author's note: This is a sequel to Inamorata, so please read that story before this one.
Materialist
1.
There is rumour of a prodigy, with ambitious morals.
When he first approaches Cynthia for a battle, he is young and too inexperienced to comprehend the level of efficiency required in order to defeat a Pokemon Champion. His last Pokemon lies unconscious in his arms within five minutes, and he flees, tear-stained and terribly naive. So many times this has happened. Cynthia is used to witnessing the defeat of trainers. That is her role as Champion: to win. No matter who her opponent may be.
The very same prodigy is seduced from his path to become a Pokemon Master. Cynthia is startled to discover he has turned to an old, yet returning criminal organisation named Team Rocket. Their former godfather has retired, fled, and in replacement is somebody Cynthia has never heard of before. As Pokemon Champion, she is the State, and is expected to approach these criminals. For a while, she doesn't touch on the subject, and continues to study on the myths of Sinnoh.
A message is carried out throughout the region: all Pokemon trainers are abusive; they are cruel; they are hateful. They use Pokemon for their own gain. Pokemon trainers lack morality. They are savage, and corrupt men and women who deserve to be punished. This same message is sent across multiple other regions as well, until Team Rocket's motives become clear. What they want isn't necessarily power anymore, but justice. They have overturned their policy.
Stripping their silly, childish name, the criminal organisation decide on another: Icarus.
Cynthia can't help but associate the name to the mythical angel. Overly-ambitious. Spreading across a message which will only result in failure. Aaron eventually approaches her, asking her if this organisation mean anything serious, or if it's nothing. If this is all fear-mongering, and the region will remain at peace. And as much as she wants to inform the young trainer everything will be fine, she can't help but feel a little on edge. These criminals appear strong, and they are recruiting trainers by the day.
When the prodigy returns to her, he's older, stronger, and wiser. But he hasn't approached her to fight. He stashes his Pokeballs away, and talks to her: 'Join us. You care about Pokemon. You love them more than anybody else has. So, you must understand what we mean when we say that what you're doing is wrong. We should stop using Pokemon for our own gain. We should stop trapping them in cages. We shouldn't let them out of those cages only for our selfish needs.'
And it makes so much sense.
Cynthia sighs. 'You poor boy. I fear you have missed the very purpose of Pokemon battle. It isn't about abusing Pokemon, nothing like that. I would never cause harm on my friends. Pokemon battle is about passion, about learning; it is about forming a bond with your pocket monsters, and becoming closer to them. That is something a Pokemon trainer will not be able to gain if they shy away from the very purpose of Pokemon battle. You mustn't be afraid. Please, let me teach you why Pokemon training is so beautiful.'
'If you won't join us, then I'll have no option but to destroy the Pokemon you possess.'
She's startled. Not necessarily by his confidence, but his choice of words. 'Do you not hear the irony in what you say?'
However, the boy is having none of it. He unleashes his first Pokemon, a Venesaur, and roars out the first attack. Of course, Cynthia is far ahead of his expertise, and her Milotic defeats each and every one of his Pokemon with wonderful ease. Yet it is not satisfaction she endures when the boy is left with one Pokemon, barely any energy, and only a single potion.
Glaring at her, he yells out, 'You're making a mistake!'
Cynthia sympathises. She feels sorry for him, even when he pathetically releases his last Pokemon. The poor thing barely survives. It is no match against a Pokemon which is thirty levels higher. To the boy's horror, he is once again defeated, and he leaves, shoulders slumped, and wrapped in confused agony. Cynthia doesn't feel pride. Doesn't feel victory.
Instead, all she can think about is his message.
Perhaps his ambitions are reasonable. Perhaps this organisation which call themselves Icarus have a reasonable purpose. It is what keeps her up at night. What makes it that much harder to sleep. She abandons the bed, releases her Togekiss, and tries to enjoy its optimism as it swoops around her in delight. But she just can't hack it. Her whole life, Cynthia has been a Pokemon trainer, had to battle against the rage she felt for her parents. She became a Pokemon trainer for a reason.
It had nothing to do with vengeance, nothing to do with power. Her reason was solely to do with understanding. To learning the ways of a Pokemon trainer, and to learn about Pokemon generally; how they live, how they intact with others, how they manage, their psychological states. It has been her passion for so long, she never really considered if her life was abusive towards them.
