This story was co-developed by Titan127 and beta read by ShonnaRose and JhinoftheOpera.
[12-3] Memento
"Ah, whenever you're ready," he said.
Kris cupped the capsules in her palms like her unsteady hands were holding the only water for miles, and she teetered on her sneakers' busted soles. Lucian held a soft face at her side. They were trapped within the energy barriers of one of the training hall's lots, separated aurally from the battles waged beside them.
The audits were still well underway with no signs of slowing down. She hadn't kept track of how long it had been, but she did know people were growing more unsettled by the second, and each additional day fell like sand through the channel of the hourglass. The Pokémon League needed to make a decision. So did she.
Lucian wouldn't judge her if she didn't, it was his job not to, but she could never prove the real opinion behind his guarded eyes. Her being unable to read him in return was cheap, and the buzzing in her head only reminded her of that.
"You don't have to do this today, nor tomorrow," he said. "But it's best that you do this someday. You aren't the only one waiting."
He flipped through a book absentmindedly while he awaited her answer. She wasn't even sure he was reading it, because it was the same book she'd seen in and out of his office over the past few weeks—the cover featured a yellow-robed girl wielding a staff, a Feebas leaping from an unseen pond behind her. Kris suspected that he carried it around with him to ward people away, a clear indication of "Can't you see I'm busy here?"
"What if they hate me?" she asked.
"Would it be unreasonable?"
The sight of Kiki disappearing over the city was branded into her retinas. "No."
"Then it's your duty to your Pokémon to let them feel what they will." He snapped his book shut and stepped beside her, holding it gently under his arm. "Almost all narratives find conflict in lies. Characters say what shouldn't be, or don't say what could be. The conflict can only be resolved once those lies are revealed."
"Your metaphor sucks. Things get worse in stories before they get better."
"I suppose. Let's hope we're past that point."
She had to hope he was right. It had only been a week since she had burst into the audience room and shattered in front of Lucian, and for some reason, she felt better than she had in a long time.
After her pitiful little display, Lucian had dragged her down to a guest office in the west wing, planting her in front of some poor soul's psychology degree. He'd scheduled a new therapist to travel up to the League twice a week, hoping that the lack of valet-worthy baggage would be a better fit. Kris had seen her on Tuesday and Thursday already, and she was just… fine. Just impersonal enough to be useful and, more importantly to some, ethical.
The first question her new therapist asked was whether or not she could emotionally process two days per week, and her only answer was that she didn't know if she'd get another chance.
She was functional. Kris didn't know it was possible to be so overjoyed about the bare minimum, but it didn't scare her as much as being content with the sniveling little girl who hid under the covers from her own shadow.
Without knowing if functional was only the beginning or the best she'd ever be, she squeezed her eyes shut and released the Pokémon. The neon pierced her eyelids.
When she opened them again, five of her mother's most trusted friends awaited her betrayal. Rick crossed his paws beneath the spike on his chest, Boss adjusted his bouquets while sitting on Jeb's inert keystone, and Opie and Princess preened feathers and scales in anticipation.
She explained.
Kris revealed the fate of her parents to the tune of eager nods from Lucian. No-longer-her-therapist as he was, she had to admit he was sickeningly skilled at leading her on, and it dragged her through the story in one piece.
Kris discussed Kiki's choice. She fought back the urge to give reason, to judge the morality even though she held no providence. Instead, she stated the facts. She lied, and Kiki was gone.
Kris offered the future. Understanding of whatever choice they might make, she left fate in their hands—their Trainer was either standing right in front of them, or she was dead. Only they could decide that.
None of them moved, though they did cast looks between each other. Kris dropped to knees in a traditional pose of respect, of reverence, of prayer, something she learned from her father. Her forehead touched the floor of the sandy battlefield.
"I'm not asking for forgiveness, but I'd like a second chance!" Her voice cracked high, unsure if they could hear her while she screamed at the grains.
