Hey faithful readers! College has been hectic and I've had writer's block for awhile, so bear with me! Here's another installment of Camp Catchem'all, and please review!
Much love, Katie
XXX
Kyogre had stranded the campers fifty meters below the surface of the ocean. Half of the party was incapacitated with injuries; the others weren't so sure how to swim. The one thing they all had in common, however, was their dire need for oxygen. The water Pokémon of the trainers sprung from their balls to assist their comrades, but the effect wasn't fast enough. They needed a push that would send them barreling from the briny deep.
After struggling toward the surface for a minute or two, a brilliant light illuminated the dark waters. A Manaphy had come to their rescue. The tiny sea guardian swam circles around the group, enveloping them in an enormous whirlpool. The mouth of the whirlpool opened to the night sky, allowing oxygen to rush into the starving lungs of the campers. Hiro and Riley summoned their Charizards, and directed Miracle's Dragonite to carry passengers. Hunter's Tropius carried the wounded, while James' Garchomp took others to safety as well. Melody offered her gratitude to the legendary Pokémon, who giggled shyly in response.
"Without you, a few of our wounded would have surely died. We are forever in your debt, Manaphy." Shane put his fist over his heart in a sign of respect, which made the Manaphy blush. In another flash of light, she was gone.
"Where in the hell are we?" Sid asked, staring into what looked like miles of darkness. Setsuna whipped out her laptop and began calculating coordinates.
"We're about fifteen miles from shore. It shouldn't be a difficult trip." Hunter nodded and led the group forward.
Too many of my campers are nursing serious injuries… Hunter thought to herself. I couldn't protect them all…
A nasty knot of guilt twisted in the counselor's stomach. The camp would have to be shut down after this year. There were too many deaths, too many injuries.
"It's supposed to be a summer camp, for Arceus' sake!" She growled angrily. Her forest green hair whipped behind her in a tangled mess—giving her the appearance of a battle-worn warrior. Her makeup was smeared in places, and her marks shining like a beacon in the night. The effect was simultaneously frightening and stunning.
"Veer left, everyone! We need to make it to the hospital!" Melody shouted over the wind. A thick fog rolled into the bay, obscuring the light from the town below. The only thing discernible through the heavy mist was the twin flames of the Charizards' tails. The group landed in front of a dimly lit Hospital, where the double doors swung open automatically. Shane and James carried Miracle's limp body inside, followed by the rest of the wounded students. Hunter was applying pressure to her deep lacerations; Hiro cradled his shattered hand, and Riley his broken wrist. Berane's bloody stump of a left forearm was wrapped in his white shirt, still gushing blood. He would never have use of his left arm again.
Upon seeing the bedraggled people, a team of nurses rushed from their boring posts to assist the wounded. Berane and Miracle were tended to first, as their wounds demanded the most attention. Miracle's unconscious body was dumped onto a gurney, where she was quickly wheeled down a brightly lit hallway. The nurse shoved the gurney into a door that read "Urgent Care" and began to run an IV for the girl.
"Nurse! What's going on?" A doctor who had witnessed the hubbub yanked back the curtain surrounding Miracle's cubicle-like partition. The heart monitor she had recently been hooked up to told the man her heart was weak and beating feebly.
"This girl isn't stable! Look at her jaw, Doctor Polick. It's shattered. Not to mention the signs of internal bleeding of the cranium." The nurse pulled a tiny flashlight from the pocket of her scrubs and stretched back one of Miracle's eyelids. Her pupils were dilated to such a degree that the pink iris which used to reside there might not have existed at all. The stare in the girl's eyes was dead.
Another woman burst into the Urgent Care ward, white-blond hair disheveled.
"Where is my camper?" The woman identified herself as Melody Kirkland. "I am authorized to be by this child's side at all times if she is signed under my summer camp!" she roared to a particularly uncooperative security guard. The man eventually let her and Ricochet through. Melody tore back the plastic curtain and surveyed Miracle's broken body for the first time. Hard lines of distress creased Melody's snow white skin. Ricochet laid her head on Miracle's bedside and licked her hand.
"What happened, ma'am?" the nurse quietly inquired.
