Warnings: None
Between the Stars and the Sea
Chapter 10:
"Cherrygrove City & Route 30"
The minute the nurse came out of the back room, I bolted to my feet and crowded the front counter, leaning halfway over it as the nurse gave me a heaping helping of side-eye. "Miss Hoshiko?" he said, reading from the tag taped to the edge of the tray in his hands.
"Yes?" I said, unable to keep the impatience from my voice.
He set the tray down on the counter; it looked like the inside of an egg carton, two of the depressions on its shiny plastic surface filled with red and white Poké Balls. "Here are your Pokémon, fully healed and ready to go," he said, sliding the tray toward me.
"Oh my god, thank you." I picked the Balls up and held them tight, one in each hand, the hard knot in my chest relaxing as I turned to leave.
But I didn't get far. "Wait just one second," the nurse said. He put his hands on his hips, glaring down the length of his nose. "Your Cyndaquil was in bad shape. Do try to be more careful next time, miss."
I ducked my head, cheeks flushing with shame. "Thank you. Yes. I will," I said, and I began to back away with a perhaps unnecessary bow. "I'll take good care of them. For sure. Thank you."
"And give that Sentret a nickname while you're at it!" the nurse called after me as I spun on my heel and marched away. "You can do it through your Pokédex, if you have one, or the PC in the corner, if you don't!"
I waved at him over my shoulder, but I didn't say anything else—because he was not the one I wanted to be talking to just then.
The Center's main waiting area—all pristine lavender tile, plush couches and chairs, and sensible fluorescent lights—flew by in a blur as I headed off down a side hallway past the gender-segregated showers, communal kitchen, and enormous room of bunkbeds where a few trainers, merchants, and other travelers lounged with their Pokémon companions. I didn't pay them any mind, even though a few waved hello. Instead I made a beeline for the door at the end of the hall and walked through it, into the walled-off yard I'd discovered while anxiously pacing the building as I waited for Hotaru to come back from being healed. The yard wasn't huge, but it was quite nice, complete with a pocket playground for playful Pokémon, a pond for water types, and a small section of curated and manicured trees for birds and types who liked to climb. As I'd ignored the Center's other features, so too did I ignore these, heading instead for a bench at the edge of the yard next to the high stone wall keeping it contained from the outside elements. I sat on this bench and summoned Hotaru in the same two-second period, watching with my heart in my mouth as she appeared before me on the ground in a burst of red light.
"Hotaru—" I said.
She looked up at me.
My words died in my throat.
Hotaru cocked her head to one side in a question, but I couldn't give her any answers. I tried to swallow down the lump in my throat as I looked at her healed body and bright eyes, trying in vain to summon the words I'd practiced and practiced and practiced while she was being treated, but none came. None came, and I just sat there, until she gave a little peep and hopped up onto the bench at my side.
I put my hand on her head.
She nudged into it, eyes happy little crescents above her pointed nose.
I found my voice again.
"I'm so sorry, baby," I said, thumb brushing down the length of her snout. "I'm so sorry you got so hurt. I was off my guard and wasn't paying attention and—"
Hotaru peeped and shrugged my hand aside, but she didn't reject me. Instead she climbed on my lap and sat on her haunches, front paws resting against my chest as she snuffled my face and gave my cheek a lick. I couldn't help but smile, especially when she flopped sideway and rolled onto her back so she could start wriggling, peeping and chirping with glee as I tried to hold on and not let her fall to the ground. It was impossible not to grin and laugh as she performed her Weasel War Dance, and when she finally stilled in order to close her eyes and curl up in my lap like a little warm coal, I knew she wasn't holding a grudge for the Pidgey incident. Call me crazy, but I just knew.
I petted her head and closed my eyes with a long, relieved sigh. "I promise I'll be more careful, OK?"
Hotaru peeped.
"But if you're really mad at me and want to go back to Professor Elm's house—"
Her eyes opened. She shook her head before butting it against my stomach, small grumbles of disgruntlement rumbling in her chest.
"OK, fine," I said, laughing. "You're staying with me." I reached into my pocket. "And speaking of staying with me. What should be do about this?"
