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Level 20

Runa said Pokémon were just the same as humans—let that be given. What sort of human was a crawling dependant? What sort only ate and rummaged and drained resources? An infant—that's what he reduced to, hung off her like a human child who didn't speak but only wanted things. Yet a child, as it went, grew up; necessarily matured in every faculty; enflamed a maternal warmth. That was a human, evolving steadily. Then what about a Dratini who didn't battle?

It was all his fault, of course. Every time she looked at him it came in a rush: the warmth, the trembling, the thought of being apart. When she lifted him up, he seemed to fall out of his body; when she kissed him between his flares, he couldn't see. Just to be in the room with her was exhausting. So when he had a choice in the matter, a way to please her, to improve, was it any wonder he chose wrongly?

—Oh, we do train. We spar—not with wild Pokémon! But you don't have to, Shadow.

For she understood Pokémon like no other human, saw him flinch at the word as she said it—gym—and followed his understanding (she would find him out eventually): he couldn't bear to battle, always hated it in the wilds. So she said he didn't have to: the trainer, letting her team lie about, acting only to drain her.

—I won't force you do anything, Shadow. (He couldn't look at her.) That's my philosophy. It's wrong to order Pokémon about as if they weren't people. If you don't want to be a battler, that's fine—I'll help you figure out what you want to do.

What could he say? He did not move. His skin seemed to melt into one mass, like the cinnamon bun she bought him, sitting on a paper on the hotel bed as she said, to all of them, Shadow didn't have to battle, and that was all right. And at that, her Quilava only smiled.

That was three weeks ago, and since then, he had done nothing at all.

There across the hill she sat with Gaia and Tanwen. It was her method of training: a spar, quit before anyone was close to fainting; a talk on strategy whilst drinking aprijuices, relaxing now in the shade of a tree in National Park; and again as felt fit—nothing whatever like what they called pondelorian, the disciplined training her family pioneered. What was it to them, he thought, to Gaia, to be that much more minded? Already she was top in the team, sharing the spot with Tanwen, much to the Quilava's displeasure. They applied themselves to battle (a joy, Gaia said, after the cage)—made Runa proud. When she held them, or spoke to them, it had to feel deserved. But as surely as if the cage's glass were still between them, stretching off into the sky, he was apart: his nature went two ways, one in a ribbon following her, the other stuck in the ground behind; so he would keep stretching longer and tighter, and eventually tear in two.

He was being melodramatic, of course. He took another piece of the apple, one of the yellow ones Runa sliced up for him; for he was wonderfully well off, far better than anyone in the wilds, wanted for nothing, had Runa—didn't have her as they did, but was it necessary? None of them seemed to know their fortune, to see her qualities as he did (didn't know humans like him). Dyna, the Flaaffy, was almost indifferent; she spoke freely about Runa's silliness in some way or other, mistakes on her part; but between her bouts of sass he could see she was really devoted to her, really thankful to be out of the wilds. Then there was Torus, the Abra, who said nothing, did nothing, only slept and meditated. But the Abra evolutionary line was one of those whose early form was weak and cocoon-like, a sort of latter egg-stage which, at the first evolution, became a thing much more powerful. It was worth Runa carrying him about, even if he was heavy (a ball, Runa said, being totally out of the question), even if he slept eighteen hours a day, for when his powers matured he would be a great Pokémon, a valuable member of the team. As for Tanwen, she left nothing in doubt about her effort. She had always been first in the team, she said, and always would be.

—Because dragons take years to evolve. (She looked at him and Gaia.) And I'm not afraid of ice.

Runa was bound to be champion, Tanwen said, and as she didn't need any hindering, as she needed Pokémon who carried their weight, if he must follow along, was the meaning (all in her look), he ought not to exceed his portion but make an effort; ought to puff their pillows; ought to see he didn't weigh them down. Battlers, she said, were a different class—her meaning being that as she was bred specially on the Pondelore estate, was of the very highest quality (the breeding and testing certificates proved it, she said), she wouldn't tolerate being shut out in attention by one who didn't apply himself. If he thought battling a nasty business, that same institution by which human society saved them from living on rot in the wilds, he might spare Runa his sad company and leave.

The trouble in Runa giving them all such liberty, he thought, only wanting them happy, was that a useless Pokémon might only take advantage of her. And Tanwen applied herself, and Gaia, Dyna, even Torus in a few spars; whereas he only watched and slept and ate apples. And what did Runa want? That they grew, she said. Battling was one way to grow a Pokémon; apples only grew him wider.

"[Catch it!]" Dyna said.

