum learning to
let go, but I am also happy that she is finally
moving forward. At least, I think she is. Please don’t take all this too
seriously. These are just my impressions and I can’t say for sure if
maybe I’m not just imagining all this.
“Guzma and Lusamine?” My brows lift. I can vaguely imagine it, considering he followed that woman into Ultra Space. But on the other hand, it’s hard to believe that a gangster like Guzma could win over a successful woman like Lusamine.
“The way you look, I’m almost glad I never met either of them,” sighs Conia. “Zir described them for me. They seem very different in ... everything.”
“They are. But maybe that’s why they’re getting closer.” My gaze falls back on Lillie’s pretty handwriting.
Bill said that the treatment could take up to six months.
That’s a long time and I have a lot of it for myself. So I took the
first step towards my goal and applied for a part-time job
at a Pokémon Center. They will train me and show me how to help
Pokémon in need. Bill has also offered me the chance to introduce myself
to a largebusiness dealing with herbal remedies. It’sa place
where maybe, one day, I can create new aids when I’m ready.
You can imagine how excited I am!
I feel like everything is finally falling into place.
I also got my first Pokémon as a present! It’s so cute!
If I can get it to hold still for a few seconds, I’ll send you pictures.
Mum got it for me because she thought we had a certain similarity.
It’s a Vulpix! From Alola! All white and fluffy, if a little cold.
Oh, one thing I almost forgot to mention is that Gladion
has gone his own way. Barely two days after we arrived in Kanto
he packed his things and set off on his own journey.
He and mum haven’t spoken further. Still, I hope that when he comes
back one day, they will talk to each other. At the moment, he
seems to want to get stronger and challenge a few Pokémon Gyms.
I really hope he takes care of his Null.
How is your research going? Has anything changed and are you getting by?
I very much hope to see you again soon.
Please stay healthy and take care of yourselves.
With love
Lillie
“Sounds like she’s doing really well in Kanto.” I carefully fold the paper. “She’s progressing.”
Conia’s reply is merely a sound of agreement before the silence swallows us. Somewhere in between, I hand the letter back to her, so she carefully tucks it away among her things. It seems there is nothing to say between us; no further attempts at warning me about Spinel or otherwise trying to make me wary. Her gaze wanders around the room as aimlessly as mine, and although I would much rather be lost in my thoughts, I eventually make an attempt at conversation.
“Any news from Amethio?”
Conia shakes her head. “He passes on a few tasks to Zir and me from time to time, but apart from that, we haven’t seen him for a while.”
A sound of understanding escapes me, but the shallow thirst for knowledge doesn’t fade. Although I’m supposed to be part of this team, I know next to nothing about any of them. In fact, I could probably tell as much about them as I could about Spinel – who I’ve only known for a few days. So I lean forward, rest my elbows on my knees, and put my head in my hands. I don’t even know where to start to get closer to Conia or the other two.
“You look like you’d like to know more about Amethio.” Conia notices my thoughts too, so she crosses her legs and leans back. “We can use the time. If possible, I’ll answer your questions.”
“Are you sure?” My brows lift. “I wanted to ask back at Malie Garden, but ... I didn’t know if it was too soon. And since then, I don’t feel like much has changed.”
“It’s hard to bring someone new into an old team. We ... have all known each other since we were little,” replies Conia. “We practically grew up together. At some point ... Amethio disappeared for a few years. During that time, it was just Zir and me.” She closes her eyes briefly, as if remembering the past; the days when she might often have stopped thinking about Amethio. “At some point, he came back and offered us his hand. Neither Zir nor I knew what we should do at the time and which path we should take in life. The years were hard, and we had to ... keep our heads above water with stolen things. It’s a very long story that eventually brought us back together and we were appointed Amethio’s assistants.”
Her story remains vague, full of holes and assumptions that I could fill in but don’t. The curiosity in me still flares up, but Conia doesn’t give the impression of wanting to share her memories with me here and now. The wall between us is still too thick, too present, too obvious. It will probably be much longer before anyone shares the story between them with me. Until then, I’ll make do with breadcrumbs.
“How about small steps?” I suggest. “Whenever the opportunity arises and I find a question for the moment, you answer it for me.”
“That almost sounds like a game.” A smirk forms on Conia’s lips. “I’m in, if you let me return questions.”
“Then tell me something about yourself for today.”
“About me?”
Half in thought, I put a hand to my chin. “For example ... how did you get your Golduck?”
Her eyes widen for a moment before she purses her lips and presses two fingers to her temples. “The memory still gives me a headache to this day...”
“Was it that bad?”
“Probably. But somehow not.”
