Some title, eh~?

Well, yeah, next chapter is here~!

I don't have much else to say about it, though. . . .

So, uh, enjoy~!

Chapter 21: The Drunk

Bottoms up—eh?

With a shaking motion, I peered a single eye into the middle-part of my in-hand bottle, before sighing and letting it fall onto the floor. It clinked about some bit, rolling off to wherever the other ones were.

A sleepy look was caught in my bagged eyes, holding true as I sank my face into the cushioned bed I was on.

Looking to my left and right, it wouldn't be hard to miss the numerous bottles that littered the ground—probably 10 or more—certainly completely empty.

My blank expression stood for a second, staring about. In front of me were Empoleon and Umbreon, both lying down asleep on the couch opposite-sided from the bed. No amount of strength I had could keep me from planting back down into my cushioning.

The room I had been in was my apartment. Unlike what I would usually keep to, the place had trash scattered all about. It was about a week's worth of wine bottles, food scraps, and anything else that would decide to crawl onto the carpet.

At this point, I probably blacked out—which was short-lived, as it was interrupted rather quickly.

My head took a look up, aimed towards the door. A definite knocking sounded, which would have me take a slow blink.

Whoever it was could go fuck off.

But the knocking would continue, which would eventually get me to stand up. Well, maybe not stand . . . but stumble. Drunk-legs weren't something meant to be used, y'know?

Eventually, I made way to this door. Palms pressed against the side, I tugged on the golden knob in the midsection of the door and pulled out an opening.

Behind it was a sight I really didn't expect to see.

Blond hair, a red-striped white polo, and unforgettable eyes that held to an orange tint: there stood my old friend, Barry.

My expression shifted down.

"Oh . . ." I murmured, eyes looking to his own. "H-hey. . . ."

"Jared?" Barry called, bringing all of his attention to my appearance . . . which probably wasn't in the best shape. ". . . Are you drunk?"

I turned silent, taking my sight down to my feet.

In a matter of seconds—or even less—Barry butt in past me, leaving me to stumble back as he looked around my sorrow-ridden apartment.

"Wh-what's all this?" he asked.

". . . Rough week."

Without any invitation, the blond began to pace his way around the room.

"Of all people . . . you were the one to drink?" he queried, looking behind and towards me.

"W-well. . . ."

I would let him continue his stroll—or whatever the hell it was—and bring myself over to my messy bed, before slumping into it and sinking in.

"Jared . . .? What happened?"

Not a word would slip from my mouth, as I felt the suppressed pain I had been holding back for the past week resurface.

". . . Jared?"

"Staravia died."

He let on a slow blink, which would be followed a slow, worried blink.

"Sh-she did?"

My silence would only continue.

"Oh. . . . H- . . . how?"

My lenses turned back around to meet up with his own.

He had to get an explanation. But with what happened . . . I don't think it'd be all that sensible.

I opened my mouth in preparation to say something, before sinking back as I hadn't found any good way to explain the situation . . . without suspicion, that is.

Barry's puzzled expression would only push at me more. I had to answer him—some way.

"B-Barry. . . . For you to understand, you need to know the entire story first," I told.

Blond hair shifted to its side as he cocked his head over.

"But you can't tell anyone. It'll put . . . someone I know in danger."

Had I really cared about that someone, anyways? It felt like I was still trying to be nice, though I was stabbed in the back in such a blatant, unforgivable way.

". . . It's that big, huh?"

I nodded.

"Yeah. . . ."

He took into some thought, before nodding.

"All right."

The words would be able to come out right this time—even if I was drunk or not. The entire story of how I got to here and how I fell from here . . . would be able to be summarized in one sitting. . . .

Damn.

"So—as I've told you—I was given a free-stay at Alto Mare. Everything seemed just about fine, but the real problem was that it was funded by a corporation called 'Team Rocket.' Well, a few days into my stay, I meet this girl and go on a date with her—remember that? It didn't go well—in case you were wondering. But on that same night, Team Rocket rings me up on the phone and asks for me to help them find a Pokémon named 'Latias'. . . ."

At this point in the story, Barry's eyes took to a squint—but I wasn't interrupted.

"I go out with them later and find my date from before. Somehow, she turns out to be Latias, to which I cut into Team Rocket's plan and save her. Not much after that happens until a few days later, where Latias and her brother, Latios, are kidnapped. I end up traveling through the regions to get to their base—which I don't even know how I found out where the base was, so that's a plot-hole in this book—and battling the big boss behind it all. . . ."

I pulled into a silence, but only for a second.

"I ended up beating him, but . . . Starry died in the midst of it. . . ."

Barry's eyes were held solid, staring at me. There wasn't any hint of compassion pressed towards me, which I would raise question to as I frowned back over to him.

"So you know of Latias and Latios?" he questioned.

I took an odd expression, before nodding.

". . . And you were the one who saved them from getting kidnapped?"

My form kept still, only faint nods given to him.

". . . You're telling me that you were the one that got them back from Team Rocket!?" Barry shouted aloud, the suddenness of his loudness catching me off-guard.

"Wh-what're you going on about?"

"She wouldn't even tell us what the hell happened back there!" he rambled, still being quite loud.

Now—if I heard correctly—not only did Barry know and talk to Latias . . . but there were more?

"Us? Who's 'us'?"

He palmed off at me. "N-no one. . . ."

"And how the hell do you know Latias!?" I asked, definitely lost in this situation.

"I- . . . I can't say."

"What? Why?"

Barry slanted his jaw, looking away.

"It's just because . . . I really can't tell."

I took on a slow flash of my eyelid, before pushing at his arm.

"I just told you all of that, and now you're not going to tell me how you know her?"

His eyes took low, before he nodded.

"I can't; I'm sorry."

I wanted to beat the truth out of him, really. But I would only sigh, as I was fairly powerless to the entire act going on.

". . . Fine—all right."

We would both keep quiet for the moment, eyes taking around in an idle manner.

". . . Pretty wild that you know about Latias and Latios, though. . . ."

"Same for you."

"Man, we don't . . . even . . ." Barry dragged off, seeming to be at a loss for words.

"What's that?"

A pointed finger guided my clueless eyes, bringing over to some object in the corner of my room.

Now remember: I left that damn sword back in the cave, last chapter.

And here it was: the same sword was leaned up against my dresser.

"Wh- . . . what?" I mumbled quizzically.

Orange-eyes—it's still Barry—would take innocent steps over to the blade, picking it up and sliding it from its leather bindings.

"I didn't know you collected swords too!" he exclaimed, before taking a slow swing about the free space around him.

I only say with a drool-dribble stringing from my open, lower lip.

"W-woah. . . . This thing is light . . . but not flimsy. . . ."

How the hell did that thing get into my apartment?

"Jared?" Barry asked, still taking the straight-edged, double-sided sword and twisting it to and fro.

My attention snapped over to him.

"Huh?"

"Where'd you get this?"

I kept silent, unsure as to how to answer him.

With all the bizarre stuff I've already told him, it would probably be a believable statement if I told him that it magically appeared in my room . . . eh?

"I . . . was given it in a cave," I answered.

"Given? By who?"

". . . A legendary Pokémon . . . by the name of 'Registeel'."

Barry stopped in place, staring forward with a wrinkle caught in his forehead.

"Registeel?"

I nodded, to which was followed by the capture of my sight to his own.

"You're not lying to me, right?"

"I'm not lying at all. A week ago, I stumbled into a cave and it gave me that thing."

Either way—even if I had said that it just appeared inside my room when I had left it back—it wouldn't change what would follow next.

"Jared. . . ."

"I need you to come with me."

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-TCX