Standard Disclaimer – All Pokémon characters, creatures, settings and concepts belong to its original creators.
This is the story of the falling stars.
It is as much my sister's story as my story. It is almost textbook in its adherence to some archaic story; there was a beginning, then the conflict, the journey, the return as heroes, the betrayal. The fall. And as the curtain was about to fall – redemption. Triumph.
And the Strangest ending out of anything coming out of Pokéstar.
Mind you, the whole script wasn't all that great, the director sucked, and some people's acting was off from the very beginning. And let me tell you something about the people in charge of adding the special effects- well, you'll know all about it later.
But there were some surprises along the way, a little adlib here and there, an unscheduled shift within the set. There were some producers who thought there was some sort of miscast, which was understandable, given that they'd all been through another film which had the worst miscast in their opinion.(but since I hadn't watched that particular work, I can't just throw stones)
And then there's us. The leading people.
Nate and Rosa.
Rosa and Nate.
The falling stars. Or- as a friend of mine pointed out with much venom as she struggled under the full force of a Hypno's psychic, the "dead, cold meteorites". Kind of passé, but I got her meaning.
The darkness closed upon the solitary figure, the lights dimming one after another as it passed them. The earthen color of the corridor slowly bled out into inky black, trailing after the figure like curious Ghosts.
"So, we meet again."
The figure pauses, and then a single light flashes, illuminating its face. Another light fwooms into existence on the other side of the open space, making some of the darkness flee.
The other one, the man, is wearing a black suit. He is fiddling with a Pokéball with one hand, and with his other fingers the delicate red insignia emblazoned on his chest.
It is an imposing letter; a burning R.
Back to the figure, whom all can now see. It is a young-looking girl, who seemed wed to the color red. Red hat, sleeveless shirt, skirt and even red traveling bag – and there is even a hint of red in her shocked eyes. One look at her and it is like she'd been through a ghastly walk, with scratches, bruises and soot marking themselves on her pale skin.
"You look surprised. Too surprised," the man continues talking. "Did you really take the word of that buffoon at the Gym entrance? Well I suppose your skills at snooping would be warped by all the… presents I left lying around along the way." His face twists into an unpleasant grin.
The girl still does not respond, but her expression morphs from shock to fearless determination. A Pokéball is already in her hand. The man sneers. He rears back his head and laughs into the light.
"Indeed, it is I, Giovanni, who am the Viridian Gym Leader. The same Giovanni you thwarted so many times, as Leader of Team Rocket. Welcome to my hideout. It shall be so until I can restore Team Rocket to its former glory. And here, you have found me again. So be it." He throws the Pokéball, releasing a Rhyhorn that thunders into the floor with an earth-shattering bellow. "I shall not hold back. Once more, you face Giovanni, the greatest trainer!"
The match starts. A haggard-looking Eevee answers the Rhyhorn's charge, having emerged from its trainer's side in a blinding flash of light.
"Rhyhorn, unleash a Fury-"
"Nate, got a minute?"
"Huh?" I look away from the screen to the one who'd just whispered to me. Slouching over the side of the aisle was Rosa Spire's bespectacled, semi-competent manager - whose name I don't recall. Since he had a habit of wearing sunglasses even in the dimmest of Pokéstar movie houses, Rosa called him Sunny. To me he's Bob.
I nod at him, stealing a glance at the action scene that was about to unfold. I'd already known how exactly the ending would go down - a fact which the enraptured moviegoers would know some fifteen minutes down the line – but I was made to watch anyway by some random feeling of curiosity. So I'd come down to the premiere with tickets the leading actress herself had given me.
It was a premiere that was attended by celebrities from all over Unova, leading to a literally star-studded movie house. There were top executives from Castelia, Nimbasa idols in all their loud finery and fellow Pokéstar stars. There was even a gym leader or two.
They all wanted to watch the latest of Pokémet's version of the Kanto-Red story. Pokémet was a much-celebrated director with many cult classics under his belt, but I'd lay odds they also wanted to watch Rosa Spire's latest acting endeavor as the newest "Trainer Red".
You ask why the hottest star idol since Elesa made her debut simply gave me tickets to the premiere of her latest flick? Well, she's my sister.
…And something more, but I'm getting ahead of myself.
