Chapter Three - The Flight

Haru's mind was a waterfall of rushing, roaring eddies, breaking in furious white.

The boy's mouth lolled slightly open, the rain-water trickling in. Haru grabbed him by his backpack and dragged him into the shelter of the rock formation. It wasn't difficult; the boy barely weighed anything, despite his sodden clothes.

Haru laid his ear against the boy's chest. All he could hear was his own heartbeat, pumping loudly. He put his finger against the pulse point on the boy's neck and closed his eyes. The skin there rose and fell, faintly, but unmistakably.

He looked over to the herd, who had regrouped on the peak, bent over the fallen tropius.

"He's just sleeping," Haru said, but the rain drowned out his voice. They weren't paying him much notice anyway, so he began to move, step by step, until he was at the edge of the cluster. Slipping between the tropius, Haru crouched under Heconilia's wide, protective wing and rooted around in his pack until he found an awakening. With his other hand, he pried open the tropius' mouth and squirted the potion in.

A happy murmur rose from the herd when the tropius blinked blearily and staggered to his feet. Heconilia stepped forward and gave him a hard nuzzle.

Ducking back in the shelter, Haru unclipped the pokeballs from the boy's belt and recalled his unconscious swallot and mightyena. He hesitated over the ninjask, which was eyeing him blearily from the muddy ground. Its wings were completely soaked through; it couldn't fly even if it wanted to. Recalling it into the pokeball now, the damp would fester, damaging the delicate tissue of its wings permanently.

Haru scooped the insect up in his arms, feeling the fragility of its husk-like body. Hunched to keep off the rain, Haru brought it into the dry cave and placed it on the ground. Sitting down cross-legged, he watched the ninjask flutter its wings, attempting to shake off the accumulated moisture. Haru pulled his portable space heater from his pack and switched it on high. The ninjask chittered questioningly and then crawled closer to the heat.

Up and down, up and down. The boy was breathing, Haru was sure now. But he hadn't stirred from his position slumped against the cave wall.

And when he did stir, what then?

Even an idiot could put two and two together. The boy had come across Haru in the company of a tropius. Then he'd witnessed Haru giving a command to a tropius leading a wild herd.

A burst of anger wriggled through Haru like a worm. He shouldn't have followed me. He shouldn't have tried to attack the herd. If he had just . . .

But there were no ifs. Every thread of fate spun out: thin, bright, and utterly immutable.

Haru poked lightly through the boy's sopping clothing and found a shorted-out pokedex and a pokenav on the fritz. Haru rubbed it dry against his shirt. The boy's pack mostly contained snack food and cup noodles, mixed with an assortment of potions. There was a spare set of clothes at the bottom, but no tent. It wasn't the pack of someone who planned to spend a night out in the wild.

The rain was lessening. He didn't notice at first: there was something about the rain out here that made you believe it would go on forever. But the drumbeat gradually softened and then subsided to a trickle.

Haru was still sitting, staring blankly at the orange light of the space heater, when Heconilia nudged him hard in the side. Her eyes were bright and calm now, like she'd come to a decision. She trilled a long, melancholy note.

"Time for you to go, huh," Haru said. His voice felt unbearably small.

Heconilia trilled again. This time she seemed concerned.

"I'll be fine," Haru said reflexively. Then he looked around at the cramped, makeshift shelter of the rock formation and the unconscious boy. "I'll take care of it, don't worry, Heconilia." He smiled, though the contortion felt tight and strange. "I'm happy for you," he said.

Heconilia pressed her face against his one last time. She smelled like the rain forest. Then she ducked outside, where the other tropius were gathered, stretching their wings to soak in the emerging sunlight.

The tropius that Haru had come to think of as Heconilia's mate came to her side. After a moment of silent conference, Heconilia trilled, and the herd lifted into the air. Clustered together, they looked like a small forest taking flight.

With their absence, the peak seemed bare and mysterious. Haru stared out at the clumps of dark foliage, almost expecting another person to suddenly emerge, as the boy had done. But everything remained still and quiet, as the sun crept over the undergrowth.

Bzzzzt, bzzzt.

The buzz of the ninjask's wings broke the silence. The thin, translucent membranes dried quickly under heat. Haru turned to find the small insect regarding him with curious red eyes.

"How do you feel?" Haru asked softly. The ninjask vibrated its wings experimentally and rose a few inches into the air. "Good."

He needed to get his thoughts together. He needed to think.

The boy was still lying inert— the boy. He didn't know his name. And the boy had never asked for Haru's name. That was crucial. Even if he reported what happened, no one would know who . . .

Except that ranger. Feng. She would remember his name and his eight badges.

