The Gardens, Ch. 4: Dreams in a Box

The fifth book Eleanor removed from the shelf seemed brand new, unused. But when she checked inside the cover, she found that it was only the latter; it had been authored and printed over thirty years ago. The book was so dark a grey that it was almost black, cover to cover, with bands of yellow inlaid into the side. The Lightning Element, read the spine. The cover was bare, textless, which gave the book the feel of an ancient, priceless tome. Eleanor thought it was heavy, too, as she hefted it. She possessed the ancient belief that a weighty book was a good indicator of the value of the knowledge within.

Feeling sentimental, she passed it down to her waiting Spinda. "Put this with the other keepers, please, Pinwheel."

"Saaaaa," said the Spinda happily, taking the book in obedient hands. Not a moment later, The Lightning Element was balanced precariously in between his ears as the little Pokémon tottered over to the far shelf. Eleanor watched him go, never in a straight line and seemingly in constant danger of falling over. But Pinwheel never fell, and neither did the book. Eleanor knew that he thought he was going in a straight line, as all Spinda did. Her stomach rocked just from watching him.

Maybe they're righter than we are, Eleanor thought wistfully. For all of our maps and our straight roads and our compasses, we could be the ones who see straight lines where there are none. It would explain why nothing we do seems to happen the way we intend.

She took the next book from the shelf. The Tower in the Frozen Reaches. Navy blue binding, with a dark, derelict monolith embedded in rough detail into the cover. She recalled the several news headlines from months before, and of how she would shiver whenever she passed too close to the Cold Storage, years ago, before they had torn the warehouses down to build the stadiums. Eleanor sometimes thought, on the rare occasion when she went to watch a bout or two, that she could still catch a ghostly, raw whiff of the frozen goods that had once waited there for some delivery truck to take them away.

She tossed the book into the box. It gave few a hollow thunk before finally settling atop the others.

The next was a bright white book with a great green shield on the cover. Facts of Defense was inscribed on the cover and spine in flourishing gold lettering. This one she put into the box more gingerly. Battle theory was valuable to a Trainer School, but her students, she knew, had little interest in defensive Pokémon battle methodology.

Small Divisions. Gray as a metropolis, with many little unisex figures divided by color on the cover. A recent title. In the box.

The World Beneath. Light brown binding that was darker brown along and around the spine. In the box.

And so it went. Our Little Evolutions, white and blue; into the box. The Phantom Places, dark and foreboding; with the keepers. The Best of Battle, slim, with a red and peach cover; with the keepers. The Dragons of the Ridge, a medium but weighty book, silver and dark blue, shining like a scale; into the box.

She persisted in this for the best part of two hours, until she had filled four boxes with around twenty books apiece. The library had never seemed large to her before then but sorting through hundreds of books was tiresome. Here, most of them would never be read. At least, not seriously. It was easier when she thought of it that way, easier to believe that the books would find a better home in a different library. But Eleanor sometimes found herself opening some hardy book and flipping through the first few pages without realizing, which made it all the harder to put in a box. Among those she kept, some were for the students, and others Eleanor kept for herself, if they interested her. Maybe I could have my own library, she mused. Or perhaps just some small shelf in her office where she could keep her own books. Though her office was almost too small for even a shelf.

Once she had finished, she closed the boxes, not taping them shut just yet. She was confident that they were at least a hundred pounds altogether, but she didn't have a scale. Best to play it safe.

She took hold of a box's corner. "The other end, Pinwheel."

"Saaa," went her little helper. He barely came up past her knees but lifted the box with little trouble. The power of Pokémon. The difficulty only came when she had to follow his twisting route to the cart two meters away.

Boxes loaded, she pushed the cart out the door and began down the hallway, Pinwheel sitting perched on top of the pile, swaying happily.

The Driftveil Trainer School had the pleasure of being located on a single floor of a many-storied office building. Eleanor met no one in the halls. No teachers, no students, no maintenance men to fix the dimming lights. Most of the classrooms were empty.

She passed a room that was in use and glanced through the small window in the door, where young, innocent, straw-haired Brielle was using a diagram to explain several different healing Berries to a class of twelve students. She went on. By this point, Pinwheel was sleeping on the boxes with his arms tucked under his head.

To reach her office, she had to go through the teacher's lounge. Given how small the School's campus was, the teacher's lounge was pleasantly large, with enough room for each teacher to comfortably have a space for themselves. Even more so since the faculty had decreased.

