"You should be eating healthy," says Flora, holding out a cup of this thing that they call 'soda' and a bag of 'popcorn' to me, "but I think you're safe to splurge."
I do as I have done with my past meals: Smile, say thanks, and shovel whatever weird food it is they give me in my mouth. I've learned that just staring at my food only gets me strange looks in turn. More often than not I find myself happily surprised, even though some of things labeled to be artificial disturb me a tad.
"Glad I've got someone watching my diet," I tease before taking a sip.
Shoulder to shoulder, Flora and I sit among the crowd, elevated in the stands. Below us, Roger and Medicham battle their opponent—another young boy and his Scraggy. Things aren't looking good even though he has a slight type advantage, but the masses are cheering for him: Guess it's hard not to love an underdog.
I tug down at the skirt of my new dress, my legs clinging together without actually crossing. It doesn't feel right—wearing this. I feel vulnerable and more likely to lose it. Strange how I never even thought about something like that when I was a Riolu, but then I suppose fur helped make up for it. Seriously though, how does Flora even stand wearing these all the time?
"That's a pretty necklace, by the way," she says, pointing at the crystal tied around my neck. Usually, I keep it safety tucked underneath my shirt, but somehow it's managed to wriggle free—I blame it partially on the top having a bit more of a lower cut than what I'm used to. "You wear it all the time though—even when you're sleeping." Her eyes narrow in suspicion and mischief, "Is it from a special someone?"
"In a way," I reply in the same drawn out, sing-song tone that she mocks me with. I can't hide the warmth in my cheeks, so I have to admit that much. I slip the crystal back underneath my top.
"Tell me about him!" she encourages.
"Maybe after the match," I reply. Actually, I hope after the match maybe she'll forget she even asked. Either way, it would be rude to be up here talking while Roger's down there battling it out: He needs to know we're cheering him on through it all.
For the time in which he's learned, he's learned fast. He knows better than to charge straight in on his opponents now and there's a look in his eyes that tells that he's assessing the other's strengths and weaknesses. He's planning his moves before he makes them.
"Bryce goes in with a Low Sweep—but it missed! Roger easily evades the swift attack, propelling himself out of harm's way in the nick of time!" cries the announcer. A clamor of voices rises to join him, including Flora's and my own, reveling in the fight. We stand with a shout, pumping our fists into the air. The crowd stands with us—or maybe it was the other way around; we can't honestly tell—and their cries overwhelm ours. To think I've been in real fights—actual life and death situations—and the excitement is still contagious. It's just part of the Fighting-type in me, I guess.
As I begin to take my seat once more, I nearly knock a man's bag of popcorn out of his hands by accident. He lets out a surprised yelp and readjusts his grip on the bag as the heat of an embarrassing blush creeps up my neck to my cheeks. "Oh Arceus, I'm sorry!"
But he just laughs, taking a seat next to mine. "Hey, no problem!" The man seems to be in his early-twenties at most, but he had the build of a man, strong and muscular. "It's not like I need the carbs anyway," he chuckles, his emerald eyes alight with laughter. His runs a hand though his short, evenly cut blonde hair and gives me a strange up-and-down look before realization dawns on him. "Say… You're the rookie to the ring, are you? The Riolu girl everyone keeps talking about. Congrats on making it to the finals."
I shrug and give a single nod, gripping the edge of my seat, "Yep, that's me."
"I saw one of your battles once—pretty intense. Almost didn't recognize you in that dress."
The blush grows warmer. Why did I decide to wear this again? Why?! "I'm not usually the frou-frou type…" I admit. My hair flops a bit into my face and, with my gaze hidden by it, I take the chance to examine him further as well. Though I haven't gone to many of other the competitions myself, I feel like I've seen him before. Surely he must be one of the other competitors, but who?
"I don't think any of us in this thing really could be," he grins, "Man, it's great to meet an opponent before a match for a change. What with the crowds it's usually impossible to know the other competitors unless you knew them beforehand."
