Chapter Two
Anxiety churned his stomach at the mental imagery of his mother and older brother smothering him with their disappointment. The orange-rust haired boy had returned to the beach nearly an hour after leaving. Aware of how costly his art supplies were, finding empty space where he had left them hit him with dread. He swiftly came to the conclusion that the caped girl had his belongings. She did proffer him his book. That was enough to deter him from thinking she was the thieving type.
He couldn't fabricate a story just to avoid embarrassment. He couldn't bring himself to lie to his mother and brother. They knew he grew nervous in the presence of girls his age, but to reveal to them he outright fled and left his things behind to be taken…
The boy shivered, but not from the rainfall that soaked him. Clearing the front steps at the foot of a towering apartment complex, he lifted a shaky hand to open the door. He found Meowth waiting for him by the elevator, whiskers drooping and fur damp. The feline scowled up at him, as if he had somehow summoned the drizzle.
"I-it wasn't my fault," the boy said in reference to the rain.
Meowth countered with an irritated, elongated meow.
"Okay...M-maybe this could've been avoided." He couldn't blame his cat for leaving his items. They weren't his responsibility. "If...if I had...gotten my stuff."
Meowth nodded once, appearing somewhat placated. He sat next to his owner's feet upon entering the elevator. Glancing up at the boy, his expression softened somewhat. He could feel his nervous energy as easily as a splash of cold water. The feline leaned over to nuzzle his leg.
Hypothetical admonishment from his family swam through the boy's mind until the elevator's chime interrupted his thoughts. A bold number seven flashed above. At that moment, he felt anything but lucky.
A nudge from Meowth set him in motion. The duo detected the scent of food as they approached their apartment. The anxiety gnawing away at his stomach squelched his appetite.
Opening the door and poking his head inside, he was met with mild relief. The television was silent and the black leather couch was empty. The hallway light was off. There was a shuffling originating from the left where the kitchen was. Holding the door ajar, he watched Meowth pad inside to sprawl over the ornate rug occupying the space between the couch and entertainment center.
Maybe...he wouldn't have to tell anyone about his missing belongings if no one saw him come home without them. If no one asked questions, he wouldn't have to answer them. It technically wasn't lying if no one pried, he convinced himself. He formulated a plan. In the early morning he would seek out the caped girl and repossess his stuff. If she tried giving back his book, there should be no reason why she wouldn't return everything else.
A caped girl shouldn't be difficult to find, right?
The door slamming behind him nearly made him jump out of his skin. A masculine voice addressing him got an identical reaction. Starch with tension, he whipped his head into the direction of the kitchen.
"You might wanna keep the noise down, Makoa! Mom's got another migraine!" There was a pause. The sound of a wooden spoon tapping the rim of a stockpot reached the boy's ears. "I brought some saimin home! I'll have it steamin' in a few!"
Makoa pressed his lips into a thin line. His brother wasn't exactly keeping the noise to a low volume.
He directed himself down the dim hallway. The door belonging to the master bedroom was cracked open. His fingers nudged it enough to slip inside. Slivers of orange light peeking through the narrow gaps in the curtains diluted the tenebrosity the woman splayed across the bed tried to create.
Burgundy hair was pulled into a bun. Strands were pulled free from the chaos of the day, draped over her shoulders and framing the visible half of her face. She donned a white button down blouse and black capris. White sandals with black soles, unceremoniously discarded, laid in the middle of the room. Upon the nightstand rested a nametag, capitalized letters spelling Kalena.
Makoa noted the absence of water upon the nightstand. A partially full glass of water sitting on the nightstand was how he knew his mother took something for her migraine. He surmised she must have not even bothered taking anything and went straight for the comforting embrace of her bed.
The boy retreated to the bathroom to sift through the contents of the medicine cabinet for his mother's prescription. His fingers fumbled with the tiny package before he was able to peel it open. Pill tucked into his balled fist, he strode into the kitchen.
He was greeted by the sight of his brother leaning over a stockpot and testing the temperature of the saimin with the tip of his pinkie finger. Makoa wrinkled his nose, hoping he thoroughly washed his hands.
The elder sibling's short, rust hair, once styled in spikes, was a ruffled mess. White shirt, displaying Saimin Says in cobalt on the back, was wrinkled and stained on the abdomen by broth. On the left breast, Kaleo was stitched into the shirt in cursive. His navy blue jeans appeared far cleaner than his shirt.
Makoa briefly scanned the intricate Polynesian tribal sleeves. The tattoos were a recent acquisition. Shy of eighteen by two years, parental consent was required to get tattooed. Not only did he get written permission from their mother, she attended the tattooing while he tagged along to observe. The boy recalled his brother playfully inquiring if their mother came to hold his hand in case he started crying. Without missing a beat, she had replied that not only did she come to comfort him, she would beat down the tattoo artist who dared to make her baby cry. The memory evoked a small smile as he withdrew a bottle of fresh water from the refrigerator.
Upon turning around, he met the bright blue-green eyes of his elder sibling. He tensed up, plastic bottle crinkling as his fingers clenched tighter.
