Chapter 1
Forgetting something is a curious part of living life. It is necessary. Media has explored the idea of permanent memory time and time again. There is a common thread as well in many - if not all - interpretations of this idea. That thread is the idea that a permanent memory is terrifying, immense, and on a general level rather unpleasant for the human mind to handle.
The fact is that if you were able to remember everything that you had ever experienced in your life in staggering, vivid, impeccable detail, your poor brain would be so overwhelmed with information that it would melt into a substance resembling tapioca that has been frozen and thawed a total of four times. You keep bringing the tapioca out of the freezer with the intent to eat it, but by the time it warms up your mind has moved on, and you are no longer in the mood for tapioca since a story you had been reading compared it to a melted brain.
Your mind does not have the time or resources to entertain itself with the memories of when you were five years old and had your first dessert. It always picks what to think about and what to leave behind. The less something is retrieved, the less likely it ever will be and is left behind in the impenetrable fog that obscures that strange grey area between existence and non-existence. If a tree falls in a forest and nobody can remember such a thing happening, the tree never toppled in the first place. There might have never been a tree. Perhaps even the forest itself has vanished from your subconsciousness. And as you sit there, happily eating your tapioca and reading an excellent book, memories and facts and ideas are continually slipping from your mind in a silent avalanche to the abyss.
This forgetfulness is, of course, better than the alternative. When thinking about a brain that holds onto everything it learns, another angle to approach this situation is one of confusion. Imagine a library, stretching as far as the eye can see. This library contains every bit of information that you have ever learned, from the answers to your fourth-grade spelling tests to the phone number of that bubble tea place near your first house to every single page of text you saw flipping through a dessert cookbook in a bookstore. As you can imagine this library is immense, and you can access all of it. But, of course, you won't. Even as you stare at this library, your mind adds more books, books about you staring at the very library you currently see. The bookcases grow exponentially before you, stretching further and further out of sight as even these words you read now are forever etched into the pages of your mind's library. How can you read all these books? Indeed, how can you find what you need when there is simply so much to look through?
It is better to forget than to remember. But it's also better to remember than to forget. Tapioca doesn't keep its taste well the fifth time you freeze it, so it'd probably be best to eat it now.
The soft blades of grass bent beneath the weight of Squirtle the eevee's paws as she walked pensively through a silent breeze-laden field. She brought her head up and inhaled through her nose, squinting to shield her eyes from the sun's rays peeking through the mostly overcast sky. After taking in the scent of wet grass around her, she let out a slow breath and brought herself to a stop.
Squirtle the eevee had a problem. And she didn't have much of a solution. So she came out here to the empty, featureless, insignificant plains to the west of Nuzlocke to think her situation through. She wasn't going to solve any problems at the flick of an ear, after all. At least, not the kinds that she had to deal with. Perhaps if she was a simple merchant or a bum she could flick her ears and tell herself not to worry about it. But she wasn't a merchant or a bum. She was neither of those things, and as such, she had to take these issues she was dealing with head-on. And that meant she had to stop referring to them as 'problems' and 'issues' and begin acknowledging what they were.
Squirtle began to walk again, this time staring down at her paws with her brow furrowed in focus. Alright, she thought, let's break this thing down into its base components.
She began to speak aloud, hoping to break the monotonous silence of her environment. Plus she'd heard that hearing something was meant to help with comprehension, so if she listened to herself speak about it, it should help. Right?
"Base component one: I run a freelance help-me service." Squirtle winced at her own words. She could have probably put that better, but she already knew this, so she got the gist of what she was trying to say. She continued.
"Base component two: Most of the requests that have been coming in as of late require physical strength to complete." Squirtle found nothing wrong with this, either. She'd been sitting behind her desk for the past year or two, sometimes doing general errands, or every once in a while making an expedition to some forgotten corner of the continent to find some coveted object. Sure, her stamina was pretty good from those sorts of things, and she knew how to survive, but fighting? Not a known strong suit of an eevee with her kind of lifestyle.
"Problem: I am not strong enough to keep my business open." Because of the nature of so many of the requests coming in, Squirtle hadn't been able to complete pretty much any of them for the past two weeks. And the thing about requests is that the rewards were what kept her business afloat. She'd been trying to hire some other more capable coworkers, but these ventures had gone less than stellar so far.