When she pushed the cart through the door, she saw Cecelia seated at the nearest couch, holding a water bottle. Her hair, red as flame, was splayed wide around her shoulders.

"Eleanor," said Cecelia, with an easy smile. She had a sheen of sweat on her forehead. "Need me for anything else today?" Pinwheel perked up at the voice of his Trainer.

"No, we've finished for the day. You can go early. Do you have plans at the PWT?" Cecelia was a person who did everything, and Eleanor counted herself lucky to have her on the payroll. And she nearly always had something going on in her free time. Mostly it was Pokémon battling, but sometimes it was a man. Or a woman.

But Cecelia surprised her. "No," she said with a yawn and a stretch. "I thought today could be a lazy day. This heat is too much, I swear…I won't kill me, but it massacres motivation. At least snow gives people cabin fever." She got to her feet. "Will you be at that thing tomorrow?"

"I'm not a Trainer," Eleanor said, "So, no." Besides that, tomorrow was a day off. Eleanor needed a break. From the School, her thoughts, everything. Roads had formed in her brain along every idea and pathway, and the signs read, This way to Stress! The only way to demolish those roads was by not using them for a while.

"I'm off, then." Cecelia said, lightly sliding to her feet. She tossed a Poké Ball to Eleanor, who caught it one-handed. "Keep Pinwheel again in case anything comes up. Is that alright, Pinwheel?"

The Spinda nodded, yawned, then put his head back down to sleep. He had grown used to staying with Eleanor on occasion.

The younger woman was almost out the door when Eleanor called, "Cecelia."

Cecelia looked back. "What?"

Eleanor opened her mouth, then closed it, thinking. When she opened it again, she said, "We need to talk about some things soon."

Cecelia looked quizzical. "Have I messed up?"

"No, it's about the School. What comes next."

The redhead's eyes brightened with understanding. "Should we talk about it now?"

"Later," said Eleanor. Truthfully, she felt bad for telling Cecelia right as she was about to leave for the day but springing it on her all at once wasn't a kind option, either. "It's nothing to worry about. Enjoy your break."

"You know that's never a problem." And she was gone.

Pinwheel was still perched on the pile of boxes, back to snoring softly. Eleanor wheeled the box to the wall of her office, which was six-by-six feet and had only a single window. She sat in her chair, wondering about the future. She began to drum her fingernails against the desk, then stopped, remembering the sleeping Pokémon. Though, by now, he was probably used to the sound.

Coming to no great determination in her thinking, she looked down at her desk. It was a litter of finance papers, checked twice out of boredom. Eleanor decided to forgo a third check. She laid her head on the desk, her face in her arms, and closed her eyes.

A moment later, a knock came at the door.

Eleanor lifted her face, disgruntled. "Come in," she said, brushing a rogue bang from her eyes.

In walked a man of approximately nineteen years, wearing summer clothes. That part of him had little significance. It was hot. Everyone was wearing summer clothes.

"Baren," she said. "Sorry. I was going to call you at…some point." She glanced at the clock. The school day was almost over. "Sit." Eleanor motioned to one of three empty chairs.

He did so obediently. "Long day?" he asked.

"Only hot. Is it any cooler where you live?"

"I wish. It's as if I don't live on a mountain." Then his tone became more serious. "I heard about what we're doing, the collaboration with the city council."

Her eyes narrowed just slightly, before she could help it. "Heard from where?" She waved a hand. "Never mind, I already know." Hillard was an enigma that she didn't want to talk about.

Baren was a young man. In her eyes, barely more than a boy. He had short dark hair and a lean figure. An unfortunately common build in Unova. Beyond that, Eleanor was short on words that could accurately describe him. Quiet, perhaps. She liked Baren. He was a reliable tutor, punctual, and generally didn't step out of line. She liked it when her employees didn't step out of line.

Eleanor had once asked Cecelia what she thought of him.

"Oh," the younger woman had responded. "Actually, there is something interesting. Have you noticed anything strange about his hips?"

"His hips?" Eleanor had responded carefully.

"For someone his age, they're pretty firm. Either he has a very specific routine of physical activity, or an active sex life." Cecelia's smile had been sad. "It would explain why he keeps to himself. Sometimes relationships can be too much for a person."

Eleanor had mused on that idea for some time after. Baren with a partner. He didn't seem like the type, but what would she know about that?

She swept the memory away. "Did your Gardevoir come with you?" Eleanor asked Baren.

"Yes."

She put her hands upraised near her shoulders and looked about dramatically.