"We had a run-in with the terrorist group known as Team Orion." Melody's scathing blue eyes were narrowed into angry slits. "A man crushed her jaw with his bare hands, and proceeded to stomp on Miracle's temples." Melody reached to brush a stray strand of purple hair out of Miracle's bloodied mouth.
"Thank you. Any and all information about the injury is helpful. Is there anyone else who needs assistance?" Melody nodded and left the partition to fetch the others. The nurse began to run an IV for Miracle, in hopes of stabilizing her failing system. The doctor began a routine diagnosis check, documenting heart rate, blood pressure, oxygen content, and other important facts of the sort.
"Well, doctor?" the nurse asked expectantly. The doctor sighed and rubbed his balding head.
"We're going to need to take X-rays as soon as possible. Get those vitals stable." With another deep sigh he left the room.
XXX
Berane was ushered into an operating room, where he was laid on a cold metal table. An assistant threaded an IV into his wrist and a heart rate monitor onto the index finger of his remaining hand. Berane, realizing what was about to happen, burst into tears.
"Don't put me under, please! Stop!" Berane began to panic—he didn't want to die under the knife! He had heard terrible stories of people never waking up from anesthesia and didn't want to be added to the list.
"Mr. Dimonis! Don't make me put you down!" The nurse grabbed a syringe of sedative and removed the plastic sheath. Berane stopped his thrashing at once. A surgeon, clad in scrubs, a shower cap, oxygen mask, and sterile rubber gloves, came in with a team of nurses.
"Now, Mr. Dimonis. You must relax, or this process will be painful." The nurse prepared the dosage of anesthesia and brought a mask toward Berane's face. He began to hyperventilate as she attached the plastic mask to his face.
"Please, calm down! If you breathe slowly, you won't have any problems." The heart monitor next to his gurney began beeping rapidly, concurrent with the fluttering of his terrified heart. Berane looked to his right and saw Hiro being taken into a different operating room. His hand was the size of a swollen melon. His unseeing eye seemed to stare straight into Berane's multicolored gaze—urging him to relax and let modern medicine save his life. Berane inhaled deeply and his vision swam until he drifted into a dreamless sleep.
XXX
The surgeon took his scalpel and made a deep incision in Hiro Taminama's right hand. Crimson blood and clear vitreous fluid flooded from the cut, daring to expose the shattered bone within. Another slice was made and now the fragmented filaments were on the surface.
"Dear lord, doctor. This is going to take forever to fix! The bones have punctured veins and torn muscle…it's a tangled mess of tendons." An assistant wrinkled her nose at the sight of the mangled hand.
"His counselor told me he punched a man with a titanium plate in his jaw."
"Why would he do that?" Another nurse quipped. The following snickers were silenced when the surgeon growled in distaste.
"He obviously didn't mean to, you dolts! Pass the damned forceps before I put you all under," the surgeon demanded. A large pair of forceps was surrendered, and immediately used to remove a large sliver of bone from beneath a large vein. The doctor splinted the fingers and the main structures of his hand.
"This boy needs titanium casing," said the surgeon. He carefully placed the metal around the mangled appendage and continued working. A long two hours later, Hiro's hand was sewn back together with forty-five stitches.
"Wheel him back to Urgent Care."
"But doctor, this patient isn't in need of urgent care anymore," another intern commented.
"He'll want to be around his campers, won't he? Just take him there, please." The surgeon rubbed his eyes with a tired hand and gazed through the window to the other operating ward, where the doctors were cauterizing the poor kid's severed hand.
"Who or what is Team Orion?" he whispered in disbelief.
XXX
Around five in the morning, Hunter and Shane finally made their way back to the inn where the remainder of the camp resided. Tarkov, who had been in correspondence with the two counselors, jumped from his sleep and demanded answers.
"Did anyone die?" He rasped in a low voice. Hunter was glad to be able to shake her head to this. Tarkov blew a great sigh of relief and fell back on the bed.
"There are many wounded, General," Shane announced solemnly. "And Kyogre has fallen." Tarkov's scarred face hardened considerably.
"All that's left in the prophecy is Rayquasa, who will undoubtedly show up if Kyogre and Groudon are awake," Hunter interjected. None of the near futures were looking good for the Pokémon world. With a hardened sigh, Tarkov retrieved the map of the Johto region from the sidetable drawer and unfurled it on the bed. With a red marker he slashed through the Seafloor Cavern.