The basket tipped over on the picnic cloth, apples and lemons rolling over him; Dyna scowled and tumbled after, said he was slow, snatched them off the grass. —I'm done with grass, she had said; —I was fed up of it years ago. For a wilder, caught with her own consent, she was unusually averse to nature. Without a word she pulled out his tail and formed a net to hold the loose fruit, pinning the tip under Torus's foot, who only sat still, meditating; and piling the rest in, she sat on the cloth eating an apple, one of the small, bitter ones he didn't like, directly in front of him.

"[Why are you moping, now?]" she said.

He oughtn't speak. She looked at him and said, "[Come on, it's a beautiful day and all that. Don't tell me you're sick.]"

"[I—]" he said. "[I was just wishing Tanwen liked us more. We ought to all get along, shouldn't we? For Runa.]"

"[It's because they try too hard,]" she said, itching her wool, "[and Tanwen's a little princess who's got to be the middle of everything, you know? You take her thunder one second and she'll squeeze Aguav juice in your wool while you're napping.]" She ate the apple core and licked her hand. "[Was good, though.]"

By the tree, Tanwen was talking and Runa listened closely, nearly seemed to follow. "[It's better, though,]" he said, "[trying hard. I wish I could do something.]"

Dyna sucked her hand and said, "[You really like Runa, uh?]"

Of course he was transparent, couldn't possibly hide that he was at least very fond of Runa. "[Sh— She couldn't be a better human,]" he said. He was a clod, a dangerous fool; and both she and Tanwen knew Runa a long time, after all, several months already, so how did it look, this new one, coming out of nowhere and being suddenly devoted to her?

"[Eh,]" Dyna said. "[Maybe. I know other humans wouldn't let you lay about. I mean she basically says we can do what we want all the time—that's kind of a score. So why d'you say trying hard's better?]"

Because, he thought, it was unbearable only to take; because rotten as it was to think, seeing Runa close to others seemed to mean he must recede. But Dyna—

"[Oh, I get it,]" she said. What did he let slip? "[You want to impress her, don't you? Then you can get all up in her lap and she'll love you and that. Ha! You're just as bad as Tan.]"

"[I—]" he said. But she was right, of course—worse than Tanwen was all.

"[See, I know things,]" she said. "[More than that one.]" That was to Torus; the Abra did not move.

He said, "[It's just—]" and now Dyna stood and placed an apple on Torus's head. "[I just want to help. Runa's done so much … everyone's helping but me. I could have battled but, but I didn't, and now I'm no use.]"

Dyna leaned forward and dug through the apples, pulling out a bag of miniature limes he hadn't seen amongst them. "[Yep,]" she said, tossing one high into her mouth. "[Thash righ'.]"

He looked away. Why should they hide it, how they saw him? It was like the cage again, only Gaia really caring, and now that she had her liberty and her trainer, even she would tire of him.

"[But you know why you're no use?]" Dyna said. "[You aren't finding a use. You were locked up so long watching humans you didn't know what to do if you actually got one. It's like you atta— … at, atra—]" Then she glared at Torus and said, "[I knew it! Atrophied! Pencil face.]" Was that Torus, he thought, telling her by the psychic? Dyna threw a lime that bounced off the Abra's carapace. "[It's 'cause you got all soft and lazy laying there—no one likes that. If you just did something Runa'd love you and everything.]"

"[But what?]" he said. For battling was hopeless, like building a tower on marshmallow: anything involving him was weaker. In the cave, he recalled, he rarely succeeded; only avoided injury when the other spooked and thought he was powerful, fled the spot; fainted constantly, he was sure, and couldn't remember because the memory, they said, was the first thing to go.

"[What's she always say?]" she said, now balancing another apple on the first. "[She says she's happy if we're happy. That means, like, our dream or something. And what's yours?]"

To fly into Runa's arms, he thought: to slip under her shirt and bury his nose in her neck. He looked at Torus. Did Abra hear that sort of thinking? But the psychic never moved. He said, "[I don't know.]"

"[That's why Runa's silly,]" she said. "[I mean, we're not even all evolved yet. How are we supposed to know?]"

It was rotten, he thought, saying things like that, as if Runa didn't understand her own philosophy—one about the wants of Pokémon, about what they wanted in life. It was nothing like the other trainers, not even the champions; it was something they ought to defend without question.

"[D'you know what my dream is?]" she said, sitting in front of him. "[When I was in the wilds, Route 32, it wasn't easy—eating grass and that, lots of punk trainers about. Back then I just wanted a nice orchard or some place, you know? Just something better. Well, Runa fixed me right up—I guessed right when I saw her! She always has what we want because her family's loaded and pays for everything. So I've got it already, my dream—I'm already happy, you know? Basically it's just to keep it now.]" She looked across the hill. "[I mean … I mean I don't really like battling. Don't tell Tan! I'll clock you! It's just for Runa I do it. 'Cause whatever our dream and that is, what Runa really wants is us to grow, and battling's the quickest way. So I train for Runa and she thinks it's my dream, and that way we're both happy. And I'm being a use.]"