Eight badges. He'd told the boy that.

Stupid, stupid.

How many trainers traveled Route 119 on the off-season with eight badges? How many male trainers, with— Haru didn't think his features were particularly distinctive. He was taller than most. He wore his dark hair long, in popular Johtoan style, but he doubted the boy would have noticed that through his rain slicker. He scrunched his face, mind aching to recall every single detail.

If he left now—

Haru drew in a short breath.

It was dangerous for a person to stay unconscious for very long. If Haru left now, the boy might not wake up.

Haru turned back to the boy's pack, dumping out its contents onto the rocky ground. Buried under a pack of Magmar Crisps, extra spicy, he found what he was looking for: the boy's emergency beacon. Haru patted his side. His own beacon was clipped firmly to his belt, there to be pressed in case of emergencies. It was arrogant to keep your beacon buried at the bottom of a backpack. It was stupid.

The boy's beacon was functional, at least. Haru turned it over and found a peeling label that read Wei Luo. Activating the beacon would immediately trigger an alarm in the two ranger stations on Route 119. A team would be sent out at once, riding swellow and skarmory. With the shower over, they would arrive quickly. How long would he have to get away? An hour? A half hour? Less?

He looked at his watch. Somehow it was already past noon. Time felt viscous, like something he was moving through.

Would it be better to stay until the rangers came and try to explain? He could lie . . . but when Wei woke up, the boy's story would contradict his and the rangers would know Haru's name. They would send out a patrol, find Heconilia.

No, better to be long gone.

The gurgle of his stomach broke the post-storm silence. Haru absently dug a power bar out from his pack. The sweet, nutty taste cleared his head a little.

He ducked out from the shelter and straightened to stand on the peak. With the sky temporarily clear, he could look out on to the rest of the rainforest, sweeping out in green weaves in all directions. He and Heconilia hadn't followed a straight path, especially in their final rush. According to his nav, he could cut out diagonally and hit the main road in a half hour, if he kept to a quick pace.

Haru placed the space heater back in his pack and checked the boy again, making sure his legs were slightly raised, and returned his pokeballs to his belt. He hesitated over the last pokeball. The ninjask was still watching him intently.

"You're all dry now, right?" Haru said. "Ready to go back in?"

As his finger edged towards the release mechanism, the ninjask moved, faster than his eye could follow, knocking the pokeball out of his hands.

Haru stared in confusion at the small yellow insect. It hadn't followed up with an attack.

"Don't worry," he said after a moment, unsure how the ninjask was interpreting his exit. "I'm going to get help for your trainer. He'll be fine. Would you rather stay outside your ball and wait?"

Haru couldn't see the harm in that. He picked up the fallen pokeball and placed it lightly on the ground next to the boy.

Then Haru swung his pack onto his shoulders. He removed the outer layer of the boy's beacon and pressed the large button in the center three times in quick succession. The beacon flashed red and let out a mechanical whine.

Activated. There wasn't another moment to waste.

Haru closed Wei's damp fingers around the beacon and stepped out from the cave. He double-checked the heading on his nav. As he began the steep descent down the peak, picking his steps with care between the slippery leaves, he heard a buzzing sound behind him. The ninjask!

Exasperated, Haru swung around. "You need to stay with your trainer!"

Intent red eyes met his own. "Ja-j-j-j," the insect chittered loudly. It buzzed forward and settled on Haru's head, small but strong pincers clamping onto his scalp.

Haru stood frozen. He could imagine the bustle at the ranger's station, the triangulation of the signal, the trained teams of swellow being harnessed.

"What are you doing? What do you want? I told you I can't stay."

Haru began to jog forward, hoping the motion would make the ninjask understand that Haru was not going back. But the ninjask clung firmly to his head, its back pincers tangling with his hair.

He was running now, his nav held out in front of him. The ground was exceedingly slippery from the rain, but it was easier going than it had been coming. His mind and body seemed attuned: his feet picked out the way without stumbling, swerving to avoid sudden obstacles, ducking beneath low-lying vines, and clearing treacherous roots. A cramp cut into his abdomen like a steel razor, but Haru ignored it. When he paused at last to catch his breath, it had been ten minutes. According to his nav, he had traveled 1.2 miles.

Haru reached up and pried the ninjask off his head.

"I'm not a pokemon trainer anymore," he told it, panting. "If you want to leave your old trainer, fine, but don't come with me."

But as he spoke, Haru realized his mistake. This ninjask wouldn't survive a sustained rainstorm on its own. And the insect pokemon wasn't built for long-term travel, only short, quick bursts of motion. If another storm came, it would not be able to make it safely out of the forest.

