Inamorata
2.

After Professor Grey's disappearance, you hear nothing on her for the next couple of weeks. Instead, Professor Rowan earns your attention, asking you how your Pokedex is coming along; any pocket monsters you have yet to see. This isn't necessarily your area of expertise, but, regardless, he is impressed and asks to borrow your Pokedex for research.

You ask him about hybrids, and he laughs at you. 'Impossible.' But there's this uncertainty in his tone, and you decide to not delve further into the matter.

'Once, Cyrus was a student of his,' Lucas says that afternoon. 'Rowan told me how he was before he became the head of Team Galactic. He was ambitious, and passionate, and all of those things, but Rowan always felt there was something off.'

'What do you mean?'

'He asked weird questions. Regarding Pokemon. Like, is it possible to splice two Pokemon together? What would happen if science reached that potential? And if hybrids were created, then are they capable of being caught? Or even trained. Rowan dismissed those questions because he thought it was an impossible achievement.'

A small smile reaches your features.

No wonder Rowan rejected your curiosity. Still, knowing that Cyrus had thought about it for so long, you entertain why he gave up so easily. Just because of you, he dropped everything and walked away.

The Distortion World certainly made its impact on you. Perhaps that place made more of an influence on Cyrus; perhaps it all became a bit too much. He is human, after all. The very idea of creating an invincible, perfect Pokemon is beyond him or anybody for that matter. But he was convinced of his own power.

To walk away?

'Everybody is talking about you; your adventures in Kanto, Johto––where haven't you been?'

You don't answer. Instead, you smile at him again. It's funny that people focus on the glory of your so-called adventures, because when you look back, there is nothing particularly glorious about it.

Sometimes, the idea of becoming a trainer, and a great one at that, is a romantic one.

Canalave library is the only source of information you have which is willing to share its knowledge. Professor Rowan is clearly disturbed by the young Cyrus, and wishes not to discuss him, or his ideas. Cyrus, himself, is a ghost now. It was bizarre that when you didn't need him, he was always there. Now that you are older, and have questions, he is invisible; as if he were fictional all along.

Throughout the day, your head is stuck in multiple books. Unfortunately, not many focus on splicing Pokemon DNA. Nor are there mentions of any successful hybrids: mutilated Pokemon, created for the purpose of humanity. Are you researching into a subject which is beyond the human mind?

You have always been a curious girl, though. If you weren't, then you wouldn't have willingly walked into Hell; you wouldn't have willingly challenged the most dangerous man on earth. You wouldn't have willingly stepped up to your teacher, and asked her to battle against you; hang her respect for you on a loose thread.

You wouldn't have won, either.

Wouldn't have survived.

It is sundown. You are still seated at the same table, thick and thin books piled beside you and on the floor. A librarian walks up the staircase to meet you, and he asks if you're all right; have you found what you're searching for?

You nod, but say nothing.

Eventually, you are exhausted and can barely keep your eyes open. The vast amount of information you've read hurts your head, and you're dehydrated and knackered. Perhaps this is beyond you; perhaps it is time to back away.

'I moved into here once.'

You look up, surprised.

It is uncertain how long for, but Cynthia has been watching you from the top of the staircase. There is a fondness in her eyes as she walks over to meet you. 'Well, not moved in exactly, but it felt that way.' She smiles––tender. 'Dawn, have you ever heard of the concept of taking a break? It might do you good.'

Exhaling, you abandon the book you're reading. 'I can't find anything. Nothing on what Professor Grey is trying to achieve. I am either looking in the wrong sections, or there is simply nothing written about her theories.'

'Could be that,' Cynthia nods. 'Could be that those books, that kind of research, is almost sinful to the eyes of many.' She takes a seat beside you, and places a hand on your shoulder. It is comforting; reassuring. 'If you're searching for the forbidden, then try somewhere less transparent.'

You frown. 'Where would I look?'

A grin. 'You're looking at her right now. I dedicated half of my life to this kind of research. That, as well as the Sinnoh myths.'

'Do you believe in them?'

Cynthia's hand slips from your shoulder––her warmth erased by a snapping chill. It has an immediate effect on your body. She looks down at one of the books on the table, and idly flicks a page over.

'That depends which myth we're talking about here. I would be foolish to spend so long on a subject I did not, at least, consider the possibility of being true. Perhaps it is because I am an academic, but to say I believe without thinking it through first––I can't do that. So, I can't answer your question.'

You blink. Never has Cynthia not had an answer for you; in fact, it has always been the contrary.

Then you smile. It is almost endearing, her confusion. 'That's okay.'

'And you?'

You're a bit thrown by her question. Do you believe in the multiple myths of Sinnoh? Those of the Lakes? Of Veilstone? The myth of Mespirit? You have witnessed the ancient Pokemon yourself, been lifted by its heavenly aura, but the story which lies behind it, the beautiful poetry dedicated to this creature––

––maybe you are an academic too. All you can do is stand back, and observe; but never have an answer of your own.

Truth is, though, you've never really thought about it.

Pokemon, to you, have been not about the myths, but their power, their history; what they can do for their masters.

