Chapter 88, everybody! Yes, I live! Wish I had a better explanation beyond different fandom grabbed my brain and ran off but I will finish this fic no matter how long it takes. Good news is I'm reasonably sure the bones of the rest of it is in and now it's just the matter of hooking up all the high points and such.
Gotta say though, didn't think Ash would finish before I did.
So in reading up on the Princess Festival and Kids' Day episodes from the series, both are actually real holidays in Japan—interestingly, the boys' insistence that Kids' Day be for the boys only might have stemmed from the fact that originally it was Boys' Day, and acted as a foil for the girl-centric Princess/Doll Festival. Granted, Girls' Day is in March and Boys' day is in May, and yet the episodes are right on top of each other….
Oh and look! Darkrai and Bulbasaur backstories! Also dandelions are good and not weeds, quick PSA. And yes that's a reference to Toy Story and that one scene from The Good Dinosaur, with the 'something different' bit being a reference to Dead Sound's Autodale series on YouTube—please check it out it's so good. :O
And now for reviews: thanks to Kazuto Tetsuya, B0bbles, quadehays4, Dragonkeeper10, Chryssal, griffin blackwood, LongNightDragon (lol no it's not Cassidy), forward-smash, AngelicTrinity, epantoja521, Reader, Cyan Quartz, Jambers81, Shadefire (aww, thank you!), Speed Reader, talesfanjmf, mintlover360, Guest, PurplePlasmaPenguin, Kmbrun, Aetherium21, Gilgamesh50, Dragon of Yin and Yang, AverageHiveMind (hey, good to see you again! :D), and (different?) Guest for the reviews! It's always good to see what you think, and hopefully I can provide new chapters more frequently in the coming months.
Pokémon © Game Freak; Nintendo
And now, for something completely different:
Welcome back, friends. Are you seated comfortably? Good. Look at your father, look at your mother. They are pretty. Oh, so pretty. That is because you are now in a society that punishes ugliness, destroys deviants from societal norm, and makes certain that everyone is precisely like everyone else. Nothing exists beyond the walls, just you, the Town, and…The Distortion Zone.
The next couple of days passed without incident, with the next notable event occurring when they neared a cluster of houses that wasn't big enough to be considered a village or town but big enough to warrant a few of the necessary buildings.
A flag flying in front of one of them was enough to stop Misty.
"Hey!" she said, pointing. "That flag—it's Kids' Day!"
"Hey, all right!" Ash said, stopping as well. "That's always an awesome day!"
"It is—we should stop and enjoy it—all three of us!"
"No way!" Ash said. "You already got that girl-themed day—Kids' Day should be focused on the guys!"
"Yeah—equal rights for men," Brock agreed.
Misty neutralized their argument quickly with her mallet.
"Are you two seriously going to stand here and argue semantics with me? Now are we going to play or are we going to play!?"
"Play," Ash and Brock said, nursing their sore skulls.
"Why did I get hit?" Darkrai asked, rubbing a similar bump.
"Because you deserve it on principle," Misty said, pointing at him.
"Uh-huh. Whatever. I'm leaving—I don't deserve this abuse."
"Oh yeah? Well good riddance, you looney!" Misty yelled after him. "Now the rest of you, come on!" she said, waving her mallet like a directing baton. "We've got some playing to do!"
The whole of Kids' Day ended up being a bit of a wash, to be honest.
Firstly, there was the issue of kids not wanting to play with them—or when they did, being snooty about it. Oh, you're trainers? Then what are you doing playing with us lowly types then, hmm?
It was about this time that Ash discovered that of the sheer number of people who applied, only a small fraction was able to pass enough muster to become rookie trainers.
And then there was the issue of kids that did have Pokémon. Sure, the kids seemed amiable enough.
But without fail, as soon as they caught a whiff of Ash, the Pokémon chased the group off, screaming in anger.
And so, by sundown, the group was up on a hill, tired, exhausted, and without a lick of enjoyment out of the day.
