Normal 1.7: A White Muk
Genesis

You aren't sure what you were expecting to feel. But calm? That never occurred to you.

There's wind in your hair and you know that your locks are only held in place by the weight of the water in them. You closed your eyes a long time ago because water droplets kept flying into them. And you're standing up on the back of a pokémon on the high seas with giant waves beside you and you feel nothing at all. You almost want to laugh but that would break the moment. So you're just grinning like a madwoman as water rushes by beneath you and wind beside you. Hours in the temple once a week every week of your life and somehow? Somehow this is the closest you've ever been to Xerneas.

"FUCK!"

The peace shatters. You turn around and the mantine beneath you groans. "Oh. No! Not a command. Stay forward." The mantine purrs again and you keep moving at a notably slower pace. You glance back over your shoulder without shifting your weight and accidentally giving an order. Kekoa's in the water, a receding splotch of orange with his mantine and the guide beside him. The guide looks at you and whistles; your mantine swerves away from the biggest waves and comes to a stop.

Kekoa struggles to get back on his pokémon and then slips off again while trying to get into the harness. It's mean but you giggle. He can't hear you anyway. A thought comes to you, a meaner one, and your smile starts to strain your face muscles. You practice the line in your head, refining it and thinking of all the variations when he finally gets on his mantine and comes over towards you with the guide.

He stops right beside you, the guide drifting in somewhere behind. Kekoa frowns. "What are you so happy about?"

"I just love this time of year, y'know?"

He glances up at you. While he's really hooked up to the harness and you're standing you absolutely tower above him. More than usual, anyway. "Really?"

"Yeah. I like watching the fall."

Kekoa just stares at you. For long enough that your mantine gets a little restless and raises a flipper up before splashing it down. The impact sends water straight into his face. He blinks and reaches up to wipe the seaspray off.

"At least I'm trying to do tricks. You're just gliding along like an idiot."

Something wells up in you. Something so foreign you don't quite have a word for it. "Oh yeah?" You get down and start pulling the straps onto your legs until you match his position. "I was just warming up." This is dangerous. You know it's dangerous. And yet you're too calm, too… something to care.

Kekoa taps twice on the harness and his mantine takes off. You follow suit and then go back to gripping the handlebars for dear life as you quickly reach your comfortable speed. Kekoa's going much faster ahead of you and starting to head up the slopes. Two more knocks; your hand flies back to the grips right before you go faster than you've gone before. Kekoa does a short jump off the slope in front of you and starts rushing back down. Can you do better? Another two knocks says yes. There's a lurch forward and a slap of water in your face makes you realize that you totally forgot to close your eyes. Your hand rises and you almost knock once—slow down—but it quickly flies back down. No. You don't want to accelerate like that again. You blink rapidly, holding your head down and letting your hair fall in front of it in a vain attempt to keep more water from coming in. It works okay. You're probably good to go.

The speed is really something. Every time there's a crease on the surface your body lifts up and then comes crashing down. Your hands are already getting tired and you haven't even tried to jump yet. You smile. If you're going to do this, you'd better do it soon. A hard lean to the side sends you sailing right onto the face of the wave. It takes you most of the way there to realize that you're screaming out some sort of primal war cry. Right as you start to process that and the slope of the water there's a moment of stillness and you realize that you're entirely out of the water.

You come crashing back down a second later, another jolt coursing through your body. But you hold on even though you can barely feel your hands anymore, just some generalized pain at the end of your arms. You lean left, back down the wave, and mantine follows. A tilt right sends you back up the slope—and you go left. No. time to push your limits. You take a deep breath. And then another one. Then you lean right for a fraction of a second, long enough for the mantine to react. Then you shut your eyes and start yelling, yelling to scare the sea or Kekoa or your fears. You feel weightless for a little longer this time before gravity reasserts itself.

Your reaction is faster. One down. One up. One down. One up. One down. One up, roaring again. This time you keep your eyes open. It seems you went higher this time. Whether that's being able to see or the extra trip up and down the wave face you don't know.