Of course! Masa Hayabusa the Machoke: One of Hoenn's youngest wrestlers and winner in his division of the Battle Royale a few years ago. I'm sitting right next to the man I'll be fighting in the ring with tomorrow!
"Medicham attacks with a swift Force Palm—Oh! That's gotta pack a punch!" I look back at the match just in time to see Scraggy get knocked across the ring in a burst of light.
"Great job, Medicham!" roots Roger with a wide grin, nearly losing his focus as his opponent swings a swift kick at his chest. He manages to block it at the last second, but still stumbles back from the force of the blow. I can only imagine how his arms must feel from taking the brunt of the hit.
"Alright! Way to go, Lira!" I can hear Ri chortle in my mind, "You're getting better and better each day."
"Not bad for a human?" I had laughed.
"Not bad for a Riolu," he had replied. Training had always been a pastime of ours whenever we hadn't been on missions—especially during my first few months as a Pokemon. We had devoted a lot of time to learning moves and meditation. I think it's one of the reasons we grew so close in such a short span of time.
I miss our training sessions and our missions. I miss everything we used to do together. I miss him.
Even though Treasure Town was technically my home, it's the only one I truly remember and I can't help but long for it. Waking up to the sounds and scent of the ocean wafting in all the way from the sea into our room in the Guild compound, morning light etching in through the shafts of the window; greeting every Pokemon by name as we passed them by on the dirt and cobblestone streets, always with a friendly smile; enjoying the serenity of the small community. Maybe it's not like this in other human cities, but though the bustle of Rinshin Town is exciting and intriguing, it's starting to overwhelm me. Everything moves by as such a breakneck pace and there are too many strange faces.
A hand waves in front of my face. "Lira? Are you ok?" It's Flora, looking at me worriedly.
"I'm fine," I say, "Just thinking about home, I guess."
"Is this your first time travelling?" Masa asks.
I shake my head, "No, just my first time travelling alone." I explain to him the situation, just as I did to Flora and Roger, only leaving out the complete details.
Once I'm finished with the story, he gives me a consoling pat on the back. "Don't worry. As long as your bond with them is strong, the distance doesn't matter; that's just how friends are. Plus, Pokemon have a keen sense for these sorts of things. I'm sure you'll find them in no time."
"I hope your right."
Scraggy retaliates to Medicham's last attack with a Headbutt. Having lunged forward to attack herself, she has no means of dodging it in time. The strike hits true and Medicham jerks under the attack, tensing up. The duel Dark-type jumps back on his own feet, but I can tell this isn't the last of it. I can't help but stand with concern and shout, "Medicham, look out!"
Too late. Medicham's flinching—she can't move. Scraggy dives forward with a powerful Poison Jab. Punch after punch rapidly hits against her gut until she falls back, skidding across the floor.
"Friends of yours?" inquires Masa.
"My brother," Flora answers, but as Roger gets struck down himself with an embarrassing yelp, she appears as though she wants to take it back. "It's his first time in the Battle Royale too…"
"Well, the competition is rougher for competitors battling with Pokemon," he offers, "There are more opponents in that category than just when people are battling alone."
The match ends with the other boy sitting on top of Roger, holding his hands behind his back, and Medicham knocked unconscious. As the crowd begins to clear, the Flora and I race down to the ring. Flora and I tug ourselves under the ropes and kneel by his side. He rubs at his aching shoulder, a sad grin on his face. "Guess I need a bit more practice, huh?" he asks me.
"You did really good for a beginner," I encourage.
"And there's always next year," adds Flora.
Together, we help him to stand as get over the ropes as Jolteon appears from his place on the sidelines and lets loose an electrifying zap upon Medicham. She startles awake with a cry of pain, and upon realizing her attacker, chases after him in angry pursuit. Well, at least we know she'll be fine. The three of us laugh as she darts after him out of the room, startling some of the people in their way.
That night, after dinner and when everyone else has fallen sound asleep, I stand in one of the empty glass passages overlooking the city. The lights of cars dart underneath me and a clear sky. The city lights block out the stars; it's impossible to even see the shadow of the full moon above because the blinding streets below.
