Chapter #1: Ferals

It was a bright and windy day, that early morning after Po Town fell.

Once news had gotten out, accompanied by the plethora of pictures, video, and frantic phone calls from citizens, all of which splashed across the news, it became clear to the Alolans that something must be done. The police force, which had been supported for years and seemed to have been able to handle the regular outbursts of Team Skull mischief, crumpled entirely within hours―one small cabal of thugs rolled into the Po Town station, and the chief and all his officers scattered like roaches, eventually retreating to more amenable grounds on the east coast of Ula'Ula island.

"Pathetic," Hala grumbled.

Olivia nodded in agreement, skimming over the headline. "They've gotten soft. But it's not just their fault, is it?"

Hala scratched his beard and examined her expression carefully, and though he didn't outwardly express his opinion, one could tell he knew what she meant. A thoughtful grumble came from his throat. "Well, here we are." He looked out over the room, catching the attention of the other captains. "Is everyone here? Who are we missing?"

The kahunas and assorted captains sat in a scattered arrangement of chairs, a sofa dragged in from another room, and one footstool (which Olivia planted herself on, in order to be closest to Hala). They had all gathered on short notice at Hala's home on Mele'Mele―Ilima, Lana, Mallow, Kiawe, Sophocles, Acerola. They knew Mina, the waifish artist, wouldn't be making the meeting―her head was still in the clouds somewhere in Poni Island valley. The figures nervously looked around, measuring one another, and finally Mallow spoke up. "Is Hapu coming? I thought she was standing in for Lopaku―"

"No," Acerola said. "I just talked to Hapu―her grandmommy's sick."

Hala frowned and made another deep, rumbling noise that implied deep thought. "That is unfortunate… And hardly a good omen." As he said this, another thought occurred to him; he searched about. "Where's Nanu?"

"Uncle Nanu's on his way," Acerola mewled. "I woke him up myself; he'll be here, promise!"

Knowing he'd be late caused a wave of unhappiness among them; Kiawe was brave enough to verbalize his impatience. "He'd better hurry up! He's the one with the most to answer for!"

Mallow, sitting close by, swatted at his shoulder. "It's not his fault!"

"Well, he's supposed to protect Ula'Ula, isn't he?"

"It's my job too," Acerola pointed out.

"...And mine," Sophocles mumbled, barely audibly.

"He had a sacred duty, is all that I mean. He should accept responsibility."

...And as if summoned by their argument, the door rattled loudly and opened to reveal Kahuna Nanu.

They stared. He looked like had just rolled out of bed, with his breakfast in hand: a mug of coffee and the nub of his morning cigarette. He returned their looks with a bleary gaze and a muffled, "'Morning, kids."

Acerola squealed, "Morning, Uncle Nanu!"

He winced at the high-pitched voice, planting a hand over one of his ears. "Girl, have some mercy, will ya? It's early, and it's the weekend… Criminy―"

"We're glad you could make it," Hala announced. He just barely disguised his irritation. "But please put that outside."

"Put what―" He looked into his hand, and remembered the burning cigarette. "Oh, gotcha. One sec, kids."

While Kahuna Nanu staggered out onto the doorstep to stamp it out, the rest of them sat silently, holding their breaths for the start of the troubling meeting. It was his island, after all, where this had all happened: they knew emotions would be running high. Nanu didn't show any sign of tension, however―he came back inside, slowly dragged a chair from the wall and into the circle, and collapsed into it with a heave. He spilled a bit of coffee on himself in the process, so he casually wiped his jacket down with his free hand, then realized everyone was gaping at him. He crossed his legs and grunted irritably.

"Well, Hala," Nanu droned, "seeing as you're in the big chair, how about you start us off?"

"How about you start by explaining how this all happened?" Kiawe demanded.

Everyone held their breath; Nanu slowly turned to him, his eyes burning with a powerful disdain, and growled, "Simmer down, kiddo. Wasn't talking to you anyway."

Kiawe frothed and sprang onto his feet. "'Kiddo'?"

"Hala!" Nanu snarled, "Get your house in order, or I will!"

"We could say the same to you!" Kiawe taunted, though by then Hala motioned for him to quiet himself, and Mallow had yanked him back into his seat, scolding him.

As the outbursts settled into silence again, Nanu gazed around himself, seeing their tense faces. He made a deduction and snickered dryly. "Well, isn't this fun. Guess I got picked as the scapegoat before I even got here."

"It was your officers who folded," Hala reminded him.

But Nanu gave him a withering glare. "I'm retired, Hala, and you know it. Those fresh-faced babies they put in that station were doomed with or without me. 'Sides, if you're gonna point fingers, start with yourself."

"I beg your pardon?"

"That boy… Who's taken over Team Skull. One of yours, wasn't he?" With that comment, he grinned cruelly. "What a shining example of your tutelage, eh?"

