Touko: Enemy #2 and still rising

Touya: Enemy #1

Cheren: that nerd that follows Enemy #2 around

Bianca: Day-Care Extraordinaire

Nacrene City

I miss fifth grade. When small towns were entire worlds and all that mattered was who you were crushing on each week.

I think I remember that being the gist of it, anyway. Classes were easy—hell, even math was easy. No worries were to be found outside forgotten spelling tests and multiplication tables and assuring you weren't crushing on your best friend's crush.

Bianca and I haven't shared a crush since fifth grade. It was the beginning of the year. No one had settled their sleeping schedules back to human level, and I was still rocking pigtails. Everyone was on the lookout for new kids.

I never cared about any of that; I had the only two friends I'd ever need. Touya had left a year before on his Pokémon adventure. The wounds were still raw.

Bianca had come down with a mild case of Cheren Syndrome, as we mockingly refer to it now. She spent hours on end talking about him: how he made her so mad and how he made her laugh and how friggin' cute he was. She never realized it, but her rants triggered something in me. We could run conversations without pause so long as the topic was Cheren. I supported her feelings; she built mine. I could see everything in him she saw; the more special things, however, I kept to myself.

She was over it in two weeks. I'm still recovering, I guess.

I really needed this distract—adventure.


My first two encounters with Team Plasma I mistook for simple bumps in the road, but by the time I limp into Nacrene City, it seems like they're throwing themselves in my path.

Along with Cheren and Bianca. I know, those two are my best friends, and I love them to death, but how am I supposed to stop liking one way too much and forget about killing the other's Pokémon?

I can feel myself growing irritated, losing grip on the adrenaline from battle overload and Cheren appearances. Two more Poké Balls weigh me down by the belt. Or maybe that was Norma, the slightly overweight Roggenrola, inside one of them. Not even miracle technology could fully protect me from her bulk.

I finger one in particular. "Times like these call for Xavier," I mumble as he forms in front of me. "How you holdin' up, buddy?"

My partner's shrug is half-hearted. I assume he's still upset that Scruff evolved before him until I remember all the hard hits he took during our Double Battle. "Yeah, I know. We're almost to a Center." He crosses his arms, nods. Something snatches his attention; he goes rigid.

"Touko," Cheren says, "finally. Come on, the Pokémon Center's this way." I refuse to admit how convenient his presence proves to be. It was against Team Plasma, and it is now, with Xavier starting to hiss and hold his own arm. I can't recall what Pokémon scratched him there.

I return Xavier when his back is turned, regretting bringing him for selfish reasons. Cheren's a few steps ahead of me; a jog is required to reach him. "Cheren, would you agree this entire thing is for us to, I don't know, 'find ourselves'?"

He swivels to face me. "That's one way of looking at it. As long as you don't forget about the Pokédex, I guess."

"How do you expect me to do that when you're always showing up and distracting me, then?"

"Are you suggesting I'm a distraction, Touko?" His eyes flash. Unless it was his glasses. I can't tell, except he's smirking and I'm confused inside.

"That's what I said, moron."

The Center is right there, but I don't leave his side. He makes no motion to go, either. I don't think he got here fast enough before me to heal his team . . . then again, he knew where to go.

"Exactly what part of me is a distraction? Care to explain?" I stop thinking. That smirk spreads to a sadistic grin, and I struggle to keep my face under check.

"Dammit, Cheri, why are you still here?" He chuckles, fixing his glasses to successfully avoid meeting my eyes. I hope I'm imagining that.

"Hugs seem to be going around, so I thought I'd stay for seconds."

"Wha—what?" I'm beyond frantic internally, but I pray I just look caught off-guard to Cheren. He's doing that grin again; he looks like a poster-child for the wonders braces can do given four years. I swear I've never seen him have this much fun. "Who are you and what have you done with my nerd?"

The smile wilts. "I don't know anymore." We descend into a silence that sends me into even more inner turmoil. The worst part—I can't tell which one I hated more: sexual frustration or self-hatred?

". . . Sounds like you have bigger things to focus on than the Pokédex."

His next offer is tiny, a twitch at the corners of his lips. My fingers start to twitch; I've gone to touch Xavier's Poké Ball without notice. Deciding he needed it more than he let on, I go for the hug and squeeze tight.

He's still for a long time. His hands barely graze my hips by the time I plan to release, so I don't move until my affection is returned. "You know I was joking, right?" The smile in his voice is more prominent than the meaning behind his words.

"Yeah, right. Just admit you like the signature White family hugs."

"I wouldn't know. I've never hugged Touya."

"Touya only takes hugs after you punch him. Don't ever punch him, okay, Cheri?" I leave out the part about how easily Touya could kill him, and the part about how I don't need him liking Touya's hugs more.

