Several times I wipe the sweat off my skirt and look at the large screen in the room where the results will appear as soon as the tests have been reviewed. My legs constantly carry me up and down, matching the restless murmur in the room that some of the other participants are making. There are twenty of us here, and no one seems to have the nerve to wait calmly for their results.
When a woman in a blue pantsuit pushes her way into the room almost unseen, I pause. She is carrying passes and documents in her hands. The next moment, the beeping of the screen draws my attention back to the analysis. The results appear in a flash. Percentages sit behind names. We all know that if they fall below fifty, you’ll fail.
My eyes hastily scan the alphabetically organised surnames until I stop at Simpell – behind it a seventy-three, which makes me exhale with relief. I’ve passed. My first test has gone better than expected.
“Anyone who has succeeded, please come here.” The woman at the exit holds up the papers boldly.
Immediately, I bridge the gap and collect my things first. An ID card with a picture and the most important details, together with the information that I have successfully cleared the first exam. On the back is a small list of the discounts I can now get. Ten per cent off balls and potions; five per cent off medicines. The document, meanwhile, summarises my exam results once again, printed out, evaluated and accompanied by a “congratulations”, which the stranger offers me as well.
As if in a trance, I push my way out of the room, along the corridor to the reception area, until the warm midday sun embraces me and I hear the cooing of the surrounding Pidoves. My first step has been taken. I’m well on my way to sending my father a greeting card with a job title.
“Oh!” The sudden exclamation of another lifts my gaze. “I made it in time, after all! Spinel told me you were taking your first exam today, and I was in the neighbourhood, so I thought I’d pop in and wish you luck. Sort of.”
“Ah... Fennel...” It takes a breath for me to place her. She looks different without her lab coat. The pink top and purple skirt blend in with her long hair and the same-coloured flower clip she’s wearing. Everything about her conveys a sunny mood in a city that is far too active.
“How’s Spinel?” She immediately moves closer, her hands folded at chest height. “Is he very busy?”
“I-I think so.” Her proximity forces me to take a step back. “Did you want to meet him?”
“I would have liked to have seen him. It almost makes me a little jealous that you get to spend so much time with him!” A sigh escapes her before she calms down. “He really is a smart, handsome guy, isn’t he?”
“Spinel?” I can’t deny any of it, but the fact she says it so openly raises a sneaking suspicion of her interest in him. “I suppose so.”
“We seem to have similar tastes!” The gleam in Fennel’s eyes tenses my shoulders. “How about you come to visit me in Striaton City sometime? We could sit down and philosophise a bit about research and Spinel!”
Spinel doesn’t arouse the right interest in me, but her offer of research is hard to refuse. She works in an area I would like to know more about. If she shares her experiences with me, my chances of getting through the exams will probably increase significantly.
“Is it okay if I come back to this in the near future?”
“Of course!” She claps her hands cheerfully. “Just write to me or give me a call. Oh! That reminds me,” in a flash she rummages a hand-sized pouch out of her purple handbag, “Spinel told me you were interested in the Dream Mist! I’ve brought you some.”
Without further ado, she presses the colourless pouch into my hand before glancing at the watch on her wrist and emitting a sound of horror. A hasty “I have to go” bubbles over her lips, then she bows slightly and runs off. Somewhere between her words, spoken far too quickly, and her exuberant movements, I at least realise she has a meeting between professors to attend and is already far too late. Her time management doesn’t seem to be the best and yet, for a split second, it makes her strangely likeable.
Lighter than before, I make my way back to the headquarters, past the hustle and bustle of everyday life and the Pokémon that disappear into alleyways or sporadically settle on cars. My thoughts gain the upper hand, unstable and detached, unable to stay with one thing for longer than the blink of an eye. The airy world of emptiness doesn’t even let go of me when I arrive at the Explorers and head straight for my room. I can grab my things from the car later.
“Domino?”
At the same time, a voice creeps into my head. It’s mum. The gentle sound of a woman trying to explain the same thing to me over and over again.
“Just let it happen.”
Whatever it is.
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》WHISPERS《
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The duvet rustles as I tuck it under my chest and stretch my sleepy body. The light from the last sunrays draws lines on the floor and a glance at Rotom reveals it is already early evening.
It was hardly to be expected otherwise, and yet I run a hand over my face with a sigh before peeling myself out of the sheets. My wild thoughts, all the imaginations and ideas behind them, have driven me to bed. The temptation to visualise a rosy future as if it were already a reality works better when you’re asleep than when you’re drifting aimlessly through the corridors.
A glance around the room brings my team to the fore. Ying is curled up at the foot of the bed with Raya. Mimikyu is dozing on the pillow next to me. Lum is lying near the heater and Coro is sitting by the window, gazing into the distance.