Of course for her it was that simple, he thought, she who was the very opposite of timid. She secured her position—that was all it was—put herself out and battled, tricked Runa, yes, but for her own happiness by letting her think it was what she wanted when her dream, for all purposes, was already accomplished: out of the long grass, and now to enjoy herself. Still, he thought, to mislead Runa! to trick her and make out his want as something different was the very definition of rot: it was only compounding the lies, how he really tricked her into taking him, and that could hardly make it better, could it? And this was all ignoring that if he tried, actually battled for her, he would certainly fail, and become even less in her eyes—not for failing, but as would become clear for proving incapable of action at all, incapable of growth, amounting to nothing.

Yet suppose, he thought, seeing again the apple slices (still fresh, as Runa saw he sometimes didn't finish them quickly, and now she prepared them in some sort of special water), suppose she thought like a mother? In human society, as he understood it, mothers were always some degree apart, had to be to raise one properly; and at the same time, they did not abandon. Supposing his sickness became clear to her, she ought to let him go, for her sake—which was proof he really cared, he felt, that he could admit it—but as a mother she may not. As a trainer was the thing: trainers were practical, prepared to think of the unity together and what didn't match it … though one had the sense with Runa, he thought, that to her training was only a temporary thing, that her future had far greater awaiting. Some great accomplishment, something with Pokémon, would be her legacy—her philosophy spreading throughout the world. Runa, as was perfectly fit, would change everything. And to think he was one of the few she chose, would accompany her to greatness and see her evolve! But it would be next to impossible if all the while she kept a useless scarf-Dratini around her, diminishing her in others' eyes.

"[I've got to train,]" he said. He'd been a fool and a rot, he thought—he had to fix his error. "[She'll never— I'll never grow, if I don't.]"

Torus teleported away and all the fruit tumbled on the grass, and Dyna said "Flaaf!" and went after them. That was Torus, he thought—the Abra appeared a short distance away, still meditating—probably weary at the rambling talk of those who didn't know their own minds. No, he thought, the psychic didn't hear his thinking, not yet, or he would show a sign—that was another thing to fear. Some day he would inform her, for her protection, perhaps; calculate and determine he was this much more a risk than a benefit; find out how to get rid of him with a minimum of difficulty, so that Runa was rather glad than upset about it. How absurd it all was, he thought, this thinking! as if he could only rationalise, work out how things ended months ahead like an Alakazam. If she left him, if something happened to her, he would die—no time of grief, no comfort from the others: he would become a husk of skin. His heart would stop and they would have to uncurl his stiff body from her leg, or from whatever jagged rocks he threw himself over. The only chance was to be essential to her, to grow and evolve and, if there was slightest chance, to wipe it all out.

"[So you're going to battle?]" Dyna said.

But it was all very sudden to be talking like this! he thought, not to mention that he'd fail at once, that it was the last thing he wanted, the whole institution of battling always seeming to him abhorrent, all worked up on the screens. Yet it was really only by battling, by experience and exercise against other Pokémon as in the wilds, that a Pokémon naturally grew and evolved; and wasn't to grow the entire reason Runa wanted them to pursue a dream? And with Runa it was not regular battling anyway; there was not as much to gain with only spars stopping short of the faint, but it was a steady way, certainly with exercises enough to fix on a particular strength, not the random sort of training other trainers' Pokémon received on the routes. Runa didn't like to battle wilders, said to force one into battle was no different from beating up strangers; but in a family, as it were, with everything mutual, there were no hard feelings. And she gave medicine after every spar! Wasn't it the most wretched, feeble Pokémon in the world who couldn't bear that? Was that how he looked to Runa?

"[Yes,]" he said. It was going to start today; Runa couldn't think of him like that any longer. "[I've got to start! You … you don't mind, do you?]"

And Dyna laughed, bit her lime sharply: a spark came out. "[You're the one hardly minding!]" she said. "[If you're really serious you're gonna have to step up, or roll or whatever. You're gonna have to pull your weight, you know? It's a long way before you can impress Runa, but maybe. So here,]"—she stood and dropped directly in front of him, nearly touching, and he couldn't help but pull back—"[pretend I'm a scout, you know, looking for potential. You've got to impress me first! You've got to show you've got ability.]"

"[A— Ability?]" he said. Did she mean the shedding skin? For not even that he did well, lost it all in patches at random, never a use in battle.