“Stop right there, you thieving Meowth!”
The breath rushes across her lips like hot southerly winds as she presses the stolen ham tighter to her chest and digs her slightly greasy fingers into the flesh. Her throat burns as fiery as her muscles, her eyes fixed on the horizon, where freedom awaits her.
But she doesn’t reach that world out there before she collides with someone and staggers into an alley where she catches herself for two breaths. Her body trembles. Yet she forces herself onwards as she hears the hurried footsteps of the butcher behind her.
Her scrawny legs drag her along the alley, down a fork that carries her past wild Meowth. They dig through the rubbish, drowning out her movements with metallic crackling and banging that gives Conia a sense of security. So she stops, takes a deep breath and tastes the foul odour of rotten fruit on her tongue. The hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Then she swallows dryly.
“There you are!”
As the butcher’s narrow face peers round the corner, she feels an electric shock. His heavy hooked nose seems to have tracked her down like a Lechonk and every fibre in her body begins to scream. She has to run away, but she can’t move. Her legs are too tired, her stomach too empty. The four days without food have taken their toll on her.
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Meanwhile, the butcher approaches, his hand clenched into a fist. He is ready to take the ham from her and handle her the way they punish petty thieves. She knows it. It’s not the first time someone has slapped their hand in her face and spat at her for not running away fast enough.
“If you want something, go work for it, you little brat!”
With every step this man takes towards her, he looks a little taller. The alley is already full of shadows, but his figure casts a suffocating darkness over her.
Conia wants to run away, escape. The ham can stay behind if that saves her. All she has to do is throw it away, release it from her rigid fingers and keep running as if she were as immortal as the sun that shines far above them every day. But her hands won’t let go of the flesh and as she stumbles back a step, her legs shake so hard she falls to her knees. The impact rubs through her worn trousers, causing her to lower her head. Pain elicits a hiss from her, causing scattered strands of hair to stick to her lips.
“I’m going to teach you what happens when you put your hands on things you-” He breaks off as if he’s lost for words. “What the-?”
She doesn’t want to look up, doesn’t want to fall into any traps, but when she sees light-coloured feet and a short, yellow tail, Conia can’t stop herself. Her gaze rises, travelling along the round shape of a Psyduck standing in front of her and tilting its head as if it doesn’t understand the situation it has walked into.
A croaking sound escapes its throat before it turns to Conia and snatches at the ham, causing her to fall backwards onto her bum. The butcher snorts.
It’s a strangely twisted moment where she has to take advantage of the circumstances. If this Pokémon wants some of her stolen goods, she’s willing to share if it will help her. So she points at her pursuer. “Do something! Anything! Tackle! Scratch! Water gun!”
“You don’t really think this creature would do anything for you, do you?” Once again, the butcher takes a step towards Conia.
Maybe he’s right. Maybe she’s just too desperate to not believe that a stranger Pokémon would help her. But it’s probably just as hungry as she and Zir and her grandparents, who live on the outskirts of the city and barely have enough to feed themselves, let alone two children.
“Please...” Her lips quiver. Heat burns on her cheeks and she pulls her legs closer to her torso.
“It was an unpleasant day,” sighs Conia, before shaking her head. “I sometimes still can’t believe I got away.”
“So Psyduck saved you from the butcher?” My hands bury into my skirt. The bond between her and Golduck seems to have been formed in almost the same way as the one between me and Coro.
“More or less.” She puts a hand on her forehead. “She turned around full of vigour to help me. But I’d given her too many orders to work with. As a result, she tripped over her own feet in the rush, ran in front of the butcher’s legs and shot him in the face with a water gun out of fright. He then fell over – it wasn’t really strong, but this sudden turnaround had affected him – and I grabbed this Psyduck by the arm and ran away. We’ve been a team ever since, even if she didn’t get into a ball until much later.”
“And you shared your ham with her?”
A smirk settles on Conia’s lips. “I gave her two slices and then went in search of berries. Nature is vast and, with a little effort, I could pick a few from a tree.”
“Couldn’t you have lived off the berries?”
She shakes her head. “My grandparents worked hard to provide food, at least with a little money. We often thought about hunting to put other necessary things on the table, but grandfather was a poor marksman. Grandmother couldn’t handle the rifle. I was too weak and Zir couldn’t bring himself to shoot. He tried several times and burst into tears, so all the Pokémon ran away from him.”
I find it hard to imagine how Zir, a guy so strong and big, could once have been so vulnerable. It’s fascinating and yet her story raises more questions. She and Zir don’t seem to be siblings and yet they grew up together – probably even in the same house. But I can’t ask any more questions. Conia has given me a piece of the puzzle and it’s up to me to hold on to it until she tells me more.