Terrified of looking anywhere else, she focused on the particles massaging her forehead and picked out individual grains with her eyes, holding her breath to make sure they didn't blow away. Lucian didn't give her any heads up or help or warning. He was just someone else waiting for her, just as he said.
A shadow consumed her, and she finally rose to look into the piercing eyes of Rick, her mother's Lucario. Though she was slightly taller than him standing, he looked monstrous hovering over her, his spikes sharp enough to pierce her lies. The locks behind his ears floated against gravity as he outstretched a paw.
Kris had no idea what that meant. But, as she watched the expectant stares of his teammates, she realized that she had long since surrendered her grounds to argue. She took it with her hand and was brushed into a world of watercolor.
The color was indescribable, constantly shifting and blurring around her as this world was drawn into existence. She could feel herself kneeling on the arena sand at the same time that her legs carried her around the swirling space. Rick had never done this to her before, though she knew it to be some extension of his power to sense the aura of living beings. The other side of oneself. Silhouettes coalesced from the brushstrokes, each a unique hue that her eyes wouldn't have been able to see.
"Hello?" she asked, and her voice echoed across the painting. She whipped her head around when she heard a growl, and saw—heard, felt, smelled, even tasted—a much clearer form of Rick. When she reached out to touch him, reality itself seemed to smear with the movement of her hand.
Answer.
She suddenly went on high alert. Her imaginary muscles tensed, her first instinct to drop to her starting stance and sprint away from the howling voice. "Who are you?"
Myself.
Rick's paw rewrote space and time as it touched her shoulder, and she soon understood. He had spoken to her, but the words hadn't formed from vocal cords. They were on some level beneath her comprehension, speaking not to the thunder of her brain but to the rhythm of her heart.
She looked back at the other figures, seeing them as what they truly were. Was she seeing the physical form of Princess's serpentine body, or was it her soul expressed as piercing shines and beautiful curls? Was she talking to Opie and Boss or the selves that they had no mirror with which to peer into? The only one missing was Jeb, though she could sense his connection, if that was even a good way to describe it. A link to another world himself, it was probably a tall order to meet him on this plane.
"Please. I'm not asking to be absolved, or anything. But I don't think I can set things right without you," she said.
Glowing eyes shined from within the painted hurricanes, narrowed at her insolence. It was Opie's shadow that put itself forward first, translating forward like a piece on a gameboard. Little remained of the Togekiss in this place that resembled his true self, and her mind probably filled in his white color to ground her perspective.
Lied.
"I know, I know, I just—" She cut herself off before the excuses rolled out. Her pride wasn't worth a single Pokédollar. "You're right. I lied. It was your right to know, and I took that from you."
Opie's shadow floated around her to examine her closely. On ethereal trial, she was representing herself, and had negotiated for a guilty plea.
Miss.
That was the best she could interpret the next feeling. Miss? The idea of something not falling into place, or an empty space. She didn't fully understand until the shadow began to waver and melt. His real self was distorting emotionally, reflected in the breakdown of his image.
He missed her. She expected him to be in shock, but for how long it had been since he'd seen her, she wondered if he had suspected the truth for a while. It only made what she did more insidious.
She whispered, "I miss her too. It feels like the only time I'm not thinking about them is when I'm not thinking at all."
Without a clear verdict, his image vanished, leaving the other two to their deliberation. She equipped a braver front and took the proactive step to approach them. The reflection of Princess slithered up her legs until she was fully engulfed by the abstract body—had this been real, her life would have been squeezed from her chest, but instead it was depressingly absent.
The Milotic's state was… empty. It was something Kris knew very, very personally. It wasn't gloom, or fury, or irrational thought—it wasn't much of anything at all. A mind in peril formed an impenetrable defense against any inputs, even life-sustaining ones. It made her eyes heavy and her skin thin on her bones.
Boss stayed at a distance, even when she offered him a closer examination like the others. His form was strangely solid, and his message clearer than any of the ones before.
