Pokémon: Redemption, a pokémon fanfic

Pokémon: Redemption / Kimball - 11

Pokémon:

Redemption

Keith E. Kimball

~Dedicated to loving parents everywhere; two in particular. -KEK

Emiko Bano had never been so frightened in her entire life.

It had taken her longer than she had expected, but she had thought that finally, as middle-age encroached upon her, she had achieved true happiness. That she had done so despite the unthinkable loss that led to her divorce had made her victory truly sweet.

Now it was all crumbling around her.

She dashed through the hospital's Child Intensive Care Unit. The nurses were just as familiar with her presence as she was with the layout of the CICU; Emiko received neither efforts to stop her nor directions as she weaved her way to her daughter's room.

As she burst into the room, her husband Akira looked up from their daughter's bedside. His workplace was closer to the hospital and let him beat Emiko here easily. She did not feel like teasing him about it today. She gave Akira the barest nod in response to his own; Emiko's eyes were only for the small, pale form nearly hidden in the hospital bed.

At her mother's gentle touch on her shoulder, Mie stirred feebly. The five-year-old struggled to open her eyes and meet Emiko's tear-streaked gaze; she could not. Emiko comforted her with soft, sweet nothings as she took Mie's hand in hers. Emiko ignored the IV needles taped into the top of Mie's hand also in her grip. It was harder for her to ignore how the chemotherapy had inflated and inflamed her daughter's face; how all of her hair-even her eyebrows-had fallen out.

Akira appeared behind her; one strong hand clasping Emiko's shoulder while the other took both of his ladies' hands in his big, strong grip. He was an old-school, full-blooded Japanese male; yet this scene before him was cracking even his iron reserve. The big man's lips and chin twitched a betrayal of his feelings even as his eyes remained steady, trying to give his daughter the strength to fight on. He did not trust himself to speak.

Mie's doctor and an intern slipped in for a second to check the monitors. Emiko's gaze sought theirs hopefully; the doctor tried to avoid her. She could not; the other woman could only shake her head shortly, sadly, at what she saw from Mie's readouts. Silent tears sprang into Emiko's eyes; she opened her mouth to beg the doctor to do something; anything!

Only the soft sounds from the bed stopped her. "…Mommy?"

As the medical personnel left, Emiko leaned in close to her daughter, hoping Mie could see her through her flickering eyelids. "Yes, yes, I'm here, baby! Your father is here too." Emiko shifted her hand on Mie's a little, allowing Mie to feel Akira's grip a little more. He managed to croak, "We're both here, little love." Then he had to clamp his jaw shut or he would crumble completely.

Mie's little chest rose and fell rapidly as she struggled to say more, but she was so terribly weak. Emiko moved her ear close enough to Mie's lips to receive a kiss, the mother's soft tears falling on her child's form. The sound of the room's door opening again did not draw either parents' attention; the world could've exploded around them at that moment without their notice. In a way, it already was.

What did draw their attention was the look of the newcomer that appeared on the other side of the bed. Emiko gasped, "What…Who are you?" She and Akira turned to the door; the doctor had followed the newcomer in. Emiko asked her, "How dare you send the undertaker already? How dare you?"

Indeed, the new arrival looked like nothing else but an undertaker in all the world. Tall and thin, dressed in an old-fashioned suit and stovetop hat, he looked like he'd stepped right out of an American Western movie. The stranger ignored all around him to focus solely on Mie. He didn't even glance at the beeping monitors as his long, deft fingers gently probed at the girl's feverish head and chest.

While he worked, another stranger gently pushed her way in past the protesting doctor's legs. The latest arrival was a girl Mie's age; she barely came up to the adults' knees. She was adorable in her best formal dress; its pink frills matched her curly hair perfectly. Her wide, calm blue eyes took in the scene from beneath her sun hat unblinkingly.

The doctor reached for the tall man's elbow, protesting, "Come with me. Now."

His fierce gaze gave her pause; irises almost purple in that thin, pale face. "Do you want this child to live?"

All of Emiko's own protests were blasted away by a shot of hope; Akira and the doctor weren't convinced yet no matter how intimidating their would-be helper could be. Akira demanded, "Who are you?"

Akira's stern gaze found its match in the stranger's. The stranger pointed out firmly, "We do not have time to debate." Then, as an afterthought, he glanced over his shoulder to add, "Leave us." The doctor turned on her heels and walked out promptly yet looked faintly absent; Emiko was reminded of a hypnotist's magic act all the while.

Then the stranger turned his full attention to the parents. "Release her hand; your contact will interfere with the healing." Despite his normal tone of voice, Emiko felt an almost physical compulsion behind it to do as the stranger said without question. Being a mother whose daughter's life was involved, she questioned it quite heartily. Akira's grip tightened around both Emiko and Mie's fists, holding Emiko in place even if she had been willing to abandon Mie. The stranger reared back slightly, irritated.

The little pink girl made a soft wordless chirp of reminder; the stranger's head tilted slightly as he added in a softer tone, "Please. I can help her, if you'll let me."