My arms lift with his laughter, almost slipping until I tighten my grip. "Alright."

We don't separate until my giggles cease, and even then I wait for a familiar sense of fulfillment. "Don't expect this to be a regular thing. Unless you need it. Then I'm always just ahead of you, ya know?"

Cheren doesn't miss the "ahead" part. "Let's not forget who got here first. I even showed you where to heal!"

"Shit. I should be doing that." I still don't want to leave. Something about that fact stings a little. "Besides, shouldn't you be off getting a Gym badge?"

He shrugs. I take note that we're still standing within hug range, a step apiece between us. "I was going for a little extra training. I didn't chip in as much against Team Plasma as I would've liked."

I'm drawing all of my Poké Balls in preparation for Nurse Joy; I pride myself in being a good customer. I don't want to imagine how much those poor women go through in a day. I can feel Cheren's oncoming anxiety to leave, go out and get closer to whatever "strength" he's searching for.

"You did just fine. But, okay. I better not see you for at least a week, Cheri Berry, or so help me Arceus I won't hug you!" He's already walking off halfway through my short rant, leaving me to yell the last of it at his back.

I'm almost through the doors of the Center when he taps my shoulder, breath at a slight hitch and smiling. "Here, take these."

Thoughts of hugging him my thanks don't pass my mind until he's already jogging off. Too soon, anyway.


Do I really still like him?

Nacrene City gives me no other focal points than my own troubling thoughts. Everything here is a dull brown, especially the pavement I walk on. The brownness of the museum isn't startling; I see it as more of a warning. Beware: Boring Ahead.

I think about sneaking that in the form of a note on the front door. I could justify it somehow, say it was an official notice for the people. It could save some non-nerds some trouble. If someone really wanted to see a museum, they'd go inside. It'd be a test of faith . . . sort of . . . it'd show the museum its true custom—

"Ugh!"

The museum door smacks me full-bodied for my attitude problem.

For some reason, that's my first thought. A man shuts the door quietly behind him, not having noticed the surprising heaviness of the body behind it. I glare at him until he turns around. "Oh! Are you going into the Gym?"

"No," I say huffily. "I was going to graffiti the door."

He blinks at me. I don't blame him—I must look incredible, hunched-up against a brick wall and feral. "I don't know what that means. Do you support Pokémon liberation?"

I recognize him instantly. "Oh-h-h, Arceus. You're that guy."

N grins. "And you're Touko, with the talking Snivy!"

"No."

"No, what?"

"Snivy doesn't talk, and I don't support your anti-slavery movement."

I watch N transform from quirky creep to looking amazingly similar to a wet Purrloin. "Watch your attitude, please."

My laugh doesn't lie well. Poké Balls are drawn, and we march to the streets. "Millie, it's time!" The female Blitzle turns to me upon appearance. "Let's make this first battle a victory, all right?"

She whinnies at me, hiking up her front legs at N's Pidove. "That's the spirit! Millie, Charge!" A front hoof slams into the dirt road. I can practically hear Cheren explaining the science behind the move, most likely an answer to some homework I've long forgotten.

Something about pent-up energy from the ground powering up her next Electric moves. I watch the sparks fly, zipping down her stripes. N gawks with me, but his Pidove isn't as impressed. "Your Blitzle talks, too!" he yells over our makeshift battlefield.

"Shut up! No she doesn't!"

He stomps his foot. "George, Quick Attack!"

Millie's celebrating her sick move when the Pidove strikes her. It aims for her underbelly, and she unintentionally provides. Once her front legs are in the air again, Pidove rams itself into her from below, barely escaping being suffocated beneath her.

Millie falls. I can't hear my surprised squeak over her cry.

"Maybe next time, friend," I mumble as I return her. "Norma, crush him!"

"That's too bad," N calls. "Blitzle didn't have to be hurt, you know." This hits harder than I expect. Norma turns to the new voice, cocks her tiny head at him. It takes a second's recovery from his words for me to realize she's waiting for orders.

"Headbutt, Norma!" She lets out a growl of sorts, searching for Pidove blindly. He coos, as if to taunt her, and she launches herself in an instant. I give her a victory cheer when he doesn't get up.

"You're going to pay for that!" N's actually angry now, fists clenched and glaring. "This would all be so much easier if you know-it-all trainers just listened to me!"

He sends out a Tympole. "Pickles, show them our cause!"

"Norma, come back. You did well." Her pleased chirp is cut off by the Poké Ball. "Xavier! Don't talk to him!" Snivy gives me a weird look before turning to the battle. He waves at N.

"Vine Whip!"

"Supersonic!"

Xavier's vines go haywire, almost completely missing the Pokémon. One catches its cheek, and my giggle at the fainting is horrible. "Arceus, N, no wonder you hate battling!"

