Chapter Six – The Game

Dear Adventurer,

I would like to apologize. If you received this letter, then it means that you have gone through with everything I have told you and listened to all of the complaints I have made. I imagine that you think me a horrible person who took things far too seriously and made a very big mistake. But rest assured that the girl in my past letters isn't me—it is the girl who wanted to find someone worth making a hero.

Anyone could have found my first letter in my secret base. A random person could have stumbled upon it, ripped it open, read my words, and given it to the police. You didn't. Test #1. But not just anyone could have gotten into the Cave of Origin—though your importance is not a concern of mine. The fact that you took that step at all was a test for me, as well. Test #2, if you will. The third test, of course, was seeing if you would actually follow through past that, never mind the fact that you went to Ever Grande and all that.

Test #4, however, was my most difficult and important test. You had to deal with me—or who you may have thought was me. I do share some of my opinions with that girl: I find it insulting that the media made me their toy, for one, and I am bitter about it. There are moments when I regret saving everyone, simply seconds of time that I think to myself, "I hate who I have become." Because I really did give part of myself up when I stopped Kyogre, and I really did have to take on responsibilities that I wasn't ready for when I became Champion. But I also appreciate all of the chances I have had.

The test was a simple one: if you could ignore, or at least look past, all the complaints that girl spat out, one after another, and focus on just the tasks at hand, then you were worth the truth. I wanted to weed out the people who would find these letters and look only to gain—to become a hero without deserving the title. I don't think just anyone could deal with that girl and the impossible tasks she set forth. Not at the same time, at least. I couldn't risk someone going into this just for shits and giggles. This had to be for everything.

So, I felt that the point that I asked you to go to Ever Grande and get the bag of money was a good breaking point for many people. I was demanding—do what I say or you won't get the next clue. It was enough to stop anyone. But you continued forward. I don't know who you are or if I knew you, but I can certainly say that I would have liked to meet you if I haven't.

Of course, the truth of the matter is that—by the time you get this letter—I still left, and I know that people are looking for me. Perhaps that is a decision that would appear not well thought through, but let me assure you that it was. I don't want to be the one called the hero anymore. I did my job. I don't want to publicize what I've done, and I never expected that to happen the first time. I did what anyone else would have done but was unable to do.

Which leads me to an explanation of this task. I was able to take advantage of an opportunity—I was given a Pokémon, and I worked hard with my team to become the best trainer I could be. I strongly believe that giving people opportunities will yield positive results. Had I not been able to stop Team Aqua, someone else would have stepped up to the plate. But the reason I was able to do so was because I was given a Pokémon.

I wanted to give back all of the money that I had accumulated over the years. The people who choose to waste that gift will still give it to someone else in the end, feeding it back into the system. But I am willing to bet that there are going to be some who will do great things with that money. I don't need it to do what I want to do, so I want someone else to have that opportunity.

I left behind one billion PokéDollars, which—admittedly—is just part of my savings. So as not to raise suspicions, I have been taking money out of my account for several years, one-hundred thousand PokéDollars at a time. I know bank accounts are often the first things that the police look into when someone disappears, so I started early. As soon as I reached one billion dollars, I put my plan into motion.

Indeed, Adventurer. This was the first step of my plan, and this was put into motion around the same time that I became Champion. I began writing the letters almost two years ago (from the time I disappeared), and a year later I began planting them all over the country. At least, that is what I have in mind as I sit here writing this letter... I have put a lot of planning into this, so I hope you choose to continue forward.

Really, what I want is for someone else to do what should be done. I may be the one coming up with all the tasks and bringing you all over creation, but you're the one making it happen. You are taking advantage of a wonderful opportunity (if I do say so myself), and I respect you for that.

You're done with Hoenn now. Take a breath… and perhaps a nap. You deserve a break. No matter how long it takes you to get there, the next letter will be waiting at the same place.

Clue #3: Go to the place you should probably avoid if you are like me and want to be out of the spotlight, not in it. You might be able to get some autographs!

Thank you for sticking with me thus far, and I'm sorry. I'm glad you didn't give up on me.

Sincerely,

May

I set the letter down on my father's desk when I finished reading it, a glaze over my eyes that I couldn't blink away. Collapsing into one of the chairs in front of his desk, I buried my face in my hands. My eyelids felt heavy, my early morning already catching up with me. Now May was apologizing to me? Now?