“How about you?” As Conia leans forward, my thoughts fade. “How did you get your team?” She waves me off. “Just as a sideline, I also have a Skarmory I received as a gift after joining the Explorers.”
A faint nod washes over me. My encounters aren’t nearly as sweet as her meeting with Psyduck. “Zoroark was a gift from my mum when I was a little girl. I met Trumbeak a bit like you met your Golduck. He stood in for Ying when we were about to lose a battle for our freedom. He was still a Pikipek then. Growlithe, however, was given to me by a berry farmer who wanted to give her the opportunity for an adventure. She didn’t do very well on the farm.” My eyelids droop. “You know about the other two.”
“Eevee, who was forced on you as an egg by Amethio, and Mimikyu, who let you fall into a trap at the supermarket.” A humming escapes her throat. “A lot has happened to you in a short time.”
“There’s no denying that.”
“Does your father know about the Pokémon voices you hear?”
My shoulders slump. “He does ... I think.”
“Memory gaps?”
“Too many.”
“Is that why you wanted to go travelling? To get your memories back?”
“No.” I shake my head gently. “I wanted to escape the confinement ... my father’s ideas of never coming into contact with Pokémon – except Ying. I wanted freedom, to get out of the cage I’d been living in and experience something.” A soundless laugh escapes me. “At first, I just wanted to run away. That was the most important thing for me and you were the best jump I could take. Then Lillie suddenly came with me to fulfil her own goals and desires. When, for the first time, I thought I didn’t have to worry about escaping any longer, the idea of being a professor fell into my lap. It was just a wild, detached thought that quickly grew on me, considering all the mysteries we’ve seen in Alola.” I fold my hands carefully. “And since I’ve been here, I’ve realised that there are a lot of things I haven’t thought about. I mean ... there’s a goal, but I still feel like I’m stumbling through a completely unknown world ... like my goal isn’t enough.”
“I think I understand what you mean,” replies Conia. “If you get too hung up on one thing and allow it to take over your whole life, a world after that seems completely out of place.”
“Have you ever thought about what you want to do someday after the Explorers? I mean, we’ll probably all retire one day.”
She waves it off. “I’ve never thought about it. Right now, I’m living for Amethio. What happens after that ... I’ll find out at some point.”
I’m glad I’m not alone in my uncertainty about the future, because even though I want to be a professor, I still lack a goal to pursue in this field. When I look at my Pokémon, at Ying sitting next to Coro by the window and at Mirra throwing food for Raya to catch, N comes to mind. His words, his dreams, his ideas and the certainty that humans and Pokémon don’t get along in every place. Just like I don’t with Eevee.
“There ... was a boy the other day ... someone who probably is part of Team Plasma,” I begin slowly, dragging Conia’s attention back to me. “He seems to feel the same way. He can’t see the future. His and everyone else’s, even though he has so many ideas and ideals...”
“Plasma? That wacky cult that wants to separate Pokémon from their owners? Are you sure?”
I nod. “His name is N. He’s ... trying to find out if the Pokémon are happy. Like me, he doesn’t seem to have been on the loose for long, and the world he’s facing now is confusing. In some corners, Pidove is showered with dirt and in others it is kept as a loving pet Pokémon. Some trainers abandon their Pokémon, as I heard from Mirra, and others try to give their Pokémon the best when travelling. One lets his Pokémon bleed to death, and the other drops to his knees and does everything he can to save his partner’s life. There are so many opposites that I understand his thoughts and also Plasma’s to a certain extent. You certainly shouldn’t support them, but changing something...” My gaze lowers. “What’s it like inside a Poké Ball? How do the Pokémon sent to the storage system by their trainers live?”
“I suppose those are questions we’ll have to answer scientifically at some point.” Conia also averts her eyes. “Or they’re things we’ll never know.”
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》WHISPERS《
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My thoughts are spinning. Leaning my head against the windscreen, I try to appreciate the splendour of the sea, but it only carries memories of Alola; of my father and of his message, which I haven’t read. Meanwhile, we cross that mighty bridge that will take us back to Castelia City and I can’t say that anything about the grey buildings captivates me. The world weighs a little heavier since this morning.
Maybe it’s because I didn’t sleep well. N’s words and the conversation with Conia have kept me awake for a long time and I have the feeling I haven’t had a moment’s peace in the hours I’ve been asleep. It’s like I’ve stumbled through a long maze with no way out.
“Is everything all right?”
When Spinel turns to me, I only manage a narrow sideways glance. I shouldn’t bother him with my exhaustion. “Everything’s fine. Just a bit quiet here.”