"What gives?" Misty demanded. "Someone tell me I wasn't like that when I was that age!"
"I didn't know you, so I couldn't say," Brock said. "Better question: what was with those Pokémon?"
"Yeah, that was weird—Ash, maybe Darkrai's right, and you should take a bath more often—"
"Gee, thanks, blame me," Ash said, before looking at Misty—she looked like a lightbulb had gone off over her head. "What?"
"Maybe it's Darkrai's fault," she said.
"Oh sure, blame me," Darkrai said, dropping down beside them. "Whatever it is, I assure you I didn't do it. You look exhausted, by the by—playtime go well?"
"Not a lick," Brock declared. "It's official—I no longer connect with the younger generation."
"You'll get over it."
"No, listen," Misty said, standing and pointing at Darkrai. "Most Pokémon rely on their sense of smell, right? And Darkrai's supposed to be this big awesome Legendary—" this with air quotes. "Which would mean to the average Pokémon, he's dangerous, right?"
"You flatter me, but I feel like it's winding up to an insult."
"It is. Ash hangs around you all the time—you think maybe your smell rubbed off on him, so now he smells like you to the other Pokémon?"
Silence as the boys digested that.
"So it's your fault I smell," Ash said finally, looking pointedly at Darkrai.
"I'll have you know that I bathe on a regular basis," Darkrai said, tapping his chest with one clawed hand, other hand on his hip as he glared at Ash.
"So maybe Darkrai's still right, and you do need to bathe more," Brock said.
"Finally, someone speaks sense."
"I give up," Ash sighed.
They had pushed on a little bit to put some distance between them and the semi-hostile neighborhoods, eventually settling down in a clearing so Brock could cook dinner.
The Pokémon, meanwhile, were having a discussion, mostly involving Pikachu explaining what had happened while everyone else was in their balls.
"Dude, that is SO rude," Squirtle said. "We should go back and like, pull up all their flowers or something."
"We are not conducting vandalism tonight," Bulbasaur said sternly.
"So tomorrow?"
"We're not conducting it tomorrow either."
"But your wording suggests it's on the table," Darkrai said, floating by.
"No it isn't."
"Uhhh sure yeah," Squirtle said, waving them off before running after Darkrai. "Hey, I need suggestions that don't fall under vandalism. For reasons."
"Someone should probably stop him," Bulbasaur said, glancing at Pikachu.
"Gee, why don't I do it," Pikachu grumbled, stomping after them. Bulbasaur watched him go, shifted his attention to Darkrai.
"So what can you tell me about him?" Bulbasaur asked.
"Who, Pikachu?" Patches asked, ears twitching in surprise. "Uhhh little snippy sometimes but he's starting to mellow out—"
"That's good to know, but I was actually meaning Darkrai."
"Oh. Uh…intimidating? Scary?"
"Nothing about his personality?"
"Okay I'm going to need some reasoning for this line of questioning because I am lost."
"You're not the only one—I'm not sure what to think of him," Bulbasaur said, eyeing Darkrai. "I've never met a Pokémon with such a poisonous attitude that wasn't Poison."
"Hey," Patches protested.
"I'm just saying I have literally met more huggable Muk."
"Oh yeah—that one Misty caught."
"I wonder what's going on in that head of his."
"Let's not find out."
"Let's," Bulbasaur said, standing and stretching before heading over to Darkrai. "I don't like travelling with an enigma."
"This will only end in tears," Patches sighed.
Bulbasaur couldn't exactly disagree with him, but he was getting to the bottom of this, focusing on the black blot currently loitering at the top of the hill. All the other Pokémon were perfectly fine with interacting with each other, and while Darkrai might loiter around Ash specifically he never seemed to commit too much time, always floating around and edging around the others and…aha.
"I've figured it out."
Darkrai glanced to the side to see Bulbasaur looking up at him. "Oh do tell."
Bulbasaur tipped his head, acknowledging the snark. "You. Your attitude. I've figured it out—and why you insist on hanging around Ash when the rest of us insist on you not."