"For fuck's sake," I muttered into my hands, squeezing my eyes shut even more tightly. But no matter how tightly I kept them, May's handwriting kept flashing against the darkness. The words never stopped running across my mind. "That doesn't even answer the right question. Does she think she can just write this and make everything better?"

After a moment, I lifted my head from my hands, and my dad smiled softly at me. "She's lucky that you're the one who found the first letter, Stevie," he said, and I raised my eyebrows. He hadn't called me that in years. Was this whole thing that bad? Was I so weak now, so pathetic, that he had to resort to calling me the name of a boy?

And lucky? No, May was hardly lucky that I was the one who thought to check her secret base, the one who "stumbled upon" it. Anyone else would make a better hero than I would. I could have tried harder to stop Team Aqua, but I didn't; May took on that role. And no matter what May thought, I wasn't going to become the hero she wanted.

"I think I hate her even more," I said quietly, and though it wasn't directed particularly at my father, I found myself staring at him as I said it. "How dare she assume that just because she sounded so miserable and angry and disgusted—and just because she said she regretted meeting me… how dare she assume that I wouldn't do everything in my power to find her."

My father picked up the letter and skimmed through it, his eyes flickering back and forth across the page. "I don't believe," he began, setting the letter back down, "that she intended those tests to be for you. She doesn't want just anyone collecting these letters—she wants someone with a high moral standard. If she wanted someone like you, then she had to do it."

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms and leaning back against the chair. "But if it wasn't 'someone like me', then she wouldn't even need to bother. I'd bet that most people would've turned that first letter in to the police. And… would someone be so selfish as to go through with this if all they wanted was to find her to be the hero?"

"You'd be surprised what people would do. You may give people the benefit of the doubt, but May is practical—she's always been practical." He rubbed his chin, pursing his lips. "Don't take it too personally, Steven. She didn't know who would find this first letter. She was taking precautions just in case."

"Precautions for what?" I demanded.

I knew that I ought to feel a little better—the girl who I thought I had been tracking wasn't actually as miserable as I thought she was. And she was good. She was trying to do good things, spreading her wealth to people who might be able to make a difference. There was even a better chance that she could still be alive.

But I didn't feel any better. I was just tired.

"Steven," my dad said softly, walking around his desk and placing a hand on my shoulder. "I know you love her, but if you want to keep going with this, then I think you're going to have to put your feelings aside. You've only found four letters and… well, son, I think you're beginning to fall apart. You can't let her in if you want to finish this."

"Dad…" I felt my lip quiver slightly, and I took a deep breath. "I don't know what to do anymore."

Even though we didn't talk very much anymore, he was still my dad. So when he leaned down and engulfed me in his arms, patting me on the back, I didn't pull away from him.

"Why don't you stay at home for the weekend, Stevie?" my dad asked, letting me lean away and holding onto my shoulders. "I know you want to find May as fast as possible, but you look exhausted already. I know May would much rather you take a break than keep pushing yourself forward—she even says you deserve one. So, do yourself a favor and take her advice. I can take tomorrow off work if you want."

My cheeks burned a little, and I brushed my father's hands off my shoulders. He was only suggesting this, of course, because I looked so pathetic. "No, no, Dad, I can't ask you to cancel a whole day just for me. I already made you cancel a big meeting today. I… I'll just stay the night, and I can fend for myself tomorrow. We can just go out to dinner tonight or something."

"I really insist—"

"I'm okay, Dad," I interrupted, but there was something so hard about my voice that gave away that I wasn't. I let my head hang for a second, closing my eyes as I thought about how to correct this. "I'll… I'll feel better when this is all over. I just want to find her, and once I do that things can go back to how they were."

"You're missing the point, Steven."

Well, whatever the point was, I was giving up on it for now. The only thing that mattered to me now was that May was still out there somewhere waiting for me. It didn't matter how tired I was or how awful this stupid game of hers was—it didn't matter that she was trying to make me some anonymous hero. She was the end goal.

I rose to my feet, collecting the letters from his desk and turning my back on my father. "I have a key. I'll let myself in," I said quietly, and I started for the door. My dad didn't say anything, and when I got to the door, I paused. "Don't forget about the money. One thousand random people are going to need that."

