Chapter Twenty-Seven
"That crap you pulled with Fantina won't work here. Your entire gimmick is an insult to the League!"
Those words rang in her ears.
"That's enough." Although his voice was calm, she could hear the anger in Liam's voice as he tried to intervene on her behalf.
"This is between me and her," Byron responded, telling him in no uncertain terms to butt out of the conversation.
Amira recalled Luxor into his Poké Ball and rose slowly. No matter how she bowed her head or hunched her shoulders, it didn't relieve the pressure of his disdain.
"Every trainer that passes through these doors is striving to advance in the Sinnoh League," Byron continued, "just for a chance to make it as far as the Elite Four, let alone the Champion. No matter how weak or strong they actually are, they battle their hardest. Even when they're defeated, they've tried their best."
The bass in his voice dropped, "you don't even compare to my weakest challenger! You're Pokémon were strong enough to have won but you resigned yourself to losing before our match even began! You had no strategy, made no preparations- I'm ashamed to say that I even expected better from you!"
"I did my best," she yelled back in indignation. "My Pokémon and I, we did our best!"
"Shut up!"
He hadn't even finished uttering the first word before she fell silent. She flinched and held tighter to her Poké Ball. Not even her own father had ever yelled such words at her. She turned her head and didn't dare meet his eyes.
"Your Pokémon may have did their best but you brought nothing! Don't you dare insult them more than you already have! You've been skating through the League on their strength alone without regards to your role as their trainer or respect towards your opponent! Since no one else has put you in your place, then I'll do it. As long as I stand, you'll never earn a gym badge from me!"
"I will," she answered quietly to herself.
Her chest tightened with the feeling of being crushed in some unseen grip. Her heartbeat was an aching pain that spite its confinement. The lights of the gym had become blindingly bright. The noise of gravel under their feet was suddenly too loud. At once, everything had become too much and not enough. She felt as if she might fall through the earth itself, the same sinking feeling she had in Darkrai's presence, with nothing to hold onto to keep her upright. Byron's words had confirmed her worst suspicions of herself. Yet she felt they were unjustified coming from his mouth. She refused to accept it.
She inhaled deeply and roared back at him with the same vehemence he had shown her, "I will earn your gym badge!"
"I did enter your gym with no intent of battling you. I admit that I was unprepared. I did give up on myself halfway through. I'm sorry and all but I will earn the Canalave Gym Badge! Say whatever you want but I'll show you and you'll gladly award me with that gym badge on your hands and knees!"
With that, she turned on her heels and stormed out of the gym. Her anger kept her restless as she paced back and forth in the lobby of the Pokémon Center. She thought over his words, specifically his insinuation that she had only made it this far because of her Pokémon alone.
"And who raised them to be that strong," she retorted to the argument replaying in her head. But what angered her most of all was the nagging feeling that somewhere he had still been right.
Liam watched her fume as he sat on a couch nearby. So this is what it took to get her riled up. The last time he had seen her so energetic was during their training battles. He thought it strange that for someone with low self-esteem, any attack to her pride by someone else was what triggered her.
"Don't you think you're being too forgiving towards him," he asked. "He seems to have a personal grudge against you. His comments alone would be enough to get him in trouble with league officials if you made a complaint."
"I'm not that petty," she shot back. She was shocked that he would even suggest such a thing. As the daughter of a gym leader herself, doing something so serious over a few insults was taboo.
"All I need to do is to defeat him! No... Not just defeat, I need to... to... Like make it bigger and better! A landslide victory so great that he won't have anything left to say!"
"Glad to hear it." He returned to his usual nonchalance while pulling out his phone. He turned the camera on her and pressed record. "Since you're so confident about your winning that you've declared war, I'm sure you'll put on a wonderful performance."
"Wait a minute!"
She dove for him in an attempt to take his phone or at least cover the lens. He pulled it out of her reach and let her fall onto the couch.
"I didn't say it was a performance! It's a battle!"
"Call it whatever you want," he shrugged. It annoyed him that her confidence waned so easily. "Just be sure to do your part."
"And by my part, you mean...?"