You can feel the bones in your hand and their lock on the grip. You think your feet are slipping in the harness's boots. Your knees have taken more impacts than they're useful. It doesn't matter. You lean left and ride on.

Everything is sore, your hands most of all. Yet for some utterly baffling reason you're still smiling like an idiot by the time you get to shore. It almost feels bad to take the ugly and awkward-fitting life jacket off, and not just because your fingers struggle with the buckles way more than they did a few hours ago.

Kekoa takes his off rather quickly and gets his phone and sandals from the waterproof bag. Without talking to you. Probably still mad that he fell five times and you only fell once (and honestly it was kind of fun once the shock wore off). You stagger back towards the guide's mantine to return the life jacket and pick up your stuff. He hasn't actually taken his jacket off yet. And he's watching you as you approach. Which. Attention. Why?

"Hey, um, just dropping this off." Which he knows. Of course.

He takes it as a cue to start talking. "You were pretty great out there."

"I. What? I just did a flip and fell off."

The guide laughs. "Okay, maybe not great. But it looked like you were having fun. Sounded like it too."

You glance aside. Kekoa's face is buried in his phone. No help. Or hurt. What do?

Your choice is made for you: "We could probably give you a job if you wanted it." What. "Twenty bucks an hour. On the surf almost every day. Could be way worse."

You have to consciously close your mouth. Your toes shift in the sand and you don't bother to stop that. "But I'm not good at it." Wait should you be arguing against it? Would it be lying if you didn't point it out or.

"Oh, we can teach you how to do it. Can't teach you how to love it. We can give you a stipend as you learn if money's a problem right now."

You almost keep arguing. But you don't. If it takes Mom time to come around a job could be good. And it's fun. Maybe you shouldn't drop out of your journey without thinking about it?

"Hey, it's fine if you can't take it now. Just give us a call if you want it. Tell them Eric rec'd you."

"Thanks," you tell Eric. Because you don't know what else to say. You pick up your phone and flip flops and drop the jacket before heading to Kekoa.

He glances up at you and then goes back to his phone. "Kiwi's already at the Pokémon Center. Let's get lunch there and then split up for the afternoon.

His pecs are way bigger than you were expecting. He's not that buff anywhere else. His arms are actually kind of skinny. Kekoa looks up and glares at you. Oh. Yeah. You kind of are being gross. "Yeah, sure, sounds good."

There's a bit of silence. Right up until the concrete stairs rising out of the sand. "You taking the job?" Kekoa asks.

The streets are pretty enough. Cobblestone roads with clean concrete sidewalks. A mix of upscale boutiques and smaller touristy stores with surfboards and leis and inflatable sharpedo (?) in the windows. You know he asked you a question but you still take a moment to look at the world before you answer.

"I don't know. Maybe?"

You come to a stop at a crosswalk. The red hand is up but there's not traffic. Kekoa looks at you with an unreadable face and then keeps walking into the street.

You peed an hour ago but you're still staring at the ceiling. The phone clock says it's only 2:47. You got barely four hours of sleep and you should get more because tomorrow is going to be a long, long day and you're tired now.

Not that the tiredness is helping you actually get rest. You're under the covers, counted 120 wooloo rolling down the hill, tried closing your eyes and focusing on the darkness… nothing's worked. And now you're getting worked up because nothing's worked.

Maybe you need fresh air? Is it safe, though? You know you're near the beach, near Tidesong, but this isn't your side of town. You really only came over this far to visit Becca and you never walked here. Or never went too far outside at night. Was that because it was unsafe? Or because you just didn't want to? Well. You also didn't have a pokémon then. Maybe you should take Sir Bubbles out on a walk. He is nocturnal after all.