You drop your gaze.

'Did you know about Cyrus––before?'

Cynthia tenses. You don't look at her. Allow the query to sink in. A part of you expects her to walk away, but Cynthia isn't a coward; she has faced many monsters in her life, including Cyrus, and so, of course, she gives you an answer.

'I did.'

'What was he like?'

Now you look at her, and her grey eyes have widened slightly. In a vague attempt to lighten the mood, she chuckles, 'Dawn, I never knew you for the forward type.' You wait patiently. 'Yes, I knew Cyrus, before Team Galactic. In a way, he was quite like my rival, but our relationship was always complex.'

'How so?'

'Between you and your friend, Barry, I've always felt a sense of respect.' You nod in agreement. 'Cyrus was a… jealous boy. I was always one step ahead of him, which he took personally. I suppose that is to be expected between two rivals, but when I became the youngest, and first female Champion in all of Sinnoh––' she smiles; it's a reflection of Red's when you defeated him. Sad. Troubled. Hopeless. '––Suffice to say, he became so wound up in his desire to beat me, he eventually gave up trying.'

'Jealous?'

'Jealous. I know that must be hard to believe, considering how you knew him––'

'No. I believe it.'

Cynthia softens her expression. There's a moment. A small fracture of a second when it's just the two of you, and it's a strange niceness. Comforting. Then she pulls from your gaze.

'When I first met you, you were already one step ahead of your friend, regardless if he gained his second badge before you.' She shrugs. 'It's not necessarily about the gym badges; it's how your Pokemon see you, and how you see them. Yes: you were very advanced.'

Your heart flutters. You think because you're flattered. But you're not really sure.

'I know why Cyrus became so obsessed in trying to rid of you. From the start, you were a threat to him. When I observed your power, I decided to take a step back; I felt you could deal with him better than I, and I was right.'

'You helped me.'

'I gave you the odd lesson, but it was all you. Training is an isolating business––I know that. They say only lonely people become the best trainers. Perhaps there's some truth to that after all.'

Craning your head to the right, you study her; not much that different from you, not that much different from Cyrus, or Barry even––but still a trainer of her own. A relatable one. Who started off in the poor village of Celestic, and achieved so much brilliance within just a few years. Who became more powerful than any trainer. It just went to show that social class, wealth, intelligence––it means nothing at the end of the day.

Maybe that's why you liked her. Why you listened to her first before anybody else. When she spoke about Pokemon, you understood; it wasn't like with Barry, who was so energetic and impulsive, you were incapable to keep up with his theories. Nor was it like that with Professor Rowan: too traditional in his, too outdated to work anymore.

Cynthia didn't focus on battle, but on feeling.

A Pokemon cannot understand you, cannot fight for you, if neither of you share feeling. A respect, a love, that only two creatures may share in due time. And, for the record, the Pokemon doesn't fight for you anyway. The Pokemon fights with you.

When you're Pokemon is hurt, you, too, are hurt.

You and your Pokemon share the same soul, the same heart; ignore this fact, then you cannot become a trainer.

'Anyway. Enough about Cyrus. Or me, for that matter. Please, tell me what you have discovered so far. I would like to help.'

When The Distortion World faded away, you could think of nothing else.

Your dreams were filled with that vast emptiness; that heavy gravitational pull; how all logic was erased in that tiny, yet huge planet of barrenness. You woke up, sweating and panting, the image of Giratina and its hideous body, planted in your mind. And each time, you would check your PC; make sure it's still in there––hidden.

A secret. One which has disturbed you ever since you held that beast in your palm.

You are in possession of Satan, and you have not recovered since.

The moment you caught Giratina, you were no longer a trainer, no longer a child. You became an adult, a Master of Pokemon. And the only person who witnessed the event was Cynthia, who simply stood back; let you decide on your own path.

She didn't say a word afterwards.

There was no disapproval or pride when she escorted you away from Mount Coronet. There was nothing in her face; her eyes had become as bleak as The Distortion World itself, and you never understood why.

Now you do.

If you were Cynthia, you would have allowed Giratina to run free. Given it the liberty of isolation; let it live; control the galaxy as it had done for centuries.

If you were Cyrus, you would have caught Giratina. Made it your own. Possessed it.

You were Cyrus in that moment, when you held Giratina in your trembling hands. Hungry for its wisdom and power; you became corrupt.

The girl Cynthia met all those years ago, innocent, quiet and so determined, had vanished completely for a few minutes.

And that must have been terrifying.

To watch another Cyrus evolve before her.

… and it still claws at your mind.

'Dawn? Dawn!'

You scream. It is a sound you have never heard before; you wail out; plead into the air, and a hand grabs your arm. Something strong, and yet so gentle, holds you still, and you blink frantically, gasping.

The sun is rising.

And you were dreaming. Dreaming about the vast openness of The Distortion World, and you were flying, happy and alive and free. Suddenly the fate of the world no longer rested on your shoulders and you have never felt such a joy.

But its face appeared.

Ugly and beautiful.

