A Shiny Pokémon, previously officially known as alternate coloration or rare coloration,is a specific Pokémonwith different coloration to what is usual for its species.
20
A dead quiet stood between us that evening, heavy and rough as sandpaper on skin. I hadn't moved from where Steven had released me once the poke'ball exchange had been made and Metagross and I's new trainers registered. Steven hadn't either, still sat on the couch, forced to lean back due to his cast and hip race, his head tilted back and hair disheveled. He hadn't even bothered to dress up for the even, wearing only too-big sweats (that's all that would fit over his cast) and a wrinkled button-up shirt.
As the night came on, neither of us bothered to turn on the lights.
I couldn't shake off the feeling that I'd done something wrong.
Moonlight reached past the coffee table to Steven's knees when he said, "Metagross was my first poke'mon. This…this is the first time I've never had him nearby."
I sighed. Way to go making me feel worse.
Well, there was only one thing I could do now. I'd sat around moping for long enough.
I stood up and went to the kitchen. Steven made no move or sound to stop me, and I didn't expect him to. The kitchen lights nearly blinded me when I flicked them on with my nose. My nails clacked along the linoleum. I nudged the fridge open and pulled out a Tupperware container of leftover curry and rice. With all the awkwardness of someone trying to carry a heavy bowl with chopsticks, I pulled it out and managed to get it onto the counter and pushed into the microwave. My muscles twitched from the effort it took to use only a single nail to push the one minute express button. I searched around for ideas of how to take the stupid bowl to the man before pulling out a cotton dishtowel, imagining a sort of hammock.
My brilliance worked. I got the container of food onto the coffee table before his dead knees before remembering I had to get him a fork or something.
"What's this?"
"What do you think," I said flatly. "Broody boys need to eat too."
It wasn't till I was in the kitchen and trying to ease out a fork with my tongue that I heard him thank me.
"Is this why Metagross thought I needed you?" he asked as he stirred the curry and rice together. I couldn't help but applaud his manners that he didn't complain about the spit I'd left on the handle of his fork. "Because I didn't eat well?"
"Metagross can't tell the difference between eating well and not eating well. He's a floating rock." Though he couldn't understand me, it helped me feel better to hear my own voice.
"You know I can't understand you," he said.
"No shit, Sherlock."
"Whatever…" He sighed heavily. "I don't know if I can eat this."
"Eat it or I'm burning your shoes." A growl edged my 'Ninetales.'
"Okay, okay. Jeeze." He took a bite, slowly chewed, then swallowed and sat some more. With another encouraging growl from me, he took several more. I didn't leave until most of it was gone, and then it was to start up the bath. Baths always helped me on bad days. And since I didn't have a clue how I was going to heal this silver bum, I'd just have to try everything. What can I say? My ultimate weakness is others sticking their necks out for me, poke'mon included.
It made me think of Collin and I whined into the steam.
I helped him into the bath (he had to keep plastic around his cast, which made me laugh the first time because it looked like he was walking around with a failed body-bubble, but now didn't even faze me). Then I helped him out and even stirred up my inner fire to help him dry off, to which I got a weak smile from him.
"Maybe a having a fire poke'mon around isn't so bad."
I rolled my eyes. "Cover up your junk before trying to complement me. No one's going to marry me at this point."
"You really are so talkative."
"Yeah, so are you, Silver Shit."
"I'm just going to have to guess what you say, you know?"
"Like you already do? Don't let me stop you." Talking was supposed to be therapeutic, right? Maybe if I just sat around and let him talk at me, that would help.
He brushed his teeth, his hair, me standing next to him the whole time to hold him up. Then, before I let him flop into his bed, like I could see he dearly wanted to, a tugged his sleeve down to the floor until he laid down flat and set about applying triple-anti-biotic to his stitches like I had the first time: with the back of my paw.
Steven endured it in silence until I nudged my nose under him to signify he could get up. There was no way I'd manage to get him bandaged.
Then he had the audacity to look forlorn when he looked at his bed.
"You took all my sheets…" he said.
"Ugh," I trotted off to the back of the kitchen where the laundry baskets were and returned with a mouthful of sheets, only to have to tug him off from his bare mattress like the child he was.
"Hey, what—stop, you're going to put holes in them!"
"Just deserts for not hiring a freaking made," I growled around the sheets, even as I flailed them pointlessly above the mattress.
"Okay! Okay! I can do it, just stop—ugh, now there's slobber on it…"
"Hey, appreciate that slobber. You have any idea how much of your dirty laundry I had to stuff my nose in to carry it to your washer machine? You think it smells bad as a human…" I trailed off, my throat having tightened.
Steven paused in his struggle to get the fitted sheet around the corners. "Don't stop nagging me now. That is what you were doing, right?"