Yeah. Yeah, you'll do that. Just for a little bit. Then it's right back to sleep for you and right back to the pool for Sir Bubbles. You slowly roll out, wincing at the creaking noises the bed makes. Right above Cuicatl. And she's probably really sensitive to that. When your feet hit the ground with a thud after you leave the ladder a little too early you glance at her in a panic. It looks like she's somehow still asleep. But her pupper is very much awake and looking at you like you just killed her entire family.

"Sorry," you whisper. Even though she might not even be able to understand you. Thankfully you're already in a t-shirt and shorts so you really just have to grab your purse on the way out the door. And of course you manage to make the door shutting into a whole loud 'boom' thing. Of course.

The streets are as dead as the halls and pool were. There's one restaurant—a bar maybe—two blocks down with lights shining from it and a few people milling outside. Nobody between you and the water, though. You pull Sir Bubbles a little tighter to your chest and start walking to the coast. There's a faint breeze, enough to make you a little bit cold. You glance up: the skies are cloudy and you can't see any stars. Oh. Not great weather for a night walk. At least it's not—you aren't going to finish that thought. No wood to knock on.

Alright. Quick walk. Just the couple blocks to the edge of the beach. The same shops look almost ominous when the light only reaches in to the display shelves. You find yourself picking up the pace reflexively. It's still fine. One car rolls past and turns on to a side street in front of you. It keeps moving so you relax. It's too quiet. There should be birdsong or people or something beyond the rolling of the waves.

By the time you've worked yourself up enough that you don't feel even a little bit tired you've made it to the plaza-type area before the steps down to the beach. There's a concrete rail to lean on and it's wide enough to set Sir Bubbles down on. Let him look at the water. Not fresh water but he might not know that. And you can always withdraw him if he does make a run for it.

He doesn't. He does look at you with his wide, expressive eyes for a fraction of a second before turning back to the ocean. After a second he wiggles and deflates a little bit as he lowers himself down to the railing. You giggle to yourself. He's so cute. Wouldn't have thought a frog could be but here you are.

Here. You. Are.

The thought isn't depressing. Calming, maybe. Takes the anxiety and giddiness away in an instant.

Here. You. Are. Halfway across town and a world away from where you were a month ago. For now. Mom is moody but she loves you. She'll realize it was all a misunderstanding and come around. If she can find it in herself to visit Exodus once a month she can find it in herself to forgive you. Still. Being with Sir Bubbles. The mantine riding. The job offer. You giggle again. It's hard to imagine telling Mom that you're going to be a surfer girl from now on. Would she even know what to say?

No. You couldn't accept it. They'd spend all that time training you and then you'd just go back to the other side of town. But it was fun. Might be worth trying to get lessons once everything goes back to normal. It is exercise. At least your body feels like it was exercise. And it's not manly like basketball or something you're not pretty enough for like cheerleading so Mom shouldn't have a problem with it.

The wind picks up enough that you can hear it. Nope nope nope. Time to go back to your warm bed. After dropping Sir Bubbles off in. Is it a heated pool? Should it be? You didn't catch him in a heated pond. Huh. You should do some more reading. Probably need to know it for your Class III anyway.

Oh. Right. Your Class III. That test that Cuicatl spent almost a week studying for. You should probably research for that on the trail but. You didn't bring a guide book. Were you supposed to? Can Cuicatl and Kekoa just fill you in on the important stuff? Is that cheating?

No. Not now. These are tomorrow thoughts. Or at least bed thoughts. You scoop Sir Bubbles back into your arms and turn around. You immediately realize that you aren't as alone as you were when you arrived. There are two people in the street. Approaching you. It would be innocent but they've got the exaggerated thug walk and. Oh no. This is.

Right on cue one of the thugs drops a boombox and hits a button. Yeaaaaaaah. Team Skull. They step over the boombox and keep walking towards you, their arms joining the exaggerated swinging of their hips. All in time with the beat. Did they practice?

"Did you practice that?"

No. No no no no no no no. Bad Genesis. Get a filter. At least around Skull.

One of the gangsters just laughs. "No practice. We're just born with the beat in our bones."