"This is going to turn into a complete shitstorm, isn't it?" Hunter asked quietly.
"Well when it does, we'll be ready. No shit's gonna hit us," Tarkov vowed. He calculated the fastest route to the Sky Tower and highlighted its path.
"We should leave no later than Wednesday," Shane suggested. A consensus was reached and the counselors adjourned the brief meeting, making their way back to the hospital to visit the wounded.
XXX
Kame Takeshi, new hairstyle and all, timidly drew back the curtain surrounding Hiro's bed. A large white cast encircled his left hand, and he snored in his sleep. Kame realized that she had never seen him sleep peacefully before—the only other time she had seen him unconscious was back in Mt. Moon, when they had been trapped by a rockslide.
That seemed like centuries ago.
The boy lying in the bed certainly wasn't the goofy, perverted charmer she remembered. In sleep, albeit undisturbed sleep, the boy's face looked harder, razed into something sharp and aged. His jaw was more chiseled now, the angular contours of his cheeks more prominent. A transformation from boy to man—from fighter to full-fledged warrior. It was slightly frightening.
Kame tried to stay quiet as she dragged a rolling stool out from under the bed. She grasped his cold right hand, his good hand, and stared at him silently.
"What do you think of me, Hiro?" she asked the unconscious boy. "Do I bother you? Am I a nuisance? Are you nice to me only because I'm blind, and you take pity on me?" Such questions have been burning in Kame for days, but she could never summon the courage to actually ask them.
Jolteon, who had curled up at the foot of the gurney, stirred. His eyes were like wet plums, deep and dark and shining with something Kame couldn't place. Jolteon scooted toward her and licked her outstretched hand with his scratchy tongue.
"What about you, Jolt? You know Hiro better than anyone." Jolteon appeared to shrug, as if reluctant to comment. Kame flushed at her own stupidity and suddenly felt embarrassed.
"I've been worrying about what Hiro thought of me all this time, and not once have I worried about the fate of our world!" Shameful, traitorous tears fell from her blue eyes and she wiped them away with a haggard hand. Kame grasped Hiro's uninjured hand and brought it to her lips. After kissing it briefly, she stood and drew the curtain to leave.
"You've made me feel good about myself, Hiro. Get better soon." And with that solemn note, she exited the ward and made her way back to the Inn, where the girls would be watching the news in their rooms. Kame unlaced her green converse and left them outside, replacing them with the sterile slippers provided by the Inn. She released her Vulpix, who scampered away to investigate the winding halls of the building. When Kame turned the knob to her bedroom, the girls were there to interrogate her.
"How did it go?"
"Did Hiro like your hair?"
Kame held up a finger to stop them. "Ladies, please! Hiro was asleep when I got there. He didn't even see me." A collective "aww" of dejection flitted from the girls, and Kame ignored the feeling it gave her. She took out striped pajama pants from her trunk and tugged them on, catching her left foot in the hole by her ankle, as she always did. The girls turned back to the television, except for Talia. She fixed her orange eyes on Kame and sat at the edge of her bed.
"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked quietly, voice barely above a whisper. Kame stared at an interesting spot on the comforter and shrugged meekly. Talia considered this consent and moved closer.
"Times are hard now, okay? Things aren't safe and happy like in the beginning. Now it seems we hardly do camp anymore and we're too busy saving the world. Don't feel bad or ignored, feel special, because that's what you are!" Talia placed a manicured hand on her leg and patted it comfortingly. Kame fought back tears and hugged Talia.
"Thank you," she whispered into her blonde hair.
"You're welcome."
XXX
"Excellent work, everyone. We now have Kyogre and Groudon in our grasp. All that's left is the final piece—Rayquasa," Betelgeuse said, running his fingers through Xara's multicolored fur. The Zangoose was curled on a rock in the cave they were hiding in. Along the cave floor were the scattered members of Team Orion, who currently occupied themselves with cataloging injuries.
Betelgeuse pulled the two master balls from his pocket and twirled them about in his palms. They were slightly warm—and vibrated faintly.
"I don't think you all realize what will happen once we release the Hunter's beast," Betelgeuse began, fixing his golden gaze on his comrades. His foreboding tone got everyone to stop what they were doing and pay attention.
