POKÉMON: INFINITE LEGACIES
THE CIPRYS REGION
CHAPTER 14
MEETINGS BY CHANCE! I KNOW WHO YOU ARE!
An old man sat on one of three benches. Stubble grizzled his cheeks and his grey hair nearly trailed down to his shoulders. Where he sat overlooked grassland. Trees were dotted across, and every so often, the cries of wild Pokémon would echo towards him. He wanted his gaze to linger there, but he couldn't help glancing down at his pocket. I have my Pokémon still, he thought, if nothing else.
At that, images of the past returned to his mind. Good times, he pondered, closing his eyes and wishing it would all return to him . . .
If only. He sighed deeply.
Unexpected movement distracted him. He left his thoughts in the past, where—if not for this meeting—they might have remained.
A teenage boy with scruffy dark hair appeared in the corner of his vision. He sat down on the bench to his left. Two Pokémon, one black-furred and the other brown-furred, trotted alongside him on either side. When the teenager sat down, both Pokémon jumped up onto the bench and competed for his affections.
The old man was the first to admit his sight wasn't what it used to be, and to a similar extent his memory, but he recognised the two as the fire cat Pokémon, Litten, and the evolution Pokémon, Eevee.
Litten's claws struggled to grip the smooth surface of the bench, allowing Eevee to beat him to it. Eevee, having reached their trainer's lap first, grinned at Litten, who in turn hissed back. They glared at each other until some calming words from their trainer settled them down. Litten managed to rest his chin on the boy's upper leg.
The sight drew a rare smile to the old man's lips and brought back memories of his own journey through Ciprys. Those were the days . . . he reminisced once more.
"Whistltree Town," the boy murmured to his Pokémon, "we'll be there soon and get our first gym badge, won't we?"
Eevee's eyes sparkled. "Eevee," she agreed.
"Litten!" Litten added, much louder than Eevee.
Irritation flicked Eevee's tail-tip. She glanced at Litten, who glared back. Their eyes locked, a battle would have begun had they been trainers instead of Pokémon. Eevee started to curl her lip, and the beginnings of a growl rumbled away from inside Litten's mouth.
"C'mon, guys—we're a team!" placated the boy. "We'll need to work together to win badges."
Talk of gym badges brought back further memories for the old man. It doesn't feel like that long ago, he contemplated. But look at me now . . .
He lowered his head, examining his weathered hands as a thick strand of grey hair dangled into sight. Another deep sigh escaped his mouth.
Suddenly the boy's head turned in his direction. The boy stared and looked surprised. Had he only just noticed the old man? His Pokémon stopped arguing and followed their trainer's gaze to the other bench. The old man did not blame them for this; it was a regular occurrence for him.
However, it was his turn to be surprised when the boy said, "Oh. Hi."
After a moment he gave a small nod. "Hello there." The words nearly caught in his throat, and when they did come out, they sounded unfamiliar to his ears. He couldn't remember when he had last used his voice.
The boy gazed at the landscape that unfolded before them with youthful excitement. "I'm glad we stopped here. It's an amazing view, isn't it?"
The old man cleared his throat and said quietly, "That it is."
And he knew more than most, for he often came to this spot and sat, just sat, watching the distance as time streamed gently by. All kinds of people passed him: most ignored him; a few looked at him distrustfully, coldly, or even curiously, all wondering what he was doing there; and every so often, a rare few acknowledged his presence. This boy was one of those rare few, it seemed.
A smile lit up the boy's face. "Everyone calls me Flame!" he said. "Together me and my Pokémon are gonna be champs of Ciprys!"
At once, Litten and Eevee yowled their support. After, they glanced at each other suspiciously as if surprised they'd found agreement on something before turning their heads emphatically away from each other.
That ushered a faint grin onto the old man's face. I remember when I was that confident, that sure of my dream. "Not just anyone can become Champion of Ciprys, boy. What makes you so special?" His voice sounded a lot harsher than he'd intended.
Flame flinched a little. What's so special about me? he wondered. He thought hard about it, tried to uncover an answer from the depths of his mind, but every time he came close to one, doubt pushed back. He wasn't sure he had an answer to the old man's question.
"My name's Dedalos, by the way."
"Huh, I'm sure I've heard that name somewhere before . . ."
Dedalos grunted. "If you did, it was a very long time ago, I assure you."
Silence followed. They continued to stare into the distance. Litten's and Eevee's eyes had closed, their flanks rising and then falling with the gentle lapping of the breeze against their fur, while Flame and Dedalos were considering their thoughts.