"I'm sure this will be wonderfully enlightening."
"I think so—because I think you had what I had, once upon a time: a trainer."
The way Darkrai stiffened told Bulbasaur he had been right on the money. "I've seen enough at the sanctuary: some trainers abandoned their Pokémon, like what happened to me and Charmander. Some couldn't take care of them anymore and had to release them. And some…in some cases, the trainer died."
That last one—that was the one that Darkrai reacted to, however minutely. "Whatever happened to your trainer?"
Bulbasaur's next clear recollection was being on his side with Darkrai looming over him.
"If I thought it was any of your business, I'd tell you," Darkrai snarled. "Now bug off."
And with that, Darkrai floated away, leaving Bulbasaur to right himself and look after him. Interesting.
"It'd be easier on yourself if you just let Ash capture you!" Bulbasaur called after him. "You need to move on!"
"I will rip that bulb clean off your back if you don't shut up!"
Bulbasaur wondered how that would work. Would he just be known as 'Asaur'? "You'll feel better if you do."
And once again, Darkrai was looming over him, jabbing a sharp claw in his face.
"Oh really?" Darkrai asked. "Well, why don't we talk about you? You and your trainer that abandoned you—tell me, how did that feel? Oh wait—I can find out for myself."
Before Bulbasaur could respond, he was hit by a wave of darkness, felt the sensation of falling—
And landed with an oof in a field on a nice clean spring day. Dandelions were blooming everywhere.
Bulbasaur hated dandelions. They reminded him of the worst day of his life.
Oh.
"Nice day," Darkrai observed, floating next to him and looking smug. "Bad things should never happen on nice days."
Bulbasaur gritted his teeth, rightfully expecting that Darkrai was trying to get a reaction out of him. He shook his head and forced himself to watch as his younger self fought valiantly for his first trainer, tried so very hard against a Charmeleon despite being underleveled and at a type disadvantage—
The opposing trainer collected the money, said something insulting and laughed as he walked away. Bulbasaur blinked several times as he watched his younger self struggle upright but fail…watched as his first trainer dropped his Pokéball and crushed it. Watched as his younger self watched in disbelief and then despair, crying out and trying to follow but unable to—raw burns tended to do that.
Bulbasaur let out a long sigh. "I remember this," he said. "But you always remember the worst day of your life." He shook his head, forced himself to continue to watch. "But I have better memories now—after this, I find the sanctuary, I help others. And now I'm travelling with Brock and the others, and I can assure you they aren't like this." He looked at the specter looming beside him. "Now we've aired my worst day—your turn. What happened to your trainer?"
"You missed the part where it was none of your business," Darkrai spat, apparently miffed by the fact that Bulbasaur had refused to be intimidated.
"Fair's fair. You've seen my worst day—now what was yours?"
Darkrai's chuckle was dark at best and menacing at worst. "You are a little fool—I'm a Darkrai: we're born knowing that most of our days are going to be bad."
Bulbasaur blinked.
"How so?" he asked. "Don't fault me for not knowing—you're the first of your kind that I've met."
"And quite possibly the last."
It was a dream—and because it was a dream, Bulbasaur caught the underlying meaning.
"I know the feeling," he said. "My species has nearly been hunted to extinction because people thought our bulbs extended a person's life."
Again that dark chuckle, as Darkrai started to drift away. Bulbasaur quickly followed, despite the feeling of muck sucking away at his feet. "Must be nice, being hunted for more than just sport."
Bulbasaur blinked, forced his way through the thorns now growing in his way—the dream was darkening into a proper nightmare now, but he had to keep trying—
"I can help!" he choked out finally, still struggling. "I can help!"
Darkrai was back and looming over him.
"'I can be better,'" Darkrai snarled. "That's what you were crying over and over again to that human when he dumped you: 'don't leave me—I can be better.' But you can never be good enough for them. Eventually, the good ones die, and you're left with the ones who view you as a tool or a threat. Never a friend."