Understand.
Even if it wasn't right, even if she had made a horrible mistake, she felt the greatest relief knowing that her mind was still rational. He understood. Understanding was what she most needed to fix this.
"Whatever you want to throw at me, I'm willing to accept it. I have to."
Suddenly, the physical world raced from the edge of time to rejoin her, and she was back home. A nauseating spin in her head made her topple into Lucian's waiting arms.
"I trust that was productive," he said.
"If anyone ever asks me to do that again, I'm going to clock them," she replied.
"Most don't take it well. Your mother complained to me that it caused her serious migraines."
"Wow, it sure would've been nice of you to warn me."
He supported her until her feet could keep her upright, after which she stumbled out of his grasp. Just leaning on him annoyed her to an unreasonable extent.
She faced Rick again, who had waited patiently for her to even out. He hadn't offered his own opinion within the aura space, and merely conveyed "answer". So, she had.
"Was my answer… good enough?" she asked.
Rick paid her no mind and rejoined his teammates as a group. Together, they laid on the sand in an oblong circle, Jeb emerging from his keystone to join them. She wasn't sure if they were communicating or just basking in the presence of each other, but it really didn't matter.
"Do you believe it was, Christine?" Lucian's question rang as the only noise within the fields.
"It won't bring Kiki back," she said.
"If they are willing to hear you out, then perhaps she may too someday. Your effort means everything."
"I know. I get that." She adjusted her loose-fitting shirt and shorts, suddenly not feeling very comfortable in her clothes. "But I need to be ready."
The reason why she was here came rushing back to her after she was lost in the moment. In truth, it had been her suggestion first, not Lucian's, to try to make amends with her mother's Pokémon. She wanted it. She needed it. Kris meant to heal herself as a Trainer, both to finally put her conscience to rest and to ready her for the next step.
The World Trial was still coming. In only eight more months, she'd need to be prepared to fight tooth and nail against Gym Leaders, Elite Four, Champions, and others who wanted nothing more than to prove that they could outperform the legacy of Cynthia and Lance Masuta. Their popularity had dwarfed even that of the actual World Champion, Oberon Terminus, mostly because they were more public figures and built up a strong myth of cooperation and peace. It became a regular ritual to thrust the next underdog up the proverbial ladder to face them, she and her brother themselves candidates to face the gauntlet.
It had been her dream once, to finally inherit her parents' providence. No, it was their dream, and the dream of an adoring public who had nothing better to do than to obsess over teen magazines. The only thing it was to her was a nightmare.
However, that was preferrable to a hell she'd almost grown to love. Even though she dreaded it, the path to the top was the only one she ever felt comfortable walking. It was the path a wide-eyed little girl had started the day her mother was coronated under the starry expanse of the universe.
To Lucian, in defiance of all that had chained her, she said, "I want to be your Champion."
He instinctively cast an eye to Kris's assigned agent on the other side of the soundproof barrier. "Pardon me?"
"You said you needed a candidate. I wanted to resolve my stupid issues so I could be the person you need." Her voice was clearer and stronger than she expected, owing to how much she practiced this speech in advance. With as much free time as she had in her empty suite, it was an easy way to pass the time. "I heard that my brother tried to use the Succession Clause to argue for the position before, but he's not the only one named. I am too."
Throughout their "therapy", she had never caught him off guard. Even in the rare opportunities she saw past the shield of his glasses, he had dropped it willingly to make a point. But for one rare moment she stole the upper hand, and he was utterly and truly speechless.
She crossed her arms and dared him to read her mind to know how serious she was. For such a smart guy, he didn't take that as an option.
He said, "I'm no longer giving you counsel, so I feel more comfortable saying this directly. You're not fit to be Champion."
She didn't say how much that hurt. "Bullshit."
"For one, you're not an adult," he said, which was unfortunately true. It was required in the League constitution that Champions—and Elite Four, and Gym Leaders, and any Trainer position representing the interests of the League—were adults, and her birthright wasn't valid until she was.
