Moon woke to her bed on fire. She pushed herself upright, fumbled blindly for the extinguisher, and pulled back the nozzle. As the spray of coolent hit the blankets, an indignant meow rose up from the covers.
"Kesia," Moon rasped, "what did I tell you about fire in the house?"
Glinting yellow eyes blinked in the early morning darkness. The litten was perched on the edge of the bed, wearing a disgruntled expression. Her black and red fur, normally pristine, was coated with residue from the fire extinguisher. Without removing her eyes from Moon's face, she lifted a paw to her mouth and began to lick herself clean.
Moon groaned, letting her head fall back onto the pillow, face-first, and burying herself in the blankets. Her whole body hurt, a low-level ache that had started months ago, and never gone away. She lifted her watch to her face—4:07. It was almost time to get up. And she'd have to clean up the mess from the fire as well. Moon groaned again, squeezing her eyes shut. At times like this, even a single minute of glorious, untroubled blackness was precious.
Suddenly, she felt the rough, warm rasp of a tongue on her neck. She lay still, and let Kesia work her tongue through her hair, knowing the grooming was as close as her litten would get to an apology. When Kesia finished and padded away across the bed, Moon sat up, recognizing that the night was over. Her neck felt sticky and tingling where Kesia's tongue had made contact, and her sheets smelled like smoke. She turned on the light to inspect the damage: it wasn't so bad, really, just one patch of blanket charred, having caught fire when the friction of litten's tongue kindled sparked against her fur. Moon hasn't realized the dangers of Kesia's habitual grooming until she'd shared a bed with her litten. In Alola, Kesia had always liked to sleep outdoors, on the sand. But that wasn't an option here.
Moon gathered up the ruined blanket, tossed it in a garbage bag along with the spent fire extinguisher, and opened the window so the smell could vent. The draft instantly brought the room's temperature from stuffy to uncomfortably chill. On the bed, Kesia whined in protest.
"As you sow, so shall you reap," Moon told her, and left for the bathroom.
Inside, the water that filled the tub glistened in the moonlight.
"Morning," Moon murmured, turning on the sink's faucet and lowering her face into the stream of water. One advantage of getting up early – the heat wasn't used up. The water scoured her face, chasing away the last of her morning stupor. She turned off the faucet, her face still dripping.
A gentle gurgle rose from the bathtub. Moon walked over and bent down on her knees. "How are you doing today?"
A tentacle emerged from the water, wrapped around Moon's hand, and tugged.
"Careful," she warned her toxapex. "I don't have my gloves on."
The tentacle retreated, as if burned.
"Is it okay if I turn on the light?" Moon asked.
Medusa bubbled an affirmative.
Moon examined her under the weak fluorescent light, frowning. Of all her pokemon, the transition to Castelia had hit Medusa the hardest. In Alola, she'd been able to spend a few hours in the ocean every day. When Moon slept at the pokemon center, she'd release Medusa off into the water. But Castelia city had no water. The closest thing was the fountains.
Moon had brought her to a fountain, a few weeks after they arrived. Medusa had gotten so excited. Her spikes extended and she began to spurt poison all over the place. That's what toxapex do when they're happy – it's instinct, and it's not like they can help it. The toxin isn't the same as the one they use in battle; it's not deadly and breaks down much faster.
But everyone had freaked out. They'd even called the police on her and the next day a fine for destruction of public property had turned up in the mail. The whole thing tore Medusa up. She wouldn't come out of her shell for days with guilt. If Medusa had felt bad, though, Moon had felt even worse. If she hated living in her tiny room, what must it be like for Medusa, trapped in a bathtub, barely able to turn herself around?
After a few weeks, Medusa's vivid coloring had begun to dim, and the slick firmness of her tentacles had softened, the flesh yielding frighteningly to Moon's touch. She'd called Professor K up, hoping he'd know what to do. He'd smiled sympathetically, but hadn't been able to offer much help, besides a suggestion to melt sodium pills in Medusa's water. Taking pokemon outside of their native inhabitant always held some risk, he'd said. No one had studied toxapex outside of Alola's oceans, and he couldn't very well isolate one in his lab just to figure it out. That would be too cruel . . .
Grimacing at the memory, at the careful lack of judgment in Professor K's eyes, Moon stood abruptly.