"Fried or soft-boiled eggs?"
Confusion stole over Makoa fleetingly. The boy relaxed somewhat the moment he realized his brother was inquiring about his preference for dinner. His body language should have roused suspicion, but Kaleo wasn't the brightest crayon in the box. "E-either...is fine."
"Fried it is!"
Makoa exhaled on a sigh and passed Kaleo to exit the kitchen. He returned to his mother's room, the irritated creaking from the hardwood floorboards alerting her of his presence.
Kalena opened one eye halfway, true green ocular focusing on the shadowed form of her younger son. She offered a pained smile as he set the bottled water and pill on her nightstand. "Thank you, sweetie."
Makoa offered a small smile of his own in response. He avoided verbal replies whenever she was suffering from a migraine. She had informed her boys on multiple occasions that she was sensitive to light and sound during such times of misery.
The woman sluggishly ascended into a seated position. A wave of nausea swept over her as she got a whiff of the simmering saimin. She reached for the pill and water. Her stomach protested. She felt a single swallow would trigger her body's urge to vomit.
The burden of guilt imposed its weight upon Makoa's shoulders. He couldn't stand keeping what happened from his mother. The bright blue of his shoelaces standing out in the dark drew his attention. His fingernails bit into his skin as his hands clenched at his sides. Feeling his mother's eyes studying him, he inhaled deeply in preparation to confess.
"I-I...I lost my a-art stuff!"
Kalena swallowed the pill with a small swig of water and set the bottle down on the nightstand. Her features morphed into an expression of surprise. Makoa was always so careful with his things. "Oh? What happened?"
The gentle tone of his mother helped assuage some of his anxiety. Still, he couldn't meet her gaze. "I...ran...f-from a girl...I w-was nervous...When...when I c-came back t-to get my things...th-they were gone...I'm...gonna look f-for her tomorrow...t-to get my bag back."
This made perfect sense. The woman was well acquainted with her younger son's skittishness with girls around his age. A smile tipped her lips. Despite his blunder, she couldn't help but feel proud of her sweet, honest child. The distress gripping him compelled her to comfort him. Pushing off her bed, she curled her arms around him.
Makoa lifted his gaze to her, his wide, doe-eyes melting her heart. Relief lifted the guilt and anxiety he was shouldering. He felt so foolish he allowed his anxiety to assume the worst. He was grateful for his mother's patience and understanding. Leaning into her, he returned the embrace.
Kalena broke contact to reach for her back pocket. Fishing out dollar notes, he extended them to Makoa. Staring at the money, he looked at her questioningly.
"If this girl is holding onto your stuff for you, you need to thank her, right? Buy her a treat." She had her hopes on her son finally befriending someone who wasn't a Pokemon, but knowing him he would likely never seek her out again once he repossessed his bag. She gave him a wink. "Don't worry. I won't tell Kaleo."
A wide grin spread across the boy's face. In his gratitude, he threw his arms around her. "Thank you. I'll get an early start tomorrow."
"Then get to bed earlier. You need your sleep."
"Sure. I'll get ready for bed after dinner," the boy assured, drawing back and making his way to the door.
"Forgetting something?" Kalena waved the cash to draw her son's attention to it.
Makoa smiled sheepishly. Returning to his mother, he accepted the bills and slipped them into the worn black leather wallet that kept his keys company. "Need anything...before I go? A-are you coming to dinner?"
Kalena was hit by another bout of nausea. She shook her head. "Oh...no, thank you, sweetie. I'll heat up my dinner if I'm up for it later."
"O...okay. Get better soon." He remained until the woman was curled up beneath the covers. The door was completely shut behind him to mitigate light and sound.
Meowth was spotted in the middle of the hall, eyes ablaze on his darkened form like a feline imp, waiting for a hapless victim to draw closer. He meowed in a complaining tone that Makoa had been familiar with for years.
"In a sec, Meowth. You'll get your dinner." He was given a more insistent response. "You're not gonna die waiting ten seconds."
Scrunching up his furry features, Meowth released a louder, fuller yowl that made Makoa wince. The boy could hear snickering coming from the kitchen. "Mama's got an ouchie head. Mind keeping it down?"
Meowth sighed in resignation. As his human stepped around him, he tailed him as they crossed the living room. The dark-type cat sat beside the empty food bowl located at the designated dining area in the space of the living room next to the kitchen's entrance. A few feet from the food and water dishes was a small round table that fit three chairs. Hands burdened with a spoon and open can, the wet, meaty food was scooped into the bowl. Meowth stared at his meal and lifted his gaze to Makoa.
"Aren't you going to eat?" he questioned, lifting himself to his feet.
Sniffing his food, Meowth arched his back and wandered off. Makoa was far too naturalized with the feline's mannerisms to be bewildered. Turning on his heel, Makoa deposited the spoon in the sink and tossed the empty can into the trash.
Ladling broth and noodles into bowls, Kaleo topped them with over-easy fried eggs and carried them to the table. "Chow time, bro! Ya' might wanna give it a few minutes. It's reeeaaal hot!"