Once he had the last corner down with one final grunt of pain, he turned, only to stop.
"Ninetales…what's wrong?"
It was only then I remembered how poorly this poke'mon body lied. My ears had drooped flat and my head had lowered.
I looked to my paws, not really sure myself, even as an old feeling crept up on me.
You really are useless, Mayleen…
Why couldn't you be more like Collin?
How do you plan on becoming a functioning adult? Are you just going to burden me till the day I die?
Collin's gotten his fifth badge, can you believe it?
I can't believe you can be so disgusting.
Stop making your brother fight all your battles! How many times does he have to stick himself out for you?
Stop hiding in your room all day.
Warm hands on my face brought the sudden montage to a halt. Thumbs gently stroked down my jawline, sending shivers down to my toes. I leaned into the touch, having not realized how starved I'd become for human touch.
"This…this is my fault, isn't it? Metagross gave itself for you and I just made you feel even more guilty about it, didn't I?"
I closed my eyes to hide tears, probably out of habit, as a Ninetales had no tears to give.
The thumbs circled up against my drooping ears.
"You've had it rough, haven't you? Being caught by a shiny collector like him and expected to breed just for that and who knows what else he did to you. And when you're so talented and clever and have so much to give." The gentle circles against my ears felt so good, and only seemed to strengthen the pain in my throat. "And then ending up with a pathetic pushover like me when you needed a hero…"
I didn't mean to whine and tried to duck my head and hide myself among my tails.
Because if anyone was a pathetic pushover, it was me.
Memories of hiding in my dark room came back to me. Years of doing school from my computer rather than heading out. Days of frowns and irritated disappointment from my mother. Collin had been my bursts of sunshine, even after he had left to become a poke'mon trainer. He'd gone out of his way to obtain a strong enough flying poke'mon to visit, and his melty brownie smile told me it was for me.
As Steven's warm hands continued to stroke my ears and bangs, I very softly licked the inside of his wrist, so lightly I hardly touched him at all.
When he finally let go to lay down on his bed, I hoped up and curled myself at his side, pulling up a blanket with me to cover him.
"You're such a nanny," he said with a soft smile, the same one that had made me hope to find Collin somewhere inside him.
I sighed. "Yeah. For better or for worse."
His fingers pet my head until we both drifted off to sleep.
Somewhere in that darkness I found him again, dressed once more in his out of place purple suit jacket and slacks, his red and blue rings on his fingers and silver sun gleaming through his eyes, far warmer than his father could have ever achieved with his own. He glanced over at me, but rather than looking down, he looked straight ahead and cocked his head.
"Who are you?" he asked.
I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. But, then, it made sense. He couldn't understand me anyways.
Instead, I found my vision drifting along with my thoughts as I answered him. Images played about, all of them with bits and pieces of me. There were the kimono girls, dancing. Some of my drawings—just dreams, really. A clearing of grass where I spun in a circle, a sheet spread out from my shoulders as I pretended to be a princess at a ball, or an angel with wings. A young Collin, perhaps only five or six, chased the shadow of the sheets, giggling with delight. When I grew dizzy I'd bring my sheet-wing-skirts down and ensnare him with a squeal. Strawberry cream cake on our cheeks, we're older now, having had a food fight over a birthday party. Climbing up a pecha berry tree, grocery bags over our shoulders to collect them.
With the swirl of childhood came a string of darkness, which solidified and brought the spinning merry-go-round of scenes to a halt, back in my dark bedroom. I couldn't even see my posters. Everything was meticulously clean and organized. The only light was a few blotches that made it beneath the curtain. It was empty, though.
But from downstairs, I could hear the rumble of a voice that made my stomach clench and my blood prickle painfully cold.
"…who says I got to have a reason to call it how it is?"
Something tugged around my naval, urging me downstairs. I resisted.
"Worthless. Won't even brush her own damn hair. Does she even bathe?"
My room started to change. Dirty clothes littered the corners. The bed came undone. The computer disappeared, leaving wrappers, spare change, and pencils. Scraps of paper and trash speckled the floor. A dirty, pink shag carpet appeared.
"Freaking poke'mon has to do all the work. It's an animal, not a nanny."
I tugged back, hard, and found my arms and legs covered in tar-like ick. The ick started to prickle, like hair, till my skin became splotched with pitch black fur. My heart spiked with fear. I twisted around, desperate to hide, to press myself into the wall until it ate me whole.
To find myself facing Steven once again, clear and colorful after the dark room.
We stared at each other, him a being of ivory and stone, and me something splotchy black and gross.
It really was unfair how handsome he was. He'd be disgusted to see me as a human.
"Who are you?" he asked.
But I pulled away once more, falling back into the darkness and into dreams more in line with a usual night's sleep.