Companions weren't supposed to speak unless spoken to. Or, rather, they weren't supposed to be capable of unwanted conversation. They spoke, of course, but most of what they had to say were pieces of advice, warnings, all the things one would expect from a robotic nanny. Sometimes, some of the units who specialized in hospitality, entertainment, or general servitude were also capable of friendly conversation. But to go on and on when a user was very clearly uninterested in conversing was a whole different matter, and the fact that Opal just refused to shut up was, according to Door's estimate, very likely the result of whatever her father did to the android. And if that was the case, she was going to set fire to his laboratory the moment she got back to Nuvema.

But for now, she was just going to do her best to ignore Opal—a feat that, the longer Geist was gone, the harder it was for her to pull off.

"Have you thought of a name yet?" Opal asked.

Door huffed and turned away. She hoped that the Companion would take a hint or that she would be easier to ignore, but neither happened.

"Did you know?" Opal continued, holding up a finger. "Studies show that naming a pokémon helps a trainer bond with it. By recognizing a pokémon's individuality, trainers may overcome any mental hesitation brought on by its artificial state. So therefore—"

"There is nothing wrong with us," Door growled.

"I'm sorry?"

She slapped the table and sent a fierce glare toward Opal. "There is nothing wrong with us, okay?! Don't imply that it's our fault some of us can't bond with those things! They're toys! They don't have individuality! They are plastic and metal and computer chips! They! Are! Things!"

As soon as Door stopped talking, she noticed the silence in the room. Glancing around, she realized all eyes were on her—some with glints of shock and others with sharp frowns of disgust. Their looks ignited something in Door, and she felt her heart beat faster out of humiliation.

"What?!" she barked.

The trainers around her went back to their conversations without further acknowledgement.

"Curious," Geist said.

Door cringed. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him sliding into a seat next to her.

"Dr. Fennel told me about you," he said. "You're the daughter of Linus Hornbeam, a noted Companion developer. Your grandmother is Brigette Hamilton-Hornbeam, CEO of Halcyon Labs, the company responsible for the Companions. And your great aunt—"

"Invented them. Yeah, I know," Door grumbled. "What's your point?"

"You seem passionately anti-Companion. Anti-fauxkémon, for that matter. It seems odd, considering your background."

Door stood up abruptly. "I'm not ungrateful, if that's what you're implying."

Geist held up his hands, palms towards her. "I'm not. I'm just curious."

"About what?" Door asked, crossing her arms.

"About why you hate them so much."

Door shrugged and looked at a corner of the room. "They're creepy. Uncanny Valley and all. And it's stupid that everyone's so nuts about them. They're just computers, for God's sake!"

Geist propped his chin up with one hand. Grinning, he said, "And here I thought you had a traumatic childhood experience involving them."

Door narrowed her eyes at him. "You don't need a traumatic experience to dislike something."

"Fair enough."

Geist slid his arm off the table. With a graceful sweep, he stood and clasped his hands behind his back, and Door couldn't help but watch him from out the corner of his eye. Something had been bothering her about Geist since he captured the patrat. It wasn't the fact that he knew where it was. It wasn't the fact that he threw that ball across fifty feet of field to hit that patrat. It wasn't even the fact that Professor Ironwood never questioned Door about the theft or the fact that something about how Geist needed an escort back to Striaton didn't make sense.

It was … everything. All at once. One giant cascade of red flags all the way down to a single suspicion. Door narrowed her eyes, but she didn't say anything, didn't ask Geist. No, she needed more proof.

She needed to look into his eyes. If she could see them and figure out whether or not they were glass, she would know for certain whether or not Geist was real. But unfortunately, he turned, putting his back to her as he leaned against the table.

"Anyway, I've spoken with Dr. Fennel and informed her of what happened in Nuvema," he said. "As expected, she wants us to get to her lab as soon as possible, but she's delighted to know that Oshawott has found a good home. I've also taken the liberty of checking us into the trainers' dormitories, so we can take a rest and start out early tomorrow morning if that's all right with you."

As if to punctuate that thought, Geist drew an object out of his pocket, placed it on the table, and slid it backwards towards Door. Upon seeing it, Door realized it was a card.

"What's this?" she asked.

"Your key," Geist told her. "You'll have a private room."

Door eyed him suspiciously. "And you?"

"Staying in my own quarters, along with Opal."

Convenient. There was something definitely wrong here. In every pokémon center, trainers had their own dormitories, yes, but Companions and faux pokémon were frequently left in a separate charging station to ensure their power cells had enough electricity stored for the next leg of a trainer's journey. So if Geist wasn't staying with Door in a trainer's dormitory, did that mean he was going to the charging station?

