A little girl, with brilliant red curls and tiny soundless steps, ran across the grass. Her attention was on a pokemon; strange and whimsical as it was, she was fully enamored. Her parents were arguing again anyways. Her father, angry with her apparent disinterest in other children her age, her mother, angry at him for not listening to the doctors.
They said she was fine. Mostly.
But Myna just wanted to see the bird pokemon. It was small and red, an outlier, just like her. It obviously didn't belong in Kanto, just like her. She looked like her father, an older Kalosian man, and had his coloring. He wasn't technectly Kalosian, but from a tiny region that had been swallowed up by the kingdom the region used to be.
In contrast to the Kalosian blond with blue eyes, their bloodlines carried shades of red hair and green/blue eyes. But her mother, an Alolan, shared her shaping. Her nose, the shape of her eyes, cheekbones, tiny arms and petite shape. But her size was still worrying.
She was a rough and tumble six year old, but she looked more like three, and her poor joints would scream in agony at times. She was easily injured.
She could easily see the similar fragility in the little red bird. She could also see it's fear.
She ran after the bird, trying to catch it, trying to understand, what was it afraid of? Through the bushes on the far side of the park, and into the forest that surrounded the city. Viridian. She ran and ran.
The bird flitted through the forest, looking every bit out of place. The animals here were as monotone as the area around them. Simple browns and greens, while beautiful, too simplistic for the creature flying through.
It looked like it needed a more tropical, colorful and rainy place. Kanto was tropical, humid and hot, but not rainy. The humidity didn't build and break, it stuck and made everything else stick to you.
The bird, like her, was so very noticable, flitting through the trees, and avoiding the hanging plants. Until something large slammed it out of the air. The little girl squeaked and ran faster, working on prying the spearow off the strange pokemon.
"Little girl, you don't belong here."
She looked up, gasping at the sight of the tall man that loomed over her, black clad with a sharp red R on his chest. She screamed, and a rat like pokemon appeared. "Use scratch." It was said so nonchalantly.
A sharp pain, incredible in its reach, sliced through her throat and everything went black. She still clutched onto the strange red bird.
In the background of the darkness of her mind, Her mother's voice, "Myna!" It screamed in a high pitched panic.
Then yelling, crying, sirens, sobbing.
And soon, the 'beep, beep, beep,' of her heart beat, slow and calm, being recorded by a hospital machine.
Seven years later.
Birds, pidgey and spearow, chirped outside her open window, their sound merrily breaking through the thin screen. A bed sat, unmade, and a desk stood, in utter chaos. Just outside the bedroom door, was the kitchen.
Dark kantonian wood and a closed off homely feel to it. A self heating tea kettle sat on the counter, mere feet from the door. It was on, heating the mix of leaves, sugar, vanilla, and turmeric, while a curly haired redhead, too short for her age, mixed creme and ginger together in the bottom of her tea cup.
The machine beeped and she poured it in slowly, continuing to mix as the tea and creme mingled together. A peace settled over her as she poured a bit in a smaller bowl like cup and set it in front of a brilliant red bird that lounged on the counter. The bird pokemon chirped happily and she smiled, held up the cup a little, and took a sip.
It was a nice morning, during the rainy season, even though the sun was out. A breeze whistled through the open windows and screen door. It wasn't nearly as humid as it usually was.
Yelling immediately shattered the mood. As Myna let the pieces of her once nice morning fall to the ground, more yelling could be heard, and the slamming of a door. She took another sip of her tea, contemplating the return to her room. Banging, objects slaming open and closed, and more yelling.
Apapane hopped onto her shoulder, having finished its drink. She took another sip of her own, and set it on the counter, moving to rinse out the smaller empty cup before washing and drying it.
Once it was out away, she took another slow drink of her tea again while putting some bread in a pan and cracking an egg over it. The egg sizzled and the bread browned slightly as the smell filled the kitchen, and the yelling continued. At this rate they'd need to buy some more supplies to fix new holes in her parents bedroom walls.
