Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon
Tale of Her
By Ydream08
Summary: I'd grown up from my desire to be a trainer. I had other plans, like my parents wished. Then dad accepted a job in Hoenn. Now I'm foolishly traveling to obtain dud badges to prove my worth on dad's orders. The blood in my hands keeps me awake on freezing nights in the wilderness, the cries of those pokemon haunting my dreams. No one fucking cares whether I'm scared. They'll never see what hit them.
Chapter 1
Waking up in excruciating pain has become depressingly familiar. An ache pulses through every inch of my body, never localizing as there is no place that hurts less than anywhere else. Exhaling, I recall a memory from three years ago. It was a family trip on a boat. I followed my dad after he jumped from the second floor of the boat into the sea, but my feet slipped, and instead of diving into the sea gracefully, my body slammed horizontally to the tense waters. The burning was similar to that of now, however back then the cool sea water had hid the flames licking my skin. Now, it feels like someone has set me on fire from my hands and let the flames engulf me without mercy. Shutting my eyes tightly closed, I try to change my panting into deep breaths. I fail miserably as they come out more like whimpers. It is sad, truly, to not be able to scream even when fear grips my heart enough that I wish I'd never woken up. Not to mention, even though I'm too numb to wipe my tears, I can't stop crying.
"Please," I whisper, even before opening my eyes. The voice that reaches my ears is hoarse and cracked, as if that is enough to convey my pain. The hell it is!
Every time I breathe, my broken ribs fail to stretch as much as my lungs, sinking painfully to the soft muscle and stealing away what little air is stubbornly binding me to this unjust world. My neck occasionally jerks my head backwards away from the cold and wet, yet, even my confusion to why there is nothing but dry air here doesn't cease the quirk. I feel sore in every inch of my body, and just like the faint sensation of burning in my hands, a persistent tingling teases my gut to remind me that I'm very much alive.
I try to concentrate, desperate to suppress the headache that feels no different than someone hammering my skull inside and out. Thinking has gained me nothing so far. In this disorienting state, hours easily morph into either minutes or years. I have no way of determining time in this place.'This place'? My train of thought comes to an abrupt stop, and I jerk as though startled out of a hazy dream. Where am I? What happened?
I try to disregard the headache and search for any modicum of an answer I can fetch from my mind, but come up empty handed. I recollect feeling everything–panic, fright, desperation, hopelessness and mostly pain–but the rest is blank.
"DAD!" I yell as panic swells in my chest, causing me to hyperventilate. I attempt to rise to my feet, move at the least, but feel the rigorous protests from every muscle as they clench in pain. My hands don't move, I feel something rough and tight–a rope, I figure–tying them together behind me. I want to thrash around, to fight my way to the answers but my body disobeys me. I can't lift a finger.
"Mom," I whimper, tears once again dampening my cheeks. I realize then that my open eyes only see darkness. Unlike before, this place is pitch black with no windows to allow light in.
'Unlike before'? Panic washes away any tiredness I feel. Dammit, why can't I remember! What can't I remember? Memories mock my exhausted mind, not diminishing my frustration.
Helplessly, I press my forehead to the solid surface beneath me, in an attempt for cold to relieve me off those heightened emotions. I take deep breaths to calm myself, the wheezing from my strained exhalations giving me something to concentrate on. The rhythmic sound chases away my panic, but just as it does the surface beneath me shakes and my body hops, causing my chin to hit the ground with a sharp snap. I groan in pain, but when my ears experience the loss of something, the pain is forgotten to be replaced by uneasiness. That sound reminds me of roaming of a machine, a vehicle. What? Am I at the back of a Arceus-damned truck or something?!
A muffled sound coming from outside stops me dead in my tracks. Someone opens the left side of the confined place, letting sun inside momentarily. I narrow my eyes to get a glimpse, recognizing broad shoulders of a male. His dark red hoody shadows his expression, not enough to cover up his agitation, though. He complains, anger apparent in his voice, just as something slides over to where I am, "...Can't believe I forgot to leave the phone here like the boss said, they've been calling the whole fucking way."
I sigh and feel my tensed posture relax when the man is gone, the door locking with a solid click. A blue light shoots from nowhere, startling me badly. Squinting at the light, my eyes land on its source. Seeing how close it is to me, I quickly guess it is the phone that was tossed inside a moment ago. The rectangular phone looks more like a plate than a communication device and has a red Pokeball pattern in the middle, the beam coming from its button. It vibrates as a blue hologram displays an unknown number written above a straight line. Desperate but cautious, I crawl forward and, knowing that my hands are tied, I try to press my chin to the touch screen.