"Jeffery!" A Timburr flexes at me and Xavier. I swear it winks. "Redeem us!"

"Xavier, stay in." Xavier ignores me to stumble around the road. I find myself thankful there aren't any cars here. "Leaf Tornado, pronto!"

It isn't his finest moment, but Xavier manages to direct his move at the opposing Timburr. A few stray leaves come back at him, and I flinch at every scratch. With a few more hits, Jeffrey faints, too.

N's face makes me snap out of my battle revelry. "Y-You monster! Why won't you just set your Pokémon free? Think of how much happier they'd be." He sees he's getting to me, but he ignores how I back up when he approaches. "They wouldn't have to battle for you anymore. Wouldn't have to work for you. Don't you want your Pokémon, your friends, to lead peaceful lives, without hurting and murdering others? Don't you want them to be happy?"

Xavier's confused status has lifted. He watches me from behind N, and I know he understands. I take a breath. "No. That'd be boring." N's hopeful expression vanishes. He misunderstands, but Xavier smiles at me. Actually smiles. So N mistakes my smile for him, unaware of the special moment between me and my partner.

"You really are a monster. I thought you were different. You're the exact reason I'm going to become a hero and summon the dragon Pokémon. Brace yourself, Touko. This won't be the last time we battle, and next time you'll release your Pokémon!"

Xavier steps out of N's way, ignoring the man's pleading glance at him. He walks over to me as soon as N's gone, reaching at my leg for his Poké Ball. "Wait, Xavier." He huffs at me, crossing his arms. "Do you . . . believe him?"

He shakes his head.

"Can you talk?"

He shrugs.

"Are you happy?

He looks away from me and nods. "Aw, Xav! I love you, too!" Xavier tries to fight me off while I pick him up and smother him to me. When I pull back to see his face, he's pretending to choke himself out. "Xavier. You're an asshole."

He grins at me and snatches his ball from my belt. I watch in wonder as the asshole returns himself.


Nurse Joy gives me back three of my Poké Balls. I eye the fourth, trapped in her hand, wondering if perhaps I'd been rude to her earlier. I hadn't paid much attention to, well, anything. Lost in another post-Cheren high.

He's affecting me more than ever. How does that even work?

Maybe she's waiting for a tip. I can see that as a possibility—Nurse Joys never get enough recognition. Or tips.

"This never gets easier," she exhales the words more than says them. I'm not sure I'm meant to hear.

"Miss, your Blitzle . . . the machine couldn't revive it."

I stop. She doesn't; I hear her question what might've killed Millie. Somehow, I'm still thinking: Bianca was right. She didn't deserve this.

But I do. I killed Sarah, and this is the result. But Millie . . .

Nurse Joy wants an explanation. I tell myself I'll come back later to assure her I'm not a murderer. For now, I take Millie from her. I'm almost out the door before I realize. "What exactly do I . . . ?"

She's waiting for me. "I would come with you, but, you know . . . Anyways, I might as well explain to you what happened." I nod, taking a deep breath and a seat. "Your Blitzle seemed to have taken a hard attack, one that was stronger than it would be normally. That's called a critical hit. She fainted instantly, I assume?"

I nod. The Poké Ball twirls easily between my fingers. I stop myself, scared of jostling her until I remember. Again. It won't be the last time.

"You returned her before she technically . . . died." We both flinch at the word, cuing a pause. "Poké Balls are designed to encapture life. So, when a Pokémon dies inside, the ball no longer registers it. So, it stops working. Go on, press the button and try to release her."

I hold my thumb over the button. What if Joy was wrong and Millie's body came out? We were alone in the Center, but it doesn't keep me from glancing around for nearby children. I tap the button, to nothing.

Joy sighs. ". . . Yeah. That leaves you with the option of burying it inside the Poké Ball, or destroying the ball itself. The choice is up to you."

I think we both know where I'm going with these "options." "Do you have a shovel?"

She pulls one from the beneath the counter, and it finally hits me. This is what Bianca did. There's no way she'd destroy her Lillipup's body. She buried it all alone.

"One more thing," Nurse Joy says. I turn back to her, shovel propped on my shoulder. I must look like a piece of work. "If a Pokémon dies before you return it to its Poké Ball, you can never return it. It's the exact opposite of . . . right now."

I tell myself I'll thank her when I return the shovel. But right now, a trip back seems years away.

Times like these once called for Cheren and Bianca and a frozen tub of cookies and cream. For a second, I think I'd actually trade this whole thing—"journey", my ass—for a quality Nuvema Town comfort sesh. Then I think of what either of my comfort buddies would say and I shake it off.