Just when Hala was about to leap to his own defense, their squabble was interrupted.

"Stop!" Olivia jumped to her feet, barking her admonishment at the two of them. "Is this what you came to do? Take potshots at each other like a couple of children?"

"Hrrngh." Nanu scratched the back of his neck and turned away. Hala, too, quieted.

"There's probably plenty of blame to go around," she continued. "But this meeting is for discussing a plan of action." Seeing she had everyone's silent attention, she decided to make the first proposal. "The most obvious thing to do, of course, is fight back."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Nanu lean back and roll his eyes. She chose to ignore it.

"Suffice to say, if we kahunas and captains combine our pokemon, we should be able to drive them out of the town and return things to normal. I know the Alolas haven't seen an operation like this in a long time―but these are mostly kids, and their advantage is in numbers, not strength."

Kiawe crowed. "I agree! If they think they're so tough―let's show them what we're made of!"

"But that sounds… A lot like a war," Mallow said.

Her discomfort was evidently shared with Lana, who asked, "Can't Tapu Bulu do something? Isn't he the island's guardian?"

Suddenly, Nanu guffawed with a loud, hoarse laugh. "The two ladies are on the money." He turned to sneer in Mallow and Lana's direction. "It sounds like a war, huh? Sweetie, that would be 'cause they're starting one. As for the Tapu―trade secret, so listen close―they don't give a rattata's tail about human affairs."

Ilima, not one to allow unchecked cynicism, cut in. "Have you actually tried contacting Tapu Bulu?"

"No, matter of fact, I haven't," Nanu said. "Bulu likes to be left to himself. I can sympathize."

Olivia decided to speak again. "Nanu, I'm sensing you don't like this plan."

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "You think so? Heh."

"Please, Nanu," Ilima said, "give us your thoughts."

"All right, all right. You wanna know what I think? It think it's a crappy idea. Let's imagine this, now. You all get together, gather your forces an' all, and invade. You go an start a war with these kids. You'd probably win, but then what? Where are these kids gonna go? Run 'em out of one town, and they'll move onto the next―they trash the new place, we chase 'em down, run 'em out again―and they keep goin'. Soon we've got a mess of ruined towns all over the islands. Unless we arrest the whole lot―or hey, it'll be war, so what's a couple casualties?"

If the discomfort was mild before, it was excruciating now. The young captains fidgeted in their seats, and the other kahunas cast their eyes on the floor and the walls.

"You're right about one thing. They're just kids. Rambunctious and obnoxious, yeah, and they've done their share of property damage, but you overblow this, and it'll be blood on your hands."

Olivia didn't like the direction this had gone―she crossed her arms. "Then what should we do?"

"How about stay out of it? It's my island. My responsibility. I don't want any of you goodnicks sticking your nose where it doesn't belong."

"You mind telling us what you plan to do, then?" Hala asked.

They expected Nanu to blow off this request, but to their surprise, he sighed with cool introspection, sucked a deep sip from his by-now cold coffee, and started to explain. "We've got lots of feral Meowth on our island. I've got lots of free time, you know, being a retired cop―so I've learned a lot, about how to deal with 'em. Here's the thing. They could be the nastiest, spitting creatures you ever seen. Won't let you touch 'em, or hardly look at 'em. But if you take 'em, and bring 'em inside, and make 'em live with you―sure, they scrap with each other, they tear up your furniture, make messes on the floor―but after a while, they get used to you. A couple months of that, and even the most vicious ones curl up in your lap."

"...And what does that mean?"

"Contain them. Let them have Po Town. I'll move in, somehow. Chaperone, do what I can. Shoot, maybe I can work with 'em."

Olivia scoffed. "You want to babysit a bunch of thugs?"

"That's more or less my plan, yeah. Ain't like I got much else to do with my time." He slurped at his coffee again, giving the others time to process his idea. "Welp, that's all I have to say, really." He promptly got up, pushed his chair back, and started for the door.

"Where are you going?" Hala demanded. "We haven't voted on our final decision!"

"Go ahead and vote. I'm not changing my mind. Just know, if you invade my island without my permission? You'll come to regret it."

"Is that a threat?"

Nanu just shrugged and scratched the inside of his ear. "A good faith warning. See ya 'round, kids. For better or for worse."

In the end, Nanu didn't wait to hear their decision. It was that afternoon that he trudged his way up the long path toward Po Town, cutting past the meadow and lifting his coat collar against the cold wind. The way the mountain leaned against this valley pushed stormclouds there almost perpetually, causing torrents of rain to dump over the grassy plain. The ground had an uncomfortable, swampy feel that squished with mud as he trekked it, but thankfully, soon enough, he saw the police station brightly lit in the dark.