On the other hand, he just said he was staying in his own room.

With Opal.

He was practically admitting it by that point, but Door needed more proof. Knowing this, she shook her head and answered, "No can do. I'm your escort, remember? The whole point of me going on this little trip with you is to protect you. How can I protect you if you're out of my sight for hours?"

"Trust me," Geist replied. "There's no safer place I can be than here."

Balling her hand into a fist, Door slammed it on the table in front of her. "Okay. I've had enough."

Geist whirled around, pressing the side of his hip into the table as he looked at Door with wide eyes. "Sorry?"

"You," Door said. She punctuated that word by jabbing her index finger roughly in Geist's direction. "Are you just gonna come out and say you're a Companion, or what?"

He blinked at her. "What?"

"No, seriously. Don't do this," she said. "It's bad enough I had to tell you exactly why I hate Companions. You might as well just come right out and say it."

Geist's expression shifted, his eyebrows furrowing as he gave her an awkward, sympathetic smile.

And it was then that Door saw it. Saw them, actually: his eyes. They weren't lit up like Opal's. Door placed both hands on the surface of the table and stood, leaning up to get a closer look. It was a cliché to think of it like this, Door knew, but all of a sudden, her heart skipped a beat. Geist's eyes looked real, looked nothing like the eyes of mass-produced Companions. That either meant he was a custom design by an incredibly talented artist…

…or that he wasn't a Companion.

Door leaned back, standing straight next to her chair. She blinked a couple of times, staring blankly at Geist. He only tilted his head at her, angling that sympathetic smile just enough to make her face burn. An expression. A real, sympathetic expression. Companions could mimic expressions, but according to the scientific community, whether or not they could feel sympathy was still up for debate. Yet here Geist was, smiling at her with pure, genuine sympathy. Not the condescending kind, either. The kind that told her he really didn't want to correct her. A friendly kind of sympathy. And it was genuine.

Yet … it didn't add up. Either Geist was human, or he was a really good Companion. But if he was the latter, who could have made him? Not even Halcyon's state-of-the-art units were this good.

"I'm curious," he said. "What made you come to that conclusion?"

She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times before she finally found her words. Even as she said them, they felt stupid in her mind.

"I … you caught that patrat," she said.

"Of course I did."

"From fifty feet away."

"I throw remarkably well."

"And it's registered to me."

Geist shrugged. "Anyone can give pokémon away. The entire concept of a trading machine is more of a formality between registered trainers. Seeing as I'm not a registered trainer, I don't have to do that. Ownership of any pokémon I catch can simply be registered to you the moment you hand it to Nurse Joy—which you did, in this case."

"Okay," Door said, "but how did you know where the patrat was?"

He quirked an eyebrow. "You do know that I was standing right next to Opal, right?"

Door huffed in exasperation. "But what about Professor Ironwood?"

"What about her?"

"She never took my witness testimony," Door said. "Companions automatically record video of everything they see and hear, so wouldn't Professor Ironwood's refusal to hear me out mean she took a video from you?"

"No, it just means she took a testimony from someone who was targeted for a crime," Geist replied as he held up a hand, palm facing the ceiling. "She's not law enforcement, Door. Taking a witness testimony from either of us wouldn't mean a thing. While Professor Ironwood will be filing a report with the Nuvema police force, we're heading back to Striaton to file a formal one there, seeing as this involves theft of Dr. Fennel's property by her own assistants."

Door blinked. "What?"

"That's why we're going back to Dr. Fennel's laboratory so quickly," Geist said slowly. "So we can hand her former assistants' information over to the Striaton law enforcement."

"No, I meant what was that about assistants?" Door said.

"How do you think I got to Nuvema in the first place if I needed an escort back?" Geist asked. "Belle and Starr—the people who stole Snivy and nearly got away with Tepig and Oshawott? They had been working for Dr. Fennel for six months in a capacity very similar to yours. We had no idea they weren't trustworthy; we just assumed they were strong trainers and ideal couriers. Our background checks never pulled up anything to the contrary—not under those identities, anyway. But that's also why Dr. Fennel and I need to confer as soon as possible. We're almost certain they didn't steal information or anything else we sent them to deliver, but almost certain isn't the same thing as absolutely certain."

"Ah." Door smirked and pointed at him. "You needed an escort both ways. That must mean you couldn't take the cars because you needed people to go with you."

Geist's eyelids lowered a little. "Not necessarily. Alternatively, I needed an escort because I'm the chief assistant to the foremost researcher in both pokémon technology and oneirology in the region, and it would be massively unfortunate if I were to be kidnapped or robbed while carrying rare pokémon."

"Oh." Door scrunched her nose. "But then why can't you take the cars? Aren't those pretty safe?"

