Chapter Two - The Consequence

After two hours of slow, uneasy travel, Heconilia lifted her head and let loose a joyful trill. Haru squelched to a stop.

"You've caught the scent of a herd?" he asked, tilting his head up. The sky was almost completely blocked by the dark green canopy overhead and he couldn't make out anything over the steady drumbeat of the rain.

Heconilia nodded energetically, her eyes shining. She looked healthy and vigorous—the humid air had lent her leaves an especially verdant sheen. Her good mood had been impossible to ignore the last few hours, as she swung her neck from side to side and sniffed at every flower.

Haru couldn't fault Heconilia for her happiness. But it came in painful contrast to the constricted feeling in his own chest, the sensation that every step drew a noose tighter around his neck.

"Okay," Haru said slowly, as Heconilia craned her head upwards, her wings lifting slightly like she was considering taking off then and there. "We need to go over the rules now." He snapped his fingers and raised his voice. "Heconilia, I need you to pay attention."

Chastened, she lowered her neck and butted her head forward, twisting so that the ring of fruit under her neck hung in front of his face. An apology.

Haru let out a breath. "I just need you to listen," he said softly. "I could get in big trouble if you don't listen."

Heconilia made a keening murmur of agreement. Haru closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the sleek, springy surface of her neck.

"You're stronger than a wild tropius would be from all the training we've done. I know you'll want to show that off—impress a mate, take command of a herd. But you have to watch yourself. If the rangers notice anything unusual about you, they'll bring you in for an examination. And when they do, they'll find a microchip, saying you're my pokemon. If that happens, it's all over for me. Dumping is a national crime. So you can't draw attention to yourself and you can't let yourself be caught, no matter what happens. Do you understand?"

Haru felt the rumble of Heconilia's agreement. He took a step back and looked her over. How much did she understand, really? How much could a pokemon ever comprehend of the rules and regulations that were the cogs and gears of human society?

He'd read a study recently claiming to categorically disprove the notion that non-psychic pokemon could access abstract thought. But the methodology had seemed sketchy to Haru. He couldn't know, so he would have to put his trust in Heconilia—and in luck, the most fickle blessing of Ho-Oh.

Haru forced himself to smile. Heconilia had been with him for six years now. If this was their last hour together, he didn't want to spend it fretting over things outside his control.

"Lead on, then," he said, injecting his voice with cheer. "Let's find you your herd."

They pressed on for a quarter hour more. Rotting pomeg berries littered the ground. Their sweet, pungent scent mixed unpleasantly with the damp odor of decomposing leaves.

At frequent intervals, Heconilia raised her head and let out a series of high, trilling calls. Haru couldn't catch any response, but Heconilia seemed pleased, picking her path forward without hesitation.

They were passing into a small clearing when a shrill screech cut the air, setting Haru's ears ringing. Heconilia reared up and then staggered. She snapped her head from side to side, sharp-edged leaves rising around her.

Haru squinted through the rain, trying to understand where the sudden attack had come from. His eyes caught onto a yellow streak darting through the air, too fast for the eye to follow.

A ninjask. What in the world . . ?

"Calm down and use whirlwind," Haru called out. Heconilia stilled, and then began to beat her wings, wind gathering around her. As the ninjask darted in, the air current grabbed it up and trapped it in a tight vortex.

Haru ran to her side, startled and bewildered. This wasn't ninjask habitat at all—the area was far too rainy to support a pokemon that thrived in zero precipitation climes.

"Ah man, you gotta be kidding me!"

The exclamation came from behind Haru. Heart thudding, he turned around to see a bedraggled boy in a sopping a purple hoody trudging over. His dark hair, shaped in a fashionable Hoennese bowl cup, was plastered to his forehead.

"Can't believe I've been chasing a trainer's pokemon all this way," the boy said with a scowl. He looked Haru up and down. "You heading to Fortree for a badge?" he asked.

"No," Haru said. He looked over to Heconilia. "That's enough, let it go."

The ninjask leapt back into the air to hover at the boy's side. It was barely beating its wings fast enough to keep the water off.

"This is hardly the weather for a ninjask," Haru said. His bafflement from the sudden attack was fading, leaving only irritation rising in its wake.

The boy shrugged. "Stinger can fly. How many badges do you have?"

"Eight," Haru said curtly.

This at last won him a considering look. "Eight? Really?" His eyes drifted dubiously to the single pokeball on Haru's belt. He had already dropped off the others. "I've got six. Beat Winona last week. Hey, let's have a battle!"

Haru looked up at the ninjask, which had sunk even lower in the air, wings still buzzing industriously, and back to the boy, who was kicking some mud off his feet. "No thanks," he said politely.