Hotaru hopped off my lap and onto the bench, sniffing at the Poké Ball lying atop my palm with obvious curiosity. I traced a pattern on the side of the ball with my thumb, scowling as I looked at its shiny red surface.
"I'm a little worried she doesn't actually want to be our new pal," I said—and when Hotaru looked up at me with a peep, I rubbed the back of my neck. "Oh. The Pokédex recorded her data when we caught her, and she's a girl like you and me. I checked it out while you were getting treated."
Hotaru chirped, happily it seemed, and went back to sniffing the ball. Aside from revealing the Sentret's gender, the Pokédex had also provided me with a field for naming her. Apparently the Dex was capable of registering a Pokémon to a trainer, initiating a registration sequence that included the ability to assign a nickname to every catch. I hadn't had the heart to fill out the Sentret's name, though—which was annoying, because the Dex had been giving me little chiming reminders to name the damn Sentret every ten minutes since I caught her that morning. Ugh. Where was the snooze button when you needed one?
"What should we do?" I said when Hotaru finished sniffing. "She didn't look happy to see us when we first saw her." My teeth worried my bottom lip. "Is it ethical to force a Pokémon to—?"
Before I could finish, Hotaru nudged the button on the front of the Ball with the tip of her nose. I tried to protest, but it was too late: Another beam of red light shot out of the ball, coalescing into the form of the Sentret in about two seconds' time. She sat on the ground at my feet, crouched low with tail stretched out behind her, eyes closed as her fur fluffed up and she shook herself like a dog waking from a long nap.
"Uh," I said. "Hi?"
Her eyes opened. Slowly the Sentret sat up, looking first at me and then at Hotaru with the Sentret equivalent of a grumpy scowl. Then, however, her eyes traveled over my shoulder, and with a whip of her thick tail she turned herself around. I'm not sure if she liked what she saw in the Center's yard, but after a moment's inspection, she turned back around again. Eyed me over once. Eyed Hotaru over twice.
Then she dropped onto her belly, curled her legs under her, and wrapped her tail around herself in preparation for a nice nap.
Hotaru and I exchanged a Look. Gingerly, every movement deliberate and slow, I eased myself onto the ground, my metal leg extending off to one side as I got on eye level with the sleeping Sentret.
"Uh. Sorry to disturb you—but I'm the trainer who caught you earlier," I said, not sure if I was correct to feel as infinitely silly as I did just then. "My name is Hoshiko, and this is Hotaru."
On the bench, Hotaru peeped. The Sentret cracked one dark eye and looked at me and Hotaru briefly. In short order she shut it again, face mostly hidden by her fluffy tail.
"…um?" I shook my head and took a deep breath. "Listen. It felt like you were waiting around for us to come back so you could get payback from when we fought yesterday, and… I was excited to get a new friend, and I caught you without asking."
The Sentret's eyes both opened that time. She pushed up off the ground with her front legs, peering up at me with another of her scowls—but this one was accompanied by a curios tilt of her head, ears swaying like miniature sails.
"So, now I'm asking," I continued. "If you want to go back to Route 29, I can formally release you and escort you home, no problem. If you're gonna stay with us, I would hope it's because you consent to do so, and not because this—" I held up her Ball "—keeps you bound to me."
The Sentret's eyes narrowed. With new interest she looked me over again, eyes lingering on the Ball in my slightly unsteady hand.
"And… yeah. That's about it." Clearing my throat, I offered her a smile. "So, girl. What do you say?"
I couldn't help but hold my breath as the Sentret thought about it. Again she eyed Hotaru and me, turning once more to survey the playground, pond, and climbing area of the Center's walled-off yard. Her eyes stayed on the wall for a while, looking it up and down a few times before finally turning back.
Hotaru chose that moment to peep.
The Sentret looked at her, watching as Hotaru hopped off the bench and approached with a series of small vocalizations—ones the Sentret replied to with a chatter and squeak of her own. They made sounds back and forth, communicating stars-knew-what to each other over the course of maybe a minute and a half. I could only watch, uncertain and nervous, as Hotaru at last fell silent and the Sentret turned my way. She walked right up to me, marching between my splayed legs, and the she rocked backward and up to balance on her long tail. That put us nose to nose, her intense and beady eyes boring into mine like an awl.