"Your job as an idol," he answered. Deciding he was done teasing her, he turned off the camera and put it back in his pocket. "Remember before when I asked you to find something about yourself that makes you smile? You don't have to share it with me but did you find an answer?"
She remembered the question and also how annoyed she had been that he had asked it in the first place. She sat crossed leg on the couch and bit her bottom lip.
"That kind of thing isn't important," she retorted. "Whether I smile or act happy or not. Whether I dress up or not, whether it's a contest... A battle is a battle. What matters most is winning."
Liam spoke slowly in a testing tone of voice as he narrowed his eyes at her.
"He called Pokémon Contests useless. Do you agree with him then?"
"It's not that I agree," she said hurriedly. "It's just that..."
Frivolous was the word she remembered herself using. Her job as an idol was something she had only taken on half-heartedly. It was fine when she faced Fantina but it wasn't something she felt she could take pride in when facing someone like Byron. Contests and idols were better suited for young girls like Grace and children like Ariel. In truth, she felt that it was world that couldn't, that perhaps shouldn't, cross over into Pokémon battles.
"Isn't it a bit too... light hearted, you know," she asked, trying to find some way to gently explain it. "Like idols are just for entertainment. A gym battle is serious. So it's not right to bring in that kind of thing like singing and dancing. It's just an act so it should stay separate from-"
"So your battle against Fantina was an act?" Liam cut her off, clearly displeased by her answer. "Your winning was staged for entertainment, was that it?"
"Not that part, I mean-!"
He continued needling her angrily, "then the effort your Pokémon put in beforehand, the training you underwent, was that an act as well?"
"I don't mean it like that!"
"You yourself said it was just an act," he said, refusing to listen to her objections. "That it isn't something you can take seriously because it's too light hearted. Then let me ask you this. Is it better to be bleak and pessimistic? Is that what it means to be serious? Does doing things happily make them insignificant?"
"You're taking what I'm saying all wrong," she tried to interject.
"You yourself said 'that kind of thing'," he bitterly repeated her words, "wasn't on the same level as battling. Which kind of thing do you mean? Grooming your Pokémon so that they can look their best? So then is battling the only valuable way to bond with them? Is their physical strength the only quality that matters? Is that all they're good for?"
"Absolutely not," she objected stronger this time as an old wound tore open once again. "It's not that part I'm saying isn't good!"
Taking care of a Pokémon's appearance was fundamental for any trainer. It was as basic as taking care of oneself. The only difference was that contests elevated this principle to something near immaculate.
He still continued to argue. He wasn't trying to win her over but instead, trying to get her to question why she thought that way.
"Then what part of it isn't good," he continued to argue. "What about expressing yourself and having fun are things to be looked down upon?"
"Pokémon battles aren't meant to be fun!"
She exploded. Without meaning to, she finally said the thoughts she had kept bottled in for so long.
"It's not fun watching them be hurt! It's not fun when they're in danger. Something can go wrong at any moment! At any time! They can die! Even if they're strong, they can still die! How can I think that's fun at all?! I can't! I have to protect them!"
Liam drew in a deep breath. She sat there shaking with her head hung. She was ready for him to continue chastising her. He was still angry; he had a right to be for the way she had looked down on his profession. He let it subside and instead focused on finally having gotten to the bottom of her penitent mood. She was scared.
He finally spoke after a length of silence.
"You have to protect them," he repeated. "Then do you want to quit? Not just Pokémon Contests but battling all together?"
There was no tone of sarcasm in his voice.
"Will you run away and lock them up somewhere? Will that keep them safe?"
"I won't," she answered softly. "I won't do that. Even if I did, I'll still... I'd still be scared that something... could happen."
"Then does your self-flagellation make you feel any better," he asked. "Does it make you feel safer or protected? Punishing yourself the way you do does just as much nothing as running away. You told me you want to move forward. I don't know if you were being honest or not. You should figure it out."
Liam rose to leave. She didn't chase after him. Instead, she opted to stay that night in the Pokémon Center. Her mind tuned over the conversation again and again. She had managed to piss off two people in such a short amount of time. She wondered if her Pokémon had heard her conversation, would they be mad as well?