She sipped from her cup once more before placing it on the counter near her bedroom door. The kitchen table lay unused. She slipped the first piece of cooked bread onto a plate and made two more. She refilled her cup of tea and made Apapane a tiny bowl of necter with a piece of the egg-bread in the center.
The bird hopped off her shoulder once more and started to eat the offered food with her. She hopped onto the counter next to her door and took a bite of her food. And angry yell again, and the door down the hall slammed open.
Her father stormed down the hallway, thinning white hair, that had once been red, adorned his angry features. A suitcase, the same color as the freckles he shared with his only daughter, was in his left hand. With his right, he pushed open the screen door, and let it slam shut behind him.
That was the third time this month. She took another bite of her breakfast. It must've been serious, usually he stopped long enough to yell at her for one, being on the counter, two having Apapane in the kitchen, and three, cooking on her own.
Because she was too weak to do that in his mind.
She kicked the cabinet below her with her heel lightly, the hollow sound quitely shattering the sudden silence. The birds outside must've been scared off by the hullabaloo.
Except it wasn't completely quiet. The thirteen year old could hear quiet sobbing. Soft footsteps quieter and more practiced than her own, made down the hallway.
"Myna," a shaky voice called her attention to the enterance. She looked up and offered her mother some of the breakfast she'd made earlier. Her mother always loved the food she made, and even when she wasn't home, Myna made extra for her.
But her mom didn't move from the enterance. "Pack you're stuff, get everything ready to put in boxes, we leave in a week."
Myna frowned, she noticed the tear streaks in her half done makeup, but missed the red mark on her upper arm. After all, her father punched holes in walls, not people.
With that, her mother turned, and made to trudge her walk of self shame, back to the destroyed and overturned bedroom. Myna frowned and glanced at Apapane, before running the plate into the room after her, and placing it on the nightstand.
Her mother had locked herself in her own bathroom.
Myna didn't know if she should be saddened or relieved that her father made no move to keep contact with her during or after the divorce, even allowing all rights to her to be revoked.
He did however, fight to keep the house.
He'd built it himself after all, and what selfish man wouldn't want to keep his own handiwork?
That was okay though, Wikolia wanted to go home to Alola. And she wantd to keep their old beat up and rusted truck. It used to be a bright red. It was gladly given up by Jake. The settlement gave the girls just enough money to pick up and move to the outskirts of a city called Hau'oli, and a small town called Iki.
The only thing Myna had to leave behind was her tea kettle, and her friends.
The last two days had her walking through the forest taking pictures with them, a few telling her about distant relatives they had in Alola, and that they'd get the word to them and have them keep an eye on her, she could still comunicate to everyone through them.
It was just too bad all her friends were pokemon.
Walking through her house one last time was weird.
She grew up here. Had major tradgedies here. Had laughter inducing moments here. Learned to cook and recieved her education here.
Her parents hadn't had enough money to send her to a special school, and the public school considered her too much work.
Especially since her father wouldn't let her learn something integral to her education.
But now her house was devoid of those memories. It looked like a family had just moved in and had yet to make their mark. Family photos were missing, her father didn't want them, and her mother could barely bare to keep them. Into her daughter's memory books they went.
Odd things she never thought about before, an Alolan style lamp, a pretty pokemon statue, she never knew which one, just- things, were gone. Packed away in boxes, stowed away in a large shipping box, ready to go to Alola.
A strange feeling overcame her. Different from the ones she felt all her life, but scarily similar. Her eyes teared up slightly and she did what she had always done. She went back to her room.
Boxes were stacked neatly against the wall. Her bed was void of her favorite teal comforter, her favorite blanket folded neatly and strapped to her backpack. One last box sat open on her desk, her school books and desk supplies neatly placed inside. It just needed her sketchbooks and notebooks before it was to be closed as well.
Apapane sat on her backpack nested into the folded blanket, looking pretty stressed. She ran her hand over its head a few times, soothing it. Soon it was asleep. Then she sat on her bed, placed her head in her hands, and for the first time in years, cried.