"This beast will tear a hole in the very Earth. It will consume everything, crazy in the attempt to quench its insatiable thirst for blood. And with the power of the legendaries we have procured," the master pulled three more pokeballs from his pocket. "The beast will bend to our will." Betelgeuse's lips split into a sickening smile that sent a chill down Sari's spine.
"What will happen to the land? Will there be genocide, of Pokémon and humans alike?" Saiph had a tendency to ponder such things, and Betelgeuse inclined his head for a brief moment.
"Under our command, the Beast will obey us. Whatever destruction it shall bring shall be kept within the boundaries of my own terms. Anyone else care to question my methods?" The room was silent. "Good, I thought so. Now, Alnitak and Alnilam, start a fire and get food cooking. I want to have something worth eating for once." Betelgeuse rose, ran a hand through his dark hair, and slunk deeper into the cave, Xara in tow.
The rest of Team Orion scrambled to meet their superior's orders. Alnilam released a Flygon and stole toward town, intent on finding a market and getting some food. Alnitak took Rigel with him to chop firewood, as assisted by Alnitak's Scyther. Sari and Aaron were curled in Grim's russet fur for a nap, and Mintaka sat alone with an overflowing manila folder. She had a small lantern lit beside her for light, and poured over the pictures and profiles of the Camp Catchem'all campers and counselors. Her steely gaze lingered on Hunter Larsen's candid photograph—drank in her green hair and eyes, her olive skin, and the fierce determination that kept the woman going. Mintaka felt a burning hatred for Hunter—an ache that gnawed at the deep dredges of her dark soul.
She wanted Hunter dead. She wanted that counselor's blood to be spilt in sacrifice for Bellatrix. Mintaka missed her dearly, and would not rest until her death was avenged.
She finally cast aside Hunter's file and instead focused on Kame Takeshi and Hiro Taminama's papers. She couldn't believe that two young trainers could have the strength to take Team Orion down. It simply wasn't possible in Mintaka's mind. She was snapped from her concentration when Saiph threw a sleeping bag at her.
"Move, Mintaka. That's where the bedrolls are going." Saiph dragged a few more over and unfurled them, lying them in a neat row along the cave wall. Mintaka rolled her eyes and exhaled sharply, snapping the folder and its secrets away.
"You're becoming obsessed, you know," Saiph hissed. "You can't stop looking at that counselor's file. Get over it, Min. You'll get her soon enough."
"You don't understand, inferior. I can't 'get over it' until Hunter is nothing more than a body in the ground!" Mintaka's blood pressure spiked and she stormed out of the cave, stopping to grab Rigel's baseball bat on the way out.
"Hey, what're you doing with my bat?" Rigel dumped the pile of wood he was carrying and started to trail his cohort.
"It's just time for some batting practice. Relax, Rigel, I won't break your pretty toy," she assured him. Mintaka merely wanted to beat something, anything, so her anger could be let free—if only for a moment. She took to the nearest oak tree with vigor, and did not intend to stop anytime soon.
"I'd hate to be that tree right now," Saiph muttered.
XXX
AC and Magden stepped from the spirit world and back to the real one, still clasping hands on the floor of the temple where they sat. Their last encounter with the legendaries forbade danger and hardship—and a journey that could very well end in death. AC's electric eyes met the fiery gaze of his affections, and he willed his heart to slow.
"They need us, AC. We can't let them move forward until they know what we do," Magden said, standing to stroke the statue of Ho-Oh lovingly. At her touch the relic glowed—as did her marks—a sign of favor. AC stood beside her and placed his hand on the small of her back.
"We leave at dawn, for the Sky Tower. If we call the legendaries, they should guide us there swiftly. We cannot be late." AC buried his lips in her sweet-smelling curls, breathing in their dark and spicy scent. Madgen responded by running a caramel-colored hand in his blond hair slowly. The exchange was fierce and loving, a low fire whose coals burned hot.
"Let's go to bed, huh Mags? We got a long day ahead of us." AC doused the lights in the meditation room and grabbed his bag, following Magden out and into the hall. They passed ornate tapestries depicting tai chi, and some of the history of the legendaries. The dark passage was dimly lit by their marks, a muddle of blue and red, burning brightly on their skin. The trip to their rooms was not a long one, and soon enough, they were in pajamas and settled for the night. They slipped into a fitful sleep.