“We can switch on the radio if you like...”
His smile remains unchanged, always the same, and part of me wonders if moments like this don’t exhaust him. Then again, he’s used to all this compared to me. I have no idea how Spinel sleeps, whether he is well or whether he sometimes lies awake too.
Wordlessly, I bend over to the radio but can’t find any buttons. My finger taps the case twice before I flinch as two tiny eyes stare at me.
“A Rotom?”
“They like to spend time in all kinds of technology. You can’t use them for everything yet, but progress isn’t slowing down.” A restrained laugh escapes him. “Rotom, is there anything interesting on any channel?”
Buzzing trembles through my ears before the Pokémon switches on a channel that is currently broadcasting the news. A reporter covers the daily doings of some top trainers, challengers are interviewed, and then the news of real relevance follows.
“As previously reported, for those who didn’t catch it, it was breaking news at around seven this morning, the museum in Nacrene City was broken into. According to Gym Leader and Museum Director Lenora, nothing more was taken than the head of a Dragonite skeleton. So far, no further clues have been found. However, the people in Nacrene are certain that the burglars are Team Plasma criminals.”
“Why would Team Plasma steal a ... Pokémon skull?” Brows raised, I turn to Spinel. “Does Dragonite have any ability that makes it special even after it dies?”
“Not that I know of,” Spinel replies, the smile fading from his features. “Who knows what they’ve come up with to make people feel better about releasing their Pokémon…” His fingers tighten their grip on the steering wheel. “Team Plasma aside, you have your first professor exam today, don’t you?”
For a moment, I stare at him wordlessly, until his question unleashes its weight and I open my mouth in horror. The next, I pull out my Rotom Phone and look at my calendar, where the warning for today’s exam is indeed flashing.
“Totally forgot...” I breathe in the next blink as I go through everything in my head. Fortunately, I’ve stashed the exam card between my clothes and the potions to make sure I can identify myself as a professor-to-be if necessary.
In the end, I couldn’t do research in any of the labs in Nacrene or Striaton City, but at least it saves me a trip back to headquarters. There’s just an hour to go until the exam and when I realise that Spinel has already pushed me to go back this morning, his shooing me around suddenly makes sense.
“You knew all along, didn’t you?”
He smirks. “One of us has to make sure you don’t mess up your first step towards becoming a professor, right?”
I don’t even want to know who told him when exactly my test is. He probably read it off my card when he was standing behind me at registration.
A heavy sigh escapes me as we cross the end of the bridge and Castelia City wraps its heavy concrete arms around us. Immediately I adjust my hair, try to concentrate on my studies and go over everything I’ve learnt. But I can barely focus on anything other than the news, which continues to be about Plasma and the philosophy that goes with them.
“I’ll let you out at the entrance,” Spinel pulls me out of the news report.
“My ID is in the boot, in my bag.”
“If you have it, you can leave the rest of your things in the car. I’ll take them back to headquarters.”
“Thanks.” My voice sounds strangely pressed. My hands are sweaty on my skirt and my heart is suddenly beating hard against my chest.
When we arrive, my throat seems parched and I don’t know whether I should jump out of the car in one leap or take a few breaths first. My fingers clutch the door handle like a lifeline and when I open it and try to leave the vehicle, the seatbelt holds me back.
“Damn it.” I hastily undo the belt, jump out, and bang my hip against the passenger door. Sharp pain elicits a desperate gasp from me and before I can turn around and slam the door, Spinel’s giggles reach my ears.
In a flash, I turn my head in his direction. “That’s not funny!”
“Sorry.” He waves it off, unable to contain his restrained laughter. He probably swallows the next words as he looks at me with gleaming eyes and I purse my lips.
“Make sure your malicious glee doesn’t catch up with you at some point.”
“I’ll be careful.”
Still, he continues to smirk to himself, so I narrow my eyes and close the door before walking to the boot and taking my ID. Simultaneously, I hear him shout an amused “Good luck” after me and for a moment I can only shake my head with a smile. It’s strange, but Spinel dispels my nervousness, giving me new courage. I’ve been studying Pokémon ever since Alola. I flip through books and look everything up three times. I’ve run away from home and made it to another region, joined the Explorers and grown as a trainer. One damn test isn’t going to stop my line of success.
As soon as Spinel has steered the car back onto the road and I’m standing alone in front of the test facility, I straighten my shoulders. This is my first proper step towards proving to my father he was worrying about nothing. As you can read in some famous people’s magazines: Kill your opponents with your success and bury them with a smile. That will probably be my motto for the rest of the day. I’m seventeen – not immortal, but ready to attack the world with everything I’ve got.