"Alev! Alev, do you hear me?" I hear the shriek as my head collapses to the surface beneath me, too exhausted to hold it in place. The following sentence is quieter compared to the first one as if the stranger has turned from the phone. "Hey! You told Norman that she'd be-"
"Dad?" I ask when I distinguish my father's name in this stranger's voice. I wait, counting breaths. Biting my trembling lips, I hardly sustain from sobbing.
"Alev? Child, are you OK? Are you safe?" It is still the stranger who is talking. Not hearing dad's voice again makes the dam break.
I'm still more or less aware that the man keeps talking, though I have no attention to spare for him.
"Alev! Alev, please listen to me. Tell me if you are OK? I just–"
"WHY IS SHE CRYING? You said she would be safe and sound!" I jerk at this new voice, familiar and masculine. He is yelling to be heard, and though he seems far from the phone, anger is dominant in the vibrations.
"–I'll help you. Your father is here with me, he wants to know if you are okay. Talk to me. I'm Professor Birch, your father's old friend. I'm calling with the phone because your father is restrained–I mean, unable to do so."
I've been shaking my head the whole time, not wanting to hear a word of what Birch is saying. Nothing makes sense. I want to be at home, my parents with me. I don't want to be tired. I don't want to be crying.
I'm dreaming, is that it? It would explain everything. It would explain why I hear the phone from a distance at this point, why I'm alone in this dark soulless place, why I'm not feeling damn okay!
I don't know how much time has passed as I sob, could be few minutes or an hour. I feel the headache resurface fiercely as my cries slow to small whimpers. As a result of my clogged nose, I'm breathing through my mouth and every time I swallow to let more air in, I can't help but notice that with salty tears, snot follows down my throat. Ugh. I hate crying. Sound alerts me that the man on the phone is still talking, and I focus with some effort.
"...and there is Mudkip, the water type starter. Your father told me that you love the sea and that the water type pokemon fascinates you. What do you say I give you Mudkip once this is all over and you are with us? Don't cry, child, just tell me that you are okay. That's all your father wants to hear. Alev, can you hear me?" Birch's soothing voice has turned frantic by the end and this time he yells, "It's not working, this is not calming her down, Norman! Oh, wait, it's silent now. Alev? Alev! Are you there?"
I scoff at his insistence but I realise that so far I've been nothing but useless. A groan reverberates in my chest as I force myself to sit upright. I pull my knees up to my stomach from where I'm lying face down. It hurts tremendously for my right ankle to do so, but once I feel my bum touching my heels, I take a deep breath and push myself up with my forehead. Because of the momentum, the back of my head hits to the wall, the furthest I could have gone, and I squirm since the crouching position is far from comfortable with the addition of my hands tied at my back.
"I'm-I'm…" My throat closes down on itself each time I try to get a word out, so I stop and take a deep breath before swallowing again. "I'm OK."
What a lie, I think the moment the words are past my lips.
"I'm at the back of a truck. I'm alone, but I'm fine," I say, this time my voice is louder even if it trembles.
"Oh, great Arceus! Norman, did you hear that!" I wince at that obnoxious tone. It reminds me painfully of a child's joy as he opens his presents. "Alev, child, you are safe now. You'll be home very soon, the one your family moved in just recently, in Littleroot Town. Your mother will be there, she's been asking you since forever-"
"-THAT IS ENOUGH. She is being delivered, and we have other businesses to discuss."
Birch falls silent for a moment because of a new commanding voice. A shiver goes down my spine. It sounds so familiar, yet I know it's not from someone I want to meet again.
"Your father and I will arrive shortly after, we hope. I'm eager to meet you, being your neighbour and all. Be patient and don't worry, we're all here for you!"
Birch's last statement is clearly rushed, and afterwards there is a struggle. I can hear yelps and cries of pain as punches land. There are pokemon cries as well, and I doubt they refrain from going into battle. I stare at the hologram, wishing it were a video call rather than just audio. The flickering blue light hurts my eyes, but I don't drop my gaze, wondering what's happening at the end of the line.
I'm left in the dark not soon after though, both literally and figuratively.