"Um?" I said.
The Sentret stared some more—and just as I started to speak again, unnerved by her steady gaze, she gave a curt nod. The creature dropped down to her feet and off of her tail, once again curling up in her napping posture with a sigh.
"… I guess that means you're not too mad about our situation," I muttered after a minute of stunned silence. "So… OK, then?" I looked to Hotaru for confirmation. "She's coming with us?"
Hotaru peeped happily, doing a little wriggle of delight; the Sentret opened one eye and harrumphed, eye rolling at Hotaru's antics, but Hotaru kept dancing unperturbed. I don't blame her. I almost wanted to dance, myself. The Sentret wasn't bolting for the hills and had apparently agreed to come along, so… that meant she consented to being caught, it seemed. And that was a very good thing for my sense of moral integrity, for sure.
"Right. Well, then!" I clapped my hands together, smile broad and bright. "We should probably give you a nickname, in that case. How about… Fumi?"
The Sentret grumbled, not bothering to open her eyes; I took that as a "no."
"Naomi?" I suggested instead.
Another grumbled, this one accompanied by a displeased bristle of her fur.
"Izumi?"
She gave outright growl at that.
"Erm…" I wracked my brains for something that might fit her. "How about 'Hibiki,' then?"
Her eyes snapped open. The creature sat up and burbled, sound happy and most definitely an affirmation.
"All right, great!" I said with another clap of my hands. "Hibiki it is. Which makes us Hotaru, Hibiki, and Hoshi—" I stopped. Thought about it. Panicked. "Wait, we can't all have H names!"
My protest came too late, as my protests are wont to do. From inside my pocket my Pokédex said, "Name registered; "Hibiki" the Sentret has been successfully registered to trainer Uehara Hoshiko."
"Aw, hell!" I swore.
Hibiki chittered—an impish little laugh if I've ever heard one—and tucked her nose beneath her tail for a well-deserved nap.
The doors of the PokéMart slid open automatically, sending a rush cool, dry air across my cheeks upon approach. Hotaru shivered by my ankles, but she flared the spots on her back and shook off the chill without issue. The man behind the counter looked up from his magazine with a polite smile; said smile widened as we came inside and I began to peruse the many shelves stocked with Pokémon food (sorted by Pokémon type, of course), toys for Pokémon and humans alike, and sundry. Call me crazy, but I swear I felt his eyes on the back of my head as I inspected a row of dolls shaped like Clefairy, and I had to wonder if he hadn't had many customers yet today or something. Marts, I'd been told, weren't the most well-trafficked of stores, and for good reason.
When I didn't see what I wanted on the shelves, I braced myself and headed for the counter. The man behind it beamed when I walked up and gave him a polite smile. The expression caused the shimmering burn scar on the left side of his face, one that stretched from his collarbone to his hairline, to twist and ripple like spilled paint. The skin over the associated eye drooped, narrowing his gaze to a mere sliver, and above that eye he lacked any sign of brow. Otherwise he had wispy grey hair and weathered skin, hands gnarled with more burn scars when he clasped them atop the counter.
"Uh. Hi," I said. "Can I please get—?"
He held up one twisted finger. "Not so fast, rookie. I'm gonna need to see some ID."
"… sure."
He watched, enormous smile not fading a watt, as I took out my wallet and handed over my ID. He swiped it through a card reader built into the counter and then finger-pecked a few commands into the PC next to it, tongue poking from the corner of his mouth as he laboriously typed something. Soon his dark eyes lit up; he passed his hand through his hair with a low whistle.
"Never been shopping at a PokéMart before, eh?" he said.
"Nope. Just grocery stores and stuff." A beat. "Wait. How'd you know?"
He sounded like a Murkrow when he laughed, croaking and sonorous. "Can't exactly ration goods if you don't keep track of who buys what, now can we?" He patted the thin monitor of his PC. "There's a special PC system the Marts use to keep a record. And you, rookie, have never been to this PokéMart before—or any Mart before, it seems." Another loud laugh, hand slapping his thigh. "Your record's as blank as a Slowpoke's face!"