Though he could hear music thumping away from inside, he paused a while to take the picture in. A police cruiser, its windshield and windows all bashed in, sat dejected nearby. Neon paint smeared the exterior of the building in gaudy symbols and slang, and some of the interior furniture, probably pushed through a broken window, soaked up the rain. What a mess. After a minute or so passed, one grunt opened the front door, and the sound of loud laughter, rap music, and broken glass all rolled out into the night. The grunt said something to the others―but Nanu couldn't understand it, not from this far away.

In the brief moments before he walked up to the grunt and talked to them, he thought on those children―and pictured them, as he remembered them, running stupidly about with their shiny baubles and dreams. These children all wanted to be someone, once, hadn't they? The cream of the crop had since floated to the top of the hierarchy, becoming captains and champions, but what of these? These lumps in the flour, this chaff from the wheat―dreamers with no dreams left, who had every ambition swallowed by mediocrity and the chokehold of tradition…

I get it, he mused. The world's spit on them, and they're spitting back.

Those thoughts made him hate being a kahuna all over again.

"Hey!" The grunt called out at him. "Hey, you! Who's there?"

So then, it was too late to surprise them. Nanu pushed his way forward, doing his best to stay in the light.

"A cop?" The grunt took notice of his outfit immediately and yelled into the station. "Yo, a cop's here, fam!"

"What?"

"Where!"

"Get 'im!"

Hilariously, they practically fell over each other to crowd through the doorway and give him nasty, unwelcoming looks. A girl in blue pig-tails approached him first, puffing out her chest to look tougher than her small stature implied. He didn't realize it until she got close, but she waved a small knife around to back her posturing. "Back off, copper! Didn't we chase yo' butts outta here?"

He didn't flinch or move back. "Not me, blue. Doesn't matter, though. Not here to fight you. Need to have a chat with your boss."

"Big G? Yeah, right, old man. You ain't gonna talkin' to nobody, not after I'm done with you." The knife in her hand swayed, swayed back and forth, like a serpent waiting to strike.

He heaved an exaggerated sigh. "Blue. I've had a long day. Don't wanna have to man-handle a little thing like you. Now put the knife down, and―"

The blade interrupted him with a silvery, whispering sound as it swiped toward his chest. He easily dodged―she was bold, but unskilled―and when she clumsily toppled over herself, he swooped in, grabbed her wrist, and let her fall the rest of the way to ground.

He had her arm straight up in the air, and twisted it painfully against his knee. She started screaming in pain.

"Hey!"

"Let her go!"

He felt an empty soda can launch against his head; he ignored it and prayed they wouldn't throw anything more damaging. "I can break your arm like this, blue. A little pull this way―" He demonstrated; she shrieked again. "Drop the knife."

"Stop!"

"Leave her alone, copper!"

They closed in around him like hyenas, but didn't dare physically intervene. The girl was moaning, writhing, and begging in the mud. The rain drenched them both for some long seconds until finally, her grip loosened, and the knife dropped.

He stepped on it and let go of her. A swirl of curses, threats, and taunts started around him, but even as she got up and limped back to the group, none of them followed through. Mobbing Murkrow. All noise.

"I said it before, and seeing as you all have only a couple brain cells between you, I'll say it again: I don't want to fight. I want to see your boss. Now."

It's hard, Nanu decided, to sum up a relationship with a town. They at first distrusted him, granting him cheap rent for use of the police station only because they needed the easy cash flow. They called him "cop" and "old man" and "geezer." But from then on, the picture gets fuzzy: within months, his name became a polite "Mr. Nanu," or "Officer Nanu," and within even more time, the grunts favored the warmth of "Uncle," as in, "'Morning, Uncle Nanu!" and "Hey Uncle, how are the Meowth today?" (because old habits die hard, and the empty space in the station could do nothing else but fill up with ferals).

He couldn't decide if all meant something. He didn't know what difference he had made in that year. Sometimes it felt like he could save them, bond with them―bring over some malasadas, swap stories, sit patiently through their ungodly freestyle sessions. Plumeria proved more amenable than the boy, but even Guzma, especially after a drink or two, came to crave his paternal doting. (And after too many drinks, Guzma would let it slip, slurring and whiny, "Da-a-ad, I know―").

But other days, it all fell right back to the spitting, hitting, and biting―thrown beer bottles and threats to cut him open like a fish. He comes home, it's covered in graffiti, and he just doesn't know.

Still, it wasn't the worst life he had chosen for himself. The rent was cheap. No day was boring. And he didn't need to have a roommate, which meant every night, he was greeted the same way―the mewls and purrs of his loyal clan. Meowth, at least―he mused as he scratched their ears and murmured sweet-talk―don't care who you are, or whether you've failed, or whether you're very interesting.

He could live like this forever.