Chapter One – The Beginning

-Four Years Prior to Disappearance-

The story of Icarus was not a complicated one, but when I read it for the first time, it seemed to perfectly encompass everything about my very complicated life.

It began in Athens, a land far away from my own and separated by hundreds upon hundreds of years. Icarus was the son of Daedalus, a talented and respected artisan and descendant of the first king of Athens. The father created many wonderful things for many wonderful people, earning him recognition and giving him the confidence he needed to create anything, even at the risk of angering the gods.

However, out of jealousy for his nephew Talus, who chose to emulate his uncle by creating a magnificent saw, Daedalus killed the new young inventor. As punishment for his crime, he was sent to the island of Crete to work for King Minos. There, he had a son with one of King Minos's mistresses and named him Icarus.

King Minos, pleased with Daedalus's skill, asked the man to build him a labyrinth to hold the Minotaur, a monster hybrid with the head of a bull and body of a man—born of his wife and of the bull sent as a gift from a god. King Minos wanted to trap the Minotaur within the labyrinth, and there it would feed on humans as a tribute to King Minos's lost son.

Another king, the king of Athens, volunteered to be a tribute for the Minotaur because he desired to kill it and end the sacrificing. This king fell in love with King Minos's daughter when he arrived in Crete, and she sought the help of Daedalus in order to help her newfound love defeat the Minotaur. Daedalus gave her a ball of string, which she then gave to the king of Athens. In turn, he defeated the Minotaur.

Upon discovering that Daedalus had been the one to help the king, King Minos locked Daedalus and Icarus within a tower with exits leading only to the labyrinth. They remained there for many years until Icarus grew to be a young man, and they spent their days formulating plans to escape and observing the skies. They could not flee from the labyrinth by foot nor by boat. So, it was as Daedalus witnessed birds flying across the sky that he made his plan to escape from the labyrinth with his son. They could fly out of the labyrinth using wings, which he would make from feathers and wax.

On the day of their departure, Daedalus warned Icarus not to fly too close to the sun, as the warmth from its rays would melt the wax; and he could not fly too close to the sea below them, as the wings might touch the water and become unusable.

The thrill of flying was too much for young Icarus, however. The boy did not heed his father's warnings and stretched beyond the limits towards the sun above them. The heat from the sun melted the wax on his wings, and Icarus fell from the sky and drowned in the sea. Daedalus was mortified by his loss, but there was nothing he could do to save his son. He continued his journey away from Crete without his son.

The story was one of hubris. Icarus flew too high, despite his father's warnings, and lost his life as a result of his excessive pride. He believed himself too capable, was overcome by excitement. And the poor soul would never breathe again.

Well, to be fair, it didn't exactly describe my life. But I sympathized with Icarus, probably more than I should for someone like me and someone like him. Icarus wanted to test the limits, and how was he supposed to know where the limits were without challenging them?

He was punished for overestimating his own abilities. The story warned those who heard it of the dangers of being prideful.

But to me, it was a sad tale that killed Icarus off for being human.

I wanted to fly across the sun, too. I wanted to test those limits, and if I fell into the sea, so be it. The world worshipped me as a hero—one that I didn't want to be; one that I never asked to be—and I belonged to everyone else.

This was a broken, broken world. And even I, as a hero, could not be the one to save it.

If only it had been cloudy the day Daedalus and Icarus flew away from the labyrinth… But who could say that Icarus wouldn't have tried to touch the sea?

The door to my room swung open, and my mom poked her head into my space. "May, the crew is here."

I slammed my book shut, a piece of loose paper folding inside of it. That paper held all of the answers I needed. Maybe everything on that note was part of a dream—all of the things I wanted to do but probably couldn't.

"Okay, I'll be down in one second."

I placed the book on my shelf in a spot between some fairy tales and folklore, and then turned to fix my hair in the mirror. Picture perfect, like always.

When I bounded out of my room and down the stairs, I found my living room packed full with cameras and people. Two men were moving the furniture around at the direction of a lady in a pencil skirt. A second woman was assuring my parents that they would put all of the furniture back before they left.

But all work ceased when I reached the landing, and the lady in the pencil skirt clapped her hands together.

"Champion May! Such an honor!" She whacked a third man, carrying a bulky camera, in the chest. "Get her coming into the room."

The red light indicating the camera's operation turned on, and I smiled into it. "Hello!" I exclaimed, and I blew a kiss. Everyone ate that up—and everyone else, when they watched this interview from the comfort of their homes, would eat out of the palm of my hand.

"Perfect. You can turn that off while we finish setting up," the pencil-lady told the cameraman, pointing to the camera with a sharp finger. It kind of looked like she could stab someone with that bright orange nail of hers.

Then she flipped her hand, curling her index finger back and gesturing for me to come over to her.

"It's so nice to meet you. I'm Mari," she told me when I approached her, holding out her manicured hand and shaking my not-so-manicured one. "So, let's talk business. The deal is that as long as you complete the entire interview, you'll get full payment on this. Otherwise, you get your down payment of five hundred thousand. Cash." She grabbed a clipboard from the coffee table and flipped a couple of papers over it. "That's a lot of cash to carry around. You wouldn't prefer a check?"