"I see," I said. "Well, let's change that. Can I please get—?"
Again, he held up a finger. "Not so fast, rookie." What was that, his catch phrase? "You know how this works, dontcha?"
"Of course," I said. "Five healing items per shop per trainer and no more."
"With the exception of Poké Balls," he added. "You can have as many of those as you can carry, provided you have the cash." At that he heaved a nostalgic sigh, eyes rolling skyward. "They overproduced so many in the War, we still can't sell 'em fast enough to clear the warehouses, and it's been thirty years. But you should consider yourself lucky, rookie. Back in my day we couldn't even buy potions. They were all requisitioned by the government and sent to the front lines, and—"
I listened as politely as I could while he lamented the current state of item rationing and the overabundance of Poké Balls. I'd heard this tale before a time or two, about potions and antidotes and other items being notoriously difficult and costly to make, rendering them scarce even thirty years after the Great War. Poké Balls, however, were another story entirely. Mass farming of wild Pokémon to aid the War effort had resulted in the overproduction of catch items, with stockpiles of Balls still lingering in warehouses to this day. Hilariously ironic, that overabundance. You could catch only a limited number of Pokémon after over-farming led to stringent catch restrictions, but you could carry your weight in Poké Balls—provided you had the cash to buy them, of course.
"Yes, you rookies are lucky the government relaxed the rationing for your generation, that's for sure," he said, and with another sigh the old man shook his head. "But enough of my prattle. What can I do ya for?"
"Three potions and two antidotes, please." I slapped my money on the counter. "Plus as many Poké Balls as this can buy—oh, and a bag of Fire-type Pokémon food." Sentrets were better off scavenging, I'd been told a long time ago.
The shopkeeper adopted an absolutely enormous smile at that. "Comin' right up," he said. Behind him stood a closed and locked cabinet; he opened it with the aid of a key he wore around his neck. "You'll clean out the rest of my potion stock, which means you came just at the right time."
The cabinet was indeed mostly empty, with only a few spray-canisters of various healing items on display. I'd never actually seen a potion in person. It looked oddly ordinary in its white and purple can with attached spray nozzle, but I knew the contents inside of it were anything but. A liquid that could instantly knit cracked bones, repair torn muscle tissue, and smooth broken skin? Talk about liquid gold…
He removed three canisters of potion (the only ones he had) and two antidote packets and slid them toward me across the counter, along with a bag of seven Poké Balls and a sack of my requested food. "And here you are," he said, giving me a flourishing bow. "Travel safe, rookie."
"I will." I stuffed the items carefully in my backpack and returned his bow with a small faux-curtsy, which earned me another creaking laugh. "Thank you. Now come along, Hotaru."
The aforementioned peeped and bunny hopped after me. The man laughed again, but the sound cut off midway through a particularly hearty chuckle.
"Oh, and watch out for the trainers north of town!" he called. "They're all spoiling to fight young rookies like you!"
I looked over my shoulder and grinned. "Thanks for the tip!"
It was only midafternoon, and according to the nurse manning the front desk of the Center, we had plenty of time before night fell and would have no trouble making it to Azalea before dark. Hotaru hopped along at my side as we navigated through the streets of Cherrygrove and approached the enormous stone gate at its northern edge—a gate that matched the one to the east, where we'd first met Silver.
Silver.
Part of me wanted to stay in Cherrygrove for the night, but if I recalled the games correctly, I wasn't destined to meet Silver in this city again. If I wanted answers—and believe you me, I did want answers—I'd need to move on, and fast.
If Hotaru sensed my urgency, she didn't give me any indication. She hopped beside me down the gravel road of Route 30 without complaint, peeping happily when she found a leaf pile to disturb and throw into the air with her long nose. I wondered if she had any anxiety about passing the spot where we'd seen the Rattata die, but if Hotaru sensed my feelings about that, too, she also gave no indication. Still, I couldn't help—as we passed beneath the shade of the trees lining the narrow road—but take a deep breath and pause. She hopped a few steps ahead before stopping and turning my way with a quizzical tilt of her head.