So how did she go about solving this? The eevee had tried putting flyers up around Nuzlocke, but she swore that town got more and more apathetic with each passing day. It made her wonder where all of these requests to do violent physical things even came from, considering the generally lazy passive nature of everyone in that town. This laziness, of course, didn't include her. She seemed to be the only one who was willing to do what other people asked her to do; the problem came from the fact that she, as was the case with a few of her past applicants, weren't able to.
Squirtle took a deep breath and brought her head up to look at the sky. The sun was on its descent into the horizon, streaking the atmosphere with the slightest shades of natural pink. The day was running out, and she still was without a solution to her problem. No matter how much she racked her brain the only solution that made itself clear to her was 'get a better applicant'.'
I appli-can't do that, Squirtle thought snidely to herself, letting out a puff of a wry laugh as she turned tail to head back to Nuzlocke before night fell. She knew she wasn't strong. That was a fault she wasn't proud to have, but she knew that she had it. Training wasn't much of an option for her - it'd take too long, and by the time she was up to snuff she'd be so far in the red, she could catch fire. Another sardonic smile graced her face. It was immediately wiped away when she noticed something on the ground that wasn't there when she'd made her way out here.
If anyone asked Squirtle what being an explorer-for-hire was like, she'd tell them that it was hard but rewarding work. The hard part came from getting used to seeing bad things. What she wouldn't tell them was that she had never really gotten over seeing bad things. Not really. So when Squirtle saw someone unmoving, face down in the grass, she felt her heart drop into her stomach as her mind desperately tried to crawl its way back up from the worst possible conclusion. As she slowly inched closer to what she observed to be a riolu, she reached a paw out and poked it.
Still warm, Squirtle thought. That was a good sign. Whoever this was probably wasn't dead. No wounds or anything either. He was moving, too.
That last part was a little more shocking than comforting.
Squirtle jumped back with her hackles raised in fear as the riolu groaned, a hand sleepily stretching out to make contact with the ground, struggling to push its owner up into a sitting position. Squirtle took deep breaths to calm herself down at least a little. Whoever this was didn't look like they were in the best shape, and if it came down to it, she'd be able to outrun them. She hoped it wouldn't come to that.
Riolu's eyes blinked open, refreshing the expression of discomfort on their face as their mouth strained into a grimace from the light of the sun still in the sky. They opened their mouth to speak, but what came out was nothing but a dry, cracked voice. Squirtle's guard was lowered. This seemed more like a victim than a danger.
"Hey," she said softly, keeping her distance for now. "Are you alright?" It was a dumb question. There was no way they were alright. It just felt like something she had to say.
"..." He tried to speak again - at least, Squirtle guessed it was a he from the lower tone of what came out of his mouth. "...Not...really." It was as scratchy as if he had been gargling rocks.
"Here, come on," Squirtle offered, moving closer to him. He staggered backwards suddenly as his eyes flashed with fear for just a moment before transforming into pain from the strain he put on his arms. Squirtle paused her approach, deciding to move a little slower in response to it. "I have a place back in town. We can get you some water and stuff."
Riolu seemed to consider this as he shakily pushed himself to his feet. His legs trembled like leaves in the wind, and he was only able to walk a couple of steps before stumbling. He barely caught himself on his arm, the weight from the action causing him to cry out in pain. With a jerk, Squirtle surged forward and pushed herself up against his side to keep him from falling further. She felt his chest surge as he sucked in air to mitigate the pain, but he gave her a tired smile and a halfhearted 'thanks'.'
"Come on, it's this way," Squirtle said carefully, pushing herself against Riolu to support him and guide him in turning around, back towards Nuzlocke. The path was well-worn beneath her paws, and she knew the way there and back by heart, so she could support this guy when he stumbled pretty easily. Which was good, because he stumbled a lot.
He was trying to talk more now that Squirtle was helping him. The more speaking he attempted, the more his vocal cords warmed up. Soon he was able to get full sentences out. The first one he coherently said was "What are you?"
Squirtle didn't really know how to take this question. Sure, eevees weren't the most common thing in the world, but people generally knew what they were. Still, maybe this guy was from some desolate part of the Mist Continent or something. It couldn't hurt to answer his question.
