Chapter 1: The Not-Quite Prodigal Son
Drew was declared the winner, and the ribbon was his, and the emptiness that followed was decidedly unusual.
Roserade had sealed the deal with a floral display that astounded the judges. They rewarded Drew and his pokémon with nearly perfect scores. The other coordinator and his Gardevoir were still in the fight, but they timed out. It had been a good contest, though, but Drew just couldn't bring himself to care. He asked himself, So what? and he walked away feeling as though none of it mattered anymore.
Why? What had changed? He wasn't sure, but he was fairly sure his time in the Johto Region was over. This had been his second go around in the region, and it hadn't ended the way he imagined it would.
The return trip from Johto to Hoenn took him down Memory Lane. At least, that was how it started. Was it five or six years? Five or six years ago, he competed for the first time and lost. It had been an ordeal. He'd cried and was embarrassed to think about it now. That probably had been the last time he cried, in fact. He spent the next six months training. It had taken an obscene amount of time and effort, a lot of sleepless nights — too many for a growing boy. Never again, he'd thought. Never again would he lose, and damn sure he would never again cry over it. But despite the sleepless nights and all the time he spent training his pokémon, practicing their techniques, and filming the process for subsequent examinations . . . despite all of it, he did lose again. In fact, he lost several times, but he also became one hell of a coordinator, no matter the losses, and nobody could take that away from him. He had plenty more victories and was respected for it. All the others knew it: If you're going up against Drew, you better give it everything you've got. That was a better prize than any ribbon.
Then she came along.
He disregarded that year of his life and fast-forwarded to the present, and a question materialized before him.
What kind of life do I want one day?
It was a heavy question, one to which he had no answer. If the contests he'd dedicated his boyhood to conquering stopped giving him satisfaction, where would he turn? Where would he find purpose and meaning?
He was off to see his parents. Maybe they would have some answers for him. After all, what else were parents for?
As it happened, Drew's parents were no help at all.
They ambushed him, and in doing so, they cut his visit short. The conversation was a blur, and he was desperate to get out of LaRousse City afterward. "It's not your fault," his mother said. "Your father and I have been unhappy for a long time, and the time has come . . . "
He couldn't remember the rest. Something about "irreconcilable differences," whatever that meant. He wasn't sure. He guessed it meant they just couldn't get along, but why the hell not? Was it that hard to smile every once in a while and be nice? They hardly interacted anymore, and . . . and maybe that was the problem. They offered him dinner and his old room; apparently they were still sharing the apartment. He refused as politely as he could and made for the door. Then they both said something, called out to him, and tried to convince him to stay for a little while, but he ignored them. He was gone after only twenty minutes.
With that, Drew's childhood was over. There was a before and an after, and he could never go back to the way it was, the way it used to be. Maybe it never was as happy as he remembered, but at least it made sense. Now nothing made any sense at all. Even the one thing he'd always understood — contests, competing — became an enigma, perplexing him with the vacancy it left.
He wandered the streets of LaRousse seemingly for hours. When he got tired of walking, he settled in and stood on the metropolitan conveyors and let them carry him through the various districts. He was listless and searching, but for what? Answers? He wasn't sure there were any to be found in this city, which had once been his home, which now seemed strange and unfamiliar. It was larger now. The city had claimed more of the island upon which it was built. Technology had advanced, attracting investors and commerce. The big corporations were moving some of their headquarters to LaRousse.
He traversed steep valleys of shimmering skyscrapers and manicured parks, an urban illusion of white and green. People and pokémon hustled and bustled around him. The crowds didn't jockey or jostle, and the pokémon were all properly trained, but together they were a driving force. Everyone was in a hurry with no place to go. Getting taken for a ride was easy, and many visitors were. It was too easy to follow the flow of traffic and wind up lost and confused. Drew let it happen. He allowed the crowds to sweep him up and take him away because he wanted to be lost and never found. Working independently, his feet took him to a park, one step at a time, where he sat in a patch of grass shielded by the leaves of a tree that towered thirty, forty feet above. There he stayed until it was early evening, watching the people who came and went, some accompanied by their pokémon. A handful of couples passed him, and he scrutinized them with his absentminded gaze while wondering, What's the point? He briefly considered bringing out Roserade, but he left that idea where it was. How could he explain something like this to a pokémon and expect any understanding when he couldn't understand it himself? How could two people just fall out of love with one another?