"She's around," he said. "I wanted to talk with you alone." He glanced at the boxes where Pinwheel was still sleeping peacefully. "You seem busy."

"Yes." Eleanor scratched her cheek. Her fingernails were short, so there was barely a noise to it. "We're taking part in a book drive. The program is paying fifty thousand Poké-Yen for every one hundred pounds of book."

"Is the drive run by the city council? Is that the project?"

"No. The book drive comes from Aspertia." She was too tired and it was too darned hot to put any disdain in the name.

At its greatest heights–a year before–there would have been more than a hundred children milling in the hallways in between periods, with enough teachers to handle them all. The new semesters had begun only a month before, and less than fifty of those students had returned. Most had gone south, around the mountains and across the rivers to the city of Aspertia, or had decided to pursue a more dynamic Trainer lifestyle. Thankfully, there had been no issues regarding overpaying staff; most of the teachers had left with the students. There was little room for competition, when you're up against a Gym Leader. Cheren. Even his name was magnetic, inviting thoughts of genius.

"Then what's the project?" asked Baren.

"Sorry, all I know is the staging ground. At some Pokémon nursery on the outskirts near the mines."

"I think I've seen it," said Baren. "What did they want the School for, then, if you don't know anything?"

"Names," she responded, rubbing her temple. "The city administration is a separate world from the Pokémon Training scene. We're a school for Trainers, and to them, that's close enough. We still have an alright network regarding the Trainers in and around Driftveil. I'm only meant to call the potential volunteers and tell them where to go. That means teachers and part-time tutors like you, in addition to a lot of unaffiliated Trainers whose contact information we kept." Then, deciding to trust his character, she added, "And they wanted us to make sure anyone we called knew how to keep their mouths shut."

"That sounds suspicious."

"Really? I hadn't noticed."

"You're alright with getting involved with something like that?"

Eleanor gave a one-shouldered shrug. "The School is a public institution. If they were doing something seriously wrong, they would never have gotten us involved. The city council being tightlipped about something isn't rare." As she said it, she scribbled an address onto her pad, tore out the sheet and handed it to Baren. "This is the place. Nine o'clock tomorrow is the orientation for the volunteers. The actual project is supposedly the day after."

His brow crinkled. "That isn't much time for preparation."

"Feel free to ask them all about it. We're being paid regardless."

At that, a smile split his features. He leaned forward. "This is a good thing for us, isn't it? If we're finally being funded by the city, maybe…" At her expression, he trailed off.

Eleanor studied him for a moment, trying to find the words least likely to cause him grief. She gave up. "I said that we're being paid, as in we're being paid an initial operator's fee for a particular service. Funded would mean that what we're receiving is substantial enough to keep us afloat for some period. If that were the case, and it isn't, I would never have considered the book drive; we have too few supplies as it is. I'm just making sure that we don't go into debt before the year is out."

He blinked, obviously disturbed. "Couldn't you ask for more money?"

"Of course, I could. But why would they agree? All of our bargaining power went south to Aspertia. They'll only say that the service we're providing them isn't worth a higher service fee. And I would probably have to agree." When Eleanor finished, she heard a soft ringing in her ears that set the world around her to a muffle. Was her blood pressure too high?

"I'm sorry," she said. "Did I raise my voice?"

Baren shook his head, expression solemn. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"More than we've talked about? More than we've tried?" She rubbed her temple with a thumb. "Maybe. But not anything that I can think of."

Baren grew silent, his gaze downcast. Was he thinking of possible solutions, or was he coming to terms with the situation?

Eleanor turned her gaze to the lone window. There was little of interest outside, but beneath the sunlit frame, dust motes darted to and fro, up and down, as if in some sort of dance. Above the hidden lakes of Hoenn, the mating dances of Volbeat and Illumise send cascades of red and blue and purple and green dancing through the air and sky, in a joyous panorama that is more beautiful and breathtaking than any amusement park. The words came to her mind suddenly, and she did not remember where she had gotten them from. But Eleanor had been to Nimbasa, and she doubted that whoever had said those words had seen the city on a twilit night.

Staring at the dust motes, that image remained in her head, of cool sapphire waters with the brilliant ruby lights of giddy Pokémon capering just above the surface and into the sky. She turned to Baren. "I'm closing the school after this academic year."

Rather than shock, she read only sadness in his expression "Why?"

It was a loaded question. He probably knew the reason at heart. Because we aren't sustainable, she could have said, or because soon we'll have more faculty than students. But those were excuses, not reasons.