The walk to my old house was a long one, not because it was that far away, but because all the thoughts running through my mind were like screams. I crushed the letters in my hand as I walked, the papers crinkling together into one big mess. Why did May have to make this so hard? Why not just give me the money and say, "Hey, can you give this to a thousand people for me? Okay, thanks!" I would've done it…

There is something to be said for adventure, she wrote in the first letter.

Adventure, my ass.

My dad refused to move into a bigger house when he became the president of Devon. He told me that living in a humble home kept a man humble, and maybe that was the reason I kept such a tiny home in Mossdeep. Most people wouldn't associate this little one-floor, two-bedroom, one-bathroom home with the president of a major company, though.

It was the same house that I grew up in, and when I stuck my key into the doorknob, the door stuck. I kicked it in, taking extra caution to shut it once I made it inside. Even the décor of the house was simple; a couple of shelves of rocks above the sofa—who knew why he kept those there—a few paintings on the white walls, but that was about it. The television in the entertainment center had to be almost as old as I was.

My bedroom, too, had remained untouched over the years. The twin-size bed in the corner of the room still had a Pokémon comforter, something I should have abandoned in my teens but never felt like getting rid of. Upon inspection, my dresser still held many of the outfits I wore but didn't want before I moved out. Everything was like a picture frozen in time. Had it really been so long since I had last been here?

No, I had been here one time since I moved out—for only a few minutes. May had wanted to see the house I had grown up in, so I brought her here while I knew my dad was still at work. She marveled at the simplicity of it, giggled when I showed her my Pokémon sheets, and rolled her eyes when I told her that I didn't want my dad to catch us here.

"What are you, fifteen? Besides, your dad is a really nice guy, Steven," she had told me, sitting down on the couch beneath those same shining rocks. "Forgive me if I seem rude… and I really don't mean to pry… but what happened to your mother? I don't think either of you have ever mentioned her. Is she still in the picture, or is she…?"

"Dead," I whispered, and I whispered it again now as I stood in front of my dresser. I ran a hand over the top of it, stopping to pick up an old picture of my whole family. We were at the beach somewhere, a family vacation that I couldn't remember. I couldn't have been more than three then. My dad wasn't nearly so chubby, but my mom was—because she was pregnant. My parents never intended for me to be an only child.

But I was. She died of renal failure a couple of months before she would have given birth. It was unexpected and completely ruined my father, but I couldn't remember her at all. I barely remembered my father being unhappy. When I looked back on my childhood, I just saw my dad and me together, happy as can be. At least for awhile… until I got older. But even then, there was never any other woman in the picture. It was always just the boys.

"Steven."

I jumped, and the picture slipped out of my hand and onto the floor. The glass cracked, but it was an old frame, anyway—just like everything else in the room. I bent down to pick it up, turning and staring at my dad as I stood tall again. He was the only thing different about this place: a little fatter, a little older, but the name was the same.

"That's a nice picture. We can get a new frame for it," my dad said, standing beside me as I put the picture back on my dresser. But he grabbed it back just as quickly as I set it down. "Your mother loved the beach, and she insisted that we both take a month off that summer and go to Slateport. You had the time of your life, you know. I think the only other time I saw you that happy was when you told me that May had become the new champion."

"I said that I didn't want to take any more time from you. Today's your busy day," I muttered, ignoring his story.

"Yes, but if I was willing to take a month off twenty years ago, I think I can take an afternoon off to be with my son who—and I'm only being honest—is all out of sorts." He set the picture back on my dresser. "I know I don't tell you this enough, but I do love you—and it's important to me that you're happy."

I nodded, unable to take my eyes off the broken picture frame and the picture inside. "Okay. Okay, fine, whatever."

"Good boy. Now, let's have lunch in. It's been a long time, but I think I can still make a mean grilled cheese." My dad smiled, and with that, he vanished from my room.

I glanced again at the Pokémon comforter on my bed, trying to fade back into my childhood. But I realized that that time had passed. The innocence of childhood had long since faded away, the broken path ahead just another obstacle along the way forward.

Author's Note: I don't always write about Mr. Stone, but when I do, he's usually a prick. This is a rare case where I actually characterized him as a decent man. Maybe not a great father but a good one.

(Of course, he's much better in ORAS, which was obviously released after I wrote this.)

Also, as a quick fun fact, the scene with Steven in his old bedroom means a lot to me, particularly when the picture frame breaks. It's one of my favorite moments in the whole story.