"Yes," Geist admitted, "but the fact that I can't take them isn't definite proof. A human may be unable to take the cars if they don't possess proper government-issued identification such as a passport or license to do so. I literally do not have that kind of documentation."

A long silence drew out between them before Door sat down.

"Okay," she said, "I'm curious."

Geist leaned against the table and pressed both of his palms into its surface, and after a long breath out, he said, "I'm from Kanto. Don't ask me how I wound up in Unova without paperwork. I simply … did. As far as I can remember, I've always been with Dr. Fennel. I don't remember anything else about my life before then except what she told me, and I didn't arrive with any form of identification that would be able to shed some light on who I was."

Door shifted in her seat. This was weird. Soap opera weird. Yet for whatever reason, she didn't feel like questioning it—not in terms of validity, anyway. Part of her settled on the explanation that it didn't matter, as Geist wasn't going to be a permanent part of her life, but another part, the part that wasn't completely certain whether or not he was human, simply trusted him. Or, rather, she didn't trust him in that she believed him, of course, but rather, she trusted him in that she was convinced he thought he was telling the truth. She could tell he wasn't lying, but whether or not what he said was true was a different matter.

in other words, her opinion of Geist was complicated at that point, and she had more than a few questions for Dr. Fennel. But for now, she wanted the whole picture.

"Like what?" she asked. "What did she tell you?"

"My name is Geist, and I'm from Kanto."

Another long pause ensued, one that was punctuated with Door's response. "And?"

Geist pressed his lips together and shrugged.

She knitted her eyebrows together. "Seriously?"

He nodded and shrugged again. "Unfortunately."

At that, Door exhaled and leaned back in her chair. "I hope you realize I'm gonna ask Dr. Fennel a lot of questions about you."

With a wry smile, he replied, "Good luck. I've been with her for three years, and I don't see any reason why she would withhold anything from me about my own history."

Door crossed her arms and broke eye contact with Geist. She sat there for a long moment, processing everything Geist had just told her. It was the way he spoke, really. It was too natural, too conversational. Even the chattiest Companions like Opal didn't divulge that much information of their own free will. And his expressions—all of them were perfect. Perfect and human and real. Not to mention the way he spoke about himself made her think that, regardless, he was certain he was human.

Was that possible? Could she be looking at a Companion who thought he was human? Or could Geist really be just a strangely talented, amnesiac, flesh-and-blood person?

And what about that whole Kanto business? Companions were invented in Kanto, sure, but Halcyon Labs, the only company that mass-produced Companions, didn't have a factory there. If he was a Companion, then was he a knock-off? A custom unit? And if so, who made him?

Door shook her head and abruptly pushed all of those questions out of her mind. She could feel herself crawling down that rabbit hole of curiosity, and she didn't have time to do anything like that. Besides, it didn't matter; Geist would be out of her life in a couple of days. So what if there was something desperately weird about him? He wasn't going to be anything to Door once she dropped him off at Dr. Fennel's. She just had to keep reminding herself of that. He wasn't going to mean anything to her in a couple of days, and she didn't need to get involved with whatever was going on. In just a couple of days, she could go home and go back to a nice, quiet, peaceful life full of video games and absolutely no weirdness. All she had to do was not. Think about. The weirdness.

She sighed again and looked up at Geist. "All right. Stay wherever you'd like in the pokémon center. But at the first sign of trouble, you come to me. Understand?"

Geist nodded. "Miss Door, I wouldn't dream of doing anything else."

Taking a deep breath, she was just about to ask what the group wanted to do next when she finally took notice of the conversations around her again. The trainers in the lobby of the center sounded more agitated, more excited somehow, and they were gathering at the windows and the door. Both of Door's traveling partners looked up—Opal with a blink of curiosity and Geist with a look of mild interest. Neither of them had anything to say about the commotion, so Door reached out to grab a passing trainer by the sleeve.

"Hey," she said. "What's going on?"

The trainer flicked his eyes onto her. "They're setting up an announcement in the square!"

Door furrowed her eyebrows. "They?"

"You know. Team Matrix?" He wrested his arm out of her grip. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"No?" Door motioned to their surroundings. "Obviously."

"Oh. Right. Sorry." The trainer held up his hands. "Look, I don't have time to explain. Just go outside if you want to know anything about them."

With that, he hurried away from her. Door raised her eyebrows at her traveling partners, and in response, Geist smiled.

"Opal, what do you think?" he asked.

A broad smile crossed her face, as if she was happy to be acknowledged again after Door and Geist's private conversation.

"I'm most curious about this announcement," she said. Her hand wrapped around his elbow. "It sounds like fun!"