The other looks at him. "Shit, homie, of course we practiced. Drills for days. Making sure we're bone hard enough to roll with the toughest crew in this whole joint."

"It's more intimidating if you don't mention that," Skull 1 hisses. Under his breath. So you don't hear it. You pretend no to, partially out of politeness, partially out of confusion, partially out of fear.

"I ain't busting my tailbone for a week and not taking credit for it. Shit's impressive." He turns towards you. "It is impressive, right?"

"I. Um. Yes?"

"Heh. See? Girl knows we're professionals to the bone. She's shaking from her skull to her metatarsals."

"Metatarsals?" you ask. Your hands immediately fly to your mouth and you kind of accidentally drop Sir Bubbles. He squeaks when he hits the ground. A downward glance shows that he's very annoyed at you but otherwise unharmed.

The Skulls are nice enough to ignore your mishap. "Toe bones? You been to school right?"

"Yes." Although you are a high school dropout. Huh. Hadn't seen that one coming. "And, uh, you?"

"'course I've been to school. Dropped out to be a straight up gangsta, no bones about it, but I still got knowledge in my cranium, yo. Now." Both skulls hold out their elbows and angle their hands in. "Now we're gonna get bone—"

Light. There's light in your eyes until it fades into white spots. There's a crack like a whip and then screaming in front of you. Rapid blinks do no good. What's going on? What—there's a pitter patter of feet on the sand behind you. Sir Bubbles. Running to the water. To the salt water. You reach down and fumble with your purse until you feel a plastic orb. Some color has filtered back into the bright white spots. You run your finger along the pokéball—is this how Cuicatl sees everything?—and find the button. You turn around, hold it out, and with no idea whatsoever if you're pointed in the right direction you click the button. Red light joins the white in the parts of your vision that are more or less back. You think that worked? Would there be a red flash if it didn't?

There's another crack and a flash of light behind you that illuminates the beach. You clench yourself together and stand dead still for one second. Ten seconds. Twenty seconds. Most of your vision is back, but when you blink you can still see the white and when you open your eyes you can see the same pattern in faint red.

You slowly turn around. Both of the Skull thugs are on the ground, sprawled out. It smells like burned food. No, burned hair. Like the litten Emily's sister—uh, what's her name—had. There's a man and a pokemon standing over them. The man's tall, a little wide, his hair's a little too long. No uniform or anything. Just a t-shirt and shorts. Like you. The pokémon's just a little bit shorter. Glowing yellow stripes mixed in with black strips of darkness. Electa-something. Vire? No, they're bulkier, right? Electabuzz then.

You step back reflexively. Even though it's fine and they just saved you and. Deep breath. Smile. People etiquette. "Thank you."

He barks out a one-syllable laugh. "No need, miss. Just doing my civic duty." He keeps looking at you with a sort of wicked smile. Like he's laughing inside, but it might be at your expense. "They hurt you?"

You shake your head and mouth "no." You meant to say it but it just kind of didn't happen and it's best to make it look like you meant to do that.

Your rescuer snorts. "Good. Now, you want a walk home?"

You glance between the man and the 'mon. It's just a short walk back. And he's perfectly trustworthy but your heart rate's still up and everything still feels like danger. "No thank you."

He shrugs and steps aside. "Suit yourself, then."

You mouth and whisper something else, honestly you're not sure what, and sleep past him. You get two blocks away in silence. You'd have thought that everyone would be in the streets after two lightning bolts went off but apparently not. Maybe that's just normal in this part of the city. Or they thought it was just really late fireworks or something.

Yeaaaaaaah. Team Skull.

You whip around and. There's no one there. No, you can sort of see the two Skulls lying down by the beach. But no one else. The music picks up—the music. By. The. Tree. No one turned the boombox off. No one turned the boombox off.

It starts as a giggle. Then it becomes a laugh. Then it gets louder and vocal. At some point you're laughing so loud that you're coughing and crying but laughing nonetheless. No one turned the boombox off. It's probably not funny but it's three in the morning and, and no one turned the boombox off.

