It was Friday, June 18th, in the year 2010, and for the first time in recorded history, a woman had decided to stay with Hoshi Mutsu two days in a row.
Well, I suppose she hasn’t exactly decided to stay yet – but spiritually, it feels that way. She waited all day just to talk with me, so I’m counting it.
“Casca. Sorry, I- I didn’t think you would be here. When I got back.”
Seeing her on his couch, dressed up in her tight little black dress, was eliciting two reactions from his hindbrain: bright lime-green joy, and the red-black of warning bells.
Actually, why did she..? She isn’t homeless, is she? His eyes went to her earrings, where small but definitely-real sapphires were held in cages of silver wire. No, bad explanation. Maybe she actually has a thing for me?
The idea was foreign; Hoshi knew he looked weird, and not in an exotic way. He was unattractive, poor, and had a foul temper; the opposite of a winning combination. Not impossible I suppose, but-
His inner monologue was cut off as Casca answered. “Thought I’d bolt?” She giggled, and where the sound touched his synapses, it cut through the suspicion like a saw through rotten wood. “Nah. You’re interesting, Mister Mutsu.” She leaned back. “I like interesting. So unless you'd rather I go…” A raised eyebrow, the fluorescent orange crescent more vivid against her pale skin than the full moon against the midnight sky. “I feel like crashing here for a few days. What do you say?”
Hoshi’s mouth was dry. In the light of the setting sun, it was almost like he was looking at a mythical siren, seeing the woman for the first time.
Casca was chubby, maybe some would say fat, but the way she held herself with absolute confidence dispelled any notion that she was uncomfortable in her skin. Black fabric hugged her generous curves, the strapless dress showing not only her shoulders, but her belly and a dangerous amount of cleavage. It ended well above her knees, and although Hoshi knew from the previous night that she wore a pair of tiny shorts underneath, the idea that she would move her legs just right and reveal something was impossible to ignore.
Her face entranced him no less than her body; round in shape, with eyes of softest blue and peach-painted lips; she looked somehow both youthful and mature at the same time. Piercings on her ears and nose held delicate pieces of jewelry, sparkling sapphires like teardrops – and he was aware of other piercings as well, lower down, hidden under fabric.
She probably wasn’t the most sexually-charged woman Hoshi had ever seen – the strip of city next to the docks had a staggering number of prostitutes, whose careers were sex – but she was easily two steps above his wildest fantasies.
But of course, sirens were a myth; in reality the only things enticing seamen were carnivorous jynx, singing away to lure them into the rocks.
He managed to swallow. “Yeah, sure. Stay as long as you like.” There’s a catch, there has to be a catch. She can’t like me for me, that’s… That wasn’t reasonable. He wasn’t the least successful pickup artist, but the moment women got a whiff of his personality, they disappeared.
Unable to hear his thoughts, Casca smiled. “Glad to hear it. So…” She lounged, putting her hands behind her head to cradle it in place of a nonexistent pillow. “I know you’re a construction worker, but what do you do? Work with your hands? Drive a big machine?” The curve of her lips drew his eye like a conductor’s baton. “Command a Pokémon, maybe?”
His mouth continually failed to produce enough moisture, and he took a moment to bend down, untying his boots before he answered. “No, no Pokémon for me. Don’t have a licence.”
“Right. Because of your father.”
He paused. She remembered that? “...Yeah. I couldn’t get my certification, not while… Well, you know.” Most kids who went on to be trainers started when they were ten. Hoshi – or maybe his father, it was far enough back that his memory wasn’t reliable – had decided, instead, to wait a little bit.
And then the seizures, and then the downwards spiral, and then, and then, and then…
He had never gotten around to taking the tests. And now, with the new, more restrictive requirements… Basically impossible. Johto is strangling us in our sleep, and our own government is helping them adjust their grip.
Casca’s lips went straight in a not-quite-frown. “Damn, that was my best guess. It’s easy to picture you with a Pokéball in your hand – not really sure why. So, no Pokémon… Handiwork, then? That’s my runner-up.”
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They talked, long into the night – long for Hoshi, anyway, who usually went to bed with the sun.
Then they did other things, and finally they slept. Hoshi’s bed was just large enough for two people to sleep without touching, but Casca clung to him despite the summer heat, pressing her body against his.
It was sexual, but also not; the warmth that Hoshi felt had a different flavour from what the other things they had done in this bed left, something… Not better, exactly, but different. More spread out, dull where the other was sharp.
Fuck, he said over and over in his head, the curse gaining extra mental weight with every repetition. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m not in love. That’s stupid. I’ve known her for two days – for less than that. Fuck.