So, I'd stood up from my seat, something usually frowned upon in a Pokéstar theater – during a premiere no less – but, again, they all had their full, rapt attention on that Eevee finally evolving as it clung heroically to the edge of a Fissure. Bob and I withdrew to a dark corner, shuffling close as if we were some shifty drug dealers.
"What's up?"
"Got another contract. Fresh off the presses." That was fast. It usually took upwards of three weeks since the last film's post-production before another project begins.
"Ito?"
"Nakatsui."
"Holy- is it a Brycenman?" Suguru Nakatsui wrote many award-winning scenarios, not the least of which was the classic Brycenman series. I believe action scenarios such as those were his specialty.
Bob snorted. "I wish."
"Oh." Love story then. It was also Nakatsui's specialty. This was gonna be awkward.
"I'm not sure this place is good for a business proposition," I said pointedly. "Particularly since the other person in the deal isn't here watching her own film. Maybe we should…"
"Have you talked to Miss Spire?" I shook my head, brow raised. Bob shrugged. "Well, I got the impression that she still wouldn't be acting for now."
I groaned.
Here's the second, horrendous part of Rosa Spire, star actress' life. Having had a sickly body since we were fetuses jostling over the same cramped space - while also catapulting into stardom during a convalescing time - she was in almost no condition to act for most of her films.
One would think this was grounds for her to fade into nonexistence a week after her Pokéstar debut, that she shouldn't be a record-breaking actress with seventeen films each grossing at least 600 million Pokédollars.
But fate and circumstance had another thing in mind.
To answer that dilemma, Miss Rosa Spire had a substitute. Not "that" Substitute clever Pokémon used. "A" substitute.
Namely, myself.
That's right.
That was me up there right now, crying into that Pikachu's limp body. Scandalously revealing outfit, feminine bawls, and all the rest. Through a trick of genetics, one could put a wig and apply liberal makeup on Nate Spire and never see the difference between him and the actual Rosa Spire. Our faces were so very nearly alike – and there were virtually no differences between our bodies, even way after puberty'd kicked in. We even shared the same low, husky voice, which added to the bizarre similarities.
Twins we were – fraternal, yet somehow freakishly identical.
It was the hidden truth that for all but two of the seventeen movies of her career, as she supposedly played her parts, Rosa Spire was in turn played by me, Nate Spire.
Only a few people knew this outrageous secret. Bob, Mr. Deeoh, most people on the camera crew (that was why Rosa Spire always insisted on that particular camera crew during shoots), and some in the VFX who were told to "spruce up" my body some – enhancing the breasts and such. Gah! All of them were bought out by Rosa Spire's managing firm. All hush-hush.
Oh, and our Mom, but she kind of already enjoyed this little fact from the beginning. Though that didn't stop her from being confused by all of "Rosa"'s subsequent films – wondering which of the pair was actually on-screen.
The one thing that always hit me most was the fact that almost none of my co-actors knew that was me cross-dressing in the green suit. They almost could never tell, even while we conversed in between cuts and I did my "part within a part" playing Rosa.
It was a literal blow to my manhood that many clueless co-workers found my "normal" self charming and bubbly and, and cute - all other adjectives befitting of the real Rosa Spire and not the guy who had to play the part, and man did I have to play it well.
Not that I wasn't grateful for the mass deception – for a certain reason I won't delve into just yet.
"Look," Bob continued, chewing the inside of his lip. "I know you're uncomfortable with those sorta things, but I've been told everything's all tasteful. Normal like the type. Most of the time talking, some action, a little cuddling… Y'know. Normal. Hey, after all, I wouldn't'ave agreed if there'd been some racy scenes…though you might have to kiss the guy again."
(Yeah I've kissed guys. So fucking what? It's part of the job. My self-loathing stage lasted all for one screening.)
"I'll talk to her," I said, frowning. I was making it look like I was hesitant, but truth be told, I already decided I'd be doing it.
"Great." He clapped me on the shoulder. "Oh and uh- heads up on the fan mail – the guys have collected a big pile back at the office-"
"Trash 'em." I said dully. I knew they were for Rosa and not Nate, but all the same, the notion I had any fans at all - with all their letters and flowers and puffins and well-wishes – was an uncomfortable, albeit ego-stroking one. They were for Rosa, but on some level, they were for me specifically, the guy who appeared most of the time on the silver screen. Good thing Rosa never minded me having all that destroyed.
"Gotcha." He made to leave, but turned around once more, snapping his fingers as if he'd just remembered something. "Oh, and uh… here's a letter."