At some point the wind picks up and the euphoria fades into a faint warmth beneath your skin. There was Skull. And you bantered with them. Then walked away. You got a job offer and survived Skull and the music is still playing and your journey hasn't even really begun yet.

Yeah. It's not how you thought it would go. But you'll take it.

Time to get whatever sleep you can.

"You been in it?"

You do your best to blink the sleep out of your eyes before turning to Kekoa. Why did you agree to leave before dawn? "Hmm?"

"The hotel? You been in it?"

Oh. Right. The Tidesong. Big white building made of limestone or marble or whatever. Even the pavement's made of something similar. Right in front of you, can't miss it. Unless you're asleep.

"Yes."

"And is it just as pretty on the inside?"

It is. The lobby is six or seven stories high and has a series of beautiful waterfall-type fountains curving around it and canals and bridges on the floor. Always some beautiful music echoing through it too. Grand Hano's bigger but yeah Tidesong's probably prettier. Even if you'd never say that to Dad's face.

Cuicatl yawns. Probably a real yawn. WIth some extra emphasis added on top for drama. "You two going to do this for every building you see?"

Kekoa half-turns and you can tell that he's going to start something. But he doesn't. Just looks at her vulpix. About five feet in front of her trainer facing the big white building with her tails drooping.

It probably reminds her of home.

"Let's just go," Kekoa says.

It's not that much farther to the gate of Route 4. And it is a very literal gate, ten feet tall and made up wood and rope with a wooden sign dangling from the top. Is this how all routes start?

Kekoa just keeps walking through with no fanfare. You say a silent prayer to xerneas as you pass through. For luck. You might need it.

The start of the route is classic Alola with palm trees and broad-leaf rainforest plants. Then once you're… five minutes? Ten minutes? A half hour? Honestly you're too tired to think about much more than putting one foot in front of the other. Anyway. Once you're some ways in the plants just die. There's grass on the forest floor, a few shrubs, even a small fern tree or two. But the tall trees bigger around than you are dead, their bark coated in black, charred ruin.

It's quieter than you thought a forest would be. Or a route. And in the first however long it is until Kekoa steps off the path to take a break you only see a couple hoot-hoot flying home for the day and a few rattata scurrying along the path. It's light now so maybe that will wake more stuff up?

Daylight does not wake much more stuff up. A few pikipek, especially around dawn. But as the day wears on and your eyelids get heavier there just isn't that much stuff going on around you. Cuicatl's going kind of slow but she's blind and you don't really want to go fast so it's all fine with you.

"What's it like around us?" she asks from up front.

"Burnt as shit."

"Controlled burn? Forest fire?"

"Blacepholon attack six weeks ago," he answers.

You hear Cuicatl almost trip over something—again—before she steadies herself and moves on. "What's a blacepholon?"

Kekoa sighs. In the dramatic way. "Oh, where to start… so three years back this billionaire chick broke a hole in reality and a bunch of monsters came through. And kept coming through. The bitch is safe in Japan, if you're wondering. Never going to get at trial for the thousands of deaths she caused."

You're pretty sure it hasn't been thousands. High hundreds maybe. But that's a bad fight to pick. "Lusamine was sick," you say instead. "Maybe even possessed."

Kekoa stops and turns around to face you. Cuicatl keeps walking for a few seconds before she realizes that the footsteps have stopped. "Who says that? The psychologists she hired? The politicians she bribed? Grow up. She was no more fucked in the head than any other asshole with a billion dollars and no real work to do."

You never met Lusamine. Or her kids (although they're supposedly nice). His tone still stirs something inside of you that you aren't used to feeling. "I choose to see the best in people."

He actually laughs. Not real laughter. A quick, mocking "hah!"

"Oh man, must be nice being a millionaire, huh?"

