Some paragraphs written by lupyne, and are reproduced here with permission.
I stand there, immersed in my thoughts, a thousand crazy ideas linking up into each other and loudly clamouring for my attention. Pichu clutches me still, though I don't feel him anymore. The distressed Gardevoir ignores all of us and continues sobbing into Gallade's body, as if hoping her tears would bring him back to life.
I think I heard about that in a story long, long ago.
Hitmonlee observes the scene with a quiet disdain. I could tell that Gardevoir's wailing was starting to get on his nerves, and he was struggling to keep his mouth shut. Finally, he succumbs to temptation to let something out of his mouth.
"Well, at least with Lover-boy out of the picture, you'll have more time to trai–"
His voice cuts off abruptly as he ducks instinctively, a sharp rock sent whizzing through where his face was mere instants before. He straightens himself up, wearing a look of greater exasperation than he originally was.
Gardevoir glares daggers at him from her position over Gallade's body. Her tears had not yet stopped, but her eyes now glow dangerously as several more rocks levitate into the air, courtesy of her Psychic powers.
To be honest, I'm quite shocked: Hitmonlee not being the most sensitive Pokémon around is an undisputed fact, but to say such things in Gardevoir's face – it honestly is questionable whether he's lost all traces of intelligence that he seemed to have in the first place. Magneton, cold as he is, at least has the decency to remain silent.
Hitmonlee seems to brush aside the hovering missiles as unimportant, as he resumes his talk – either a completely unsympathetic display of insensitivity or a horrible attempt at comforting. Either way, this will probably not end well.
"I mean, you'll have to admit that –"
"Shut up." Gardevoir's voice comes steely though clenched-teeth, the glow in her eyes increasing to a near-opaque levels. She hasn't moved at all, through I can now see she's trembling in a way that has nothing to do with the cold. The missiles shiver with her, but they hold their ground.
Hitmonlee doesn't take the hint, and takes another breath to speak.
Beside me, I feel Pichu tense up a little, his grip against my shoulder tightening, and hear little scrabbling sounds as he tries to distance himself from the two. Unconsciously, I find my paws backing up as well – I don't want to be anywhere near these two when –
"What? Maybe it's a good thing that he – "
"Shut up!" Gardevoir cries, straightening herself up to her full height, an unearthly aura immediately enveloping her. With a primal roar, the floating rocks fire and a Shadow Ball starts to form as she physically lunges for Hitmonlee – who I now detect giving off the slightest emanation of fear.
The Shadow Ball bursts forth explosively from Gardevoir's grasp, locked on to its target. Hitmonlee counters with a Blaze Kick, reflecting the attack back towards Gardevoir. Somehow, she punches it head-on, sending it back, all the while closing in on the staggering Hitmonlee in double time –
And then, the punches fly, far harder and far bitterer than in any match, even when Gallade was alive and engaged with Hitmonlee in their brutal spars. The Shadow Balls slams into the snow inches away from Hitmonlee's feet, throwing up a gigantic cloud of blinding snow. We all flinch and turn away, feeling the heavy slaps of snow on our bodies.
The Fighting-type is suddenly disorientated by Gardevoir's rapid strikes, but quickly regains the upper hand in close combat, cutting down Gardevoir with well-practiced kicks. In a matter of seconds Gardevoir is stumbling, driven backwards towards the cliff-face.
After suffering a particularly bloody kick to the jaw, something within Gardevoir snapped. I felt a reservoir of anger and power welling up from the inside of her, as she suddenly starts to overpower Hitmonlee with surprisingly accurate and powerful blows, all the while crying out incomprehensibly.
It is only about now that the good policemen of Snowpoint react, drawing out guns and shouting out orders for the Pokémon to stand down and cease attack. Obviously, this has little effect – the two are now focused solely on each other and will pay no heed to anything else. Adrenalin rushes faster through spilled blood, and judging by the increasing splatters on the fresh snow, there might soon be another body to join Gallade's –
No strategy. No discipline. All conventional rules of battle are thrown out of the window, and only pure power reigns as Gardevoir takes on Hitmonlee in a deathmatch. A deadly cocktail mix of ability, emotions and adrenalin power both on. If they felt exhaustion, none of it shows on their gritted teeth and grim faces.