Light-footed, I hop in his direction until I can place a hand on his feathers and look out, too. The last sunbeams sparkle in the city’s endless window panes, bathing the edges in a deep orange-red light and turning Castelia into a short-lived portrait.
“What are you thinking about?” I know I’ll probably never fully understand Trumbeak, but I at least want to make him feel like I’m trying my best. Since we’ve been in the cafe, he seems especially down, like he’s longing for something I can’t give him.
His response is an imitated coo, reminiscent of the Pidoves on the streets – a little more melodic, but slightly raspy. He doesn’t look at me once and I know there’s nothing I can say to distract him. Whatever he’s thinking about, it must be related to the singing, which has already distracted him twice. Perhaps he longs to hear the whistling once more and blend in with his own sounds to become part of a foreign melody.
When I take a step back and glance at my team again, only Ying raises her head. Her attentiveness is even higher as a Zoroark and her twitching ears convey interest in my next scheme. Something I realise with a snort because I still have to get my things out of the car. So I throw on my uniform once more and step out into the corridor, Ying close behind me.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
But before I can make my way to the lift, I’m surprised by a buzzing noise. My ears throb, my head begins to scream and somewhere, behind a veil of whimpers and gasps, voices filter through to me.
“I told you we weren’t getting out of here this way, you fucking idiot. The humans are horrors. Did you think they weren’t prepared?” A woman’s voice screams at the top of her lungs.
“It happened to help you,” snorts another. “Besides, there are good people, not these, but-”
“We don’t have time to discuss stupid philosophies of humanity! Haven’t you two learnt anything since we’ve been here?” another yells in between and I can’t help but press my hands to my head and crouch down.
My surroundings are spinning, bile burns in my throat and sweat covers my whole body all at once. Every breath burns like fire in my chest, and even as Ying wraps a paw around me as if to shield me from the voices, I narrow my eyes and look up. The corridor in front of me is empty. Still, the voices seem close enough to touch, so I shakily straighten up.
“We ... have to ... find them...”
Zoroark supports me. She doesn’t let go of my swaying body for a second. The lift takes us down one floor, close together, and once again I follow the corridor where I met Spinel last time. Part of me knows that there are no answers here. After all, I’ve already searched this place once – to no avail. The rest of me believes I must have missed something. A gap or a door.
“Is everything all right?”
As someone else’s words pull me out of my thoughts and I lean against the wall to save Ying the effort, I meet Hamber’s expression. His upright gait and taut shoulders look terribly out of place in my shifted worldview. Still, I force myself to smile thinly.
“I’m just ... looking for something.”
“Voices?” He dares to take a few steps closer so he can put a hand on my shoulder. It seems like he wants to give me enough security next to Zoroark to strengthen my weak legs.
“There are four of them ... I think,” I reply wanly. “They fight a lot. There’s fear. They seem to be locked up and they’re terribly loud ... like an Onix using screech when you’re standing next to it.” Sighing, I press a hand to my forehead. “I want to help them, to make this stop ... but I don’t know where to go. Trying to follow ... is so vague...”
Finally, Hamber offers me his arm. “Would you like some tea?”
It’s one of those offers you can’t refuse. A bit like the evening Spinel reached out to me and we wasted far too much time searching. Hamber doesn’t offer to search, but he allows me to find peace and perhaps trump the thundering in my head with clear thoughts.
So I grab his arm, use it for support and follow him down the corridor to a lounge equipped for serious meetings. Expensive chairs, an expansive dark wood table, a window wall – blocked by automatic shutters – and a wide sofa at one end of the room, ready for casual gatherings.
Heavily, I drop onto the hard cushion and run both hands over my face. Zoroark sits down on the floor in front of me and when I lift my eyes, Hamber offers me a narrow smile. “What will it be? Black tea? Green tea? I’m sure we’ll find something for you.”
“Anything for a headache?”
“Maybe some peppermint.” He nods gently and in those seconds, the splitting pain behind my forehead seems only half as bad.
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》WHISPERS – A silent song《
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He’s not smiling. The way he walks beside me, silent and distant, is oppressive. Yet I have the feeling I can hardly be closer to him. My hand rests in his, determined that he won’t leave me behind.
“Where are we going?” I nestle against his shoulder. Everything in me is ready for a new adventure with people I know and value. “Do we have a lead?”
He lowers his eyelids. “No. But we’ll find Rayquaza, anyway.”
My hands tremble as I drop my fork onto my plate and draw my brows together. I have to tighten and loosen my fingers several times to banish the tingling of exhaustion. Then I barely noticeably shake off the vague daydream.