I wordlessly received the small, unassuming piece of stationary, flipping to the back to confirm the sender's name, before pocketing it. Bob rubbed his hands together, cleared his throat and then turned to leave. I watched Bob trot towards a side exit, feeling a complex array of emotions. I looked back at the screen, and recognized the scene as the penultimate.
"I" – Trainer Red – was in the ropes, and so was Giovanni, who grinned in maniacal triumph. (Frank Ducal on the other hand was an amiable man who could almost out-cheer Hoenn's Wattson) They were both down to their last Pokémon, Red with her redoubtable Snorlax, Giovanni with his worn-out Rhydon. The floor and walls looked like they'd been gouged up by an ax-crazy god, with remnants of fire, dripping water and wilting vines strewn here and there.
"None of your last Pokémon's moves can dent mine, little girl," said Giovanni gleefully. "Fool of you to sacrifice your other tools just to save another from death." The Pikachu stirred at "my" side, alive, but unable to act according to the rules. "But I thank you. If it were not for your mistake, I would have had the humiliation of losing to a stripling once more." He raised his hand forward, urging Rhydon to charge. "Do not fear. Team Rocket takes care of its guests very well. But we shall have to institute a little… re-education here and there, to ensure your strength will help, not hinder us."
"Here it comes…" I muttered, my feet already leading me towards the side-exit Bob had used. I mouthed "my" last words silently, hiding a grin as I slipped from the darkness of the theater to the bright sunlight outside: "Snorlax: Self-destruct!" I could swear the whole building shook from its very foundations in reaction.
"What's been taking the two of you long?" I demand, a little irately, of the two people on my X-Transceiver's screen. I stood at the large, burbling fountain near Pokéstar, our meeting place.
Old Qwilfish head, our childhood friend Hugh F. Ward had an apologetic look on his face as he began to explain. Before he could do that, the real Rosa Spire elbowed in, stealing the view with her bright, fearless smile.
"Aw, don't be like that, bro! There's this outdoor convention they're having down here with all those Casteliacone wannabes. Good stuff, but can't really beat that creamy Castelia flavor."
"So?"
"Free ice cream!" she replied, holding out a piece of the dessert to the screen. "You know how much Hugh loves sweets-"
"Hey!" said Hugh, unseen from the side. Rosa made a shushing sound.
I saw a hint of pink at her left shoulder. I stared, pointing at it accusingly.
"Damask you traitor! Please don't tell me you were bribed that easily." I heard an oozing sound, and a small Sewaddle poked out from behind my sister's neck, tilting its head. There were hints of cream in its mouth. "Stop being coy, Damask. Tell Rosa to come back here on the double." I glanced back at the entrance to the Pokéstar theater. There was a large, buzzing crowd issuing from its entrance. When I looked back, my Pokémon had transformed back to its original, pink gelatinous form.
"Sorry, Nate. Are you angry?" A hint of hesitant sadness entered Rosa's expression. At her side, Damask was also wearing that same expression. Damn. That was an unfair trick. But I just can't help it.
"No," I said, taking a deep breath. "I'm not. But the premiere's all done, and we can all head on home now."
"Alright. We're heading back as fast as we can." She looked to the side. "Let's go, Zizi. See, I told you your idea wouldn't work, Hugh-"
"It wasn't my idea, I swear!" cried Hugh, waving his hands at the X-Transceiver. "She-" I heard the telltale footfalls of two people gradually pacing up to a run.
"Wait, Rosa, don't run-" The call terminated. I glared at the small device. The doctors said she was looking to be in better shape, but the heat of the bright, afternoon sun combined with a run would wear her frail body out sooner than one could say Jynx.
Not five minutes passed, and my sister came rushing through the terminal, followed by her Zorua, Zizi and a breathless Hugh. She wasn't looking too hot herself though she did look to be in better shape than Hugh, but maybe that was just the meds helping.
"See?" My sister proclaimed, her hands outstretched, patting her forehead with a napkin. "As fast as we can."
"Dummy," I tapped her on the head. "You shouldn't have run. What if something happened?" I stole a glare at Hugh. My sister had basically run off on a little date down to the docks with our childhood friend.
"Don't keep saying that," Rosa replied chidingly. "Isn't it better for me to be a bit more energetic?"