The boy scowled. "What? Come on. Don't be a scaredy-skitty. You got something better to do?"

Had he ever been this rude? It was possible, but Haru didn't think it was likely. Grandmother had taught him better than that.

"What are you even doing off-route?" Haru asked, deciding that the boy's remark didn't deserve a response. "You're not dressed for it."

"I'm gonna get me a tropius," the boy declared. "It's just what I need for badge number seven. Plus, I heard the fruit's super tasty. Nothing like having an on-call snack machine, I figure."

With a frown, Haru looked over at the sweet yellow fruit hanging under Heconilia's neck. There had been a few occasions when she'd offered it to him, and the taste had been truly special—subtle, fragrantly sweet with a dense, pulpy texture. He couldn't imagine referring to it as a convenience snack or acting like he had some right to eat it.

"Well you're out of luck," Haru said shortly. "Shouldn't you get back on-route before you come down with something?"

"I'm good," the boy said, as fat droplets of rain rolled down his face. "So you've got eight badges? Have you competed in the league?"

"Yes," Haru said again, not wanting to elaborate. Heconilia was beginning to stamp her feet impatiently. "It was nice to meet you," he added, sure that he had never spoken those words with less sincerity in his life. "But we've got to be on our way."

Without waiting for an answer, Haru stepped up to Heconilia's side and followed her lead back under the canopy. The partial cover from the rain came as a relief. Even with full waterproof coverage, the water was still managing to seep into his clothes. He could hear his heart thudding over the drumbeat of rain against the canopy as he paused to collect himself. All his caution and he'd still been spotted. What were the odds of running into another trainer all the way out here?

Heconilia stopped abruptly and wheeled around with a gust attack that made the vines behind them bend and sway. The boy in the purple hoody stumbled out from the foliage. His ninjask was perched precariously on his head.

"Are you following us?" Haru asked in disbelief.

The boy crossed his arms. "Figured all that noise from your tropius might attract some more of them." His eyes narrowed. "Is that a problem? You headed somewhere special?" The thought of a secret seemed to excite him. He brushed back his wet bangs, eyes gleaming.

"No," Haru said, his heart sinking. "Nowhere special." His mind worked frantically. Should he tell the boy to stop following him? That would probably just make him more persistent. But with him here, there was no way Heconilia could covertly join a herd.

"We have to lose him," he whispered to Heconilia, who inclined her head in agreement.

They set off again, faster this time, Haru's feet sinking into the muddy earth with new urgency. He steered Heconilia into the thickest clumps of undergrowth, where visibility vanished, but each time they broke into a clearing, the boy appeared behind them, like an extremely sopping specter.

Haru's breath was coming fast and his skin was hot with tamped-down adrenaline. This ridiculous chase couldn't stretch on forever. He had to come up with something.

Ahead, the ground began to rise. He plunged onward, heading where the rise was steepest. The fallen leaves made the path treacherous. A few times he slipped and would have fallen, if Heconilia's wing hadn't been there to catch him.

All at once they emerged onto something of a peak, higher than the nearest layer of canopy. Haru turned and peered into the murky forest behind him. He couldn't see any movement. Ahead, he could make out the shape of a rock formation, the curved overhang seeming to promise cover from the rain. Dark shapes moved within it.

An excited trill broke out from Heconilia. She raced forward, her wings providing her with slight lift, and was halfway across the peak before Haru had taken a step. As Heconilia approached the formation, she left out another call, this one more complex. A wild tropius emerged from the formation and approached Heconilia cautiously. They exchanged soft trills and then Heconilia lifted her head, offering the fruit on her neck.

Tropius shared their fruit for many reasons. Heconilia was making a show of trust, submitting herself to the appraisal of the wild tropius.

Haru watched closely, unbothered by the rain, which was coming down in long sheets, no longer broken by the canopy.

The other tropius gently placed his mouth around the slender moon of Heconilia's fruit, and began to eat. Acceptance. More tropius emerged from the rock formation. They came out in twos, ringing Heconilia and the other tropius in a loose circle.

Mating pairs, Haru realized. That explained the group's small size and awkward shelter. They must have recently broken off from their home herd. The tropius who had come out of the cave first seemed to lack a mate. His trills were short and excited as he paced around Heconilia, who stood with her head raised proudly, showing off the sweep of her wings.

"Jackpot!"

Haru flinched violently at the exclamation. He hadn't noticed the boy in purple rounding the peak.

"A whole group of them. Man, this was worth the trip," the boy crowed. He hit the release mechanism on his pokeball and a mightyena appeared at his side.

"What are you doing?"

The boy looked over at him incredulously. "Uh, what do think? I'm making a capture."