Makoa planted himself in a chair, peering down at the bowl before him. Steam billowed rapidly from the saimin like ghostly flames.
"So," the elder sibling began, pulling out a chair to take a seat. "Have ya' thought about who you're gonna invite to your birthday party?"
The younger stared at the older with an air of incredulity. It had been the same every year; Pokemon he befriended were invited to a barbecue at the beach. He was not acquainted with the local children. Pokemon he found to be easier to approach and bond with than people.
Kaleo scratched his head as he made an attempt to read the silence. "I'm guessin' ya' got no other kids in mind. What about old Hala's grandson? Hau looks like the type of guy who could liven up a party!"
Makoa barely exchanged any words with the Kahuna's grandson. The few occasions they had crossed paths, he chose to remain silent while he listened to the other boy's animated prattling, providing single-worded replies here and there.
"You...probably know him better than I do," he said meekly, dipping his spoon into his saimin.
Kaleo's response was stalled. Ever since childhood, he had viewed the Kahuna as a surrogate father figure. His dreams of taking over the position with his team of fighting-types were crushed when Hau was born. He never resented the child. Hau was a ray of sunshine he could never feel resentment for. Even though he and Hala specialized in the same type, he had realized that he would never succeed him.
He still looked up to the old Kahuna, but his Kapu Kuʻialua teacher had more or less filled the role.
"Yeah, ya' might be right." Kaleo pressed his spoon into his egg. The egg ruptured, its creamy yolk oozing from the center and down the mound of noodles like lava. "Ya' already got your invitations painted?"
Makoa nodded in affirmation and spooned broth into his mouth. His preferred method to consuming saimin was drinking the broth first, then picking out the vegetables. Once the noodles and egg were left, the yolk was broken and tossed to coat the noodles.
Nothing more was exchanged between them. Kaleo wasn't normally talkative when shoveling food into his mouth. He was on his third helping by the time Makoa finished his second. The younger sibling wasn't concerned over whether or not he would finish off the pot. Plenty would be left for their mother.
Setting his bowl and spoon in the sink, Makoa caught Meowth finally eating as he passed by. The door to his room was opened by a crack for the feline to enter before disappearing into the bathroom to begin his bedtime ritual.
It was hot. So unbearably hot. Whatever confines Zinnia had found herself in was clouding her vision with thick plumes of smoke. Flames hungrily licked everything within their reach, desperate to feed their insatiable thirst for destruction. Panic surged through her, the primal instinct of survival guiding her through a maze of fire and smoke.
She couldn't tell where she was. All she knew was that she was trapped inside an unknown building. A feeling of familiarity dawned on her. Has she been here before?
Smoke thickened, befogging her vision and choking her. Her movements became sluggish as oxygen was tainted. She reached behind her for her cape with the intention of covering her nose and mouth. Groping air, she turned her gaze over her shoulder to find it absent. Another layer of panic surged. She never felt the caller slide from her shoulders. How could she have lost her most cherished possession? The cape and Noivern were all she had left of Aster.
Aster.
Her eyes darted around in search of her beloved Whismur. The Pokemon's species were emotionally fragile creatures. She would easily be able to hear her crying in the midst of an inferno. The girl came to the conclusion that she had retreated into her ball.
Zinnia gasped and coughed. Her eyes welled up with burning tears that further impeded her vision. She pushed forward, her refusal to allow herself and her Pokemon to die driving her.
She fell to her hands and knees in an open room. A figure laid unresponsive in the midst of the clearing. Swiping her eyes, she squinted at the prone form. Her eyes sprang open wide in recognition. A woman, wearing her cape...It couldn't have been!
But it was.
Zinnia tried to call out Aster's name, but all she was able to do was cough. She desperately crawled forth. She needed to get to her friend.
Flaming debris fell into her path. Zinnia recoiled from the blaze reaching for her, desiring to consume her. She searched for a way around. The fire danced, cruelly taunting her as it walled her. Watching the maelstrom completely engulf her friend, she released a strangled cry.
Zinnia's eyes flew open to find the face of a concerned Whismur. Her body worked on regulating her breathing rate as she took in her surroundings. The aerial roots that sheltered her and Aster were a comforting sight.
She sat up, furling her arms around Aster. That nightmare...Once in a while it haunted her. Every time she was forced to relive that traumatizing experience, it felt so real. Years have elapsed since, but the pain was still unbearably raw.
Aster warbled to her human. Zinnia forced a smile and unwrapped an arm from her to stroke her between the ears. The blue snout of Salamence stole her attention. The opening only allowed room to fit the beast's muzzle.
"It was just a dream. Go back to sleep."
The Pokemon were unconvinced. Like every Pokemon, they could sense when something in their trainer was off. Out of respect, they refrained from prodding. They could wait for her to vent to them.
Morning light filtered into the crevice when Salamence retreated. Zinnia exhumed a sigh. Her internal clock told her it was still early, but sleep always eluded her after such intense nightmares. Reclining, she ran her fingers through Aster's fur. With sleep evading her, she would pass the hours soaking in the comfort of her Whismur curled up on her chest.