Flame was the one to break the silence. "Maybe there's nothing special about me," he murmured, "but all I know is that I wanna win all eight gym badges, beat the Ciprys League, and become Champion someday."
Dedalos shrugged. "Good enough." He paused, and then added, "You should enjoy your journey while you can, kid. It doesn't last forever."
Flame shuffled along the bench, rousing Eevee and Litten in the process. He leaned towards Dedalos. "Does that mean you've been on a journey before?" he asked, excited.
"Yes, I have," admitted Dedalos after a moment of hesitation. "But trust me, kid, it was well before your time."
Litten's ears twitched. In front of the benches where they sat was a downhill slope that led to the grassland. His yellow-tinted eyes were drawn to the bottom. He noticed movement—a flash of yellow. His muscles tensed; he started to rise.
Flame was about to ask another question when Litten sprang from his side and hurtled straight down the grassy slope, heading for some undergrowth at the bottom.
Flame bolted up from the bench. "Come on, Eevee!"
"Eevee," responded Eevee, sounding irritated but, out of obedience for her trainer, doing as he asked. She stood up and joined him on the soft, dry ground.
And then off they went, racing after his other Pokémon and leaving the old man behind them.
Dedalos watched with a good-humoured look on his face. "That boy," he muttered under his breath, ". . . Champion of Ciprys? Well, stranger things have happened."
[scene break]
Flame hurried after Litten. However, he lacked the Fire-type's claws and nearly slipped on his way down the slope. As he descended, he glimpsed Litten's tail whisk away into the undergrowth. A wave of concern surged into his mind.
Meanwhile, Eevee saw the slope as a game and playfully rolled down, tumbling head over heels. At the bottom, while Eevee gathered herself, Flame stared into the undergrowth. But he was no Luxray; his vision could not penetrate the thick blades of grass. He sighed.
Litten was nowhere to be seen.
He called his Pokémon's name, but was met with no response. Another wave of concern rocked him, threatening to flood his emotions. What if . . .
He sniffed. Focus, he told himself, pushing back panic. "Eevee," he said after a moment's thought, "can you follow Litten's scent?"
"Eevee!" Eevee exclaimed. She lowered her head and started sniffing the ground as she entered the long grass.
Flame followed, glancing left and right. He tensed—a wild Pokémon could appear at any moment! He readied himself to shout out a sudden command to Eevee. The stalks of grass reached up to his head, but he managed to push through and Eevee managed to zigzag her way through. The thickness and height of the grass must have deterred even wild Pokemon, for they came across none and found Litten in a small clearing with a tree on the far side. Litten's tail was lashing back and forth erratically while his fur bristled.
Flame hurried towards Litten. "Don't ever run off like that again!" he scolded straightaway.
Litten's ear twitched, but he did not turn to look at his trainer—his gaze remained fixed on the tree.
Flame followed his Pokémon's gaze: A yellow-feathered Pokémon with black around the eyes, a white underbelly, and a tiny tuft of black feathers on the head was chirping at Litten from the roots of the tree. He must've chased after that Pokémon, Flame realised.
"Lit-ten," Litten challenged with a growl.
Eevee stared at Oriota curiously. She still hadn't seen many different Pokémon yet.
Flame got out his Pokédex. "Oriota!" it announced. "The thundercloud Pokémon! Oriota look up to the leaders of their flock. Following their example, these impressionable Pokémon are often attracted to electricity, but it can end badly as Oriota have not yet developed enough to protect themselves. They fly high in the sky, but come down often in large groups to rest and feed."
"Ori," chirped Oriota weakly. "Ota!"
Flame glanced skyward. He could see no Flying-types amid the darkening sky. He stepped in front of Litten.
Oriota quietened, appearing to relax ever so slightly, but he still hopped back and eyed Flame, Eevee, and Litten (especially) warily.
Slowly, Flame took another step forward and crouched. He looked at Oriota more closely, eyes narrowed.
Litten padded around Flame's legs and peered at Oriota. "Litten!" he complained.
"Stay back, Litten," Flame said quietly. "Can't you see? Oriota's hurt."
Litten mrrowed his annoyance, huffed, and sat back onto his haunches.
Flame returned to his full height and, step by step, moved closer to the injured Pokémon.
"Oriota!" cried Oriota. "Oriota! Oriota!" The little yellow Pokémon hopped and flapped one wing while the other was hunched against his side, bent at an unnatural angle, almost dragging along the ground.
Flame took another step; Oriota glanced left and right.
"Quick! Litten, approach Oriota from my right. Eevee, from my left."