Damask oozed back onto my shoulder, mumbling something in what I think was a contrite manner. "True, but then again, you shouldn't be pushing yourself. You know your body's limits better than anyone." I pointed at Hugh. "But you. You and I will be having a little talk later," I said firmly.
"Uhh…sure." Hugh looked uncomfortable, which was kind of hilarious considering he normally had this intense scowl on his face.
"So how was the film?" asked Rosa. Oh that's right. That was why we were here all the way in Virbank and not back at Aspertia in the first place: the movie.
That was the cover story anyway. "Mom's old friend giving Rosa one ticket, and her giving it to Nate on the condition that she could have a stroll in Virbank so why don't you come with us, Hugh" was the story we cooked up for our friend's convenience, which was something he would have no reason to object to.
After all, he didn't know our secret.
People never recognized us in real life, Hugh included, because of our vastly contrasting appearances with the image of the movie star. The long, waist-length hair tied up into two large whorls on both sides of Rosa Spire's head had been my sister's normal hairstyle when she'd made her debut, and so I had to wear a wig tailored just like it when I took over her roles. But soon after that, for reasons she wasn't telling me, she'd cut her hair to a more modest, shoulder-length cut, the rest of which she tied up into her visor, which in turn made her nigh unrecognizable unless someone slapped the right studio makeup on her. And of course, outside the set, I wasn't wearing the wig, and definitely no makeup – with my own visor to stamp a firm non-idolish personality on myself. Problem solved. Maybe.
I glanced at the large "Trainer Red: The Untold Story IX" poster on the side of the gargantuan Pokéstar theater building. I neglected to mention we weren't known as "Rosa Spire". We were "Kara Grisham", an openly revealed pseudonym. With that, the Spire name was safely segregated from our secret collective double life as Kara Grisham.
I don't know what would happen should Hugh, the only close friend we'd had since childhood, discover that Rosa was actually Kara Grisham, and that most of the time, his friend Nate cross-dressed as her. Hell, I was eternally grateful to the guy for standing up for me when some wacko in Castelia mistook my girlish looks for the real treat.
….Not that he cared for movies, I think. He's quite singularly focused on one thing in his life, aside from taking care of his own sister and hanging out with us. Namely: training his Pokémon.
Everyone and their grandparents in Unova knew how to interact with Pokémon. Most had at least one as companions. Damask was my own, and Zizi was Rosa's.
Everyone knew the basics of battling – way before we'd picked up our job at Pokéstar we were battling with practice Patrats and Lillipups at the local school. But not everyone had the passion to dedicate their future to battling itself, like Qwilfish head here, who'd practiced regimented training and battling at most of Unova's schools and had recently professed his desire to conquer all Gyms and challenge the Pokémon League.
And boy, Hugh was a strong force to be reckoned with in battles. I've only ever observed him, but my friend never knew the words "back down". He'd plunge forward, through thick or thin, through all his wins and losses.
"It was nice," I commented, looking back at the theater. "Just what you'd expect from Miss Grisham." I resisted the urge to gag.
"'Nice'? That's all you have to say?" In contrast, to Hugh, Rosa seemed like the ultimate Grisham fan. It was one thing Rosa seemed to delight in using against me. "I give you my prize ticket and the only word you can think of is 'nice'? Jeez!"
"Well, I can't really tell if she did good up there or something," I protested weakly.
"Did you understand the whole plot?"
"Yeah."
"Were the action scenes good?"
"Definitely." Trust the monopoly of Pokéstar VFX to churn out visuals that would make the Porygon makers proud.
"Did you feel some strong emotions throughout the film?"
"I think so."
"Was Grisham as hot as ever?"
"N-N-" I bit back a snort, looking to Hugh, who looked back, puzzled. Rosa was beaming. "…Yeah, but in a normal 'actress' sort of way, and not y'know, the 'Hey sexy, I wanna be your boyfriend' kind of…" I trailed off, clearing my throat. Damnit.
"Oh c'mon! You don't get the role of Red in the Trainer Red series by being a plain old batty. She was smoking hot and ripe, and sexy, dontcha think so, Hugh?"
"Hell if I care," Hugh grunted, having shifted back into his rougher demeanor. I'll pretend not to notice the fleeting blush I glimpsed.
"Ugh, I am surrounded by asexual boys! I can't believe I'm the one acting like a real male!"