"Hey, Hotaru?" I said. "You let me know if you get tired of walking, OK? We can let Hibiki have a turn if you want to go back into your Ball for any reason."
Hotaru's head tilted even further, confusion evident on her face—and then she shook her head. No, she was fine. Maybe I had no reason to worry, after all.
Feeling a bit better, I lifted my wrist and activated my PokéGear. "Anyway." I consulted my map for a minute before letting the Gear go dark. "It shouldn't be too far and the path is clearly marked, so we should—"
From within my jacket pocket a smooth female voice proclaimed, "First Encounter Mandate sequence initiated. Please enter recording mode."
I looked down at my chest and blinked. "Wait, what?"
"Please enter recording mode," the Dex repeated.
Hotaru tensed. I froze, too, slowly removing my Dex from my coat and turning on my heel in a tight circle. I spun three times, but I saw nothing and had to look at Hotaru with a perplexed scowl. "But here aren't any Pokémon here, are there?"
"Please point the viewfinder at the Pokémon," the Dex told me, red light on its cover pulsing like an impatient eye.
I stared at the Dex. "This thing's broken, right, Hotaru?" I said, glancing down at her. "There aren't any—?"
Hotaru, however, wasn't looking at me anyone.
No. Hotaru's narrow eyes had shifted behind me, toward the darkness of the forest lining the path. I followed her gaze, staring owlishly into the trees—and then, so softly I almost didn't hear it, there came a sound like dry leaves crunching underfoot. It repeated a few times, guiding me eventually to the sight of a dusky off-yellow lump clinging to the front of a nearby tree. It was maybe a foot and a half long, sort of tube-shaped with a pointed tip, and its glistening hide was only barely a different color than the rough bark of the tree behind it. No wonder I hadn't noticed it at first.
As if it heard my thoughts, the lump vibrated, and from it came another set of those leaf-crunching noises—noises that now sounded very much like soft, sibilant laughter.
I raised my Dex, flipped open the cover, and watched as it snapped a photo. The photo soon turned into a stock photo of a Pokémon.
"Kakuna, the armor Pokémon," the Dex said. "Kakuna uses its tough shell—"
"Yeah, yeah, I get it, I get it." I shoved the Dex into my jacket again, listening as it continued to speak and then eventually fell silent. Taking a slow step forward, I raised my hands and tried to look nonthreatening. "Well. Um. Hi, Kakuna. Would you like to—?"
My pocket—the one on the left side of my jacket, down by the lower hem—thrummed. I started to put my hand to it, but before I could even remove Hibiki's Ball, there came a digital click and a beam of red light shot forth. Hibiki appeared on the ground before me with a chatter and, without waiting for my command, darted through the underbrush to the Kakuna's tree. She skittered up it with her claws, paused, then did an impressive series of ricocheting leaps off an adjacent trunk. I watched in awe as she did a lithe jump-kick off the back of the Kakuna, one that knocked the opponent Pokémon loose and sent it dropping like a stone into the bushes below. Hibiki followed; the bushes rattled, and then Hibiki appeared with the Kakuna in tow, rolling it toward me across the ground with the tip of her stubby snout.
She then struck a pose: one foot on the Kakuna's domed back, front paw raised into the air, her tail a flag of triumph in the air behind her.
"… yes, Hibiki, great job," I said, giving her a golf-clap (Hotaru sat up on her haunches and did the same, delighted at the sounds her paws made). "But wait for me to say 'go' next time, OK?"
She blinked. Put a hand to her chin. Thought about it. Gave a smart nod of affirmation and hopped over the Kakuna to stand at my feet, stance poised and ready to go as soon as I gave her a command. At least she learned fast, right?
Side-stepping Hibiki, I walked to the Kakuna and knelt beside it. As I approached, it shivered and rolled over to expose its underside—one that bore two tiny round eyes, pure black and gleaming, and no other features to speak of. Kind of alien-looking, when you got down to it, but then again, so were most Pokémon in this strange world.
"Um. Hey, little fella," I said to it. "Would you like to—?"