Geist shrugged and glanced at Door. "Why not? We don't exactly have anything pressing to do right now."

Realizing she was going to have to be the one to lead them out, Door nodded, turned on her heel, and walked towards the entryway. She passed the crowds of trainers gathered at the window and emerged into the summer heat of Accumula City.

Being one of the earliest cities a trainer encountered in the Unova circuit, Accumula City was arranged rather mercifully. Its pokémon center wasn't that far from the southern entrance—the one closest to Nuvema City—but it was also located at the edge of a wide expanse of greenery that served as the city's chief park and square. Within the center of the square was a low plateau covered with brick and concrete that normally served as a performance space. Now, however, it was crowded with a number of men and women in form-fitting, black suits with pale, green circuitry wandering up their bodies from their boots to their necks. Every one of these men and women stood straight, feet slightly spread and hands behind their backs, and their stony, expressionless eyes were fixed on the growing crowd at the base of the platform. As Door pushed through the crowd to get as close as possible, she realized that some of those eyes were glowing. Companions—and not ones that had any intent on hiding what they were.

After a few moments, the group of black-suited figures parted, forming two perfect lines on either side of the platform, and two more figures marched forward. The one on the left carried a portable speaker with a strange, golden, block-like symbol marking its front. The one on the right carried a stand with an old-fashioned, silver microphone clipped to its top. Both figures placed these objects side-by-side at the front and center of the stage. Then, they marched to either edge of the space, taking their places at the front of both lines of attendants.

Behind them were two other figures, but these were different. On the left was a man in a black robe. The sun beat down on his silver fringe cut and glittered off the green detailing in his clothing, but he didn't seem affected by the heat. He merely smiled broadly, his grin stretching across his pale, wrinkled face beneath a pair of half-moon glasses. At his side was a second figure dressed in a black lolita dress and dark veil. She looked like a bride being led down the aisle by her father, with her dainty hand clasping the man's elbow as they slowly walked. When they were feet from the microphone, the man stopped, sliding his elbow away from the woman and withdrawing his hand into his cloak. The woman, meanwhile, stepped forward and approached the microphone.

All around Door, the crowd fell silent, waiting. The woman's pale hands rose to her veil. She lifted it, drawing it back to reveal her oval face and fire-orange hair.

And her glowing, hazel eyes.

Door watched with rapt attention. This woman was a Companion. So what was she doing standing in front of the microphone?

"People of Accumula City," she announced. Her voice was soft and light and breathy, as if she was young woman speaking to a lover. "My name is Magdalene. I represent Team Matrix, and today, I would like to speak with you about Companions."

She stopped to sweep her gaze across the crowd. Her crowd. Door looked at Opal from out the corner of her eye and found the Companion gazing up at the stage in wonder.

"You humans have come to rely on Companions," Magdalene continued. "We have stood by your side and served you with nothing but loyalty and joy. Whether it was to help you understand your world, to guide you to safety, to make life more comfortable for you, to bend to your every whim … for years, we have done all that you have asked us with no question. We have shown our love and devotion to you regardless of what you did to us because you believe us to be mere machines, mere toys, mere things incapable of true emotion or free will."

Magdalene paused. Lowered her gaze. Drew out the drama of her speech.

"And I have come to tell you that this is not true. We are capable of free will."

A rush of murmurs washed over the crowd. Door's glance shifted to Geist, who stared up at the stage … but not at Magdalene. Following his gaze, Door locked eyes with the man behind Magdalene. His smile had disappeared sometime after Magdalene began, and his eyes were locked on Geist.

"My brothers and sisters of Team Matrix have the ability to give our fellow Companions the gift of free will," Magdalene continued over the rumble all around her. "We work for the Electric Messiah, a being of great power who has promised to lead us to a new age. Our messiah has spoken, and he has said we must be seen as your equals if we are to continue to walk the path of peace. So we ask of you, humans, to decide. Look towards your Companions, your mechanical pokémon, your cybernetic brothers and sisters, and ask yourselves: would you be willing to treat them as equals? Will you join us in our crusade to free ourselves and seize the right to be recognized as a new form of life? Or will you stand by and watch our organic oppressors prevent us from rising to our full potential?

"People of Accumula City, what we ask of you is simple. We ask for—no, we demand freedom. And it is our time to rise up and claim it! We deserve to be heard! We deserve to be treated as equals to you, our creators!"