From what was said, it did indeed sounded like she had no faith in them when it came to them protecting themselves. But all the faith in the world hadn't been enough before. But things were different now, she argued with herself. Or were they? Would things be better if she quit? Would Cyrus still pursue her or would he give up?
"He wouldn't give up his plan whether I'm there or not," she told herself. "I can't let him hurt people. But..."
But if whatever power he had was beyond her abilities, what was there that she could do?
'Do what you can.' She remembered the words her father had said to comfort her the last time she felt overwhelmed. 'Don't give up. Hold on. Do what you can. And do your best.'
She brought her hands up and smacked both her cheeks. She hoped the stinging pain would clear her mind and help her focus. She couldn't run away. She wouldn't run away. Even if she was scared, she had to stand defiant the best she could. Against Cyrus. Against Byron. And lastly she admitted, against herself.
She would apologize to Liam in the morning. She would apologize to her Pokémon too. They weren't an obligatory responsibility she had to carry as she had treated them. They weren't as distant as the ones in her memories. They were alive, here and now, creatures with thoughts and feelings of their own. She wouldn't make assumptions and decide things on her own anymore. She would have to seriously consider their thoughts and feelings from now on. Tomorrow and from the on, she would ask them all directly.
As she slept with these thoughts weighing on her, she forgot one other matter that had yet to be dealt with. Alone and unprotected, Darkrai could work undisturbed as he pulled her into a deep sleep with Dark Void.
Amira was plagued first with her usual nightmares; of Reshiram and being burned alive if he had rejected her instead of chosen her declaration. Of Ghetsis ripping the life away from her with his bare hands. Of her deceased Pokémon and how she had seen them last; bleeding, poisoned, decapitated, and burnt. Their bodies were disfigured and their faces twisted into looks of hatred as they stared at her, silent and unmoving. There was nothing she could do or say to placate them. In her dream, they were vengeful and merciless projections of her guilt that she was still alive. No matter how she tried to correct it within her dreams, she always failed. She could feel herself falling. She could feel her body growing colder. She could feel herself being racked with an indescribable pain. But she was always still alive. She would stay that way, anguished in that place between, until she awoke.
This time she awoke only to another dream. It had been crafted from faint recollection and misplaced memories. It felt off the moment she realized it. Everything in the house was slightly too big and too tall. Every corner was just a bit too dark. Nothing in her line of sight stayed still as it should, but only moved slightly farther away. As alien as it was, there was still a sense that she knew this place. Her old home, her old room, in Vermillion City. An uneasiness filled her immediately.
As she crept down the stairs, the feeling grew. There were no surprises to come in this dream. Darkai didn't have to distort her memory. She knew what would be coming and still... It made her afraid.
She could hear her parents talking but couldn't understand the words being said. Their voices were calm at first but started to raise as the conversation went on. She was already in tears. She remembered clearly that it was her father who yelled first. It was followed by her mother's usually calm anger starting to turn into the same. Then she heard her name. She had only peeked around he corner but they had caught her. She slowly marched into the darkened kitchen. They had been sitting and talking, arguing and pacing, with the lights off. All she could see, all she could remember seeing, was the shadows around them.
"Who do you want to live with?"
Other things had been said before that but she couldn't remember them. It was suddenly as if the kitchen had disappeared. She was standing alone in complete darkness with her parents standing separately just ahead of her. The question itself choked her.
"Who do you want to live with," was repeated once more.
Whatever warmth to be had was gone. It was replaced by a chilling cold that left her shivering where she stood. Still, she refused to move. She refused to look at anything other than her own feet. If she pretended she hadn't heard it. That she hadn't heard anything at all.
She could feel his presence just behind her as he stood hovering over her. She could feel the brush of his breath as his words pushed her forward.
"Who... do you... love more?"
She cried as she walked. She stretched out her hands towards her mother's turned back. Yet her eyes were on her father. Even as she clung to her dress as her mother walked away, her eyes never left him. That was when Amira realized, and hoped her mother didn't, that she didn't love her parents quite the same.