I cleared my throat again. "Be that as it may," I squeaked, my voice almost sounding like Kara Grisham's in that moment, "I can't really speak as to Kara Grisham's way of acting. I'd have to trust the expert critics to reveal their opinions later on the PC as usual…"
"You're no fun," Rosa pouted. "You could at least be more honest with yourself." I looked away from the teasing light in her eyes. "Fine. Let's all go home knowing we didn't accomplish anything. I think Hugh's the only one who enjoyed this trip to Virbank, with that Ice cream convention-"
"I told you, Rosa, it's not like that-!"
I took one last look at Pokéstar Studios, knowing perhaps tomorrow I'd be back to play out Kara Grisham's next offering. Then I turned my feet homeward, trailing after my sister's cheerful teasing, and Hugh's gruff protestations.
Night. The rhythmic tick-tock of the clock mingled with the tap-tap of my fingers on the keyboard, the footsteps of someone heading up the stairs, and the creak of many doors being shut and locked.
The door to my room burst open with a silent bang, and I caught the smell of fresh mint before the back of my head was engulfed in my sister's bare, ample chest. Fresh out of the bath, obviously, putting on nothing but the towel – around her waist. I didn't know by looking; I knew from experience that looking behind me was a dangerous prospect.
So I continued typing.
"Whatcha doing, Nate?" said Rosa's more subdued voice, softer now that we were in the safety of our own rooms. All the energy that had been in it, that had been in her during the day had progressively leeched out while we rode the tram home, and it was to the sight of a boy carrying his exhausted sister on his back that our mother welcomed us back.
Rosa continued to whisper in my ear, and I feelt her gaze go past the shoulder she'd rested her chin upon to the PC screen. "'… without a doubt the best Kara Grisham production yet'… Huh… 'None could ever doubt the wise choice Pokémet made in approving the casting of our lovely leading lady, Miss Grisham'… '…the stars are ablaze today, as another one ascends to take up its position amongst the canopy of Pokéstar legends'… Wow. These are almost all gushing about Kara Graham, isn't it? Only a few mentions of Mr. Pokémet, or Mr. Ducal..."
She made a humming sound, breathing somewhat deliberately near my ear. "It looks to me like you did a splendid job, Nate." She put her arms around my neck, squeezing gently. She was leaning more on my back now. "Job well done, little brother." I rather doubt that. Being the younger one I mean. Mom seemed to delight in not telling who came out first.
"They're all focusing on trivial parts of the film," I said morosely, continuing to search for more about our film on the PC.
"The main actress herself is a trivial part?"
"Please stop." She'd started nibbling on my ear. "Yes, but respected critics such as these shouldn't be blinded like this. I'd much rather prefer an open, unbiased criticism. I know this latest film wasn't perfect. It's almost like…"
"They'd been paid?"
"Not exactly…" I backtracked. There was the possibility, but what was the point? They could say anything they want and that wouldn't stop the rest of Unova from mobbing Virbank tomorrow to watch the movie themselves, and for the rest of the world to grab the DirectVideoDisc (DVD) version next week. Despite what the critics would say, the public would almost always gobble up Kara Grisham's work.
Was that a little too prideful to state? Maybe. Notwithstanding the fact that it was a guy wearing the part, that didn't stop my sentiment from being any less true. And that was why I'd at least trust critics to be more truthful with what they'd felt. After all, they had done the same for my- no, Kara Grisham's past films.
"Sheesh, don't be such a worrywart," Rosa said gently. "You did an awesome job! Congrats! Don't make it out to be some sort of bad thing. Loosen up those cramped face-muscles of yours. Indulge your pride for a bit…" I stopped typing, momentarily distracted by the feeling of her heartbeat so close to mine. It was not an unwelcome sensation; it's good she only did this sort of intimacy while at home.
"Something on your mind?" I asked, crossing my arms and leaning back against her. There was always something on Rosa Spire's mind when her outspoken brouhaha regressed into her old, child self: meek, spoiled and entirely needy of her brother. Not only that, the something was "something important". The instances she'd done included the time she'd tried to explained why she'd cut her hair, or when she'd confessed being scouted by Bob's henchmen.
"Not really…" she said in a singsong tone. "It's just…"
I waited, my eyes looking but not looking at the screen.
She sighed. "Will you be accepting Sunny's new proposal?"
"Yeah- Wait, back up. Don't let your thoughts meander off. What exactly is bugging you?"
"An Ariados in my room." I looked to the side, where Damask and Zizi were doing a mock eight-legged battle between the aforementioned Pokémon and Zizi's image of an oversized Joltik. I clucked my tongue.