I smiled and shook my head. It was all right there in print—whenever a news magazine or celebrity spotlight group wanted to interview me, they had to agree to my terms and conditions. And one of my terms and conditions was for my payment to be in cash.

My parents didn't question it. I traveled a lot, even after being crowned the Champion, so I needed to have a fair amount of cash on me for battles, just in case I ever lost.

Well, not that any of this money ever saw my pocket. I had other plans for it.

"All right, looks like we're all set. Can you just sign this? It just says that you are not obligated to answer all of our questions, but you cannot sue us for any that you may deem insensitive, inappropriate, et cetera," Mari explained, passing the clipboard over to me. I signed it right away; having been through this before, I didn't care much for logistics.

We sat down in two chairs in front of the camera on the tripod. Mari crossed her ankles and folded her hands on her lap. Behind me, off-camera, one of her assistants held cue cards—some interviewers read their questions from cue cards, and others held them on index cards. They tended to look more involved with cue cards.

"This is going to be just like a conversation, okay, May? Pretend the camera isn't even there."

I nodded—not that I needed the reminder. I had this down to a science. If they wanted all of my secrets, I'd give them all away. They knew everything else about me already.

"Rolling," the cameraman said, and Mari smiled.

"Hello, everyone, and welcome." She spoke straight to the camera, her voice louder and clearer than before. I glanced up at the boom-mic and wondered if they really needed it. "Today we have a very special guest—in a very special place, in fact. We are in Champion May's house with none other than the Champion herself. Welcome, Champion May."

The camera moved slightly, shifting its focus to me, and I laughed—a girly little laugh that didn't really sound much like my real one. "Hello, it's so great to be here. In my own house!"

Mari laughed, too, and her eyes flickered to the left of my head where the guy with the cue cards was standing. "We can't thank you enough for welcoming us into your home. It's so lovely. It must have been very hard for you to leave it behind when you first left on your journey across Hoenn, wasn't it?"

"Well, you know, it wasn't that bad. I, uh… just moved in the exact same day as I got my first Pokémon, a Torchic that everyone now knows as my Blaziken. I left the next day—which happened to be my sixteenth birthday. So, I only slept in my room upstairs one time before I left. That—that transition was easy." I laughed again, and Mari chuckled quietly. "Leaving my parents was a little harder."

"I can only imagine. They're here today, actually, and we'll bring them on a little later." She glanced over her shoulder and waved at my parents, and the camera went to them for a moment before pointing back at us. "For right now, I'd like to talk to you about the big event awhile back that, essentially, made your name a household name. Can we do that?"

"Of course."

Mari shifted, crossing her legs now and holding her chin between her thumb and index finger. "You saved us. Everyone knows that. You've done countless interviews on that event since it happened and since you became Champion. But my question for you is—what came as a result of that day for you? Not just the fame and things like that, but how did it affect you… as a person?"

My eyes were on her hands, which she gestured with every single word. She talked with her hands. Interviewers differed that way. Some spoke with their hands, some kept their hands on their index cards, some kept them in their laps.

"Everything changed." The words came out quietly—more quietly than I meant, anyway, and more solemnly. For a split second, my heart skipped a beat, and I panicked. She must have noticed that. Someone must have heard it. "I mean that I viewed myself as incapable before, and after it was like… I could fly," I added quickly, more enthusiastically.

If Mari noticed my misstep, she didn't react to it. "And obviously everything that happened is now written in stone. But, looking back, is there anything you would have done differently?"

Differently? I would have done everything differently.

"Nothing." I smiled again. Maybe no one saw or heard anything. "If I could go back, I would have saved the world all over again."


-Two Years Prior to Disappearance-

"Steven?"

I pushed his front door open without any hesitancy. He let me walk in all the time, so to do so now didn't bother me. He kept a spare key under the flower pot in front of his house, which I wasn't sure he knew I knew, but he never said anything when I walked in uninvited. Only, "Oh, I'm so terrible about locking the door. Not that I want to keep you out! You're always welcome here."

"Steven Stone? Hello?"

He didn't frequent his house. It wasn't much of a home to begin with—sparsely decorated and furnished, not much food in the fridge or cabinets. That was half the reason I loved it. It was exactly what I would want in my own house, if I ever got one. Quiet and quaint, a place where I could live in the silence I so desired.

But it just so happened that whenever I had the urge to visit him, he always found his way home. Maybe it was coincidence. Maybe it was fate.

"It's May!" I called, and the front door fell shut behind me, leaving me in complete silence. "I need to tell you something! Something important!"

I slid my shoes off and walked through his house, tiny though it was. Not in the living room… not in the kitchen… not in the bedroom or bathroom.

My fingers curled into my palms, my nails breaking the thick skin there. Of course he wasn't here. I couldn't be so lucky every time. One of these days, I had to enter and find the house empty, and today just happened to be that day. When I came back next time, maybe he'd be here again, ready with a cup of tea.