Togekiss makes a happy noise when it senses somebody approaching. Cynthia turns. A woman, several years younger than she, stands in the doorway. Dawn gives her a look Cynthia recognises. She's puzzled, yet concerned. 'Why are you awake so early?' She yawns, rubbing her eye with the heel of her hand. Cynthia can't help but feel a sense of relief at Dawn's arrival.
'I couldn't sleep.'
That isn't anything unusual. Cynthia is prone to her thoughts getting the better of her, but that doesn't discourage Dawn's concern. She comes over to the blonde. Cynthia looks at her, smiles. Amazed at how much Dawn has grown. To think, the first time they met Dawn was only fourteen years of age. With so much to learn, so much courage, so much to be disappointed by.
Now, at twenty five, Dawn is a Champion in her own right. And it shows. The best Pokemon trainers are scarred by their history. It takes a lot out of a person to become brilliant in battle. The psychological impact the route to Pokemon training has is understated. If one comes out sane, it's actually quite admirable. Pokemon training is a frightening prospect, a career choice very few take on.
Romanticised in the books, of course. Becoming a trainer isn't just about finding Pokemon across the world, but about finding yourself too. It's about knowing whether you have the courage to watch your Pokemon collapse before you, whether you can take on any challenger who approaches. Whether you have the mental strength to push forward when everybody loathes your success.
Dawn no longer has the rounded, love-heart shaped face of a teenager. Her face is angular, high cheek bones, and dark eyes which can be surprisingly seductive. She facades confidence, and possesses a spirit Cynthia has discovered in very few trainers. Dawn is traumatised by her past, but she doesn't allow it to eat her alive. And Cynthia was there, the whole time, while Dawn travelled across the Sinnoh region. When she faced the Devil Pokemon, Giratina, and caught it for herself.
'The same boy challenged me today.'
Dawn blinks, doesn't really react, but she knows who Cynthia is referring to. 'What happened?'
'I assume you're aware of the message which is currently being spread.'
'Oh.' Dawn smiles. 'Yes, I'm aware.'
Cynthia gathers Dawn cares little for the message; she's used to differing opinions, used to threat. She's had to deal with it throughout her training. 'They are very adamant on people joining.' Cynthia isn't as cool as Dawn. In a way, she's softer. Nicer. More lenient on trying to understand the opposing viewpoint, so, naturally, her reaction to Icarus isn't as amused as Dawn's. 'I hear them. I know what they are trying to say. I understand their concerns, but, surely, I would not be who I am today if I doubted my morale.'
That strikes a response from Dawn. She widens her eyes, and turns tense. 'Since when were you ever sceptical of your conduct?'
Perhaps Dawn is upset. To her, Cynthia has been a role model throughout her teen years, until she became Champion. And, even then, she still held Cynthia with high esteem. And that was the thing about Cynthia: she is confident about her training, about how she treats Pokemon. In fact, Dawn hasn't ever known somebody as caring as Cynthia when it comes to Pokemon. Her affections run deep. Really, one of the reasons Dawn has come to love her Pokemon so dearly is because of the woman before her.
Cynthia softens her expression. In a way, it's endearing––Dawn's temper.
'I'm not sceptical. Nevertheless, I am willing to listen. They are a courageous lot.' Cynthia shrugs. 'And, what if they are right, Dawn? There's no harm in considering the opposite viewpoint.'
Dawn blinks; her temper subsides. 'You're never wrong, though.'
Perhaps it's the rookie side of her showing. The Dawn who looked up to Cynthia as a role model, who blindly followed Cynthia through the portal leading to The Distortion World. So crazed and ambitious to do her teacher proud.
Never wrong. Cynthia chuckles. 'I'm human, which, therefore, means I am fallible.'
Dawn frowns. Clearly Cynthia has said something which has struck a chord. They're silent for a moment, and Cynthia allows Dawn to gather her thoughts, to consider what Cynthia is saying. She's not sure whether Dawn will lash out at her, or walk away, or just roll her eyes and change the topic. But, in way, she and Dawn are very similar. Dawn doesn't walk away, for starters. Not on anything.
Especially on somebody she loves.
Dawn comes closer, and then she's cuddling her. Dawn presses her lips to the crook of Cynthia's neck, and squeezes tightly. She could hold her forever, for an eternity, and it will never be enough. But she resists, and pulls back slightly to speak. Cynthia's eyes are almost blue in this light. Their greyness has darkened, and it's shocking how much her eye colour reflects her mood.