XXX
Berane woke up with an awful headache. It felt as if his heart were between his ears instead, battering wildly against his skulls. He opened his multicolored eyes and was rudely greeted by fluorescent lighting. The sharp smell of disinfectant told him he was still in the hospital.
He tried lifting his throbbing head but found it felt as if it weighed a ton. He did manage, however, to get a view of his left arm, which was amputated right at the elbow. The sight of the red bandages nearly made him black out again. Some say that a person can be unaware of an injury and its pain until they visually notice it—a phenomenon Berane swore he could never relate to. But seeing his arm—or, to be precise, the lack of his arm—brought on wave after wave of white-hot pain. He was instantly aware of every nerve in that bleeding appendage, and how much each one felt it had been dipped in acid then set on fire.
"Berane! You're awake!" A familiar voice snapped him out of his agony. He dared to turn his head and found Talia sitting there, her orange eyes brimming with tears. Relief washed over him for a brief moment.
"Talia," Berane croaked, realizing fully how weak he sounded. "My arm…my arm is—"
"It's gone, I know. But it's okay. It had to happen. I think you look more rugged without it." The tears that clouded her vision spilled out now, running down her tanned cheeks in shiny rivers. She daintily dabbed her cheek with a tissue and reached for Berane's hair, which she swept from his eyes.
Berane laughed mirthlessly. "Talia, my dear, you've never been that great of a liar." A frustrated tear threatened to fall, and he wiped it away before she could see. Talia sniffed loudly and clutched the ribbons of her Chingling.
"We're leaving Wednesday for the Sky Tower. This is it, Berane. If they catch Rayquasa, they can release the beast. My vision is going to come true!" Talia gripped harder, eliciting a small squeak from the Pokémon. She quickly released the ribbon and Chingling clattered away. Berane tried to appear calm as he spoke to her.
"We're going to get through this. Even if they catch Rayquasa, we have a power within us that might overthrow them all. They cannot love, and they cannot experience the true power of what it is to be a friend. Perhaps this can defeat them," said Berane. Talia reached inside her fashionable leather purse and pulled out a familiar sight—his gloves. The wolf's head, his left glove, could never be worn again. The dragon, however, slipped onto his hand effortlessly.
"I made some alterations to your wolf glove," Talia whispered shyly. She unfolded the cloth and revealed the improved version—she had sewn the glove into an armband that would slip up his bicep. The weight of the gesture was so touching that the tears Berane tried to hold back flowed freely now.
Through his snotting and gratitude, he managed a thank-you.
"You're welcome, darling. I knew how lost you'd be without them." She slipped the band carefully over his bandage and it rested in its rightful place.
"No, Talia. The gloves mean nothing; I wouldn't be lost without them. I'd be lost without you." Talia blushed slightly and bent down to kiss his cheek. Her lips were thin but smooth, and smelled slightly of generic cherry chapstick. It was a good feeling.
XXX
Hiro was released from the ward hours after his surgery. At the discharge station, he received a sterile plastic bag that contained the clothes he came in, his pokeballs, and his pack. They smelled like antiseptic and the smell burnt his nostrils. Jolteon hopped down from the counter and brushed against his master's leg, sending a slight shock all the way to his temples.
"Jeesh, Jolt. You'da swore I was dying in there or something!" He grinned crookedly and scooped up the electric type with his good hand. Tarkov was waiting at the door, dressed in his usual fatigues.
"Well boy, it seems as if you're not as much of a pansy ass as I originally thought," the General growled. He clapped Hiro hard on the back, which sent the wiry boy stumbling, and boomed another laugh. Hiro followed his counselor outside of the white-walled hospital and into the foggy night.
"The Ryokan is just down the street. We're lucky to be so close to an emergency room, given the current circumstances," muttered Tarkov. Although the streets were fairly empty, Tarkov still talked in a hushed voice, as if whispering secrets in the muggy dark. "Also, we're bringing Kaiya back in tomorrow. Her marks are tainted and Hunter's going to try and suck out the bad juju, if you get what I mean." Hiro's eyes widened slightly at this, he was unaware that blessings from a legendary could turn awry.