The vines were moving, choking him, but Bulbasaur couldn't help but stare at Darkrai in front of him, feeling as though he were close to an understanding, so close….
"Someone did, once upon a time," Bulbasaur said. "And Ash is now."
Narrowed turquoise eyes—
And then sharp claws slashing down.
Bulbasaur woke with a start, realizing that quite a bit of time had passed—sniff the air…dinner time. Glance around….
A dandelion was growing next to him.
He couldn't help but scowl, stomped it out and scraped it out of existence. Shake his head…he didn't want to be alone.
He walked down the hill, scanning the area for angry black blots that didn't want to talk about prior history but had no problem airing out others'. Nothing. Not even when he got to where the rest of the group was camping. Hmm, he would have thought Darkrai would be hovering around Ash like he usually did, acting all aloof but in reality carefully watching Ash's every move. Maybe he thought this would prove Bulbasaur wrong somehow. Hmph.
He reached Brock and leaned heavily on his leg, sighing deeply.
"There you are," Brock said, looking down at him. "Where've you been? Off exploring?"
Bulbasaur couldn't help but look at him. Off exploring. Right. The depths of his mind, as that one radio show Ash listened to whenever they got around a radio said. He continued to lean on Brock until the trainer got the message and kneeled down to rub his head affectionately.
"I've got a new recipe I'm trying out," Brock told him. "You can tell me if it has any more kinks to work out—how's that sound?"
It sounded good, Bulbasaur thought.
Yes, he had had a bad life.
But that didn't mean it couldn't improve.
Which made him wonder why Darkrai was such a defeatist in that regard.
Bulbasaur broke away from the contact, went to Brock's backpack, used two vines to start rooting through the pack, searching for certain papers Brock had read not that long ago.
"What are you doing?" Brock asked, coming over.
There—in the detritus of the bottom of Brock's bag. Bulbasaur wrapped his vines around the papers and held them out to Brock, who took them and scanned them briefly.
"These are the notes I printed out about Darkrai," Brock said, looking from the notes to Bulbasaur. "Why do you want these?"
Bulbasaur wasn't quite sure how to translate it to Brock, but he was willing to try—point at his bulb with a vine, and then make a cutting motion across his throat. Do it again when he saw it wasn't sinking in, point at the notes.
It took another reiteration before the meaning sunk in for Brock.
"Bulbasaur…used to be hunted and killed for their bulbs," Brock said slowly. When Bulbasaur nodded: "You want to know…if Darkrai had something similar?"
Bulbasaur nodded.
Brock sat crosslegged next to him, flipping through the notes. "Well, there's not much to tell, honestly—what I found was basically old lore. Darkrai's considered a Legendary Pokémon—they're not exactly common."
"Look anyway," Bulbasaur said, even though he knew Brock wouldn't understand—humans were really very simple creatures. But they understood tone, and there was something about them that made Pokémon want to instinctively protect them, for reasons that Bulbasaur couldn't even begin to determine or fathom.
"Other than that…native to Sinnoh, live on New Moon Island…one of the nobility in Sinnoh has one mounted—"
Bulbasaur jabbed his vine into the page at that.
"The stuffed one?" Brock asked—and then it sank in. "Oh."
Bulbasaur wasn't certain how to convey his next thought, but he tried anyway—take sticks, stick them into the ground, draw a circle around them. And then put all but one stick down, cover them with dirt, point at the one stick, and then at the papers.
"I…think I get what you're trying to say, but I'm not sure," Brock said, looking at the little mound. "But…is this why you've been dogging Darkrai like you've been?"
Bulbasaur nodded.
"I'd be careful, if I were you," Brock counseled.
Bulbasaur made a sort of sideways nod at that—yes, he realized the danger.
But he had also been around enough damaged Pokémon to recognize one when he saw it. And wonder of wonders, Darkrai was just lonely.
Brock went back to petting Bulbasaur, who decided to reward the affection with a prumm. Good human, petting was good. Keep doing that.
"So," Brock said. "I don't guarantee it, but are you ready for dinner?"
Bulbasaur was.