You feel her presence, her hands on your trembling body, and find her eyes. The panic has subsided, and Cynthia's face has become soft; sympathetic. 'You had fallen asleep, so I decided to leave you be.'

Puzzled, you look around.

Notes and books are scattered across the floor. And you remember: you and Cynthia were researching on Professor Grey's theories, and you can't recall if you had got anywhere, but the data Cynthia provided you certainly drew you closer to wherever Grey is, and whatever plans she may have next.

Then you fell asleep.

'What was wrong?'

She is still watching you; still holding you.

'N–Nothing.' You inhale. Try a smile, but Cynthia's expression doesn't change. 'A dream. That's all.'

Cynthia squeezes your arm.

Then releases you.

She stands and returns to her original place. 'I discovered letters sent between Professor Oak and Professor Grey; you might find them of interest.' She looks to you, holds your gaze for a moment, then resumes her work. 'I left them at your side.'

You reach for them. Desperate to forget about the dream, you hurriedly flick through the letters. Although not much is revealed, you do discover mention of Professor Grey's plans. She speaks highly of Cyrus, but admits that he is weak; he cannot continue his work, and so she must take his place.

She asks if Professor Oak will join her. Asks him to imagine the millions they would make.

'Dawn…?'

'Hm?'

You mistakenly look up at Cynthia. Her expression is concerned; your pulse races.

'How do you feel?'

'Fine. I always feel fine.'

Cynthia is still, then she takes a Pokeball from her hip.

You're taken by surprise when she throws the Pokeball near where you're seated. Out from it explodes her Togekiss, which gleefully flaps its wings, and circles around you, releasing a happy, cooing noise.

In a matter of seconds, you feel better. Lighter.

Freer.

The terror has disentangled your mind, and everything is okay again.

The Togekiss must have sensed your better state, because it obediently returns to Cynthia, and perches itself at the corner of her desk.

'What was that?'

Not looking up from her notes, Cynthia replies, 'Nothing particularly. A Togekiss is a very happy Pokemon, and enjoys to share its joy.' She smiles faintly. 'You looked like you needed a bit of happiness for once.'

You wrap your arms around yourself, and look away.

'How long for?'

The nightmares. How long have you suffered them.

'Since The Distortion World.'

Cynthia sighs. You hear her placing her notes down.

'I'm okay. The dreams are less regular now.'

'Mm.'

You both fall into silence, which you prefer. You're not keen on discussing your mentality, especially to Cynthia. You're not even sure if she would understand. How you feel, what you're going through, what you went through––

'I am sorry.'

At first, you think your hearing is off, but you're certain you heard Cynthia correctly.

'What about?'

'I saw too much in you.' Cynthia leans back in her chair, and rubs her eyes with the heel of her palm. 'I should have gone ahead alone. But I forced you to come with me.'

Realising what she is implying, you jump to your feet. 'I wanted to come with you. I had gone so far, I couldn't allow Cyrus to get away––'

'You misunderstand. From the beginning, I almost ensured you would save Sinnoh; save the world even. I forced all of that responsibility on your tiny shoulders, and never considered the consequences.'

Immediately, you reject her words, but she interjects before you're allowed to speak––

'I was scared to go alone. I couldn't do it without you.'

You're stumped.

'I was selfish, and let you go through something when you were far too young.'

Too young.

Oh.

Your heart falls into the pit of your stomach, and you're quiet for a while. Too young to endure pain, too young to witness horror; too young to be somebody's comfort through a troubling, if not fatal, moment in their life.

Is that how she sees you?

Too young?

'You gave me a choice,' you start, voice tight. 'Before we entered The Distortion World together, you turned to me and asked if I would come with you. You didn't push me into the portal; you didn't drag me anywhere. You gave me a choice.'

And I chose you.

Each time.

It was her you chose. It was her side you chose to fight for; it was her beliefs you chose to fight for.

It was her or Cyrus, two brilliant masters. One could give you the world, the other could only give you trauma. Perhaps a life your own.

But you still chose her.

Cynthia stares at you, bewildered.

You look away.

It was you who faced Giratina, you who pulled Cyrus aside and challenged him for the last time.

You became a heroine, only known to two people in the entire world.

You saved the world, and only two people watched.

Cynthia observed the most changing period in your life; watched you evolve. She was there, the whole time, and it causes a shudder up your spine.

It is almost intimate. She knows you better than anybody.

On cue, Togekiss leaps up from the desk, and joyfully swirls around you, before landing delicately on your shoulder.

Its happiness is strong, and pretty; and light.

So much like its trainer.

'I chose to go with you. Please don't invalidate me in that way. I may have been young, but I wasn't gullible.'

You defeat her, but this not in a match.

She drops her gaze to the desk. And she's suddenly youthful; fragile.

'I understand.'

There is a sudden urge to hold her, like she held you, but you stay where you are. It isn't easy, it isn't as simple, to simply go over and cuddle away the nightmare. So you don't do that; you don't try.

'Let us finish looking through these notes, then.'

It's good enough.

You nod, and Togekiss jumps off your shoulder, returning to its trainer.