"I'm an eevee," she said, silently thankful that she didn't have to explain her name quite yet. That was always a bit of a pain to clarify to people who met her for the first time.
Riolu nodded to himself, his mouth forming a frown as he chewed on that bit of information. His next question came five minutes later. "Where are we going?"
"My house," Squirtle replied. "I've got some food and a bed there."
This seemed to satisfy the stranger, as he remained silent for the rest of the walk to Nuzlocke. The town came into view as the sun set behind them, framed by the darkness of night creeping up over the horizon in the far east.
Squirtle didn't have too much to her name at the moment - that was a symptom of her failing help service. Her headquarters was a decently sized house built near the edge of town, unlabelled and pedestrian in appearance. The house was the newer kind of architecture, the one explicitly made with pokémon in mind rather than repurposing what humans had built years ago. That was something she was pretty proud of. She had, after all, commissioned this place herself.
Leaving Riolu's side for just a moment, she pushed the door open and held it for him, ushering him inside. As the door closed behind her, Squirtle took a deep breath and guided him to the small coffee table in the center of the main room. The wooden flooring was cold, which was to be expected. She hadn't put on the stove before she left, and Nuzlocke was hanging onto the cold season with as much fervour as it could muster. It didn't take long for her to juice some oran berries into a cup. It was pretty rudimentary considering she just used a fork, and all the skins of the fruit were still floating around in there. This was, she noted, nothing like the shakes she grew up with. But apparently the peel was the best part of the berry, and beggars couldn't be choosers anyway. She set down the juice in front of Riolu, apologized for the crudeness of it, and told him to drink.
He eyed the drink suspiciously but obliged, chewing on the peel itself before gulping the whole thing down. Colour returned to his face - at least a little. He quickly drained the rest of the drink, chugging it for a couple of seconds before slamming the cup back onto the table with an exasperated sigh.
"...That helped," he said finally.
With Riolu's voice restored, Squirtle couldn't help but be taken aback by how young he sounded. The scratchy gravel he was speaking earlier had made her think that he was at least fifty or something, but Riolu seemed like he was about her age. That wasn't what she should be focusing on, though, she noted.
Squirtle sat down across from Riolu, scrutinizing him as he looked about the room. She hadn't been able to really see him that well when they were walking back given the sun was behind them, silhouetting his face. But now that they were indoors with ample light from both the stove and the electrical lamps shining on him, she could see his state a lot better. This guy had seen better days. His entire front side looked more than a little bruised, and the left side of his face was scratched up badly. She was contemplating giving him a few more oran berries to help boost the healing process, but her mind went back to whether she could afford it or not. He wasn't wearing anything, so it wasn't clear whether he belonged to any sort of family or guild. She supposed she could always ask, though. As she stared, Riolu began shifting in his chair uncomfortably, and with a snap, Squirtle realized that he'd noticed her inspection.
"What happened to you?" Squirtle asked finally, trying to break the ice at least a little.
He was silent for a moment, staring down at the empty cup between his hands. "...My name is Coran," he said, not making eye contact with Squirtle.
This answer concerned her a little. Riolu was giving her his name already? Did he think they were on a first-name basis this quickly?
...He didn't like her, did he?
Squirtle quickly shook off this line of thought. There were plenty of reasons pokémon gave out their first names. Even to strangers! She just hadn't really expected it so quickly. She just hoped that he wouldn't consider it rude if she didn't give hers out yet. Besides that, though, this wasn't really an answer to what she'd asked. Should she restate her question?
"Nice to meet you," she said slowly, falling back into studying him. "Do you know what happened to you out there?"
This time Riolu looked somewhat off-put. His head jerked up to look at Squirtle with a mixture of surprise and confusion. It didn't take a genius to figure out that this wasn't the answer he had been expecting either. "What's your name?" he asked.
Shoot.
"Uh..." Squirtle winced. What was she supposed to say? "I don't...we don't really...you can call me Eevee." Riolu didn't seem satisfied with that answer, she noted. He kept staring at her. Now it was her turn to shift uncomfortably. She continued to explain, fumbling over her words. "Maybe, uh, maybe it works differently where you come from, but generally here we don't really, uh, give our names out to people we just met. It's considered," she paused, searching for the right word. "It's considered kind of forward."