"The League only cares when citizens break the rules," she shot back.
"For two," he continued, ignoring the undeniable rebuttal, "you're only suggesting this to overcorrect what you think you've done wrong."
"Does it matter? You're the one trying to put forward a candidate behind the Viceroy's back. You need me."
"I don't feel comfortable with your support after what I did. And besides, as much as I do appreciate the concern, we've already decided."
"On who?"
"Ms. Kikuko."
Bertha. Really? She never really seemed like "Champion" material, if you asked her. Not as a jab at Bertha, of course, no no no, she was a respected Trainer, but all she was saying was that it hardly seemed like a real fit.
Then Kris realized that that same perfectionist drive is probably why the throne was gathering dust. There's something to be said about high standards, but compromise was the nature of keeping peace.
Trying to reason it out herself, she asked, "Any specific qualities?"
"Ah, she's arguably the strongest of us four," he said, with no particular hit to his ego.
"Don't you have a better win record than her? Unless you're using mind-reading to win, in which case they'd actually care about you breaking the rules."
"I believe the philosophy is that I'm more adept at taking advantage of Pokémon worn down by my colleagues. In constant, Ms. Kikuko is, in sheer strength, extraordinary," he said. "Regardless, the other reason is because Indigo filled its Elite Four vacancy by asking her mother to step up again, elderly as she is. We believe it's an opportunity to promote cooperation between the Regions hit hardest."
"Oh, that's… clever. People did like Agatha," she muttered. There was no real hole in his argument, and by extension, her own case was riddled with them.
Was this what her brother felt like when he was talked down in that Audience with the Viceroy? Or even Ciel, when he said that he tried to get him to open the Gym Challenge again. They were helpless before the wiles and whims of whichever professional kakistocrat decided, after thoroughly reviewing suggestions, that it was their way and the highway.
Lucian wasn't like that, though. She trusted him. It was probably better that they stuck with his decision, since there wasn't much for her to add. They had it handled better without her.
No.
No!
That was exactly the thinking that locked her to her bed like an invalid, hypochondriac, overdramatic loser! She couldn't just take it lying down and let the world turn around her, the only universal constant. She didn't know if she was really Christine Masuta, but she knew there was one person she never wanted to be again.
Before she could offer another challenge to his selection, a voice sounded from overhead. She snapped her head to the ceiling, where the only other possible source of noise, a PA speaker, was situated. Its years without maintenance screeched through the syllables.
"All halt in presence of the Viceroy. Energy barriers will drop in ten seconds."
She saw Lucian seize, and with heavy breaths, she followed his sightline to the two men awaiting them on the other side of the glimmering wall. As it rushed down from the ceiling, her chest thumped painfully.
The barriers were meant to isolate battles from each other and allow Trainers to fight with their own senses unhindered. Somehow, after every single one of the walls in the training halls disappeared, it remained deathly void of noise. Numerous in-progress battles were stalled, even canceled, and every human but herself and Lucian had dropped to a knee, while the Pokémon knew enough social cues to contain themselves. A mural of eyes focused on the two men that stepped past the boundary of her safe place with Lucian.
"Lucian, how pleasant to cross paths with you here," said the highest authority of the Sinnoh Region. He stood with his prosthetics proudly on display, and his cane under his arm rather than touching the ground.
"Ah, Viceroy Nølsikker," replied Lucian, dropping to an unsteady knee of his own. "It's quite the coincidence."
It came to Kris's attention that she was one of the only people remaining who hadn't conceded her lower being. The Viceroy brandished a glance at her, a tacit suggestion that she could stay standing all she wished, but it would be much more convenient for them both if she didn't stand out. She held her arms stiff at her waist and settled for inconvenience.
"Our examinations appear to be making excellent progress, don't they?" the man asked, looking to his companion.