The two men approached the old-style inn and removed their shoes before entering. The hostess behind the counter inclined her head at them as they passed, too immersed in a phone call to formally greet them. Tarkov lead the boy down a short hallway and made a sharp left turn toward the dining hall.
"For such a small place, the food's great. Tonight's menu's got a full sushi bar. Avoid the unagi, though. Gave Vick dysentery."
"You're awfully talkative tonight, Sir," Hiro pointed out. Which was entirely true. Unless Tarkov was admonishing the campers for some wrongdoing, or barking out instructions, the man was never conversational. Tarkov paused before pulling back the wooden door and hissed:
"I'm just jittery is all, you maggot. Take it or leave it, I'm telling ya to avoid the Unagi unless you want a flamethrower burning out your ass." Hiro stifled a laugh and followed the old veteran inside. At the sight of Hiro, many of the campers called out or cheered. One girl, he noticed, did not react much at all. Kame sat at a two-person table with Venice, whose face was washed with concern. Once her emerald eyes fell across Hiro, they narrowed into slits.
Arceus, what's her problem? He wondered. Instead of dealing with her wrath, he instead chose to sit across from Sid and Johnny, who were launching roe off their spoons at unsuspecting passerby.
"Ey, blindy! Watch this!" Sid slammed his fist on the concave part of his spoon, sending the cluster of orange eggs straight into Emily's brown hair. She didn't feel the sticky roe hit her, so she remained oblivious as she made her way through the food line.
"Sid, you dolt! She didn' feel it! Yer doin' it all wrong, you are! Yeh gotta make an impression!" Johnny buried his fist in the bowl of roe and pulled out a handful of the goop.
"Ey, love! Em! Emily! Em, turn around, will ye?" Joe, who was watching the whole exchange, quickly cried out.
"No, Emily! Don't do it! Johnny's gonna throw eggs at you!" Sid shot Joe a spine-chilling glare, a look so threatening that Joe clapped a hand over his lips. Emily, breaking her concentration from her food, turned around.
"Why would Johnny hit me with eg—" One might have thought somebody had painted a bullseye over Emily's mouth. She was struck square in the lips by a congealment of roe, which stained her white shirt with its oily orange juice. Emily dropped her entire plate of food, which made even more of a mess. The girl stood frozen in her spot. No one laughed—no one moved—all were waiting to gauge her reaction.
With shaking hands she wiped the slop from her mouth and flung it toward the carpet. Her cheeks flooded crimson, not from embarrassment—but from anger. She walked stiffly over to Johnny, wheeled back, and punched him in the nose. Emily didn't hit the Brit hard enough to draw blood, but definitely enough to send him sprawling from his seat. The hall erupted in catcalls and cheering.
"I was only havin' a little fun, dearie!" Johnny rubbed his nose and tried to crack a feeble smile. Emily grabbed the bowl of roe and held it over him.
"Look, now you match!" She threw the orange contents of the bowl onto his orange hair and laughed mockingly before getting back in line to make another plate.
"That girl is a feisty one, isn't she?" Sid laughed through a mouthful of food. Hiro rolled his eyes and sipped at the black coffee the waitress brought for him. Across the room, at Kame and Venice's table, the girls were in a nervous stupor.
"I can't believe he hasn't even noticed your beautiful new hair! The nerve of that pervert!" Venice growled, shoveling another spoonful of rice into her mouth. Kame squirmed in her seat, trying to swallow the knot that twisted in her throat. What is wrong with him? He hasn't even looked my way…
"What did I do?" Kame asked. Venice swallowed her rice with a grimace and assured her, as all good girlfriends do, that she did nothing wrong. Her Altaria laid its feathery head on her lap and cooed softly.
"He's got a lot on his plate right now," Kame justified.
"Just as much as you've got on yours, love. The only thing he's got on you is a bum hand. But unless you've forgotten, you're half-blind and involved in the prophecy as well. There's no excuse." Venice scraped her spoon against the ceramic plate, trying to gather the last bits of her meal in one bite. Kame contemplated her words for a moment and pet Altaria's head absently. The locket around her neck, the heart-shaped piece that Hiro had given her—felt as heavy as stone. She remembered when he first gave it to her.