'You're Cynthia––and you're a Pokemon Master. You're the reason so many young trainers have followed their ambition to become something great.' Dawn pauses. She's still thinking, trying to gather her thoughts together. 'I think the only reason I'm here, right now, is because of you.' She smiles crookedly. 'If you were doing something wrong your entire life, you would have figured that out by now. And you're not somebody who gives into a challenge, even if it makes you question everything.'
And that's true.
Cynthia would have stopped, would have realised by now, if something were out of place.
'You chose to love Pokemon when you had every reason not to. I think that's good enough reason not to doubt yourself.'
Dawn doesn't forget that. Cynthia's initial reason to start her Pokemon training. It had nothing to do with glory, nothing to do with power, with becoming Master of the universe. It was about learning, about understanding her supposed enemy. That even though a Pokemon species had murdered her own family, she stepped over her anger, her desire to hate, and learnt.
What's more, Cynthia didn't give in to that desire. That desire to be all-powerful, all-knowing.
Godly.
Unlike her rival, Cyrus. Unlike so many who have followed the same path.
'You've come a long way,' Cynthia says. 'I'm proud.'
Dawn kisses her. Once. A firm, warm kiss. 'I have you to thank.' Togekiss whips around them, and perches itself happily on the windowsill. Cynthia glances over at her Pokemon, how it neatly folds its wings over its body, and falls asleep.
'I am relieved I found you.'
Because there were so many; so many young trainers she could have bumped into, but it had to be Dawn. It had to be. It had to be the silent, curious one. The one who was always a step behind everybody else, but her spirit––how it never faded. There was a reason why Cynthia noticed Dawn amongst the others. She had an unbeatable passion; a passion so very few possess.
Now, Cynthia has barely anything left to teach. The student becomes the master, as it were.
She smirks. That phrase rings very true.
Cynthia is caught slightly off guard when Dawn kisses her again. Her lips are gentle, sweet, against her own, and she pushes her body into hers––a tame invitation. Raising her hands to meet her hips, Cynthia returns Dawn's affection, and eventually pulls her close. Until their chest are pressed together, and Dawn is everywhere; on her lips, neck, chest, fingertips.
It's simple. Forgetting about today, about what keeps her up at night, when she has Dawn to keep her company. And Dawn can do that: allow Cynthia to stop thinking for a while, for as long as it takes, for as many risks as it will cost them.
When they're breathless, wrapped in each other's arms, and close to finally sleeping, Cynthia delicately raises Dawn's chin so their gaze meets. What makes sense to her is how she has always treated her Pokemon, how she always lived her life, and how she decides to live her life now. Regardless of the alleged threat which might rise, at least Cynthia is certain she won't have to go through it all alone.
Dawn kisses her, kisses her to sleep, and joins her peaceful slumber.
Nothing could be more of a relief.
'Sir?'
A former Rocket grunt has entered the godfather's office, with bad news. Now, he is known as an Icarus soldier, a man who preaches word that Pokemon battle is sinful and wrong. It is a fact he has gladly accepted. The security of belonging is enough to convince him that any message is worth following, regardless of the boss's personal beliefs.
The man he refers to as sir is well-known within these regions. He turns in his seat, and looks up at the soldier, a dead look in his eyes. The soldier stops short, swallows at the sight. 'We sent the boy, but his mission failed. She's uninterested in hearing our side.'
Now, this surprises the man. He leans back in his seat, and cocks a brow. Although he refuses to be victim to emotion, he allows it this one time. 'Strange,' he mutters. 'I have known Cynthia for so long, and she's not the type to walk away from something so––correct.' He smiles crookedly. 'Very well. We'll try another tactic. She spends much of her time with a trainer called Dawn––perhaps you can convince her through another strategy.'
The soldier nods. 'And what if that doesn't work?'
'I shall deal with them personally.'
'Thank you, Cyrus,' the soldier says, feeling victorious at the very prospect. Two of the world's greatest trainers––defeated, once and for all.
Cyrus says nothing in response, and watches his underling leave the room.
author's note: Well, hello there!
I couldn't resist. I missed writing about these two so much, I had to write a sequel. This one shall be written in third-person, and will mainly revolve around Cynthia this time.
Yes, Cyrus has returned. How? You will find out!
This story will probably be darker than its predecessor, and there will be more adult themes than before.
Currently, I am in the middle of studying for my finals. However, in-between, I will find time to update. If all goes well, it should be every day, if not every few days.
Please do leave a comment! It would mean the world to me. Plus, it's always nice knowing somebody is reading your work.