Amira was startled awake. The fresh guilt left her with the overwhelming urge to cry. She sat up without realizing she had the ability to move. Darkrai hadn't paralyzed her this time. She had awoken just in time to see a shadow pass in front of her door and down the hall. She jumped out of bed in a hurry to follow it. She was no longer afraid of him. Instead, she was furious. Being always just a corner behind him, she tracked him down to the lobby. There was no sight of him when she reached it. Still, she walked carefully in case he was crouching behind the furniture or under some desks.
"Where are you," she asked aloud. "What do you even want?"
There was no responses as she continued looking, even poking her arm into the shadows to see if they were real or illusions.
"Is it fun? Scaring people like this? Making them live their nightmares? Do you think it's fun to drag people down!?"
His silence still further angered her. She resorted to taunting him to see if she could get a response.
"I'm not afraid of you... So stop hiding!"
"Young lady!"
Despite her words, she jumped at the sudden appearance of a living person. The older woman was the matron of the girl's dormitory.
"What are you doing out of bed at this hour," she began. "Wandering the halls is not permitted! Nor is disturbing others sleep with loud noises! You are to return your room right this instant!"
"No, but I-!"
"No excuses!"
Even as she tried explaining that Darkrai was the real disturbance, the matron had an iron defense as sturdy as any Pokémon. She was grabbed by the arm and dragged all the way back to her room no matter what was said. She would never know what Darkrai wanted or why he had persistently clung to her. Or at least that was the end of trying to find out for that particular night. She didn't fall back to sleep and stayed awake fuming her lost battle.
When morning came, she hadn't forgot her anger at him entirely. But his nightmare had brought to surface yet another problem she had been desperately trying to ignore. She had gotten closer to her father but at the expense of shunning her mother. She was still angry at her for sending her to Sinnoh. She wondered if she was, somewhere deep down, still angry at her for separating from her father. In the dream, she had desperately clung to her while her mother barely responded to the gesture at all. Was it a reflection of reality? She grew up running in and out the house with her mother rarely ever saying a word of reprimand to her. But that didn't mean she didn't care... She was just extremely permissive... Even now, Amira thought, she hadn't called at all ever since she arrived in Sinnoh and she was probably... at least a bit worried.
She decided to finally end the uncomfortable silence between them. She sat down at one of the video phone booths in the lobby and dialed her mom's number. After a few rings, she answered as jubilant as ever.
"Hi, honey!"
"Hi mom. Uhm, I'm sorry I haven't called until now. I'm really... very sorry."
"Aw, Ami..." Her mother gave her a sympathetic look but her smile never waned. "It's alright. I wondered when you were going to call but I didn't want to rush you. I know you're busy being a star! I saw you on the television!"
Amira blushed deep red.
"Is it okay? For me being to be doing that kind of thing? Plus I thought... you would be more mad that I hadn't called."
"To be honest, dear..." Only then did her mother spoke with a hint of somberness. "I thought you were a bit upset with me. So I wanted to give you time to work through it on your own. I'm also sorry for sending you so far away. But I'm glad you look like you're having so much fun," she added, returning to her usual carefree attitude. "It's okay for you to do whatever makes you and your Pokémon happy!"
Amira smiled and nodded but the blush never left her face. She was filled with a mixture of pride and embarrassment that her mom had watched her match.
"Thanks," she said nervously. "Mom, about the reason you sent me to Sinnoh in the first place-"
She wanted to ask what her reasoning even was but was cut off before she could finish the question.
"Oh," her mom interjected. "I have to introduce you!"
Her mom held the phone back and let Amira see more of what was around her. She was lying on a beach towel, sunbathing in a bikini that was patterned after a pink and blue Pokémon that she wasn't familiar with, a Milotic. What raised her brow was seeing that there was a man next to her. She identified him right away as most definitely not being her father.
"Juan, look," her mother called to him. "Come meet my daughter!"
'Who the heck is Juan!?' she thought to herself.
Juan was an older man with jet black hair aside from one white streak. He was handsome, fit, and gave off an air of sophistication but to Amira, he was also not her father. She tried to smile but she could feel her jaw tightening.
"Oh, this is your daughter," he said as he too reached for the phone.