Steven Stone adjusted the rings on his fingers. He wore a black undershirt under a reflective, silver suit, jagged purple suspenders framing his tie in the center of his chest. "I believe we've narrowed down a few key assets, and we should be able to proceed to the final selection soon."
"Who do you favor?" The Viceroy humored his opinion.
"Free-spirited as he may be, Riley Hordeo does seem to be a crowd favorite with our focus groups. He's also attractive," Stone coughed after that word, "as a public face. His participation against the Galactics in 2009 and his prior candidacy for Oreburgh Gym Leader boosts his perception."
"Any others?"
"Palmer Seirende demanded that he battle me early in the morning when my Metagross was fully rested and still managed to defeat it. His reputation as the premier battle instructor in the Region is well-earned. Still, I do hesitate to recommend him away from the Battle Tower since he's most qualified for tutoring other personnel."
The Viceroy grunted in something resembling agreement, before turning back to Lucian. "And what might your suggestion be?"
His fear pooled at his temples as Kris felt the room raise degrees in temperature. He kept all voluntary measure of composure, but that wasn't enough to escape the Viceroy's notice.
"I'm not certain what you mean, Viceroy," he said.
"You're smarter than that."
"I— I might offer my own opinion if you gave me time to review the audited candidates—"
"Stop, Lucian," said someone.
The Viceroy and Stone both stepped aside, revealing a shorter man between them. He wore a sturdy orange jacket unlike the last time Kris had seen him, and his antenna strand of hair stood at stiff attention. She couldn't tell if his baby face was full of smarm or fear.
"Aaron," breathed Lucian through his teeth, "what is this?"
"I told them. Whatever you're doing needs to stop."
Was Aaron the person that had stormed out of that meeting? Bertha and Flint were both there with Lucian, but Kris never got the chance to see him, her… breakdown aside. Through years of interacting with the current crop, she pinned that Sinnoh's Elite Four were good friends, or at least amicable acquaintances. The look passed between Aaron and Lucian shattered her prior knowledge.
"This little pretender charade is certainly bold, but you understand just as well as I do that the duty of your position is as a symbol, not a leader. You do not speak until asked, and you do not act until directed." The Viceroy raised his voice so that the entire frozen hall could hear the ice in his tone, making himself clear that it was an order for all personnel.
Kris caught an underlying element of his thinly veiled threat. Lucian could read him, know his secrets and mistakes, and the Viceroy had ample reason to avoid meeting him in person if he really had screwed himself regarding Champion selection. Yet, he boldly made himself vulnerable to that subterfuge, to make clear what transgressions he wouldn't stand if Lucian dared open his mind and mouth.
The man placed a firm hand on Aaron's shoulder and shook, causing the younger to flinch. The Viceroy said, "Mr. Fiel is a shining example in comparison. It's the duty of the company to keep all of their soldiers in check."
With Lucian paralyzed, Kris was forced to step up, gripping one of her mother's Poké Balls for support. Even without seeing its info panel, she knew it was Kiki's. "What about the captain? What happens when they need to be checked?"
She was the only one who saw it, but the skin tightened around his eyes from the nerve she struck. His stare challenged her to say something else, but he hesitated, maybe because their surprise encounter in his office came to mind. He was losing his grip on her and he knew it. Lucian finally collected himself, presumably because there wasn't much more he could lose, and preserved her potshot for posterity.
"Mr. Viceroy, I trust you," he said, defiantly staying on his knee. "By all means, I wish to believe you understand what risks you take by stonewalling this process. But no matter your reasoning, I won't let our Region fall apart. That is my duty as Elite Four, the same duty you conferred to me when you held a blade to my throat."
"This Region's best interests are my interests," replied the Viceroy without emotion.
"No. If that were true, you wouldn't have hidden your mistake."
She was certain he was reading him now, confirming what vague knowledge she already shared with him. Their formation was advancing, their victory condition a forced retreat and their loss condition total annihilation.