Haru's stomach twisted painfully. How was it that at every turn he was trapped?

The ninjask sat docile in his hands, watching him closely.

"You can stay with me until we are out of the rainforest," Haru said finally. "But no longer. Do you understand?"

It let out a loud cry and shot out of his arms, settling once more on his head. This time, the grip was not as uncomfortably tight.

"I'll take that as a yes," he muttered. Then he glanced up. Through a crack in the canopy, he could see the sky was darkening again. A droplet of water plunked into his eye. Route 119 never went long without rain.

Only another mile until he'd reach the road. His legs ached and his lungs were still burning, but that didn't matter. He had to press on.

His right hand, hanging by his side, brushed against Heconilia's pokeball.

I should …I should really get rid of that.

Haru glanced around once to confirm that he was alone. Then he dropped to his knees in front of a verdant patch of foliage and shoved the pokeball deep inside the moss. He looked over his shoulder again, feeling like a criminal disposing of a body.

The pokeball couldn't have weighed more than a few ounces, but Haru felt oddly light now that his belt was empty. He set off again at a jog more sustainable than his earlier sprint. Above, he could hear the rain picking up. But the crack of thunder made him pause.

The ranger had mentioned something about that. Thunderstorms in the late afternoon, hadn't she said? Bad weather always liked to make an early entrance.

A tug on his hair drew his attention to the ninjask. "You shouldn't be out in this rain," Haru realized. But the ninjask's pokeball was back with the boy. It was lying back there on the ground, of no use to anyone now. Haru's stomach twisted. "You'll have to get in my pack." He uncinched the protective outer cover and held it open. The ninjask seemed to understand: it didn't hesitate before shooting inside.

Haru's pack was well-made. It should stand up to the partial rain beginning to penetrate the canopy. Once he reached the road, there would be space to use an umbrella.

He hurried on, listening to the groan and crash of the storm developing overhead. Lightning was flashing every few seconds by the time he reached the road. The path was muddy and spotted with growing pools of water, but the lack of protruding roots and slippery leaves came as a relief. He set off, unfurling his umbrella. In the distance, he could make out other umbrellas. A few were heading towards him, but most were moving north towards Fortree Station, the nearest waypoint.

Haru slowed to a brisk walk as he neared the other umbrellas, trying to force his breathing to a steady rhythm. He wondered if the other travelers could sense something off about him. He was drenched, of course, but other than that, did he look out of the ordinary? They couldn't know just from looking at him what had happened over the last hour.

The wind was picking up. Haru grasped his umbrella tightly. Up ahead, another trainer did not—the wind picked their umbrella up and shot it up into the air like a bottle cork.

As Haru rounded the final bend to the northern ranger station, the route grew even more crowded with trainers seeking shelter from the thunderstorm. He swung through the revolving door to the station and found himself in a queue. Stowing his umbrella and pulling down the hood of his slicker, he took in large gulps of the filtered air, appreciating how perfectly dry everything was.

"Next!" the ranger shouted and Haru shuffled forward. "Any captured Pokémon to declare?" the ranger asked him, her eyes fixed on the growing line.

"No," Haru said, and then inspiration struck. "I'm not a trainer."

It wasn't a lie, not fully. Heconilia had been his last category one pokemon.

"Regional ID, please."

He pulled out the slim card, glad he'd taken the time last month to fill out the paperwork to request it. Then he hesitated. It would look odd, wouldn't it, to have a different ID listed going out from going in?

The ranger noticed his frown. "Is something wrong?" she said. "If you've lost your belongings in the storm, you'll have to fill out an LP-3."

"It's not that," Haru said quickly. "It's just—" He smiled sheepishly. "I've only just quit being a trainer. I realized I used my old trainer ID coming in. That's not a problem, is it?"

The ranger sighed. "Happens all the time. I suppose you thought you'd just wait for it to expire rather than closing it out properly? Give it here. And I'll need the regional ID too."

She shot another glance at the line behind him.

"Are you the only ranger on duty to handle all of this?" Haru asked.

"Not usually, no, but everyone else is out answering an SOS. Probably a false alarm, as usual, but what can you do? Especially with the thunderstorms coming on."

She was typing now and didn't see Haru's face go pale.

"Okay," she said after a moment. "Your Class B license is canceled. I've updated your information in our system with your regional ID."

"Thank you," Haru said effusively. He stepped quickly away from the desk as the ranger shouted, "NEXT!"