Riolu took an agonizingly long time to digest this information but eventually sat back in his chair. "Huh. Okay."
This whole interaction had really put Squirtle off balance. She couldn't really ask her question a third time, could she? That seemed like pushing the issue a little. Then again, she had really ought to know what he was doing out in the field passed out and beat up if she was going to help him, right? That was only reasonable.
"Can you please tell me what you were doing out there now?" Squirtle pressed.
Riolu shrugged half-heartedly. "I don't know."
What? What kind of answer was that!? "You don't know?" she repeated flatly.
He nodded. "I don't remember going out there." Riolu paused, his nose scrunching up. "I don't remember a lot, actually."
Squirtle heard a small ringing sound in the back of her head. A signal, however faint, telling her that something was off about this whole situation. "What do you remember, then?" she asked, slowing down the pace of her words even more.
"My name." Riolu returned that answer near immediately. His gaze drifted up to the ceiling, the rhythmic drumming of his paws on the tabletop a quiet accompaniment to his inaudible thought process. "That's it."
The ringing was getting louder. "That's it?" She couldn't help but raise her tone in disbelief. This had an effect on Riolu, causing him to once again react in shock, moving to push himself away from the table. Squirtle winced. She wasn't going to get anything done if he was afraid of her. "You're sure you don't remember anything else?"
Riolu eased himself back into his seat, clearly agitated by the situation surrounding him. "I'm not too jazzed about it either, lady," he mumbled, his words slurring together from the lack of heart put behind them. After a brief moment, he scrunched up his face again and amended the sentence. "Eevee."
Squirtle frowned. The riolu said the word like he'd never heard it before. Was he mocking her? She bristled at the thought, trying to brush it off as culture shock or something. That had to be it. He didn't seem like he was mocking her in the way he was talking or anything. And she hadn't given him her name, so the 'lady' was probably just a vocabulary choice. Probably.
How was she supposed to proceed, though? He didn't know anything but his name. What was Squirtle supposed to do with that information?
Before she could continue, though, Riolu spoke up. "Sorry," he said, resting his head in his hands. "Look, I know how I sound. I know you're trying to help and I know how I sound." He brought his eyes up to connect with hers. "I'm not holding anything back. I even told you my name which apparently is a big deal or something. All I know is I fell, and I woke up, and you were there."
"You fell?" That was new information. "Is that how you got so scratched up?"
Riolu shrugged helplessly. "I'm pretty sure I know less than you do. You think it's that, that uh..." He tapped the table in thought. "Am...mass thing? Starts with an 'a'.'"
Ring ring ring ring.
"Amnesia?" Squirtle felt sick. She'd figured that this was what this guy had, but she had been hoping that it wasn't right. But now that the word was out there, it felt too right to be a coincidence.
"That," he said, pointing at her. "I hope it's not. That stuff is supposed to wear off though, innit?"
Squirtle nodded dully, Riolu's words muffled through her own thought process. He had amnesia. Of course, he had amnesia. And of course, she had to find him. She, the failing businesswoman on the brink of bankruptcy, had to find a helpless amnesiac. Absolutely wonderful.
"Right?"
There was a note of genuine concern in Riolu's tone that tore through Squirtle's thought process. She found herself nodding. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's the case," she said. "I don't know how long it lasts for, but I don't think it's permanent."
Squirtle could see the battle on Riolu's face. He was thinking hard about something. "I'm going to ask you something," he said quietly, placing his chin on the table behind his arms, "and you can say no. I don't know what kind of crap you do, or what this place is or anything, but..."
He was going to say it.
"...can I stay here? Until I get enough memory back to function."
He said it. Everything clicked. This was another applicant. Riolu continued speaking, but Squirtle was barely listening anymore. Sure, he was weird, and couldn't remember anything. But odds were good that this guy was her last chance before she'd be forced to throw in the towel. He was a fighting-type, which meant that he was inherently physically strong. That was good, that was something that she was lacking. She'd have to assess him a little, but at this point, she didn't have much choice anymore.
"...Hello?"
Squirtle jerked with a start, realizing she hadn't said a single thing for a good two minutes. "You'd have to work," she said finally.
"I said that," Riolu droned, squinting curiously at her. "Were you even listening?"
Shoot.