I don't know if I can sleep. The excitement of tomorrow's match, my chances of getting to Kanto as my first real step to finding Grovyle and the others, the nightmares… They're all keeping me wide awake. Normally, I'd try to get some fresh air to calm my nerves, but this city is so strange to me I think it would only make things worse.
Tomorrow I'm going to win. I have to. Removing the necklace with the precious stone, I tease it between my fingers and bring it to my lips to feel its cool touch against them.
"As long as your bond with them is strong, the distance doesn't matter; that's just how friends are," Masa's words echo in my mind. Well, maybe distance doesn't matter, but what about time? It's only been a few weeks since the events at Temporal Tower, even though it feels like an eternity. Then Ri… It's been years for Ri. I don't even know if he would still remember me, though surely he would, or even if he remembers… I put the crystal to my lips once more.
Why did I go and do that? Why did I kiss him when I knew I would have to leave him? At the time, I was only thinking of myself and how I would never get the chance after I disappeared. I never even thought how he would react or what it would mean for him.
But then, I guess it couldn't have meant too much. He has to care for me, but just not in the same way. A sad grin forces itself into my lips and I laugh even though it hurts; he didn't even know what a kiss was! How could I have expected anything less? We were friends, we were partners, he was my teacher and I'm actually so much younger than him: Yes, friends and nothing more, if I hadn't ruined it.
I can't help but close my eyes and reimagine it anyway, despite the pain. The air tickling my flesh as the Rainbow Stoneship trembles under us, soaring through the air; his hesitation and shyness as I wrap my arms around his neck and lean in for the kiss, then his return of the affection by holding me closer in his embrace, fingers gently lingering on my flesh; the strange, yet sweet sensation coursing through me as our lips meet, pure and exotic and all too intoxicating from all long I've been denying my feelings; the breathless sighs as we part.
When I open my eyes, I release a small scream and startle back. Something darts across the glass—a shadow or a specter or something. Had it been watching me? What was it? I stumble back on shaky legs, pressing my back against the wall and debating whether or not to run.
But it's gone as quickly as it had appeared. My curiosity getting the better of me, I race back to the glass and peer out in search of the phantom. Nothing—nothing at all. I sigh exasperatingly, pressing my forehead against the pane. Wonderful: Now the nightmares have begun to haunt me during the day. Or maybe I'm just getting a little paranoid. There's nothing a dream can do to hurt you, I chide myself, It's all just in your head.
A hand clasps around my shoulder and I strike out in reaction, screaming once more. My punch is rewarded with a cry of pain and I turned to see that my so-called attacker is actually Masa, dressed in his PJ's and ready to turn in for the night himself. "Sorry!" I exclaim, trying to check what damage I caused.
He waves my hand away good-naturedly, cupping his eye. I bite the bottom of my lip, but still he laughs. Can nothing deter this guy? "Hey, we're not supposed to start fighting until the match, remember," he teases.
"Sorry…" I repeat.
"Don't be: Serves me right for sneaking up behind you. That's the second time today we've bumped into each other: How about that?" He pulls his hand away from his face, and I sigh with relief to see that it doesn't look like it will bruise—it may swell up a bit, but nothing that can't be healed before tomorrow; I didn't hit him that hard. "I heard a scream and came running. Is everything alright?"
"Just thought I saw something," I reply, "But I'm planning on going to bed soon anyway."
"Well, it is a new moon," he says, walking away, "Maybe ole' Pitch Black's out tonight."
"Pitch Black?" I ask, fascinated, "Who's that? Some sort of ghost?"
"Nah, a Pokemon," he answers, "Would've thought you had heard of him, but maybe it's just a tale told in the Sinnoh region. They say that whenever there's a new moon out, Pitch Black's at his strongest. So on those moonless nights, he lulls people to sleep and makes their nightmares come alive."
Nightmares… That has my full attention. "I've never heard of him," I say, trying to fight the sudden dryness in my throat.
"Well, he's got another name: Darkrai."