The Kakuna rolled onto its face again, and then it pulled its body tight, shortening itself by about three inches. Then it stretched back out. Pulled back in. Stretched out. Pulled in. Slowly, bit by bit, it dragged itself across the gravel ground—heading inexorably for Hibiki, who had scampered to my side to watch the Kakuna move. She moved aside when it got close; it promptly changed trajectory, coming at her again. I stared with my mouth open, resisting the urge to scratch my head. Was it running away? Trying to fight Hibiki? Maybe attempting to play with her? Hard to tell. Hell, it barely even had a face, features as inscrutable as a mummy mask. How could I talk to it, see if it wanted to go with me, when it didn't even have a face?
"Well. OK then." I opened my pack and pulled out my bag of Poké Balls. "We'll catch it and then talk to it somewhere less exposed to chat, like we did with you, Hibiki." I fished out a Ball and activated it. "Here goes."
The Kakuna hadn't managed to get far by the time I readied myself for a catch. I readjusted, squatting next to the Kakuna as it headed for Hibiki, and held the Ball about a foot over the middle of its back. Seemed a waste to try and throw it, so instead I just sort of… let it drop. It hit the Kakuna on the back of its head and split in two, breaking open along the seam between its red and white halves with a digital whooshing noise.
The Kakuna vanished into the Ball's interior.
Half a second later it reappeared with a crack and a burst of red light, Poké Ball bouncing broken to the dirt beside the Pokémon.
"What the—?!" I said, and the Kakuna made that dry-leafed noise it had made before. I grit my teeth, stood, and backed away about a foot. "OK, then, Hibiki. I guess trying scratching it."
She did so with gusto, spinning around on her tail before aiming her claws at the Kakuna's back—but her paw glanced harmlessly away with a nearly metallic schwing! Hibiki recoiled and shrieked, clutching her paw to her chest with an angry chatter after scampering to regroup behind my legs.
The Kakuna made that leaf-rustle sound again.
Oh, yeah. For sure. It was definitely laughing at us.
"Hotaru," I said, shooting a glance at her. "Try a smoke screen!"
Hotaru, standing off by the side of the path, gave a peep of confirmation. She dropped down to all fours and flared her back-spots, nose trickling a trail of smoke—and only belatedly did I realize I was standing next to her target. Her smoke covered me and Hibiki as well as the Kakuna in a reeking cloud, so of course Hibiki and I both started choking and hacking as Hotaru gave a dismayed peep.
The Kakuna, though?
Yeah. It just started laughing again.
I would've seen red if my vision hadn't been obscured by white smoke, eyes stinging and streaming with tears. "Oh, that does it!" I growling through clenched teeth. Batting aside the smoke until I saw the Kakuna, I activated another Poké Ball. "Take this!"
I dropped the Ball on its head.
The damn bug broke free in about two seconds.
"Dammit!" My shriek was so loud, a flock of Pidgeys took flight from the nearby trees. "How 'bout another one, huh?!"
The Kakuna laughed.
I threw the Ball.
It broke again.
The Kakuna laughed some more.
"Oh for the love of—" I swore so colorfully that Hibiki looked up at me in shock (but then she started chirping encouragements so I guess she wasn't too scandalized). Brandishing another Ball, I warbled, "Get in the dang ball, whydontcha?!"
I tried over and over again to catch that Kakuna. The Balls kept breaking, the Kakuna wriggling free over and over again even after Hotaru used her smokescreen and Hibiki leered at it and even tried scratching it a few more times, all efforts met with limited success. Eventually I was reduced to just two Poké Balls, which I stared at forlornly as Hibiki angry-screamed at the Kakuna and Hotaru tried desperately to calm her with some reassuring chirps.
The Kakuna, meanwhile, was laughing at us. As always.
Did I even want to catch this little asshole bug-thing, at this point?
Taking a deep breath, I clenched my fist around one of my remaining Poké Balls. "OK. Now I'm annoyed," I grumbled at the giggling Kakuna. I knelt by its head and pointed at its face, trying to look intimidating. "You get in the ball and you stay there, mister sir!" I shook my finger at it. "I'm warning you!"
Its laughing ceased.
It rolled to the side and stared at me.
Its eyes narrowed.
And then, again, it laughed at my expense.