"Rosa."
She made a small intake of breath, and then breathed into my hair.
"…Did you… hear from Mom?" I hear a lot of things, I wanted to say, but I held it back. "A-a-about-" I don't know why she started stuttering—"- about Professor Juniper's request?"
"Professor…" I cocked my head in confusion. "Professor Juniper? Which one?"
"… Nate, Professor Cedric Juniper's at Sinnoh, attending the Evolution Conference. What's more, he isn't Mom's friend."
"Sorry about my lack of knowledge," I retorted blandly. "Anyway, what's this about the Professor?" I gestured for her to continue.
"You really didn't know? I figured your snooping skills would've helped you eavesdrop on Mom's call this morning." Why would you think I have snooping skills? "From what I heard, the Professor was to come and hand out brand new Pokédexes here in Aspertia, and she decided to give you one of them, and Mom agreed-"
"Timeout."
"Nate…?"
I'd stiffened. The implications of the news took a while to sink in.
"What was the last part again?" I asked.
"Mom agreed to-"
"Not that- but let's get back to that later—the one before?"
"The Professor coming down-?"
"After."
"Give you a Pokédex?"
"What." Really. What. "Give me a Pokédex? Doesn't Mom know what that means?" Giving aspiring trainers a Pokédex was tantamount to an official sponsorship by one of the foremost experts on Pokémon in the region. It meant the Professor acknowledged you somehow as a trainer, even if you weren't one beforehand.
"You know she does, Nate."
"Then why?" I wrung my hands disbelievingly. "Why the heck would she agree? For that matter, why would Professor Juniper even consider the notion of choosing me?" Unlike the other ones my age living in Aspertia, I was a relative unknown in the field of Pokémon training and battling, having had only one solid companion in Damask and choosing not to catch a new one nor breed for one like Hugh.
"Well…" There was that hesitant tone of hers again. Like she was careful of the broken shards of glass on the ground, and was tiptoeing around it as gracefully as she could. "I might've… joined a few online spars…"
"You what?" I exploded, blubbering."When? How? Where? Using whom? How could this- No. Of course. It's him! It can only be him. Hugh." My mind instantly latched onto Qwilfish head, Aspertia's resident Pokébattle king. Only he could've persuaded my sister – using what devious means I don't know – to join an exhibition battling tournament and show her chops to a very interested Professor. How dare he influence my sister like that!
"It's not like that! It's not Hugh's fault, I mean—I kind of went down there on a whim…"
"Wait, so doesn't that mean you're supposed to be getting the Pokédex?" Not that it lessened my disapproval, but at least credit should be given where credit was due. In response, Rosa tilted my head up until my eyes stared directly into hers.
"I'm sorry, Nate. I kind of… went as you."
I gulped. "Well, crap."
"Exactly." Like I said, we were kind of inseparable in looks. My Mom said we were supposed to be one person, only that somewhere along the line we'd split in two.
That made it easy for me to masquerade as Rosa being Kara Grisham. But the reverse was also true.
"Grisham aside," I said seriously, after I'd sat her down at the side our shared bed, "You do know what's going to happen if you accept that Pokédex, right? I'd advise you to refuse, but that look in your eye's telling me you won't back down."
"Like Hugh." She puffed up her chest.
I scratched my cheek. "Look, I have to be blunt. You're sick. You're in no condition to be traveling out in the wilderness looking for and training against countless trainers and Pokémon. The doctors aren't exaggerating. Your body could collapse anytime."
"I know that," said Rosa with a refreshing smile.
"And back to our—your career. Your journey would invalidate my reason for playing the part that should have been yours in the first place." Her expression became clouded. I knew she knew this point should be faced.
"That's—"
"Disregarding my own feelings on the matter, what about yours? Would you be okay doing that while knowing this?"
"Nate…" she murmured, lips quivering. "I—" It was my turn to pull her into a close hug. I gave Rosa a few squeezes, trying to prevent the shivering of her back from turning into a full-blown cry.
"Sorry…" I whispered. "I wasn't being fair, but… We'll need to talk more about this later, okay?"
She shivered again, and then nodded. "Uhuh." I stayed in that position, going for a new tack.