The last few nights have been noisy, but whenever I haven’t been able to sleep, Hamber has been waiting for me with a cup of tea in the same room as the first time. For over a week now, he’s been paying attention to my nightly wanderings, inviting me in for tea and sometimes even offering biscuits. We don’t talk much, but when he speaks, it’s usually about Amethio. About his tasks, his endeavours, and how hard he tries to deliver the best results. It’s scarce information and I soak it all up because I haven’t seen him in a while and my thoughts have been turning in his direction more often recently.
I want to help, I want to be of use, and I want to show Amethio my progress so he can see that I’m not a burden. I spend every day inside this building training, researching, and coming up with attack strategies, so I no longer look like I’m wildly shouting orders or standing helplessly in the corner.
Since I came back with Spinel, he’s been my training partner. Sometimes Hamber gives me tips in passing. I’m a long way from mastering a solid fighting style, but I understand the basics and I’m willing to work on myself and my options. It looks simple in my head: a fighting style that adapts to each of my Pokémon. They don’t have to fight the way I like – it’s my responsibility to give them orders suited to their characteristics. After all, they’re the ones doing the fighting, not me.
Half in thought, I crack my fingers before reaching for my fork again – interrupted by the whir of the electric door snapping open with a bang.
“Domino?”
My gaze darts to the side and brings Conia into the picture. Carrying a bag, she gasps a few times. So I tilt my head. “What happened?”
“I’ve written to you a few times!”
I hastily tap off my uniform. “I ... must have left it in the room.”
“Thought so.” The bag in her hand falls to the floor. “I’ve already packed your things. We don’t have more time to waste.”
“Why?” I immediately push myself to my feet. “Is there a task for me?”
“We were able to locate the Rising Volt Tacklers‘ next target,” she replies as I stumble over to her and grab my bag. In those seconds, I want to trust that she’s packed everything important. “They cancelled their course in our direction very early and spent a while in Galar. Then they set off and, according to our calculations, are heading for Laplace’s Sea. A Lapras is said to be hiding there to help lost people. However, there seems to be much more to it than that.”
She hurriedly leads us both outside to a car that will most likely take us directly to the harbour where the submarine is waiting. The seat cushion seems strangely warm. Conia takes the wheel.
“Whatever the Rising Volt Tacklers are planning, there’s a very good chance Rayquaza will turn up. After all, they have Terapagos and however things are connected, they give us an advantage.”
In the end, I don’t know what to say as Castelia City passes us by in the glow of the midday sun. Only my racing heart reminds me I’m not imagining the sudden change of scenery. It may seem to have come out of nowhere, but I’m glad to be there. It still makes me feel like part of the troupe. They don’t exclude me when things get serious.
I can’t get a word past my lips until we get to the port and it’s only when we stop and jump out of the car far too hastily that the significance hits me.
“If they’re already down there ... how are we supposed to make it in time? It takes forever to get from here to Galar.”
“That’s why we’ve been spreading misinformation. They’ll have to check things before they can do anything that ends up being troublesome for us.” Conia’s fixed gaze towards the jetty makes me gulp. “If our calculations are correct, we’ll arrive and have a day or two to make further preparations. The lies were spread by Spinel. I hate to admit it, but he’s good at what he does.”
All I can do is trust the plan, no matter how rushed it sounds. I can’t change anything or make a better suggestion. Simultaneously, the worries of this move fizzle out the moment I catch sight of Amethio.
He is unchanged. The same outfit. The same serious look. Only the slightly furrowed brows mark a difference, and when Conia addresses him, his attention only slowly wanders in our direction.
“We are complete. All preparations are made. Hamber has been informed. We can leave.”
“Good.” He takes a glance at his Rotom Phone before pulling two Poké Balls out of his trouser pocket and pressing them into Conia’s hand. “We have permission to use the Rotoms to make faster progress. One is compatible with the flutter, the other with the motor in the engine room.”
“Are there any regulations?” She takes the balls carefully.
“Three hours of use per day, otherwise it will harm the Pokémon and the submarine.”
“Tried and tested?”
“By Spinel.”
A faint smile creeps onto my lips. They may be enemies and have little sympathy for each other, but ultimately, they support each other. At least Spinel provides support, which could hardly come in more handy in this situation.
“On Hamber’s orders for all Explorers’,” Amethio adds, his eyes fixed on me. “He’s not doing this out of kindness.”
A twitch creeps over my shoulders.
“You should watch out for him. Spinel isn’t a friend.” He briefly lowers his eyelids. Then Amethio turns away and begins his ascent into the submarine – while I look after him, lips pressed together.