Lucian's original reasoning was logical—unlike him, the Viceroy couldn't touch her, and couldn't make her lose more than she already had. She decided to fight back on her own motive. "I think you're afraid of what Oberon Terminus will do if you fail him again."
The man dropped his voice—his tool of war—to a whisper and tightened the grip on his cane like the hilt of a sword. "Perhaps I should assign more guards to keep watch on you."
She bared her teeth at him. Being treated like a prisoner made her want to vomit, and he knew just how to put bile in her throat.
"You're not the one holding me here," she said.
Lucian rose to his feet, emboldened by her support. She and him stood together, while the Viceroy, Stone, and Aaron outnumbered them on the opposite side of the line in the sand.
A wall formed between them, and Kris held in a gasp. Her mother's Pokémon formed the cavalry, boosting their numbers in the eleventh hour. Rick took the lead, baring his teeth and claws and spikes, and vocally informing the Viceroy on which side he stood. Jeb emerged from his keystone to flash his ethereal war face.
Even without a leader, even without a friend, they were an unshakable family. And judging by the soft eye Rick sent back her way, she was part of that family too. Maybe Jeb convinced them, having known far in advance, or maybe they had sorted their feelings individually. Regardless, she choked on something pleasant in her throat.
"Thank you," she whispered, "for a second chance."
Unable to confront such an unbreakable wall, and with every employee in the training hall still watching, the Viceroy finally took a step back and drove his cane into the floor.
"Your little game is over. I expect you to accept that," he said.
He turned heel and walked away without fanfare. Stone made to turn away himself, but something stopped him, and he locked eyes with Lucian.
"I'd advise against that," he said.
Kris caught the pair of beads on Lucian's temple as Stone bowed in some neutral gesture, before returning to the audit that he had previously put on pause.
Aaron seemed inert even after the two higher-ups vacated the premises, as if he didn't even notice they left. Rick's growling didn't budge him either.
"Well?" It seemed to take Lucian a suspicious effort to start speaking again. "Shouldn't you be following your leader?"
The younger man said, "I can't spit in the League's face. When they trained me to be a Gym Leader, it was the first thing my Pokémon and I ever had, and now I have… this. I can give my Pokémon whatever they want, whenever they want. I can make them beautiful and the League's done nothing but let me do that. That means everything to me."
"I hardly blame you for what you did."
"Don't pity me," he spat.
"Then why are you still here?" said Lucian, even though reading him for the answer would have been easiest.
Aaron crinkled the sleeves of his orange coat when he crossed his arms tight. "Whatever candidate you show, they must be more beautiful than the Viceroy's. That's the only way this can end well for you."
"Energy barriers will raise again in ten seconds. For the safety of all personnel, please stand at minimum one meter from the perimeter lines of each field."
Lucian made no gesture of courtesy. His arms were locked at his sides, and his forehead was utterly soaked. "Thank you for the advice."
Aaron waved him a half-hearted goodbye and stepped from the sand mere moments before the shining blue shot from the ground and sealed them off from the outside world.
Kris threw herself into Rick's arms, ignoring that the wickedly sharp spike on his chest dug painfully into her sternum. Taken by surprise, he shot her his toothy fury for a moment, before he stiffly returned something of the same. Princess touched her head with her tail fan, Opie curled one of his wings around her leg, and Boss merely watched from a distance from a lounging posture atop Jeb's keystone.
She pushed herself away so as not to let it linger, knowing she was pushing her luck. This wasn't over, not by a long shot. But… she was just so, so, so fucking happy that she could barely contain herself. For the first time in a long time, she wanted to leap off her legs to try to touch the ceiling and then sprint halfway across the city before a bead of sweat appeared on her forehead.
A cough from her former-therapist-turned-accomplice snapped her head to him. She saw him in a heap on the floor and darted to his side.
"Lucian!" she called.