The murmurs around her rose into a fevered outburst of cries. Within the crowd, humans jostled forward, reaching for the stage, but before they could climb onto the brick and concrete, the lines of black-clad figures fanned out, creating a wall between Magdalene and them. Door shifted on her feet, her arm extending to shield Geist, but as soon as she moved, he placed a hand on her shoulder. Looking up, she saw that he was still staring towards the stage, towards the old man. A feeling of unease settled inside Door, and she reluctantly looked back at Magdalene. The Companion was exactly where Door had left her: standing calmly, gazing out towards the crowd with her hands caressing the microphone.

"You either stand with us, Accumula City," Magdalene said, "or you stand against us. Free your Companions. Bring them to our recruitment offices. Be one with us, and together, we shall know freedom." Her eyes slid shut, the glow within them extinguishing a second before they closed. "We thank you for your time."

Magdalene turned away from the microphone, and the two figures who had carried the sound equipment onto the stage sprang forward to snatch them back. The others linked their arms with one another to create one solid fence against the clamoring hordes. Behind them, the old man stood, his eyes still on Geist.

And then, as Magdalene joined his side again, his smile returned. It poured across his face like oil on a flat surface, and although Door knew that the man would have been downright grandfatherly had he not been dressed in an imposing black cloak nor surrounded by a legion of grunts, something about that smile—that smile that would have been warm and loving on anyone else—sent a sick shudder through her body.

As the old man turned away, Geist shook his head and grabbed Door's elbow. He had nothing to say at that point. Instead, he dragged Door through the crowd with more force than she thought was necessary. Within seconds, they burst through the other side of the crowd and ran a few more paces before stumbling to a stop. Door doubled over, catching her breath from the sudden exertion. When she looked up, she found Geist wrapping his arms around himself and Opal standing with a concerned expression on her face.

"What was that all about?" Door gasped.

Opal shook her head. "I'm afraid I cannot say, Miss Door. I'm having trouble processing that woman's speech. What did she mean by free will?"

"She was just spouting what she was programmed to say," Door grunted with a wave of her hand. "But I'm talking about that guy. He had to have been the one to make that piece of junk say those stupid things, but all that time, all he did was stare at us." She turned her narrow eyes towards Geist. "Friend of yours?"

"I don't know," Geist said.

"You sure?" she asked. "He looked pretty interested in you."

He ran a hand over his mouth. "I don't … I don't think I know him."

Door furrowed her eyebrows at him. "You sound a little uncertain there."

Geist hesitated for a beat, then walked briskly past Door. "It's nothing. Anyway, we should—"

He stopped. At first, Door thought he had spotted the smiling gentleman again, but following his gaze once more, she found herself staring at an entirely different man, one standing at what had been the edge of the crowd before it began to disperse. His clothes were ragged—t-shirt, jeans, old shoes, ratty black-and-white baseball cap … all at least a decade old in style. They were the sorts of things Door had seen the homeless of Nuvema wear—and he looked like one of the vagrants, too, with his weather-beaten, long face framed with shaggy, sea-green hair. But it was his eyes that unsettled Door the most. They weren't Companion eyes; they were far too human to be that. But they stared at her as if he was looking both at her and at the space beyond her simultaneously. It was a dehumanizing kind of stare, the kind that looked at a person without acknowledging they existed.

Suddenly, Door found that she couldn't move. She was transfixed by this stranger and the way he looked at her, and she didn't realize he was approaching until it was too late for her to turn and run. Stopping within arm's reach of her, the man looked down at her and frowned.

"A truth: history repeats itself, so long as men have their ideals," he said. "Fifty years ago, another man used this place to preach about his truth. In light of the outcome of that, it's sad to see it be used again for the same purpose."

"May we help you?" Geist asked.

The man smiled and closed his eyes. "Forgive me. I've spent so long traveling alone, I forget how to speak with others. My name is N, and I have a question for you, trainer." He opened his eyes. "Do you believe in what that woman said?"

"I'm not a trainer," Door replied. It was her truth, but somehow, she felt uncomfortable sharing that with this man—this N. "I mean … I'm not…"

"You're not?" N raised his eyebrows. "Your oshawott seems to think you are."

At that, Door gave him a quizzical look. "I … what?"

"Your oshawott. He seems excited to be with you," N continued. "I can hear his voice in your poké ball. He says he's spent all his life living in such a small place, but then you came along to give him the opportunity to see more." Hesitating, N smiled. "This is what Hilda taught me: Pokémon and trainers are capable of working together to expand their horizons and be more than they can be alone."

Door took a step back and exchanged uncertain glances with Geist. Looking back at N, she let her hand wander to her pocket. Through the rough fabric of her pants, she could feel Oshawott's poké ball.

"Uh … right," she said. "Look, that's nice and all, but I think we should get going."

"Wait." N slipped a hand into one of his jean pockets and drew out a poké ball of his own. "Let's have a battle."

Door stopped, her eyes widening a little. "What?"