Akira reluctantly let go; putting both arms firmly behind his back; his gaze never leaving the man across the bed from him. Emiko gently put Mie's hand down at her side, offering one last comforting pat, before she withdrew.

"Thank you," the stranger responded, and she knew he meant it.

The thin man's hands waved over her daughter like a faith healer's; Emiko had never believed in such claptrap. She had been a fool to go along with this. But even as her mouth opened in rage, she felt something soft and warm slide into her grip. A look down revealed it was the pink-haired girl's hand. The child had stepped between her and Akira; leaning her head gently on Akira's thick leg too.

The child's warm presence was mysteriously soothing. Emiko felt herself relax even as she turned her full attention back to the hospital bed.

It was almost a seance now. The stranger's arms were spread wide, encompassing Mie's still form from head to foot without actually touching her. His eyes were sealed shut, his lips drawn grimly tight, as he focused whatever strange power he had toward the small body before him. Tiny pinpricks of purple light began dancing from his eyes and down his sleeves. Like little embers escaping a campfire, the light jumped from his fingertips to Mie's body.

The lights flickered and died.

The stranger's jaw pressed harder; his arms thrust out straighter. New lights appeared; many more. Beads of sweat sprang out across his face, some sliding down his nose after the lights; both emissions heading for Mie lying so still in the bed.

These lights died as well.

So did Emiko's hope. Vanished into a black hole of despair that threatened to pull every other emotion, every other happy memory, she had forged since that other horrible day into its terribly empty maw. The mantra, "No, no, not again…" just kept repeating itself in her mind.

Until the little girl stepped forward. Solemnly, she lowered her small head.

A bright pink fog erupted from every pore across the girl's form. Gently, it swept across the bed, caressing Mie's tortured little body before seeping into her pores in turn. From the first second this strange power entered her, the many monitors' readouts began to change. Even as Emiko gasped, the readouts rose into what even her untrained eye knew was the safe zones. And if she'd had any doubt, Mie's soft voice calling her name would've erased it.

Emiko flew to her daughter, hugging her tight, and received a surprisingly strong hug back. The pink girl and the tall stranger stepped as one to the foot of the bed. Little wisps of remaining energy gently flowed back from whence they came.

Akira wanted to hold his daughter too; but propriety demanded he pay his respects first. He turned to the duo, not caring one whit that his stoic countenance was completely shattered by a wide grin. Not to mention a glint of tears adorning the corners of his eyes. "We are indebted to you more than we can possibly repay," he told them firmly, "I am indebted. Still, name your price; I will do everything in my power to fulfill your desire."

The other man was reluctant to meet his eyes. "She saved your daughter, not I. And I know she would never accept any payment," he responded flatly.

To Akira's surprise, the two turned to leave. The proud Akira was not used to expressing such softness, but he had to make them understand. "Wait, please," he said with enough quiet force to make them halt. Akira continued, "Perhaps your-abilities-make this more commonplace than it should. You don't realize how much you helped all of us. Without you, my wife would have lost another daughter today. You must allow me at least a small recompense for your troubles."

Emiko appeared at Akira's elbow, seconding firmly, "Yes, you simply must allow us to help you."

The girl's gaze turned upwards to search her much taller companion's face. His own face was strangely blank when he replied calmly, "I am afraid you do not understand, sir and lady. My efforts, ineffective as they were, were to erase a debt I owed…to Amber."

Emiko and Akira alike gasped at the name of Emiko's first daughter. Emiko searched her memory; she still couldn't recall this man from among her first husband's coworkers. Daisuke must have met this man after their divorce. Her voice trembled when she said, "Then you work for the government too. Please, tell me where Daisuke-I mean, Dr. Fuji is right now. No, I don't love him anymore, but for whatever we once had… His mother placed him on the Missing Persons report months ago…"

For the first time since walking in the room, the stranger blinked. His deep voice grew heavy with sadness. "It seems that I cannot provide you with any good news today, madam. If you must repay me for trying, then please pass along to the lady…that her son died…trying to help Amber. You understand what I mean."

She did; although Akira did not. She would have to fully explain the reason for her divorce later; Emiko had been afraid to tell her new beau that her old one had been obsessed with cloning their deceased daughter. It sounded like the plot of a bad sci-fi movie or video game. She had said merely that Daisuke's work had come between them following Amber's untimely demise.

Emiko's own voice grew bittersweet, "Yes, I understand exactly. His work still consumed him. I warned him it would be the death of him."

"You might say that," the stranger returned mildly, "My debt is repaid; I will not see you again. Good fortune to you, sir and lady. Please take care of young Mie, for Amber's sake and not my own." Without another word or glance, the stranger swept out of the room.

Naturally the couples' attention turned to the smaller stranger. She smiled sweetly, curtsied politely, and took her leave without comment. Although Emiko tried to follow and was sure from the twitching in Akira's muscles that he was trying also, neither of them could overcome a strong yet soft urge not to pursue.

Mie's next quiet call, this time for her father, erased any further concern about the strangers from her parents. They flew to her side even as the doctor finally reappeared; all three astounded at Mie's incredible recovery.