"How about a shower then?" she said.
Medusa surged up in the tub, the salty water splashing up on all sides.
"Okay, okay!" Moon replied, laughing. "A shower it is."
Medusa always enjoyed the sensation of water pouring down on her. Maybe they could go out when it rained, Moon mused. During a real downpour, when the water fell in sheets, thick and heavy – wouldn't that be just like being under the sea?
Her smile slowly faded. And if she closed her eyes tightly at night, couldn't she imagine the Alolan sky spread out above her, bright and limitless?
No. It wasn't the same at all.
Once she was dressed, Moon made her way up to the roof, where Enoki lived now. Their apartment was on the 6th floor, far from the ground and the light, so her shiinotic had taken to living on the roof. Moon had gathered some dirt so she could put down roots. It was smoggy in the city, but at least on the roof there was some light for Noki to feed on.
"Hey," Moon said, catching sight of Enoki's pink cap shining in the moonlight. "Hera and I are off for the morning. Do you want to come?"
Enoki swayed side to side, considerate. Moon waited patiently, familiar with her shiinotic's indecisiveness. At last, the prospect of actual earth seemed to win out over the familiar lethargy of the rooftop. Noki waved her long, pale tendrils.
"Come here, then, you," Moon said. Enoki waddled forward slowly, detaching her roots one by one and drawing them back into her body. Familiar with this ritual, Moon held her hand forward, so Shiinotic could probe it with the sensitive tendrils on her arms.
"Everything good?" Moon asked. Enoki deliberated, and then answered the way she had each morning for the past year: good light need good dirt need.
"You and me both," Moon murmured, helping Shiinotic into her backpack. The fungal pokemon liked to take in the early morning light. Her enormous cap jutted precariously from the pack, as Moon took the fire-stairs down to the street.
Once her feet were touching the ground again, Moon released Hera. Her kommo-o greeted the dark morning air with a happy cry, swishing her tail back and forth with enough strength to create small gusts. In Moon's cramped apartment, Hera couldn't move her tail without knocking something over.
Moon had always considered Hera the most level-headed of her team. It had been a shock to see what a week without battle or readily available exercise did to her. She had become a twitching ball of aggression, liable to snap at anyone who came near. Moon had read up more on Hera's species. The harsh mountains that were their native habitat allowed only the fittest to survive and so kommo-os were hardwired to run and playfight until their massive energy was expended. It had never been a problem in Alola, but out here, Moon had been forced to develop this early morning routine. They would jog out to the outskirts of the city, and train there until the sun made an appearance in the sky.
Moon didn't mind Castelia city in the pre-dawn hours. She enjoyed the stillness of the air, the cessation of motion, the wide, looming avenues that in daytime would be packed with chaotic noise and smoggy light.
She and Hera made a loop of the city's inner circle, training in a crumbling side ally as light crept into the sky. As they began their cool-off exercises, Moon noticed a shadow pooling along the wall.
"Hey Snap," she said wearily. "Have you been keeping out of trouble?"
Her mimikyu snickered as she solidified in the alleyway.
"Never mind," Moon said with a mock sigh. "I don't want to know."
Snap was the only one of them who had truly flourished in the city. The mimikyu was used to dark, cluttered spaces. She disappeared every night, often staying away for weeks at a time. It had worried Moon at first, until she'd accepted that the city was in more danger from Snap than Snap was from the city.
Now Snap was excreting something from under the folds of her clothe disguise. Moon bent down to examine it—a wallet, complete with cash and a sparkling trainer's card.
Moon felt her stomach twist with something like envy, looking at the card which lay so innocently on the pavement.
"Snap," she said, "we've had this conversation already."
Snap wiggled her head up and down, wordlessly communicating that she knew but also didn't care.
"I'm serious. You're grounded."
Snap rumbled in protest, a low, tenor sound that did not match the mimikyu's fragile appearance.
"What do you expect? You know you can't be doing this. One day someone is going to notice the same girl is always finding stolen wallets, and then I'd be in big trouble. They'd lock us up."
In truth, Moon didn't know exactly what would happen, but it wouldn't be good. There were laws against non-trainers who kept high-level Pokémon, that much she was sure of. She didn't have a license anymore: her Alolan one was no good here in Unova, and as a full-time worker, she was ineligible for a Unovan license. Something about it being impossible to juggle a full work week with training pokemon. When they'd told her that, Moon hadn't been able to keep her mouth from twisting into a grimace. It wasn't like she had much of a choice.