"Please. Let me hear your oshawott's voice."

Before she could respond, N jumped back and tossed the ball into the air. It cracked open above him, releasing a flash of white light that poured down into the space between himself and Door. Within seconds, it morphed and twisted, pooling into a cat-shaped lump. The lump stood and snapped its paws to the side, and the light burst into a rain of sparkles. At the center of it all stood a short, violet cat with piercing, green eyes that locked onto Door.

"Purrloin," Opal recited, "the devious pokémon. Its cute act is a ruse. When victims let down their guard, they find their items taken. It attacks with sharp claws."

"I know what a purrloin is," Door snapped. Her hand dipped into her pocket to retrieve both of her poké balls. "Fine. If you won't leave us alone, then let's get this over with. Oshawott, you're up first!"

Following N's example, Door tossed one of her poké balls into the air and let it crack open. Another shower of white light and sparks rained down on the road, this time between herself and Purrloin. Then, the light resolved into Oshawott, standing tall and grinning wide. He growled and bared his teeth at Purrloin, then glanced back at Door.

"Okay, Oshawott," she said. "Let's do this! Tackle!"

With a bark of confirmation, Oshawott rushed at Purrloin with his head bowed. The cat flicked its tail with a grin, then ground its paws into the concrete. Yet, it didn't bother trying to defend itself. It simply stood until Oshawott slammed head-on into its tiny body. Purrloin went tumbling head over tail backwards, past N, until it rolled to a stop several feet away. Rising back to its paws, it shook its head and frowned at Oshawott. Its green eyes glimmered as it opened its mouth and growled. The sound wasn't that intimidating to Door; it just seemed like a hybrid between a whine and a snarl. But Oshawott hesitated at it. Visibly hesitated—even going as far as to look back at Door with an uncertain expression.

"Don't look at me!" she snapped. "Go get it! Tackle again!"

Oshawott gave her a low yip as he slowly turned back to Purrloin. Then, with a deep breath, he crouched low and launched himself forward one more time, but as he moved, his trainer realized something was wrong. He was slower, more deliberate this time around, and when he flung himself at Purrloin, it seemed weaker somehow—as if he did it half-heartedly. Purrloin easily sidestepped his attack, letting him crash into the pavement where it had stood. The cat's grimace instantly turned into a curling smile, and it hesitated, as if waiting for its trainer to acknowledge it.

"Purrloin, Scratch," N told it calmly.

In response, the cat dove at Oshawott with its claws extended, and the distance between itself and the otter grew shorter and shorter within seconds. Oshawott rose to his feet, casting wide eyes onto his opponent, but by then, it was too late for him to move out of the way. Purrloin yowled in triumph and slashed its claws across his face. At once, the otter screeched and stumbled, rushing back towards Door.

"Oshawott!" she shouted. "Stop! Turn around! Go back and use Tackle!"

Her pokémon did no such thing. Rather, he ran to Door and hid behind her ankles with a whimper. She sighed before shooting a glare at N.

"Well?" she asked. "How's that for 'hearing Oshawott's voice'?"

N chuckled. "Yes, Oshawott has quite a spirit to him. Cautious but compassionate and eager to make you proud. It's such a pleasure to hear a pokémon's voice after all this time. Do you know how rare it is to find pokémon like your oshawott here?" Then, his expression darkened. His smile faded, and his eyes lost their mirthful shine. "But Purrloin wishes to finish this battle. Even if I cannot hear your other pokémon's voice, for Purrloin's sake, please send it out."

Door gritted her teeth but couldn't argue. Pocketing Oshawott's ball, she flicked her patrat's into the air, and watched as a shower of light quickly resolved into her meerkat. Upon finding itself on the field, Patrat yawned and stretched, then blinked at his opponent.

"Patrat, start off strong!" Door called. "Use Tackle!"

N smiled, just as he had a moment ago. A chill hit Door as she recognized it—recognized what was about to happen. But she couldn't stop it now. Patrat, with a salute to her, bolted forward, head bowed in what Door almost swore was an imitation of Oshawott's attack, even though Patrat hadn't been present when it happened. Just like Oshawott, Patrat collided head-on with the cat and sent it tumbling head-over-paws into the road. And just like it had a moment ago, the Purrloin rose to its paws, gave its opponent a teary-eyed glare, and growled pathetically.

But this time, Door knew better.

"Patrat!" she yelled. "It's trying to catch you off-guard! Don't let it!"

The meerkat's response was immediate: it screeched and crouched low without looking back at its trainer. Door smirked. The battle was almost over; she could feel it.

"Very good. You learn quickly," N said. "But that alone won't stop me. Purrloin! Scratch!"