Dyna crossed her arms. "[How 'bout Oblivious?]" she said. "[Let me lay it out for you, Shadow, how those two see it. There's five of us, okay? Right now Tan is mostly number one, and Gaia's right behind her and they're both trying hard as they can, and between us Tan's going to lose in the end and she knows it and it's driving her wild and it's hilarious. So then I'm third, 'cause I fight but I'm not a bug about it, and then Torus because he's a lump and only comes into battles to look or something. And then there's you, and you'd be fifth but you don't actually battle so it's more like four plus one where the one is you alone on some rock, watching. But if you were battling … you know, Dratini are kind of weak. You are! You're just stronger in the end is all. But dragons can learn lots of moves—even electricity! That's what I mean by abilities, your special powers. I'm the scout—it's you against them! What've you got no one else has?]"

But what was there? he thought. Only what Gaia said set him apart from the other Dratini, of having a mind (only being kind to him) because he followed human things, and what was that in battle?

"[Runa says I'm six-foot seven,]" he said. And twelve pounds, she measured; he ought to be eight.

Dyna jabbed him in the middle, to make him flinch, he knew, and of course he couldn't prevent it. And (now he was turning pink) she said, "[Please. You're like a Caterpie. Did you used to faint every time you saw a Feebas? How you survived in the wilds I don't know but you won't make it till you fix your nature.]"

She was right, of course; Runa didn't need a battler who effected his own paralysis. But imagine that, he thought—just to change one's nature! If it was so simple there was another thing he'd remove before his timidity. And yet—yet—why did that seem a frightful thing itself, to lose even this unnatural attraction to humans? (Certainly that set him apart.) For there was something in it, that to lose such a large part of him, that somehow he himself—Runa and the others had finished training.

She was reading a book, had her glasses on again, as Gaia and Tanwen ate their lunches. She stayed with them, he thought, for after all they were really the team: he and Dyna were the ones on another blanket. It was the privilege of the hard-trying to have first attention. She only worried, she had said, he might be bored without training; and so every night she read to him, just a chapter or two of some story, the sort of thing families did on the shows. Oh!—but that, he thought, taking one of the apple slices, that was a thing she must never feel, that she had to work for his happiness, a constant drain—

"[That's another thing,]" Dyna said, grabbing his middle. "[There's no muscle here at all. Eating apples every day isn't going to help if you aren't spending that energy! She goes through all that effort making them and how's it paying back?]"

"[I—]" he said; but with such an abundance of flaws, he thought, what would a true observer think, like those humans who could judge a Pokémon's quality with just a look? And she was right: he was too large for a Dratini, was actually thicker than the rest even the day he arrived in Goldenrod despite always starving in the wilds, so that, as Tanwen and Dyna looked at him and Gaia said

—It's a condition. And there wasn't exactly a gym in there,

yet even Gaia sometimes thought the same, he knew, that he didn't make enough effort, though even starving himself there was a part that never shed away. Some Pokémon were just that way, Gaia said. But until they evolved Runa was stuck carrying all their necessities: fruit and rice and bottles of aprijuice, medicine, the portable shelter and blankets, all kinds of effects, and of course Torus in her arms—all carried about while the rest of them gaily followed wanting snacks and entertainment and attention, and none more burdensome than him. If only he was born a good Dratini! Then everything would be different: he'd be right beside Gaia, under the tree, and Runa would always read beside him.

"[I'm a big gummy, I know.]" he said. "[I'm sorry.]"

"[Don't say you're sorry!]" she said, falling back and chewing her lime.

For a long moment she seemed to regard him, as if trying, he felt, to find a single good quality and—being the fairer judge, after all—drawing short. "[Look, it's not a bad thing,]" she said, kindly he thought—"[being kind of fat. Maybe it'll help with ice attacks, you know? Dragons hate all that. And you're really long! That helps, if you aren't too slow. What you need,]"—she poked him—"[is to be super fast. Or don't you know the quicker one always wins?]"

On the hill the others were moving. Runa checked her bag, the supplies, possibly calculated the rate of depletion. The medicine pouch was foremost on her backpack, and the food was most buried away. Was it possible, he thought, if he did not make an effort soon, she would release him? say it was not what she meant by helping him, only enabling his bad habits? Suppose he lead her to break her ethic by commanding a Pokémon, even something so simple as to exercise? No, he thought; no, he was being absurd. He would finish the apple, not let it go to waste (that was a worse thing, spoiling supplies); but this state of things, he felt, was as bound to fail eventually as if evolution didn't check his sickness.

"[Look,]" Dyna said, and she was, he saw, actually frowning. "[I feel … bad for you, okay? Be glad I care! But what can I do? I mean, this is all change in yourself stuff and that. But maybe if you ask her Gaia can help. Tell her you want to battle, and I bet she will. I mean, you're not really a threat to her, you know? No offence.]"

Chapter continues in next part