At some point he must have managed to drift off, because between one blink and the next, it was suddenly morning. Not light, Hoshi had woken up before the sunrise, as he always did, but still morning.
For the second day in a row he had failed to set his alarm – but this time it was deliberate; it was Saturday. He had the weekend off, as mandated by Machamp and Sons, LLC.
And also for the second day in a row, he had a girl in his bed. This time, he did not freak out – but she must have slept poorly as well, because even moving with care it seemed that his stirring had forced her awake, too.
Casca rubbed her eyes, the motion doing interesting things to her chest. Fuck, no. Don’t notice that; you had sex all night. You aren’t even close to recharged, which means you shouldn’t feel anything, because you aren’t in love.
“Morning,” she slipped out with a yawn. “Damn, you wake up early. Any plans for today?”
His feet touched the floor, the carpet pleasantly cooled overnight. “No, not really. You have something in mind?”
After a late-night shower, Hoshi had seen the woman without makeup for the first time. He had liked it, and as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes he found he still liked it. Her soft smile was bare, the colour of her lips less striking, but they made his heart jump in his chest nonetheless. No. I can’t. Even if I wanted it, I can’t afford a serious relationship. It’s not gonna happen, so stop dreaming.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
“How about a date? My treat.”
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Casca was good at her job.
That wasn’t just her ego talking; the big-wigs out in Viridian like to keep score – metrics, to use their term – and while she wasn’t top of the list, she was close.
She liked to think it was because when she talked to a guy, she meant it. All the acting skills in the world couldn’t beat a little earnestness – and it just so happened that she had both. Some might accuse her of having no standards, but Casca had never met a man without something to like, something to dig into.
For example, consider her current mark: Hoshi Mutsu. When a pretty girl asked a man to take them on a date, most would choose a restaurant, or a club, or maybe an amusement park or something like that. Vermilion had more than enough variety to cater to any combination of activity and taste.
But Hoshi had decided to take her to the Vermilion Military Museum.
“Really? That seems dangerous.”
Hoshi replied to her statement with a thin smile, his eyes far-away as he looked up at the tiny, one-person airplane, the vehicle hanging from the ceiling by a collection of nearly-invisible wires. “Not as much as you’d think. Voltorb are actually pretty docile; you need to train them up, if you want them to explode on command.” His tone was wistful. “Uncle Bob says you need to work with one for at least a month before sending it into battle, or its first instinct will be to run away. That’s what they do in the wild – they only blow up as a last resort, if they get cornered.”
It was fascinating. She loved the subdued energy, the undercurrent of giddiness that had been flowing beneath his skin since the moment he walked in the door. It was childish, but in a good way; she could tell that Hoshi really, truly felt a connection to this place, to these dusty relics and the dry plaques describing them. I’ve met a lot of war orphans, and a lot of veterans, too, and each of them has a unique way of looking at the war.
Some of them get sad, some of them get angry, some of them get proud… and some of them try to ignore that part of their past, act like it never happened. I thought Hoshi would be the angry sort, or maybe sad and angry together, but this might be the most at peace I’ve ever seen him. Even asleep, the man had sported an irritated expression.
It turned what might have been a boring slog into a genuinely interesting day. “But in a plane, though?”
He chuckled, his deep voice resonating. “Is it that weird? If they can power a city, why not a plane? One turbine is the same as another.” His eyes slid to her, caught her expression, and brightened even further. “Oh, I remember one of Dad’s stories. Him and Bob were deep in dragon territory, way north past Blackthorn, looking to drop a load of drugs into the water. They were flying low-”
“Sorry,” she interrupted. “Drugs? Like, poison?”
Hoshi’s face was narrow in a way that made his smile seem wider than it was, like at any moment it would extend past the confines of his head and break into the open air. “No, the kind that get you high. The Johtonian bastards were really hammering us with gyarados, and stress would just make the magikarp more likely to evolve, so…” He left the rest for her to put together.
A pregnant moment, then she failed to contain her giggles. “Ah, that’s so silly! Getting them high, so they weren’t stressed out?” Another fit of giggles, Hoshi joining in. “Arcus, that’s a military plan all right. What happened? They were flying low, and…”
“Right, they were flying low, to avoid the dragonite patrolling the mountains. Dad was in a Model 22, Bob was in a 20 – that’s the one they’ve got up there – and Dad’s engine just goes, dead stop, hundred to zero in a second. He signals Bob and starts going in for a landing – usually those things can glide pretty far, but they were hugging the mountains already, so…
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The southwest of the city was called the Old District, a name that fittingly pre-dated the Young District by over five decades, and most of it was centred around trainers. The Pokécentre, Pokémart, and a bunch of other specialty shops were all clustered around the Gym, as one would assume.