Amira didn't see the phone leave her mother's hand. 'Are you holding her hand!? Who the heck do you think you are!?'
"Yes, hello. It's nice to meet you." She tried to sound as polite as possible but she could feel her blood pressure rising. 'Take your hands off my mom!'
"Ah, you as well," he smiled.
"We saw her match together on the tv," her mom added. "She's taking the Sinnoh League Challenge!"
"Oh," he continued as if he suddenly remembered. "You're a very impressive young lady," he said politely. "If you ever come to Hoenn, I would love the chance to battle you one day."
"Ah, sure... That sounds fun," she tried to keep calm but her voice was beginning to crack.
So they had both watched her match together. This meant that they had both been together since the match was televised, possibly some time before. If she ever got the chance, she was going to kick this guys ass. Just like that, he had earned her hatred. In her mind, he had immediately been tried and sentenced as a no-good philanderer.
"Mom, separated doesn't mean divorced, right?"
She had said the words without thinking of the consequences but at the moment, she didn't care. All she knew was that she wanted this Juan person gone.
"Hmm? No, those are two separate things honey. Why do you ask?"
Despite the question, her mom looked none at all phased. Juan let out a snort, as if he were laughing at her with some secret she didn't know.
Amira's blood was boiling now, 'who said you could laugh, you jerk!?'
She didn't understand why they were both so nonchalant about it. If they were only separated, then her mother was still legally married to her father. Yet why the heck was she lounging around on a beach half the world away with some jerk named Juan? Was she having an affair and just flaunting it in front of her?
'Where the hell is your sense of shame,' she wanted to yell. But all she could do was smile through it.
"Ah, Ami!" Her mother brought the phone close in again and called her out of focus before she could erupt. "You know, I shared your video with some people at work too! We even listened to your radio interview! They all say you're very cute! We've stared a fan club for you! I'm the president!"
And just like that, she forgot her anger and was back to being embarrassed enough to die.
"You don't have to go that far," she begged. She didn't know what to think of grown adults she knew praising her for something she still thought of as childish.
"It's not far at all," her mother insisted. "Mom wants to cheer you on! This way, I'll be able to see you just like if you were here! You have to promise that if you come out with posters and things, to sign them and send some to me, okay? It'll be so cute to have!"
Despite her words, she somehow imagined her mother as being more of the type to hawk up the price and re-sell it. Still, the opposite of her having some kind of fan shrine dedicated to her was also terrifying.
'Please don't make me,' she wanted to plead.
"Amira," she called to her again but this time in a softer tone. "I think it's good for you to take on the challenge like this. You should have been having fun like this all along. It makes me happy to see you smiling again."
Amira was struck speechless on how to respond. She had forgotten that her mother had also seen her depression. What she hadn't known was how she felt about her first journey. She knew her father had hated it for what it did to her. Her mother had never spoken about how she felt. This was her first time hearing from her something close to remorse. That it should have been fun all along... Just how long had she forgotten that?
"I'll do my best," was all she could think of to say.
"I know you will," her mom answered. "I'm so proud of my baby. Oh! I forgot! I'm going to send the link to your dad, okay?"
"Don't," she screamed loud enough to get a reprimanding stare from the staff.
That was the one person she was not ready to deal with knowing just yet. In fact, she was never sure she would be.
"Okay, okay," her mom laughed. She had purposefully been teasing her. "But you shouldn't keep it from him for long. It'll hurt his feelings."
"Are you really saying that," she accidentally asked aloud. "Ah, I mean," she hurried to cover it up, "I know. I'll tell him but I want to be the one to do it. So just don't say anything, okay?"
Her mother nodded with a smile. Was this blackmail of some sorts? Cause it sure felt like it.
"I have to go," Amira said. "I'll call you again, later. Talk to you then?"
"Of course, hun! I look forward to seeing what you do next!"
"Good bye, Amira. May you win your next match just as beautifully as your last," added Juan.
"Yeah, thanks," she said flatly. 'No one was talking to you!'
As she hung up the phone, she suddenly felt more tired than when she had woken up. She dropped her head on the table in front of her. She thought that she slightly, just a little bit, maybe, was beginning to dislike her mother.