That was what the logical side of me thought, anyway, but I couldn't help but feel as though I was bubbling over with fear that this wasn't just a coincidence.

I walked back down the short hallway into the living room, and it was then that I noticed, glinting against the sunlight pouring in through the window, a lone Poké Ball and an envelope sitting on the desk in the corner of the room.

An envelope with my name on it.

My heartbeat quickened, and I tore the envelope open. No, no. He wasn't doing this… I knew he was flighty, I got that, but…

To May,

I've decided to do a little soul-searching and train on the road. I don't plan to return home for some time. I have a favor to ask of you. I want you to take the Poké Ball on the desk. Inside it is a Beldum, my favorite Pokémon. I'm counting on you. May our paths cross again someday.

Steven Stone

My eyes were watering by the time I got to the end of the brief note, and I wiped them dry with the back of my hand. This wasn't possible. Steven wouldn't just… abandon me like that. He wouldn't have just left without saying a word to me. He wouldn't have left with just a note and not tell me where he was going or when he'd be back.

I read the note once more, now with dry eyes. On the road? That could be anywhere…

I crumpled the letter in my hand and snatched the Poké Ball off the desk. He left me behind to babysit a Pokémon for him? He really wouldn't give me anything more than this? And here I thought that he cared about me—loved me even, if such a feeling could exist in his heart. He loved me, and he wouldn't even tell me where he was going?

Or… did he?

I unfolded the letter and read it one more time. I've decided to do a little soul-searching and train on the road. Soul-searching?

There was no way that Steven hadn't heard of the Soul Dew in Kanto. Being a passionate rock maniac and collector of rare gems, he had to have gotten word of the discovery by a man working for the Silph Company in Saffron. And if he heard about it, he could have gone looking for it. He wasn't the type of guy to sit back and let a rare stone go.

He'd let me go, but he wouldn't let that damn stone go. Ha. What priorities…

But, still… Steven Stone told me exactly where he was going, didn't he?

I growled, folding the letter back up and stuffing it forcefully into the envelope. "Steven." I put the letter into my pocket, and squeezed the Poké Ball in my other hand. "I have something very important to tell you. But I guess today's not that day."

From the stack of papers on his desk, I grabbed a clean sheet and an uncapped pen. And then I began to write.


"Dad… have you heard the story of Icarus?"

I poked at the food on my plate, but I hadn't eaten any of it. I hadn't had much of an appetite lately, and I had been spending most of my free time in my bedroom. My mom complained when I took my breakfast upstairs in the morning, and she made it mandatory that I eat dinner downstairs with the family.

It annoyed me—I left home for a long time, so what did a little more time mean to her? At least I was here.

For now. Not that she needed to know anything yet.

And, of course, it bothered me even more that she made me sit downstairs to eat when she wasn't even here herself. Apparently she had plans to go out to eat with Brendan's mom. I hadn't seen him in a long time—I sort of made an effort to stay away from him nowadays. He was nice enough, but I couldn't risk making any more meaningless relationships.

My dad glanced over his newspaper at me, his hesitant movement reminding me that I asked a question at all. He shook his head. "I guess not. I've heard of it. Some foreign story, like a myth or something. Why?"

I shook my head with a small smile, and my dad held the paper back up in front of him so I could only see the top of his head. Of course. I shouldn't have brought it up in the first place—no one was interested in hearing about the story, even if I found it fascinating.

"May?"

He folded up the newspaper and set it down flat on the table between us. Ah. There I was—front page, right above the fold. My own popularity never ceased to amaze me. How I could still make the front page after all of these years, I never understood. One would think the world would get bored with me after awhile.

But even old toys could be good ones.

I stuffed my mouth full of carrots and pointed to my puffed-out cheeks. "Sow-wy, is nuffing," I murmured through my full mouth, and my dad laughed.

"Well, kiddo, if you change your mind…" He ate some of his own carrots, and then he hummed as if he had something to saw. With a gulp, he swallowed without chewing much and miraculously didn't choke. "The weather is supposed to be nice this week. Completely sunny. Your mother and I were thinking about going to the beach."

Something in my chest tightened, and I looked down at my plate and swirled my fork around. "Just you two?" I wondered.

"No, of course you're invited," my dad quickly added, and my body loosened.

"Oh." I pushed my plate forward and looked my dad in the eye—or I would, but he was staring at his plate now. "Sunny all week, huh? Sounds pleasant."

"Yeah." Then, suddenly, he snapped his fingers. "Didn't that Icarus story have something to do with the sun?"

My mind flashed to the book on my shelf in my room, to the page in the middle of it with the story of Daedalus and his son. I knew the exact page by heart, and I knew each word almost as well. The single picture illustrating Icarus's demise even presented itself clearly in my head. And there between those pages, my lone piece of paper remained untouched. For now.

"Maybe." I shrugged, and my shoulders tensed with the lie. "I can't remember."


Author's Note: There was your brief lesson on Greek mythology for the day. There will be a quiz next time.

Until next week! See you then.