A broad smile broke across his face as he came out into the open air again. The rain dropped off after a few minutes of walking; Route 119's microclimate was extremely localized. After ten minutes he reached the pokemon center and had no trouble securing a small private room in the guest wing. Fortree didn't see many visitors on the off-season. Stripping off his wet clothes, he collapsed gratefully onto the thin, dry cot.

A plaintive cry from his pack made him sit up. He had completely forgotten about the ninjask.

Haru uncinched his pack and the yellow insect shot out to hover in the middle of the room. It began to explore its new surroundings. When it approached the window, Haru crawled over on the bed and flung the panel open. He expected the ninjask to dart out, but it only stared outside thoughtfully and then landed back on Haru's head.

"I told you already," Haru said. "You can't stick around with me. I'm not a trainer anymore."

The ninjask ignored this. After a moment, it let out a shrill cry that seemed to pierce the thin walls. Haru glanced around nervously. This wasn't the trainer wing. If someone made a noise complaint, he didn't know how he could explain the bug pokemon's presence. The ninjask didn't seem ready to quiet down anytime soon. Another cry made Haru flinch.

What did it want? The window was still hanging open. If it was unhappy, nothing was stopping it from leaving. Think, Haru told himself. It's throwing a tantrum—why?

Another slow breath and he had it.

"You're hungry, aren't you?"

The ninjask fell silent, buzzing expectantly over to Haru's pack. With a sigh, he got to his knees and began to rifle around. He hadn't brought any pokemunch for this trip, just some berries for Heconilia. There were a few still secure in their casing, but the ninjask eyed them unhappily.

Haru flipped open his pokedex and scrolled to the entry for ninjask. Sap, of course. He could probably grab a couple of honey packets from the cafeteria. The 'dex page also came with a set of physiognomy charts. Haru looked from the image to the ninjask's small pincers. "You're female, huh."

Hadn't the boy called her Stinger? Haru frowned. What a nonsensical nickname. Ninjask didn't even carry a sting.

"Do you mind if I call you Atalanta?" Haru said. "The name's from an old story, about a woman who gained the blessing of Suicune. They say she ran so swiftly no man, woman, or pokemon could match her."

He decided to take the ninjask's gurgle as approval. "I'm going to get you some food, Atalanta," he said, praying that she would keep quiet while she waited.

Besides the honey, he purchased a hearty meal for himself in the cafeteria, along with a glass of hot cider. He ate in his room, next to Atalanta, who sucked away happily at the honey, and listened to the far-off crash of thunder. Now that he was safely indoors, the rain sounded less like a drumbeat and more like an elaborate dance, like the stage shows his grandmother had taken him to see in Ecruteak. She had told him that the dancer's every step and turn held a particular meaning, for someone who knew how to interpret the signs. Maybe the rain was the same way.

He leaned back against the wall and shut his eyes to listen. At once, exhaustion beat down on him. Haru doubted he would need his sleeping spore tonight. Sleep was already lapping over him like rising water. In the drowsy lull between waking and sleep, he thought he caught a pattern to the rain dance. Then warm fatigue took over and he heard nothing.

.

The shrill ring of a pokenav woke him abruptly to darkness. Haru reached for his nav and raised it to his face. The device was dark.

The ringing didn't stop.

Haru followed the sound, stumbling over to the bathroom door, where his rain slicker was hung out to dry. There was a second pokenav in the right pocket.

Wei's nav.

He didn't remember taking it.

The ringing filled the small dark room, persistent and foreboding. Haru waited until the device rung itself out and then lifted it cautiously, like he was handling a feral pokemon. A message banner was flashed across the screen.

Marve: hey

did u nab a tropus?

Haru had heard that name before—Wei's buddy, who dealt in illegal eggs. He stared at the bright screen until its outline wavered before his sleep-bleary eyes. Navs could be traced. That was the important point. He had to dump it as soon as he could.

An anonymous grinning face, bent over a nest. The image followed him as he sank back into bed.

Seamlessly, speculation slipped into dream. Behind him, Heconilia cried long, desperate trills. He was standing on the roof of a vast canopy and the forest stretched out like a giant lake. Suicune watched him from the far bank.

"I've done everything I can," he told her.

She made no reply, but her fixed, heavy gaze didn't waver.

His voice shook as he said, "What more is there?"

"It will cost you."

The voice blew past him like a wind. Under him, the canopy swayed, as if shaken by a giant. A heavy mist was rising around them. Through it, he could just make out the dark outline of Suicune's body, her eyes glowing points of red.

He opened his mouth to respond, but the canopy under him had also turned to mist. Cost, the wind whispered, as he plummeted down, down, down . . .

The next morning, when he woke, the window hung ajar. The air that wafted in was cool and dry, like the breath of the North wind.