But there were a few businesses that had nothing to do with Pokémon, and one that Hoshi frequented semi-regularly was a little tucked-away ice cream shop near the docks.
“Raspberry,” he ordered, passing the owner a fiver.
“Island Special,” came his companion’s order a few seconds later, Casca handing her own money to the man.
He was mildly embarrassed to not be paying for her food, but she had insisted.
They walked the docks, their treats gradually disappearing, passing sailors and fishermen as they watched the ocean shimmer in the noon sun.
“So…” he started, and Casca turned her head, her lips stained with artificial orange colouring. “I’ve been debating in my head where you’re from, and I’ve narrowed it down to either Cerulean, or the islands.”
“Oh?” Her tongue flicked out, a flash of pink disappearing the melted cream. “Are you going to ask?” Her face told him she already knew the answer. Am I predictable, or has she really been paying that much attention to me?
“No, I want to guess.”
They leaned against the railing, and Hoshi broke off a piece of soggy cone to toss to the pidgey below. The tiny birds fought for it lazily, flinging the sugar-soaked wafer around until one of them managed to swallow it down, puffing its feathers in triumph.
“Cerulean. I’m ninety percent sure.” He turned, and his companion shot him a raised brow. “It was the sapphires. The Orange Archipelago has only the one mine, and it exports mostly fossils, not gems. Kanto’s exports are taxed to Orre and back; that many stones would cost as much as a house, over there.”
“I could have bought them after coming here,” she replied, her tone playful.
“Nope. You wouldn’t have come over for a vacation without jewelry, and those piercings aren’t recent.” He paused. “And besides, we get sailors from the islands all the time; they have a particular accent, even after living here for years. You were born in Kanto.”
She tilted her head back and forth, letting the moment draw out, but eventually she raised her cone in a salute. “You caught me. Cerulean, born and raised.”
He nodded, satisfied. I knew it. “Related to the Katsumi clan, by any chance?” While there were other families prone to the distinctive orange hair, the five-generations-strong holders of the Cerulean Gym were the largest and most famous.
“No,” she rejected with a shake of her head. “Well, maybe real far back. My family name is Kichi.”
He nodded. Down below, the pidgey were jostling for position, just in case he decided to throw some more dessert their way. Sorry, birds. He finished off his cone as Casca did the same.
“You seem to know a lot about a whole pile of topics, Hoshi. You sure you’ve never gone to university?”
He laughed softly. “No, I think I’d have mentioned that by now if I had. You?”
“Yeah, actually.”
Her words made him turn, surprise flickering briefly across his features. “Oh?” Really? I was so sure she was younger than me…
“Yeah, a local one actually. Ever heard of Electric Academy?”
The surprise made a return, stronger. “The rich kid's school, out east? You’re pulling my leg.”
She shook her head, reaching up to lick at sticky fingers. “Nope. It was only a three-month course, but you're dating an official graduate of Vermilion’s most exclusive academy.” She raised a finger, waving it like a flag. “Go, Electivires!”
He shook his head slowly, but he was smiling. “I can hardly believe it. I’ve heard they let in ten, maybe twenty people a year – are you secretly a rich princess? Got a fancy estate up north?”
Her smile dimmed, and a spark of terribly cold panic shot through Hoshi’s spine. Wha-? What did I say? What Did I say?!
“Let’s… not talk about my family situation, okay? I know it’s unfair with how much I’ve asked you about yourself, but…” She gazed out over the waters, which sparkled even brighter than the jewels adorning her body. “Not today. I’ll have to build up to it.”
“Of course. Sorry – I get it. Family’s personal." Not her fault I talked her ears off about all my own shit. Quickly, Hoshi scrambled to change the subject. “So… What was the school like? I’ve heard the doorknobs are carved from solid lightning stones, but there’s no way that’s true.”
To his delight, Casca’s face brightened once again. “Ha! No, nothing like that. There’s money, but it’s actually pretty understated – I guess when you’re really rich, you’re secure enough to not flash it around.” Her elbows resting on the guard rail, she cupped her cheeks. “You know, I still know a few guys who know a few guys, if you catch my meaning. I’m sure I could get my boyfriend in on a night class, or something.”
For a third time, surprise welled up, not only on his face, but deeper inside – why did that make me feel..?
He grappled with it, tried to shove it down, but a blush rose steadily up to his forehead. Idiot, you got her in your bed the night you met. Why are you blushing? Stop acting like a teenager.
“...Uh, maybe. My schedule is pretty full. I’ll think about it?”
She turned, and he could pinpoint the exact moment she saw how flustered he was. You bitch, you said that on purpose, to fuck with me! But any irritation he felt was tiny compared to the rush of warmth circulating through his body, completely unrelated to the summer heat.