So instead, she said, "Because, at the end of the day, what people can get in Aspertia is plenty better than what they get from us. All of the people who actually give two Magikarps about the quality of education have already made the transfer. The only students we have left are enrolled by parents who want to keep their children close to home. And even those will run out, sooner or later, when the parents realize that they can just move to Aspertia themselves." She sighed, sitting back in her chair. "I don't want to keep denying people a better option."

Do you hear that Cheren? she thought, projecting the words as far toward Aspertia as she could. You have me beat. I'm surrendering to you. You and your name. I doubt that you even know I exist, but you still have me throwing in the towel. I wish you all the best.

Turning back to Baren, who was watching her with care, she said. "I'm sorry. I am. You helped us make this place what it became."

Baren had come from Alola and had gone to some Trainer School there in his youth, supposedly; in the early days of forming the Driftveil school, that knowledge had proven invaluable. When the Pokémon World Tournament had announced an installation in Driftveil, the city was put into a fervor that only Pokémon battle could create. The city council had tried to capitalize on that excitement and threw a Bouffalant's weight in Poké-Yen into opening a Trainer School. But they did so assuming that Clay would take the reins, and were not prepared when he said that no, he would not, he was too busy, he already ran a mine and a Gym both, too much at stake, and if you don't like it, eat grass.

It was around that time when the people in charge realized that they were starved for any qualified Trainers to teach students, so they cut their losses and abandoned the project. Eleanor had stepped up to try and keep the ball rolling, and she had managed to downsize the project until the available funds were enough to keep them afloat until they found qualified teachers. During that search, Hillard came to them to make a case for hiring Baren. He was only seventeen at the time, and no teacher, but the young man knew more about Pokémon than nearly anyone they could find, so she hired him. He took a center teaching role until they hired enough faculty to shift him to a part-time role as a substitute and tutor, which for some reason he preferred.

But now what would he do? What would any of her people do once she let them go?

"Do you want to help?" she asked Baren. "Stop being so melancholy. You're still young. Do you think that the anxiety you're feeling now will matter to you in ten years? Because it won't. Let other people hold grudges against you, but if you're holding a grudge against yourself, stop. Nothing good ever comes of empty regrets. Whatever you feel guilty over, if you force yourself to carry it for the rest of your life, it isn't worth it."

The blank look he gave her wasn't what she wanted, but the silence afterward hopefully meant that something had struck home.

"Have you told the others about closing?" he finally asked.

"I hinted it to Cecelia, but…" She shook her head. "Starting with my first hire seemed appropriate."

"What are you going to do after this?"

She turned her eyes down to her desk, staring at her little Growlithe figure made of red glass. "I was thinking that I would find work in Aspertia."

At the Aspertia Trainer School, was the implied message. She couldn't meet Baren's gaze. She had said too much against Cheren and his designs. Out of frustration, but still.

"I'll ask everyone else if they want to join me. Brielle will say yes, but the others…"

"Cecelia won't go," said Baren.

It was true. Cecelia was as fiery as her hair and did what she pleased. "Will you come with us?"

Baren shifted a little in his chair. "No. I don't think it would work."

It was the answer she had expected. She wasn't sure why, but it was. She leaned back in her chair and stared at her window again, at the motes of dust. "Maybe I won't go to Aspertia," she mused. "I could vacation in Hoenn."

Baren straightened. "Why Hoenn?" he asked. There was an almost imperceptible edge to his voice.

"I've heard good things about the lakes down there. I might go and see one." Truthfully, she found it strange that she had Hoenn on the brain, but it seemed like a good idea. Romantic, almost.

Baren stood, breaking her reverie. "I'll be at the meeting place tomorrow. I'll tell you once I figure out what exactly it involves."

"Do that," she agreed. "And don't be a stranger."

In the silence following his departure, she stilled her fingers. She had been drumming them again without realizing.

At the sound of tiny footsteps, she looked down to see Pinwheel staring up at her. His head was cocked, his clumsy smile replaced with a perplexed look that could have been concern.

She reached down to scratch behind his ear. "I think I'll miss you the most."

Author's PS

I am very sorry that this is so late. Did you notice the lack of Author's Notes at the beginning? I thought it would be an injustice if we didn't just get straight into the story.

Look forward to the next few chapters, guys; they're going to be interesting. I can't stress how much reviews help keep me motivated, friends. Please review!

Update (2/9/2022): Typos and some wording fixed; changed the accidental misname 'Daisy' in the last few paragraphs to 'Brielle'.