His two Pokémon bounded forward, and they shepherded the injured Oriota until the Flying-type was backed up against the tree.
The wild Oriota glared at Flame. "Oriota!" he cried out again, shuddering with terror and pain as each was uttered. "Oriota! Oriota!"
I'm sorry, but if I leave you out here, something seriously bad's gonna happen to you.
Flame lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Oriota. Oriota's body was unbelievably cold, and Flame felt a searing sensation against his chest. He winced.
Wow. For such a small Pokémon, you do still pack a punch.
But he held on. Oriota's cries rang into his ears, but soon, they faded as the Pokémon's eyes closed from exhaustion: Oriota had fainted.
Flame staggered back up, Oriota tucked against his chest. There was now a gaping hole in his t-shirt where Oriota had used Peck. Blood stemmed from that area and oozed down his chest. As if saddened by what had happened to Oriota, thunder rumbled overhead. Flame looked up. Raindrops began to fall all around him. He tucked Oriota closer, then turned to Litten and Eevee.
"I'm gonna have to return you guys. The weather's getting bad and I'm gonna have to rush Oriota to the nearest Pokémon Centre."
Eevee voiced her agreement. Eevee was the sort of Pokémon who loved rolling down hills, but hated getting wet. Maybe not to others, but there was a big difference between the two for Eevee.
Litten mrrowed something back, not sounding best pleased, but once Eevee had been returned first and a raindrop had landed on his nose, he didn't mind so much. He mrrowed mischievously as he was absorbed back into his Poké Ball.
Flame pushed his Poké Balls back into his pockets and zipped them shut. With Oriota now held firmly with both hands and arms, he turned and raced back the way he'd come, the rain growing heavier by the second and turning red in his wake.
[scene break]
Dedalos was waiting at the top of the slope. "I heard cries," he said as Flame scrambled up the slope. He noticed Oriota. "What happened?"
"No time to explain," Flame panted, reaching the top. "Where's the nearest Pokémon Centre?"
"Well . . ."
"Oriota's wing's broken. He must've been like this a while. His body's freezing and he fainted really quickly."
Blood dripped onto the ground around Flame. Dedalos noticed Flame's chest. "You're hurt," he said.
"No, no, no—I'm fine. Oriota's the one who's hurt."
Dedalos shook his head. "You need a doctor as much as Oriota does."
Flame gritted his teeth and persisted, "Just tell me . . . where the . . . Pokémon Centre . . . is." He struggled to get the words out this time. Then his vision blurred, and another copy of Dedalos appeared in front of him. He blinked. His legs crumpled, the rain changed direction, and the ground rose to meet him.
Dedalos shuffled closer. He crouched and checked Flame's pulse. "The kid should be alright for now," he mumbled. Thunder and sky rumbled, clashing again overhead. "Although he can't be left out here for long." He glanced at Oriota. Even though Flame had collapsed, the small yellow Pokémon was still tucked against his chest, wrapped behind his arms. "Neither can you," he added, frowning. Why didn't he just catch the poor thing?
Dedalos paused. Rain lashed against the back of his head. "He said he wanted to be Champion, and I very much doubt this would have happened to a Champion. But," he sighed, "I can hardly leave him out here in this weather."
Dedalos stood up and held out one of his Poké Balls. It looked like it hadn't been used, or even held, in quite some time: many scratches across the surface and the golden 'H' more faded, paler than usual. Dedalos clicked the button. The Ultra Ball enlarged and popped open. A large orange-furred Pokémon materialised from the released energy.
Dedalos looked nervous. "It's been a while, hasn't it, Blaze, old friend?" he said, hoping his Pokémon would forgive him. "But right now, I need your help."
Blaze's answer was to lick his trainer's face. Saliva dribbled down Dedalos' face, but he did not mind. It did not take a Pokémon Professor to translate: Blaze had said, "Yes."
[scene break]
When Flame regained consciousness, he found himself in a strange room with weird equipment that did not look it were designed for humans. He sat up. His chest was bare but for a big bandage across his chest. He looked around, trying to remember how he got here. As he did, someone opened the door to the room.
"Normally these rooms are reserved for Pokémon," said a familiar-looking lady with pink hair, noticing his surprise, "but we have our exceptions."
"Chansey!"
"Argh. What happened?" Flame asked, suddenly feeling lightheaded. His fingertips gripped the operating table. "My head feels . . . foggy."
"A nice old man brought you and your Pokémon in," Nurse Joy told him. "But I hope you'll be more careful next time. If the injury hadn't been treated, it could have been very serious indeed."