The tall man stalked through the hospital. It was almost as if nobody could even tell he was there; not a single person challenged him. Only his little female companion trailed him, skipping eagerly in his wake. In turn, her wake seemed to be producing miraculous recoveries all across the CICU. Not to mention little pink lollipops, just one each for the sake of their supper, for the children to enjoy.

She continued her playful pursuit out of the hospital entirely and into the neighboring park, beaming her warm smile back at the bright midafternoon sun. Her friend stopped in the middle of a small bridge hovering over the gentle brook that bisected the park. There was nothing gentle about the clench of his fists around the guardrail. An attentive observer might've wondered why the man's long fingernails were not drawing blood from his palms. Yet the only observers were too far away; a group of small children and their attendant chaperones in the playground.

The small girl stopped and waited patiently at her friend's heels, politely watching the waters swirl below instead of the way he trembled with…rage? Regret?

Finally he could hold his tongue no longer. With a calm that belied his still-trembling form, he said flatly, "I do not understand." His lips did not move yet he spoke without interference.

She waited some more.

He faced her now, his gestures sharp and angry but not directed at her; his anger went to himself and the world around them. He barked, "I have labored long and hard to learn all that you have had to offer. I daresay I have had much success-in every way but this! It is not fair; no, it is not possible! We are made of the same stuff, you and I! How can I fail at something you can do?"

The initial heat of his anger was spent; it subsided into a thick sadness that brought his eyes down to his own hands curved plaintively before his own face. He continued softly, "I wanted to save that girl. I wanted to…with all my heart. Is all my power just for harm and not healing? All my might, all my desire, and I could not accomplish what you do so easily. Again."

Now bitterness filled his face and form as he turned back to the river, gripping the bridge's rail anew like it was his last lifeline in a stormy sea. He observed to the world at large, "This was the final straw, then. My fate is sealed after all. What use is a war machine in a time of peace? Yet even a cold machine has one advantage over me; it is not self-aware. No, make that two advantages; it will always have somebody willing to put it out to pasture."

He could not bring himself to face her due to a renewed round of trembling as he wondered quietly, "Would you perform this service for me if I asked it of you?"

He caught the gentle shake of her head out of the corner of his eye. He whirled angrily to confront her.

Now the little girl was gone; in her place beside him stood a woman. Tall and beautiful, the wind caught her long pink hair and flowing, elegant dress to billow around her softly. Her voice was deep and powerful; yet her full lips did not move anymore than his when she spoke quietly. "You look at things the wrong way, my son."

He recoiled at her words. "Your son? Do you forget my origins? I do not even really have a gender; it is human prejudice that makes them think me male."

She smiled quietly to take the sting out of her words, "You are the younger of us, correct? Shh, it is correct enough; if I say it is. Do you truly object?"

He could not. He could only look on with wide eyes as she continued, "You are like those you claim to despise; you focus on what makes you different. Think instead on what you have in common with others. Are only you and I made of the same stuff?" The gentle wave of her arm took in the park as she explained, "Are we not all children of the same world? Look; break down everything you can see far enough and we are all made of the same stuff. Chemicals, nutrients, minerals…all to make trees, grass, water, sky…Pokémon. Human. All the same."

He broke into her tirade with a snort, "I am no human."

"You think like one," she countered softly, "That will be your undoing, but only if you let it. Turn it to your advantage instead. Most Pokémon are born into a narrow role in life. Humans never, ever are. They grow, develop skills, and ultimately choose their own destiny. Together we have discovered what abilities your creators gave you; now you know the tools you have at your disposal. I have taught you everything I can. I set you free; discover your own destiny without my interference."

His protest was soft but insistent, "But…but…were you not born into your role?"

"I accepted my responsibilities long ago. Very long ago," she smiled quietly, "But the choice was always mine. That is another thing you and I share." Her smile turned a little sad as she finished, "You now know yourself, but you still know so little of the world; explore it and forge your future. All I ask is that you not leave behind such a beautiful world so easily." Gently, she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. He was completely unresponsive; so torn with indecision and the attempt to absorb her thoughts was he.

She turned away but stopped, adding softly over her shoulder, "Should you ever truly need me, call for me. I shall hear and I shall find you; always."

Then the little girl was back, all bouncing pink curls and bright smile. She turned and skipped toward where the children still played; pausing at his quiet voice. Was that actually bemusement coloring his tone for once? "Don't you have more important things to do than play?"

She turned the full force of her happy smile on him, throwing in an expansive wave of both arms for good measure. The dazzling sun shone down on the whole wide world, stirring the gentle winds and babbling brook around them. Small Pokémon skittered around them and the children laughed in the distance.

As she had said, it was beautiful.

Too beautiful to waste. Just this once.

She nodded, turned her back, and resumed skipping over to the children. None of the kids questioned her presence; she joined in their happy playtime seamlessly. The adults, strangely enough, did not question her either. She did not have to look back at the bridge to know the tall man had vanished completely.

The End

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