He was sucking in breaths and clutching his head as if trying to keep something from tearing its way out. Her hands paused before she touched his skull, unsure how she was meant to help.
Then, with one final inhale, his hands went limp. She helped him up, and Princess slithered her way over and fanned him with her tail fins.
"W-what the hell? Was that something with your power? Let's get you to the infirmary."
"No," he gasped. "Go spend time with your Pokémon. We can speak again soon if you really—" He grit his teeth at another spike in his head. "—would like to be involved."
He pointed to the family her mother left behind, declaring that they were more important.
"Okay," she breathed, agreeing on both counts.
Moonlight cast through the square windowpanes of the daycare center, a beam caressing half of Kris's drowsy face. Her head laid on a segment Princess's body near her head, while the rest of the Milotic's body snaked into an artificial body of water The rest of her teammates, as well as Kris's own Pokémon, lied in peaceful slumber around the indoor pond and in the nearby UV room. When even Rei's normally embattled pair of heads were quiet and dozing, she knew everyone had earned the rest.
Rather than return them to stasis, Kris had submitted her Pokémon to the League's in-house day-care center, as with the closure of her mother's PC account, it was the only legal way she could have more than six active without temporarily releasing them. She wanted them all to have time together.
Kris hadn't left the daycare center for hours. Amidst training games, group mealtimes, and trying to keep Axe and Eve from getting lovey–dovey in front of an audience, the entire day had vanished in an instant. At some point, she'd dozed off.
It almost felt like everything was usual, for a little while. It had been like moments at Mom's little personal place outside the city, or at the family villa on the Grand Axis. The Pokémon tried to make the most of it, despite the missing piece.
Gently, she pulled herself up and crept through the daycare habitat towards the entrance. Her foot hit something, and had her scream not come out dry, she would have woken the entire outfit.
Jeb's sinister grin rose from the crack of his keystone and laughed silently at her tumble. She brushed herself off and said through a yawn, "Yeah, good night to you too."
His face shattered into fractal shapes, which she had enough experience to know was an inquiry.
"It's late. I should get some proper sleep in a human sleeping place," she whispered. "Gonna keep watch?"
The spirit pivoted to the winter moon and did not turn back. Kris smiled to herself and excused herself, and carried herself back through halls and staircases to her stone-cold bedroom in the Champion's suite.
Moonlight peaked through the windows up there too, behind a veil of curtains, beckoning her for a midnight dance. Were she in a proper gown, she might have taken up the offer. Instead, she began to pace around her room, picking up some of the waylaid papers that had formed a carpet of neglect. Advanced Calculus, Anthropology, Evolutionary Mechanisms, Critical Battle Theory. Her classes marched without her, and she was certain she had no way to make up what chunk of the second semester she had already missed. How many of these were due weeks ago despite the generosity of her professors?
She looked one over, a four-page paper for Unovan Anthropology — Prehistory to Ancient Times. Prompt: Discuss the implications behind the absence of traditional metallurgy in what is now northern Unova during the Bronze Age and how the area's culture diverged from the land's earliest settlers. She hadn't attended a single lecture on this topic, but she knew the general gist, both from her mother and her own research musings for other classes.
"It's Pawniard," she said to herself. "Their natural metal blades gave north Unovan peoples earlier access to good metal, but they took much longer to learn how to fashion other tools, so their agriculture stagnated relative to surrounding civilizations."
She nodded to herself, thinking what she might write. Maybe about how it led to their conquering in ancient times and the likely destruction of their artifacts? Or how about the religious deification of Pawniard and other Pokémon due to their closer relationship with humans than other Pokémon at the time?
The black box on the side table broke her from her trance, and she placed the paper aside to sit on the bed and hold the heavy object in her lap. She had been afraid of opening it before, afraid of thinking about it at all, but this time nothing stopped her from slipping off the cover. Untouched, unmarred, unbroken, the cross-shaped pendant whispered to her from within the cloth, the gem at its center shining brighter than the moonlight. She brushed it with her thumb.