Flame scratched the back of his head. "I know."
Nurse Joy was about to say something more when Flame suddenly remembered: "Wait a minute, Oriota! Where is he?"
Nurse Joy helped Flame to his feet and led him down the corridor. Pain burnt his chest, and his legs felt a little unstable, but he manged to stay standing. Nurse Joy stopped before a glass window that offered a view into Oriota's room. The small yellow Pokemon's wing was bandaged and he was surrounded by blankets.
"Is he going to be okay?" Flame asked hopefully.
Nurse Joy smiled. "With lots of rest, he should be on his way to recovery now."
Flame stared at Oriota sadly. "He isn't even my Pokémon. I found him like that. I don't know where his flock went, but I knew I had to do something. Otherwise . . ." his voice trailed off. He didn't want to say anymore.
"It's good you did, young man, otherwise Oriota really would have been in trouble."
"Who did you say brought me in? I just remember passing out from the pain." He half-smiled. Oriota sure knows how to Peck.
"A nice old man and his Arcanine. I think he's still waiting in the lobby."
It all came back to him. "Wait . . ." he started to realise, "an Arcanine?"
[scene break]
In the lobby Flame, wearing a replacement t-shirt, hurried towards Dedalos. Barely able to contain his excitement, he grinned. "I know who you are!" he exclaimed. "You were in the first-ever Ciprys League Finals!"
Dedalos frowned, barely able to contain his lack of enthusiasm. "And I lost in the quarters. So what, kid?"
Flame was still grinning. "Oh, but I've watched that battle plenty of times! It's so, so good! One of my all-time faves!"
Dedalos shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Well, it was a long tome ago," he dismissed with a grunt. "None of that matters now. It didn't get me anywhere, did it . . ."
Excitement turned into surprise. "What do you mean?" Flame asked.
"Hmph. Just look at me, Flame. Age has eaten away at me. Maybe you haven't, but everyone forgot about Trainer Dedalos pretty quickly. You either win the League or you become a nobody. That's just how it goes. History only remembers the champions."
"I don't think so," Flame said quietly. "People should chase their dreams no matter what."
Dedalos rolled his eyes. "What, you've been a trainer for—how long?—three seconds, and you think you know the world? Well, let me tell you, I've seen the world change to become the mess it is today, and it makes me sick." He shook his head. "When you are my age, you'll understand."
"Let me prove you wrong," Flame murmured. "You still have your Pokémon, don't you?"
"It's not happening."
"Dedalos, I challenge you to a battle."
"What did I just say . . ."
"Why not?"
"I told you, kid. I'm old, and I've not battled for years. Pokémon—it's a young man's game."
"But . . . why still carry your Poké Balls?"
"In case of emergencies—and you should be glad I do too."
Flame took the hint. "Okay," he said, sounding disheartened and disappointed, however much he tried to mask it. "Thank you for saving me and Oriota, and I'm sorry for fainting on you like that. Would you like something to eat? It's on me."
"Fine," huffed Dedalos. "But no more of this battle talk."
[scene break]
They ordered starters. Before long, Dedalos was picking at some olives while Flame was wolfing down garlic bread.
"You have quite the appetite," Dedalos noted.
"Mhf?" Flame said between mouthfuls.
"What do you plan to do with that Oriota?"
Flame gulped. "What d'ya mean?"
"Oriota live in a flock. I'm sure you know that already. Therefore, what I mean is, if you leave it to fend for itself, it won't last long in the wild."
Flame shrugged, seeming like he was more interested in his food. "So . . ."
Dedalos gave him a serious look. "You have to catch it, kid."
"Sure. I'd love to . . . but it wouldn't feel right. I didn't want to before," he admitted, "not when Oriota didn't have a fair chance to defend himself. If I took advantage of an injured Pokémon, what sort of trainer would that make me?"
Dedalos didn't look so sure. "Maybe that's what your Academy taught you," he remarked, "but this is the real world, kid, and Oriota won't have much of a chance to defend itself against anybody else who comes along—trainer or Pokémon. Not all trainers would have done what you did and not all Pokémon have been tamed by humans. One way or another someone will take advantage of Oriota. Personally, I think better you than another trainer or a wild Pokémon."
"I know, I know . . ." Flame sulked, sat back and arms folded on his side of the booth. But his expression transformed when he caught sight of their waiter approaching their table. "Yeah!" he exclaimed. "There comes our main!"
Author's Notes:
Read on to find out what happens to Oriota! Any reviews, regardless of where you are in the story, are always appreciated.