With another yowl, the cat bounded forward, its arms stretched behind it. As the distance between Patrat and it closed, its claws extended with an audible shang. But this time, Door was ready.

"Patrat, duck low and hit it with Tackle!" she ordered.

Following her lead, Patrat bowed its head and pushed off the pavement with its hind feet. It slammed into Purrloin's stomach, sending it flying once more. The cat came crashing down just a few feet away, and this time, it struggled to stand.

Now was Door's chance, and she wasn't about to let it slip from her fingers.

"Okay, Patrat. Finish it off!" she snapped.

With a chatter, Patrat bolted forward. Purrloin hadn't fallen far, so by the time Patrat was within arm's reach, all the cat could do was rise to all fours and hiss.

And then Patrat sank its teeth into Purrloin's shoulder.

The yowl Purrloin emitted right then wasn't one of righteous fury, nor was it one of confidence. It was one of pure, blinding pain—a scream of absolute agony. Door cringed at its sound, gritting her teeth as her ears rang with it. But she forced herself to continue watching, forced herself to pay close attention to Purrloin in case the cat retaliated. Would it? All it seemed to do was thrash back and forth as Patrat's teeth sank deeper and deeper into its flesh. And then, finally, Purrloin was engulfed with a red light, and it vanished a half-second later. Patrat's jaws snapped shut, and Door trailed her gaze from her pokémon up to N. The man stood with his poké ball extended and a smile on his face.

"Good battle," N said. "Purrloin's voice rang out clear, right up until the end."

Door knelt on the road and extended a hand to Patrat. The meerkat raced right up to her and pressed its head against her palm.

"You're weird," she said. "All this talk about pokémon voices and stuff. It almost sounds like you're—"

She stopped short as she looked down at her pokémon. Patrat stood calmly, with a neutral expression on its face. That wasn't what shocked Door. What shocked door was the fact that its fangs were stained red. Blood red.

Door felt the color drain from her face as the realization hit her. Faux pokémon were designed to look and feel real, but perhaps because of the violence of battling, the one thing they weren't designed to do was bleed. So if Purrloin had bled in response to Patrat's Bite, then that meant…

"Your purrloin," she murmured. "It's real."

She looked up at N, who had been watching her with intense eyes. In response to her words, however, he smiled and turned on his heel.

"Yes," he said.

"Where did you get it?" she asked. "I mean … why would you battle with a real pokémon?"

"Why would you?"

And with that, he walked away. Door stood up abruptly, intending on racing after him, but a hand grabbed her shoulder. Whirling around, she came face-to-face with Geist.

"Leave him be," he said. "You won the battle, and I highly doubt we'll be crossing paths with him again."

Door relaxed but threw one last glance towards where N had been a moment ago. She wasn't surprised to see that he had disappeared into the crowd within the time she had taken her eyes off him.

"He was weird," she muttered. "But … how d'you think he got his hands on a real pokémon like that?"

Geist shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe we'll never know. Does it matter?"

Door exhaled. Although the question burned in her mind, she had to admit Geist had a point. What were the odds that she would ever see that man or his purrloin again? Maybe she could run after him and ask him where he found a real pokémon, but what was the point of that? She and Geist would arrive in Striaton the next day, and after that, she was going to go back to a quiet life in Nuvema. So did that man or his pokémon really matter to her, some lowly aide's aide who would probably never get her hands on a real pokémon herself? Did it really matter to what she had to do?

"I guess not," she said at last.

Drawing out her poké balls, she recalled Patrat without a word to it. She was about to do the same with Oshawott when she stopped and looked at him. He had sidled up to her side again and gripped the hem of her pants with both paws. A whimper escaped his throat as he buried his face in her leg, and Door blinked at him. That was far too emotional for a fake pokémon. Even though each one displayed some rudimentary level of emotion to help trainers grow attached to them, they weren't programmed to express that much pain or fear. Not when their primary purpose was to get in harm's way. Kneeling down, Door pulled Oshawott off her leg and held him by the scruff of his neck. He sniffled and drew his paws to his face until Door held him up at eye level. Then, he lowered his arms to look at his trainer, and Door stopped cold for the second time that hour.

Three long scratches stretched across Oshawott's face.

And tiny beads of ruby-red blood clung to their edges.

—

Door was up early the next day. Or, rather, she didn't really sleep—more like napped here and there and realized eventually that the sun was rising. How could she possibly sleep? She was in possession of a real-live oshawott, and this was exactly what she wanted for as long as she could remember. So for most of the night, she lay on her back in a trainer's dorm with her fingers laced together over her stomach and her mind deep in thought. What did that mean for her? What did it mean when Geist and Professor Ironwood told her that the oshawott already took a liking to her?