"But you can't." Haru spoke without thinking.

"What do you mean, I can't. Do those look like kecleon to you?"

Haru pointed. "Look at how they're grouped in pairs. It's a young herd, entering mating season. The females may already be pregnant."

"Really?" The boy examined the herd with new interest. "Awesome. Maybe I can catch a breeding pair. My buddy Marve pays a mean price for rare eggs."

"That's illegal." Haru's breath was coming fast. "It's illegal to knowingly target a mating pair and it's illegal to sell eggs without a breeder's license."

The boy rolled his eyes. "Look, if it bothers you, then take a hike, will you? I gotta move before this herd scrams. Shadowsmith, use confuse ray!"

Not a bad tactic, Haru thought distantly, as if appraising a televised match, when the dazzling light rose into the air. Confuse ray wasn't a move commonly found among Route 119's local pokemon. A herd of wild tropius would have no frame of reference for combating the enticing play of light.

But Heconilia knew what she was seeing. She screeched out a harsh warning call and pushed her new companion to the ground. At Heconilia's call, the herd began to scatter in alarm. A few rose up into the air, though their flying grew lopsided as the ray's effects set in.

"Crap! Use your fury cutter, Stinger! Don't let them get away."

The bedraggled ninjask rose through the sleets of rain, wings beating at alarming speed. But it didn't get far. Heconilia's gust slammed it back to the ground.

The boy cursed again and threw out another pokeball. "Dumpster, acid!" A huge swallot drew itself up, spiting out a spray that crested in the dark air like a purple wave.

At Heconilia's trill, the herd drew together, the wind from their whipping wings cutting the wave and scattering it harmlessly.

She's already taken control, Haru realized. Without a single leadership battle, either. Despite everything, he couldn't help the warm glow of pride that rose in his chest.

The boy was staring straight at Heconilia, his eyes narrowed. "Use yawn on the one in the middle, Dumpster!" he shouted.

Haru opened his mouth to call out a warning. Then common sense caught him up. The boy didn't seem to have realized that the tropius he'd seen by Haru's side and the tropius leading this herd were one and the same. If he gave a command, there would be no hiding the fact that Heconilia was his.

He had to let this encounter play out.

The swallot belched a clear bubble, which rose inexorably towards Heconilia. She wasn't looking in their direction, her efforts focused on downing the flitting ninjask. She didn't see the attack coming. She wouldn't be able to stop it.

"Dodge!"

The shout broke from his lips before he could think.

Heconilia's head darted up and her eyes moved frantically. The soporific bubble of gas had no color and no texture that could be distinguished from the sheets of rain. Heconilia saw nothing, but she trustingly heaved her body to the side.

The bubble burst against her companion's face.

"What the hell are you playing at!" the boy shouted. His angry eyes met Haru's. "Shadowsmith, use shadow-ball, now!"

When the smoke cleared, the tropius herd appeared mostly unharmed, except for the tropius who had first greeted Heconilia. He was slumped on the muddy ground. Asleep, Haru knew. Trapped in the deep, artificial sleep of a yawn attack. But Heconilia didn't know that. She nudged him with her crown and, when he didn't respond, she let out an ugly cry.

Leaves began to gather in a tight spiral around her, each one glowing an unearthly silver. The other tropius followed her cue. The leaf storm built slowly, on a magnitude Haru had never seen before.

"Fury cutter, acid spray, dark pulse," the boy shouted, his voice high and panicked. The attacks came scattered. His ninjask hung too low in the air, on the verge of a faint. The increasingly violent rain washed away the swallot's acid in mid-air. A shadow ball was still building on the mighteyana's lips, when the storm broke.

The leaves shot forward, each one a dagger.

When the onslaught ended, the ninjask, swallot, and mightyena were slumped on the ground.

The boy swallowed, as every amber eye turned to fix on him. He stepped back, his hands falling to the pokeballs at at his side, and hissed something frantic at Haru, impossible to make out over the drumming rain. His eyes, meeting Haru's, were large and expectant.

"That's enough, Heconilia," Haru could say.

The words stuck in his throat.

They'd never made a formal goodbye. Her pokeball was still clasped on his belt. But the instant she had lowered her neck, offering her fruit to the wild tropius, Haru had known that she wasn't his pokemon any longer.

All of her choices were hers.

He stood, hands hanging limply by his side, as Heconilia reared up and unfurled one enormous wing to its full span. The air slash hit the boy squarely across his chest. He took a small step backwards, staggered, and hit the ground.

The rain pounded down like avenging thunder. Haru looked to the dark, roiling sky and back to the boy, sprawled out on the dirt. He didn't stir.

And now, Haru thought blankly. What now?