"Your room's a mess."
Kris tilted her head up. A woman in black stood in the doorway, platinum-blonde cascading over her shoulders. She strode forward with a combination of grace and power that Kris could only associate with one person, but for some reason, she didn't have a face. Or rather, she had many faces, all overlapping as they tried to remember what exactly she looked like. It had only been a few months, and that was terribly sad.
Kris firmly pressed her fingerprint into the rainbow gem, afraid of what might happen if she stopped. Mom chuckled when she saw some of the discarded papers, then took a gentle seat next to her on the bed. The covers didn't compress under her weight.
"Oh, that's a fun topic!" she said, pointing at the anthropology paper. "It's not exactly my field, but myths do arise out of cultural necessity. You should dive further into the religious significance. Selfish request."
Kris was going off the deep end for sure, but she didn't know how long this opportunity would last. She said, "I did my best."
"About my Pokémon?" Mom asked. "Of course you did. You know I couldn't be angry with you, even if you did, well, mess up."
"It seemed like I was so close to just giving up."
"Well, you haven't. And now you have the opportunity to start over."
"Start over?" Kris looked to Mom and found that her face was a little clearer than before. At the very least, her eyes were crystal.
"I think, deep down, I knew that you hated what we dumped on you. You both always wanted your own lives," she said.
"That'd mean a lot more if I wasn't just imagining you."
"Are you?"
If this was just her own synapses trying to play a prank on her, it was working. Her face began to coalesce even further as the array of images narrowed.
"You don't want to be Champion. I don't think you want to write that paper either," continued her mother. "Hard as it might be, you need to find what it is you really want."
The woman pushed herself up from the bed and strode over to the dresser, drawing her attention to the vase. Hardly wilted, and with a verdant color so pretty she could hardly believe it was real, the gift flower beckoned. Mom brushed its petals with her fingers.
"For starters, you've seen the story about your friend, haven't you?"
It had been over the news for at least a few days. He lost one of his Pokémon, and not like she had.
"I'd been meaning to call him," she said. "But I broke my Pokétch. I haven't called Saber either."
"You're kidding. We're rich! You can just buy a new one, and by the way, they have some pretty fashionable new models on the market."
"Okay, fine, but do you think I'm in any shape to help him?" There were a few more excuses lined up in her head, all in increasing order of insanity. Her mother shushed her before she had the chance to play them.
"You don't have to be Champion material to help someone," she said with a laugh. "And I think you really do want to help."
She was right. Ciel was one of the few people outside Kris's family that she felt like she could just sit down and talk to—or shoot a text, as she was irritatingly known to do. They had that dumb joke about her rematch, after she mopped the floor with him at the Goldenrod Showdown last year.
He gave without expecting and didn't make her feel like she had to be someone. The friend she always wanted to have.
When she looked at the flower again, no one was tending to it—she was alone. However, the petals remained slightly out of place, even though no one had touched them. She set aside the pendant and laid in the swallowing pit of her bedding.
She needed something to say. Some way to help. A gift, like he had given her? Kris began rehearsing lines in her head, searching for the right, perfect, excellent, no-error way she could make him feel better.
And then she stopped, because that dumb way of thinking was Christine.
It was Kris who shoved a wad of cash at a guard outside the suite and ordered her to buy a Pokétch, even if she had to wrestle every clown in Sinnoh to do it.
It was Kris who scratched "CALL CIEL" over her calendar's entire page.
It was Kris who did what she wanted.
I loved this volume, and part of my interest is that only the last part here was part of my outline. The rest emerged naturally from previous plot points, character explorations, and just overall want of fun. It did drag writing it, especially since it ended up longer than any of the other initial drafts (though it might have been beaten in edits of some previous ones).
This was published three days before the first anniversary of this story (February 5th). It's been a really exciting year!
Next time is Volume 13, Part 1: Faith Goes Both Ways. See you someday.