Was it the secret fate of all the couples that passed him by? Were they all doomed to the same unceremonious ending? If so, then why bother? Why waste time with pointless, loveless relationships if something so arbitrary could bring about their demise?
It was like being a little boy again; he felt so small. When at last he mustered the courage to stand up and keep on walking, he gathered himself and went about finding the nearest exit leading out of the city. His time in LaRousse was over.
Twilight saw him sitting on the platform at the monorail station. He could faintly see the high-rise apartments from the platform, and the setting sun, dipping below the horizon, bounced off the mirrored surface of the plate glass windows and blazed in his eyes. He held up a hand to block the assaulting rays and winced, dazzled by the orange fireball reflection in the early evening sky.
He didn't see her approach.
On the platform's opposite end, a young lady of similar age sat with her legs together and her arms crossed. Where she was sitting was outside the sun's reflected gaze, and she had a good view of her surroundings. She happened to glance lengthwise down the platform, and her eyes caught sight of . . . could it be? No, there was no way. She spotted a mop of green hair, and her heart skipped a beat, but something was different; the proportions were all wrong. She tried to look without being too obvious. Then something in the back of her mind clicked. She accounted for the time that had passed and the growth that came with age, and he would be right about the same age as her, wouldn't he? There was another click in her mind, and then her chest swelled, and the excitement she felt was palpable, and the urge to jump up and race over to him came too quickly for her to resist.
She stood and ran over to where he was sitting.
"Drew?"
He lowered his hand slowly. The voice was feminine and soft. It triggered something deep inside, just how he remembered it, floating on a naturally musical quality that was uniquely hers. The sound of his name fluttered in front of him like the prettiest Beautifly, wagging its wings to pull him out of his trance.
Backlit by the reflected rays of the setting sun, she was radiant. She wore the darling smile of a girl next door far too easily. How in the world had he ever resisted it? Well, they had only been kids then.
"May." He stood up to greet her. "I haven't seen you in a long time. How are you? What are you doing here?"
"It's been too long!" she declared, grabbing him for a hug. He stiffened for a second or two, but then he eased into it, and the moment was perfect.
He wrapped his arms around her without thinking and breathed for what had to be the first time in ages.
They sat together on the platform. "I'm passing through," she told him. "I'm on my way home. I came back to visit my family. What about you?"
"I just left home."
"Oh? Where are you heading?"
A question with no answer. He swallowed his sudden discomfort and said, "It's not important. Don't worry about it. You're going to Petalburg, right?"
His hesitance was not missed, but she decided to let it go. "That's right!"
He frowned. "It's getting kind of late."
"I guess you're right."
"Haven't you heard the news?"
May's expression was quizzical. "What's that?"
"The countryside is getting pretty dangerous. Everyone's talking about it. There are gangs roaming the major routes. Men with guns. They mean trouble, I hear. It's pretty risky for you to be traveling by yourself."
She looked down. "Well, to be honest, I have been a little worried. But if I'm careful, it shouldn't be a problem, right? I can stay out of trouble."
Drew scoffed. "All I remember from years ago is you doing a terrible job of staying out of trouble. Trouble seemed to follow you and your friends everywhere."
She couldn't argue with that.
"I haven't got a choice, Drew."
"What about your friends? Where are they?"
"They're gone, off traveling by themselves, and Max is at home."
That doesn't leave me with much of a choice either, he thought. It was a clever self-delusion. He said, "I'll go with you."
"Huh? What do you mean?"
"I'll travel with you. It'll be safer."
The offer stunned her. She blinked two or three times, and almost expected him to retract it and turn it all into a big joke, but he didn't. He was serious. She looked away and rubbed the back of her neck. "I mean, if you're going that way . . . I don't want you to inconvenience yourself."
"I'm not," he said, and it was accompanied by a sincere smile.
They waited side-by-side for a little less than ten minutes, at which time the express to the mainland pulled in and they boarded. They made their way toward the back of the middle car, and studiously they did not sit next to one another. May claimed a seat first, and Drew slipped into the one behind her. The ride was not a long one, and neither of them spoke for the duration. The silence was a bit awkward, but not unbearably slow. May had a magazine with her, and she occupied herself with an article. Drew stared at the passing city and let it disappear behind them. He hadn't told his parents that he was leaving, and he didn't exactly care if they knew. He was more than capable of looking after himself at this point. Maybe he would find something worthwhile where he was going, but he doubted it. He doubted that there was anything worthwhile out there anymore.
But, truth to tell, he could be keeping worse company.