Moon felt a nudge against her legs, and when she looked up she saw that Snap had stuck the trainer's card in her hand.
"What?" she asked.
Snap let out a frustrated sound and indicated the card first, then Moon herself.
It came to her all at once what Snap was trying to say, and she wasn't sure whether to scold her mimikyu further or give her a hug.
"It doesn't work like that, Snapsicles," she said. "Just because I have the card, that doesn't mean I can travel. It isn't mine, it won't change anything. And even if I got a license again, I still couldn't leave my mom."
Snap had nothing to say to that, but her ears lowered slightly, and the shadow grew thicker around her.
"Look, I won't ground you this time. I know you're trying to help. But this isn't helping, okay, Snap? Helping means keeping yourself out of trouble." Moon sighed at her mimkyu's downcast aura. "Hey, come here."
Snap all but rocketed into her arms. For a ghost Pokémon, she was strangely prone to cuddling. They stayed that way for several minutes, Moon's breath coming slow and calm, until she felt the shadows around Mimikyu disperse. Only then did Moon withdraw her arms.
"I had better get going, if I'm going to drop this off at the police station before work. Let's go, Hera."
Mimkyu watched them head off from the shadow of the ally-way.
The sky was mostly light now—it was time for the day to begin. Her shift started at 8:00, in the Alola-Lola cafe. Moon thought it was a stupid name, but it got the point across well enough —the cafe was Alola themed. Moon had been drawn there on her first week in the city by the promise of a malasada. The malasada had been terrible—the dough lumpy, the fillings overly sweet —and she'd amused herself imagining Hau's face if he'd tried it.
The owner had hired her on the strength of her knowledge of Alola, not her experience waitressing, though she'd picked it up quickly enough. Her sandslash, Quinn helped her serve—his Alolan coloring had proved a great hit, and they even named a drink in his honor—the Alolan Ice Quill. When she'd first been hired, Moon had thought it a stroke of luck. But now . . . she eyed that lei that was mandatory for employees with distaste. Each day, the bright Alola she gave to customers grew more insincere. The cafe was a mockery of the culture she'd left behind, distilling a world of dark azure ocean and hidden groves to a cheery postcard image and a few exotic dishes.
When she clocked out at six, she was dead on her feet, and ready to punch the next person who mentioned their planned cruise trip to Alola. The cafe let the employees grab leftovers for dinner—so she filled her stomach on crappy malasadas that left her stuffed, but in some essential way, emptier than ever. It was Tuesday, which meant she was free for the evening. Her night classes were on Monday and Wednesdays—finance classes she'd signed up for at Mom's instigation.
"You can't stay a waitress much longer, Honey, it's a waste of your talents," Mom had said yesterday evening, as they ate dinner, peering up at Moon anxiously, with that ever present shame threaded through face. "There's real opportunities in a big city like this."
There were opportunities in Alola too, Moon thought, but she knew it wasn't fair. Mom had loved Alola just as much as Moon had. She was just trying to make the best of their new life.
"Have you thought of getting back into pokemon battling," Mom had suggested after a moment. "You enjoyed it so much, before. . ."
"It's not happening, Mom," Moon had snapped. She'd regretted her tone immediately and turned away, not wanting to see the hurt blossoming in Mom's eyes.
Moon knew she should head home and get some sleep, but her feet lead her instead towards the city limits, towards the embrace of the open sky. She let Hera out, knowing how much she enjoyed the sight of Castelia at night, with all the buildings lit up and brilliant.
I should sleep, Moon thought, but the night was too tempting. She made her way slowly to the outskirts of the city.
Out here, it was quiet. With her eyes closed and a cool breeze stirring, Moon could pretend the city was far away. The only sound was a gentle scritching as Kesia dug herself a temporary bed in the dirt. Moon lifted her hand to graze her litten's fur, about to chide her. It was late, they had to head back home. But a wave of exhaustion caught her in the chest. Yawning, she leaned her head back against the ground. The air smelled like pollen and earth, and a rich, fruity smell wafted by.
A little longer, Moon thought. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she slept.