The last thing I hear is a crack, metal meeting the floor, then the number written on the hologram vanishes just before the light itself. Birch dropped the phone, I guess. My eyes feel strained as the meager light lingering in the room helps me distinguish packed rectangular objects. Some of them move as if they are light compared to others, and the now moving truck is just fast enough to shift them. I concentrate on the sound they make in an attempt to forget my hurting limbs that ache because of the unusual sitting position I am forced to hold. A tingling sensation starts from my toes and creeps up my hips, and there is a sharp pain in my left outer thigh which I recognize as a cramp. As the discomfort urges me to change position, I wiggle, but being incapable of movement, I just lay back on the cold surface beneath me, whimpering in distress.
Finally, the truck comes to a stop. The doors open and this time, sun seeps into every nook and cranny, not leaving any place left for despair to hide. Perhaps that's why my heart skips a beat hopefully, praying I'll be out and safe just like Birch said.
Safe seems like such an unattainable concept to me at this moment, so foreign in my mind.
"Here we are!" That man with the hoody again. His voice is tired but his sigh is in content. He climbs to the back of the truck, walks to where I lay down, then grabs me by my waist and throws me over his shoulder. He doesn't carry me far. The moment we are out of the truck, he drops me onto the soft grass. Landing on the ground is nothing close to soft, though. He reaches down. I don't move and close my eyes, afraid of him, not knowing what he'd do, but guessing a fist is on the way. He doesn't strike me. He bends over, takes a hold of the rope tying my hands and after a few minutes of work, I feel the pressure on my wrists lighten.
The man doesn't say anything. He rises up and walks away. Within moments the engine of the truck starts, and I'm left there on the grass. A soft wind caresses my hair, the grass tickling my cheek and neck. Some time later, I dare to move my hands to have them free. The rope easily gives away. I bring my hands to the front but complaints of my stirring numb muscles are cast aside. Blood rushes until the tip of my fingers; clear from the daze, one of my hands feels ablaze. The searing skin begs for icy water, however I can only stare at my hands in horror. They are scraped, some parts bruised and skinned, but the injury which brings tears to my eyes is the one on my left palm. There is a bloodied "M" imprinted on it, I can see muscle tissue at places where the skin is burned away. I close my eyes, unable to endure the sight of it. I can't recall how I got the imprinting, but I remembering the horror. It's burning! Feels hot. Hurts, hurts, hurts, oh Arceus-
I put my hand in the grass, palm down, so that the slight coolness would ease the heat on my skin. No rain has touched the ground here, so the relief is not as much as I would wish.
My shoulders shake with sobs that tear through my body. This time, even though the last one was unintentional, I don't remain silent but cry out as much as my lungs let me. I fail to hear the call of my name. I fail to hear the rushing of footsteps. And I fail to take notice of the shadow that falls on me.
Delicate but firm arms snake around me, pulling me close. My head rests on soft breasts, and when I sniff I catch a whiff of a familiar parched onion smell accompanied by something so distinctly her, it makes my heart ache. With a final cry I realize I'm home.
Hello,
This story will be a novelization of Pokemon Emerald version. It is a nuzlocke challenge with Pokemon death, violance and sexual themes so it is rated M. Also for the sake of not being a replica of the game and other similar fan fictions, there will be additions to the game's plot so I'll be doing my best to surprise you. There will be OCs along with canon characters, and don't forget, since this story takes place in the game world, May will be nothing like her anime counterpart. Side note: May's name here is Alev, and it means 'flame' in Turkish.
I had started this story with Curse of the Ninth, who is the author of a nuzlocke challenge novelization of Kanto Region named Red (check it out, it is amazing!). He was my beta for the story when I'd first written ToH two years ago, however after my long hiatus we were unable to work together. I want to thank him for encouraging me when I went to him with the rough idea of the story two years ago, for being my beta back then and helping me the first time around, and most importantly, I want to thank him for being an amazing and enthusiastic reader!
That being said, my new beta Lynnxrider and I decided that rewriting Tale of Her would be the wisest choice. Dear Lynnxrider kindly pointed out that two years had changed my writing style and she made me realize the shortcomings of the first version. I'm really blessed to have came across her while searching for a new beta, because I have no doubt she wishes to make this story shine to the best of our abilities. She helps me immensely to set the right tone to my writing, get the feelings across as well as laying out the plot elements. I thank her so much for accepting my beta request and tackling this story with great determination even at times when I lack. Be sure to check her own stories, one of my favorites being Substitue Sould: Deliverance from FMA fandom!
I think this is all for now. I hope you've enjoyed the chapter!
~Ydream08