Pokémon Centers don't keep stock of headstones, so I leave Xavier to finding one. I'd run back in seconds after I'd departed to put all my team, except him, in the PC. Neither of us would admit it through our faux-hatred, but we trusted each other more than anything. I needed him now, in the absence of my human friends.

Not that I blamed Cheren and Bianca for not being here. This is something meant for me and me alone, with the silent addition of Xavier. He'd dug faster with his paws than I could with a shovel. We make the hole big enough for a Zebstrika.

I try the button one more time. Xavier's levelling another stare at me, déjà vu from the N scene. "Do you . . . have anything to say?"

His eyes narrow at the Poké Ball. He gives me a doubtful look before giving a few chirps. I don't push him, internally hoping he didn't say anything brass. Like of the "See ya later, nerd" variety.

"All right then—" a deep breath "—Millie, I didn't know you very well. I'm sure you were a delight, and I always appreciated the weird noises you made when eating. I wish you'd stuck around longer, but . . . I guess this would hurt more if you did.

"I—I'm really sorry, Mills. I know if you'd never met me, you'd be alive now. The hope that you enjoyed your time with us . . . that's what's gonna keep me going for a long time. I hope . . . I—I hope . . ." Xavier tugs at my tank top, and I meet the tears in his eyes. "Shit, Xav, you're gonna make me cry!" I'm already dabbing at my own face, searching for excuses.

"I hope you watch over us, Millie," I finish. Xavier's stick, which I tell myself is the best stick in Unova, looks like it's swimming in the ground by the time I choke out my final goodbye.

Xavier keeps quiet for the most part. More of his mourning time is spent brushing up against me than actually crying. I, however, sob my heart out for a Pokémon I didn't know.

When it's almost over, self-doubt whacks me somewhere in the chest area, and I rise to pace. "Xavier?" He stays in front of her grave, eyeing me as always. "Do you think I failed?"

And for the first time, I swear I hear Xavier speak. He looks away from me, and a teeny voice in my head laughs. No. I think you should've paid attention in class.

I laugh with him. "You sound exactly like Cheren." He rolls his eyes. Like an insufferable prick.

"I guess . . . we should make this some kind of motivation, right? That's what Cheren would say, and since you sound exactly like him, I'll roll with it. Let's go train, get you evolved." I keep the real reason for leveling to myself. So we'll have a better chance at saving the weak ones.


Taking advantage of our newest member, Barry the unbeatable Sawk, makes the gym battle feel a little dirty. Lenora gives me the badge anyway.

Her husband slams open the door, and she looks ready to kick his skinny ass until she sees his face. He doesn't have to say anything to get her running, and I follow wordlessly. Not so fast, because I wasn't exactly invited along. As far as I know, I could be tracing my way to a bedroom emergency.

The smoke in the museum claims differently, so I choke on that instead. A glimpse of spacesuit tells me the story faster than the frantic witnesses can cough. "Oh, fuck." Lenora's in on it, too. "Plasma punks," she grumbles.

The bigger mystery than the missing skull is the guy that walks in the door. "Oh, Arceus, Lenora, not another fire!" I know he must be important. No one puts that much effort in their design without a sense of significance.

"Not this time, Burgh. Team Plasma stole my dragon head."

"So . . . could you say, you've been dragon-fucked?" All those invested in the museum send me scathing looks for laughing. Burgh doesn't deny my high-five.

"Okay, I'll help. Which way did they go?" I trail them outside, already planning my confrontation. Lenora points a vague direction: right.

Burgh sets off a few paces, but stops when he sees me stalking. "Girl, as much faith as I have in your sense of humor, I'm not sure you're ready for this."

"I've fought Team Plasma before. While you'd probably blend right in, I actually have experience." We cross our arms at the same time, both huffing.

Burgh's more offended, though. "I'll have you know I find their style disgusting! They're a total Team Galactic rip-off. Now, those guys knew what was up. Minus the whole world domination idea—that ain't cool. Also, girl, are you a gym leader?"

I see what I'm getting into, but I don't hold back. "Are you?"

He sucks in a breath. "Ooh. Ouch. I can't argue with that. You're taking the dirty forest path, though."

Familiar voices approach me at a run, but they're too late. "Deal."

Cheren sets to arguing with Lenora, not wanting to sit back and guard the museum. Not even confronting his prying eyes can hold me back now.

Honestly, it's a comfort he and B will be here, safe. I wish I wasn't already so far in.


"My, my. Could you be looking for something?"

.

"You stubborn brat! When I get done with you, you won't be chasing us anymore!"

.

"Fine! Take your stupid skull! So the dream our king had—the dream we had—won't come true . . ."

.

"It's not important. We can afford to abandon the Dragon Skull.

"But we will not allow anyone to disrupt our plans and get away with it. We will fix it so you never interfere with us again."