I probably went purple at that point, and I didn't even bother with words. I just groaned and chucked my damn Ball at it, watched the thing disappear in a flash of red, reminded myself that punting a Kakuna was probably tantamount to child abuse, and swore up and down that if this Ball didn't work I would not, I repeat, I would not waste my final Ball on this smarmy little assho—
The Ball hit the ground as the Kakuna vanished, and then it shook once, then twice from side to side.
I held my breath.
The Ball shook a final time.
And then the Ball stilled, a tiny electric chime of victory pinging through the quiet forest air.
In my excitement, I think I leapt three feet straight into the air, staggering a little when I came back down to earth. Hibiki screamed out a chirp of triumph and scaled my leg, winding her thick tail around my neck as she grabbed fistfuls of my hair and tugged, shrieking her conquest to the heavens. Hotaru yelled, too, parading around me in a circle doing her Weasel War Dance while I boogied in place and pumped a fist skyward.
"Hell yeah!" I bellowed. "We did it, girls!"
More peeping and chattering and shrieking followed, the H-Squad unable to contain its collective excitement at gaining a new friend. We probably looked quite the mess, all ash-streaked and sweaty as we were, but I could hardly be compelled to care as we celebrated. Eventually my voice went hoarse, however; I pulled out my Pokédex, which had begun prompting me to decide on a name for my new catch, and stared at the Kakuna's Ball where it lay upon the ground.
"Well, let's see, girls," I told them. "Why don't we investigate the new friend's gender and then decide on a—"
Unfortunately, before I could express my desire to just pick a nickname and be done with it so the Dex would stop yelling at me, the bushes off the side of the path began to rustle.
I reacted at once, because no way in hell was I going to let my Pokémon get attacked by another horde of Pidgey like last time. I shoved away the Dex, snatched up the Kakuna's Ball and recalled Hibiki as I moved to stand over Hotaru, placing her between my spread feet in a protective stance. We watched in tense silence as the bushes rattled again, both of us having learned our lesson—but instead of a flock of irate Pidgeys, something else entirely emerged from the brush.
It was a little boy.
Well, it was a preteen boy wearing baggy shorts and a t-shirt, but you get the idea—he was a very human child, not a dangerous Pokémon, and absolutely the last thing I'd expected to see come stumbling from the brush. I stared at him with my jaw dropped; the minute he saw me, he reached up and tugged his blue baseball cap low over his eyes. His other hand disappeared into his pocket and out of sight.
"Hey, you!" he said.
I blinked; I pointed at myself. "Me?"
"Yeah, you!" Thin, dirt-streaked arms crossed over his chest. "You just caught a Pokémon, didn't you?"
"… I mean. I might've?" I said. "Who wants to know?"
Still grasping the brim of his cap, the boy grinned. "Heh. I'm glad you asked," he said—and his other hand emerged from his pocket holding a shiny red Poké Ball, which he held my way in challenge. "My name is Joey, and I challenge you to a Pokémon battle!"
NOTES:
We caught another crew member!
KAKUNA | LVL 3 | Boy | Sassy | Likes to run| Knows "harden," which he used OVER AND OVER AGAIN to keep from getting caught, much to my chagrin. He literally wasted ALL OF MY POKE BALLS BUT ONE. That jerk.
Next time: How will Hoshiko and company fare against the infamous Youngster Joey and his beloved, top-percent Rattata? Find out next Wednesday!
Also, we got more info about Marts, rationing, why Pokémon catch restrictions are in place, etc. Hope you liked these tidbits! I really wanted to make the item limits and catch restrictions of a Nuzlocke have in-world explanations, not just be random/arbitrary parts of the story.
Also, Hibiki's name means "echo" in Japanese, which fits her since Sentret use sound to alert others of danger and stuff… but only belatedly did I realize we all had H names and that my life was about to get super confusing. (face palm) Let's hope this Kakuna doesn't insist on being named Harold or something… the "One Steve Limit" trope exists for a reason, people!
So many gushing thanks to those who reviewed last week! Love hearing all your thoughts; you keep me going! These folks are the absolute best: C S Stars, Eekipoo, birdyful yellow, Zynis, Ravyn Moon 1313, and frankieu!