"…The agency still needs you to show up every once in a while. Outings, photo shoots: they've always made sure they caught you at a good time. Who knows what kind of condition you'll be in when that time comes. And you know what this means for your journey: you might have to stop a lot along the way. You can't just barrel on forward like Qwilfish head." I pushed her away, giving her a small smirk.
"So I'll follow the summons if and when it comes. No big deal," she declared, sniffling.
I paused, a million protests in my mind strained to issue from my mouth. I tossed my body against the bed, letting myself float on the cushiony sensation. "I don't know, Rosa…"
"Are you- are you going to say no?" Rosa asked uncertainly, leaning over to look down at me again. I saw her nibble on her lower lip, one quirk we shared. I had the fleeting sensation of déjà vu. Maybe it was because it was like I was looking up into a magic mirror of sorts.
Rosa Spire, AKA Kara Grisham (the one half of her), wants to go on a trainer journey to discover the wonders of the world of Pokémon. It sounded exactly like "Trainer Red"'s premise, but without the promise of Pokémet asskicking towards the end.
But Kara Grisham was our reality, and I couldn't just let the both of us forget that. At this point, it wasn't so easy to turn back. It was almost impossible to wipe the slate clean, to start over from scratch, because we'd already gone down the mountain.
"In the end sis," I said, almost a bit to myself. "It's not up for me to decide. Maybe somewhat more important than Mom's word, the decision that'll cinch yours for sure: is the agency's. You did sign a contract with them, and not me." Even if there was another kind of secret contract we made between siblings.
At this, Rosa again deflated, slightly. "I know."
After a short silence, I asked, "This… is your dream isn't it?" I saw the embers light up, however briefly, at the back of her eyes. She looked away, seemingly embarrassed, which made my lips twitch in amusement. I sighed, and then looked at the ceiling, remembering the many Pokéstickers we'd attached there, long ago.
I sat back up.
I raised my hand and proceeded to ruffle her brushed hair. I smothered her protest with another hug. "For the record, I'm not too pleased to learn you used my image without consent. And I'm reflecting that congrats you said earlier back to you, purely for the notion that you might have the capability to one-up Qwilfish head."
She giggled, and then tackled me, forcing me to lie back on the bed. "I did beat him already. Three times. But I beat him as you."
I groaned. "Is that why he's been giving me the stinkeye lately?"
We continued our banter for a while until we fell asleep. All talk of the important event, which was supposed to be scheduled one week after, was momentarily forgotten. I woke up sometime around midnight with my arms around her legs and my face buried in her abdomen.
I slowly eased myself away from her, rising out of the bed, and then slithering past a sleeping Zizi to the PC desk. I stole a backward glance, seeing Rosa seek her replacement body pillow by thoroughly smothering Zizi in her sleep, before I whispered, "Damask."
My own companion oozed outward from the space underneath the desk. Understanding my silent command, it formed a key-shaped protuberance from its gel form and thrust it underneath the lowest drawer. There was the noise of something soft falling onto the floor, and Damask handed it to me without a word.
It was the letter Bob had given me.
I tore open the envelope, not expecting anything elaborate nor long. And indeed it wasn't. Inside the torn stationary was one pristine, shaded card. There was the image of a Foongus superimposed on the background. On the card itself was one paragraph, short and unintelligible to those not in the know.
One look and my stomach had clenched queasily. I crushed the letter, handing it to Damask for disposal.
What did the letter say?
It doesn't matter. I'm the only one supposed to understand the whole message. To outsiders, it just looked like some sort of prank letter, perhaps some sort of message from a deranged fan of Kara Grisham.
"Part of our excitement with watching another one of your shows involves a strange sort of ritual with a caricature made from DVDs of your past films. It excites us. Burning a lot of Pokédollars like that isn't cheap you know. I hope you understand that—understand us, at least, Kara
One day, we shall summon up our courage. One day, we shall emerge from the depths of our timidity to show you the heights of our emotions!
Soon. Yes. That time will come..
We shall enjoy your latest in the meantime. We know it will not disappoint. It had better not.
Prepare yourself, oh most Holy Grisham. We look forward to all the excitement~~
Papa Z."
It was crude compared to the clever crafters of ciphers, but again there were layers only those who understood could understand. And counting among their number was Nate Spire, the other half of Kara Grisham.
"Good night, Damask." Unlike Zizi, my Ditto preferred to sleep alone, on his own mini-cot.
I lay back down on our bed, a respectable distance away from Rosa.
I did not count myself one of the dreaming for the rest of that night.