"You don't know me." Your voice is flat. And… colder than you knew you could make it. You should stop. Draw in someone else to tell Kekoa he's being rude again. "Cuicatl, you have anything to add?"

"I don't know the details but I will side with Kekoa here."

"Eyy, high five—uh, I mean… can I just touch your hand?" Cuicatl holds her hand out and Kekoa slaps it. You're still registering that she's on his side? Why? You thought she disliked him?

"I've never understood why you let your merchants get away with so much," Cuicatl answers your unspoken question. "We have businessmen in Anahuac. No billionaires. If someone did that well they'd give the money to the community or the priests or the treasury. The rich serve the people. Not the other way around." She sounds very proud. Like she built the system herself.

"Yeah, well, that's why half your country doesn't have food."

Oh. Oh no. Oh Xerneas no. You didn't say that aloud. Couldn't have. You. You wouldn't. You're a good person. And you're not a racist! You don't do the racisms!

Kekoa stares at you, mouth hanging open a little. Crap. You were mean enough that he's shocked. Eventually Cuicatl kicks one foot behind the other and spins around in one fluid motion before she starts walking down the trail in silence.

"You've got to be kidding me."

Kekoa grins. "Hey, don't worry. Kiwi won't peek."

"What's going on?"

"Oh, the only toilet in camp is just a seat on the hillside. No outhouse or anything. Hell, not even a back."

You make eye contact with him for a second before glancing away. "You sound way too happy about this."

He sticks out his hand. "Hey, you don't look at mine, I don't look at yours. Deal?"

"Deal—" he pulls his hand away right before you can shake it.

"Psyche."

"Girls, I know you love each other but if you can keep your eyes to yourselves while I'm around—"

Kekoa crosses his arms and takes a step back so he can properly glare at. Glare at the blind girl. He turns on you. "What are you giggling about?"

"Nothing," you answer. Right before an idea hits you! You start walking up the hill to the toilet, letting Sir Bubbles out as you walk. "Sir Bubbles! Use hypnosis on anyone who looks this way!" He croaks, which honestly could mean anything, and you keep on moving, basking in your brilliance.

There's a row of stumps arranged around a weird metal ring half-buried in the ground. Cuicatl and Kekoa are sitting on two of them when you arrive so you sit on a third that forms a roughly equidistant triangle for optimal socialization. That is how you're supposed to sit, right? Or were you supposed to sit between them?

Kekoa tosses you a white bag. And you don't catch it because you aren't good at catching things so it sails right past you. You stand up, pick up the bag, and sit back down. Thankfully he doesn't throw anything else at you.

"Freeze-dried potato salad. Just pour in some water, shake and, voila, instant haole food."

You follow his lead. About a third—whoops—about half of your water bottle then maybe thirty seconds of shaking. Then you pull out the spoon in your mess kit and. The smell hits you before you even see it. It's not rotten. Just… it's hard to describe. And the looks. A few clumps of white powder in a soupy liquid. You take another thirty seconds to shake that out and at the end it's better, but not good. And the smell only got worse. You take a moment to look at the other two. Kekoa has a look on his face that you've never seen before. Cuicatl is negotiating with her vulpix; the fox has her fur fluffed up in alarm and her eyes are wide open in shock.

"It's okay," Cuicatl whispers. "You don't have to do it." She stands up and starts walking to you before dropping her sealed white bag in your lap. "Here. Wouldn't want you to starve or anything. Not sure your weak American stomach could take it."

"You know," Kekoa follows up a bit too loudly, "we have to pack out what we don't eat. So if you don't want that to explode all over the inside of your backpack…"

You look down at the bags. This is fine. You can do this. You put a spoon in and take it out with your eyes closed. It goes into your mouth and. The taste is bad. Like chugging a muk. Not that you've done that. You can still guess how it would taste since smell and taste are linked. It is those two, right? Might be touch and taste. And if the taste is bad the texture is somehow worse. Grains of sand in a watery goop.

You swallow it down and vow to never do a racism again.