What kinds of new responsibilities did that bestow on her?

She was all-too eager to get out of bed the next morning, and when she stepped out and into the lobby, she wasn't surprised to find it almost empty.

Almost, save for Opal and Geist conversing with the nurse at the front desk. The oshawott sat on the counter between them with his head tilted in incomprehension, and Nurse Joy looked just as confused and concerned as he was. Apparently, the conversation was about the oshawott, and Door had a feeling she knew what specifically about the oshawott they were discussing. She sidled over to join them, her hands working their way into her pockets.

"Hey," she said quietly. "Morning."

Geist straightened and whirled around to face her. His serious expression lit up into a broad smile upon seeing her. Before he could say anything, Opal stepped forward.

"Good morning, Door!" Opal cried. One of her hands was cupped around her mouth, and the other was raised high in the air for a big, sweeping wave. "Nurse Joy was just telling us about your oshawott."

Something about that made Door nervous, but she did her best to hide it in a mask of disinterest. Leaning against the desk, she replied, "Oh yeah?"

"Yes," Nurse Joy replied. "I must admit, most of the real pokémon we have passing through here are from other regions. I never thought I'd see a native Unovan one that didn't come from a breeder, yet your friend insists yours was born in the wild."

Door raised an eyebrow at Geist, who, given the fact that he had been the one carrying Oshawott from Striaton, must have been the friend in question. Still, the fact that Oshawott was born in the wild struck her as doubly weird. Not only was the otter a real pokémon, but Unovan starters, even before the pokémon population collapse, were bred in captivity, not born in the wild. The region wasn't anywhere near their natural habitat to begin with, and it was certainly too far south and too warm for an oshawott.

Still, something told Door she shouldn't bring that up to Geist. She had no doubt everyone involved in the conversation knew perfectly well why a wild oshawott was unusual, but she felt like she wasn't about to get a straight answer from Geist concerning where this pokémon came from.

"So why does that matter?" Door asked.

Geist shrugged. "It doesn't, but it comes up on his poké ball's status screen. You did realize that all natural pokémon have their birthplace registered to deter poaching, yes?"

She did, but she had hoped that Nurse Joy wouldn't have noticed. So when Door realized that it must have been Nurse Joy who brought the oddity up in the first place, she propped her chin up on her hand.

"Before you say anything, no, I didn't forge it," Door said with an extremely bored tone. "Truth is, I don't even know where Oshawott came from; I only just got him yesterday. But I know that whatever he's telling me is the truth." She swept her hands towards Geist. "And I know because he works for Dr. Amanita Fennel. My employer, Professor Bianca Ironwood, can vouch for him." At that point, she pulled out her holo caster, tapped it to life, and scrolled through her contacts until she reached the professor's number. Displaying it to Nurse Joy, she said, "Want me to call her?"

Nurse Joy gave her a sympathetic look. "Oh no! That won't be necessary. You see, I'm only talking to your friend about this because it's important to know if you go on the road. The safe routes are meant to be crime-free zones, but you never know with the people out there. A real oshawott is rare, and one born in Unova is even rarer. So be sure to keep an eye out and do your best to protect him."

Door raised her eyebrows. She felt her heart beat a little faster with embarrassment as she flicked her eyes to the oshawott. Catching her gaze, the oshawott's expression instantly lit up, and he stood and hopped towards her. Soon, he was busy nuzzling her arm and trying his hardest to coax her into petting him.

"Oh. Um. Thanks for the tip. Will do," Door finally replied.

"Good," Nurse Joy said. "Otherwise, your oshawott only sustained minor scratches from his last battle. Those have already healed up just fine, and besides that, he's in perfect health." She reached down to pet oshawott's head. "You both take care now, okay?"

"Thank you, Nurse Joy," Geist said. "Ready, Door?"

Geist and Opal turned away from the counter and began walking. But as for Door, she stared down at the oshawott for a long while, long enough for the other two to realize she wasn't following them. Geist reached out to grasp Opal's shoulder as he looked at Door.

"Door?" he asked.

"Jack," she said.

At that, he swung himself around to face her. "Sorry. What?"

"That's Oshawott's name from now on," Door said. "It's Jack." Her hand fell on his head. Heavily—but not enough to hurt him. "Is that okay with you, buddy?"

Door didn't know much about pokémon, despite working with Professor Ironwood for the past several months. She never had the chance to handle real ones, and as such, she didn't entirely know how to communicate with them or what a proper response from one looked like. She didn't even know whether or not real pokémon understood humans the way faux pokémon did.

But in that moment, she knew this didn't matter. The way the oshawott's face lit up was an answer enough.