"Happy Birthday, Kame Takeshi." Hiro leaned down and brushed his lips over her burning cheek. He slipped a small white box into her hand when he pulled away. With shaking fingers she lifted the lid and almost fainted. Inside was a silver chain, and dangling from the bottom was a locket. It was shaped like a heart, but on the outside was an inscription.
"Acœur vaillant rien d'impossible."The French syllables were foreign to Kame's lips, but she sounded them out without much difficulty. "What does it mean?"
"To a valiant heart nothing is impossible."
The gesture was beautiful then, and the words helped her get through the tough days they had already seen. Her heart was valiant! Her heart could get through this, too. But one dark thought kept entering her troubled mind:
Is Venice right?
XXX
Reiji wasn't feeling well at all. His condition was getting so bad that he coughed blood up regularly. He would die soon unless something was done. Reiji was a proud trainer, and didn't want to ask for help from anyone but his Pokémon. So, he hid the worst of his illness away from Setsuna. Reiji knew in his heart that Setsuna was aware of his condition, and he also knew that she respected him enough not to bring it up. So Reiji suffered in silence.
The boy rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt just for something to do. Across from him was Setsuna, who was typing away on her laptop, and also seated at the table were James and Riley. They were occupied with a canteen Riley had swiped from the kitchens.
"What's in the bottle, guys?" Reiji asked quietly, leaning over to try and sneak a look. A wicked grin splayed across Riley's lips.
"It's sake. There's loads of it in the pantry! You want some?" Riley held the canteen out to him, and Reiji took it in his hand. A glance out of the corner of his eye told him Setsuna was watching, blue eyes calculating every move.
"I don't want to take from your meager supply, Riley," Reiji said. And he meant it, too. It probably took a lot of effort to take such a small amount and go unnoticed. But Riley snorted and pushed the bottle back into Reiji's hands.
"Don't be stupid, Rej. Look at this," Riley whispered. He unzipped his backpack, which sat at his feet beneath the table, and revealed the many bottles of sake inside. They clanked together with a tinkling sound as the bag shifted. James nervously looked around to see if anyone else had heard it.
"C'mon, Rej. Lighten up a bit! Arceus knows how long we'll be living anymore." Riley's voice sounded wrong with the sad tone attached to it. The brown-haired boy simply wasn't meant to be sad. To humor the guy, Reiji took a long swig from the canteen, shuddering slightly as the sake burned his throat. It wasn't chilled—which was fine by Reiji—but it wasn't hot either. It was a little strange but Reiji would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy it.
The sick boy passed the bottle onto James, who killed its contents in a single gulp. He shook his head—which made his long brown hair shake wildly—and blinked the tears from his icy eyes.
"That was rough," he rasped, sending Riley and Reiji into a fit of laughter.
"Who knew that you'd be sort of fun once you loosened up, Curtis?" Riley refilled the canteen below the table and sipped again. James shoved him playfully and reached for the bottle once more.
Within a few hours, the three boys were terribly drunk. Riley's hair stuck up on one side, and Reiji was staring at nothing for extended periods of time. James sat with his head down on the table.
Tarkov came over and slammed his hand on the table.
"Are you idiots kidding me? You've been sitting here for three hours! The hall's closed!" Vick came up behind the General and began clearing the boys' plates from dinner.
"Whaddaaya talkin' bout, Tarkie? Evverybody's here!" Riley gestured to the empty hall and burped.
"Why is your speech slurred, private? What's gotten into you?" Tarkov's voice was rising in volume, and the sound only made Riley's headache flare.
"I'm not slurring, Tarkie! I'm just talking in cursive is all. Heh." Tarkov grabbed Riley by the collar of his red flannel and yanked him off of the bench.
"You better GET YOUR ASS TO BED RIGHT NOW, BEFORE I MAKE YOU PAY FOR EVERY LAST DROP OF ALCOHOL YOU SWIPED, HANSEN!" Riley was thrown to the floor unceremoniously. He stumbled, dragging his clinking backpack with him, and exited the dining hall. James was handled similarly. Reiji was asked if he could quietly follow. Through the fog of his drunk, he didn't realize he was being treated differently. He hacked a bloody cough and followed obediently. It didn't dawn on him that the counselors knew about his disease until his head hit the pillow and he finally blacked out.
XXX