Some blood splatters wetly on the snow besides Pichu. I don't know whose. He yelps and squirms away from it.
All of a sudden, a shadow looms past me, and I jump, startled. I twist around, confused for a moment, until I see the familiar figure hovering imposingly above the scene of the increasingly dangerous battle. A hundred meters from where we stand, the police car's radio emits an ominous whine of static, quickly increasing in volume and pitch.
Pichu re-clutches my shoulder in new fear, and I yelp at his tight grip. Without a word, we both turn tail together and do the only thing we can do – run. The sudden fight might have taken us by surprise, but now we are shaken out of it and are sprinting for our lives.
A little too late, the policemen notice their walkie-talkies crackling, even though no one is speaking. Behind them, the radio loses the fight in a burst of white sparks, emitting an unearthly dying scream. Pichu and I, we – we hurriedly dash across clumps of snow, putting as much distance as we can between the fight, the police – and Magneton.
"Enough."
And with just that one word, Magneton lets loose an incredible burst of energy. The light itself is so blinding that I involuntarily shield my eyes immediately, diving blindly into a mound of snow. I hear Pichu doing the same, a fraction of a second after me.
There's a pause for a mere instant, right before the earth-shattering impact of the Zap Cannon hits home.
When it does an instant later (as promised by the advertisements) the ground literally jumps, and with it, so do we. Snow is flung all over, and we're flung along with it, humans, Pokémon and all. I'm forcibly torn away from Pichu, rolling to a stop a short distance away. From somewhere I hear him squeal and groan, and somehow am reminded of Navy Blue's collar-picking moment in the van. Even through the painful déjà vu, I can't help but smirk as Navy-Blue finally has a taste of his own Hyper Potion.
After a couple of seconds, I finally deem it safe to see how much of the surrounding environment our team has managed to destroy this time. I draw a deep breath to steel myself, and then peer out.
Magneton is the only one left hovering in the dead center of the sorry scene. Gallade's body was disturbed a little, rolled over to his side. The humans are lying down – mostly – or otherwise struggling to their feet, muttering various exclamations of pain and loud comments about Magneton's mother. Others plunge their hands into snow and writhing, having electricity arc from the metal in their hands to bare, exposed skin.
I wince. Painful.
But more importantly, Gardevoir and Hitmonlee lie in smoking heaps, thrown far away from each other. Both are – unsurprisingly – not moving. I hesitantly poke my snout out a little more, cautiously sniffing the air. It smells horribly like acrid smoke. For a moment I –
"You! – The Magneton!" I hear a hoarse shout, quickly turning around to find its source. Magneton does so too, but at a far lazier pace. A police officer – Navy Blue, I realize with a start – wildly gestures at him, temporarily having lost his voice. Magneton allows a little bit of amusement creep into his features.
"Stand – wheeze – down!" Magneton politely does so, slowly lowering himself to near-ground level. The officers slowly stagger to their feet, and two questions are probably running through their heads – do I shoot at the Magneton or not, and does it make a difference if I do?
The magnetic Pokémon casts a sideways look at Hitmonlee and Gardevoir. With a start, I observe Hitmonlee's chest heave a little, and Gardevoir's frail breathing. Of course they're alive, I have to remind myself – although, for a moment it seemed very much as though…
I glance at Magneton. His display over, he had immediately reverted back into his disinterested personality. Right now something else seems to have caught his attention, because he turned away slightly, and started to float off. He wanders around the clearing, hovering about in a leisurely pace, while the officers pant and wheeze and try to keep their focus on him.
From far away, I hear the distant sounds of police vehicles, probably attracted by the odd Zap-Cannon-in-the-middle-of-the-woods.
Suddenly, a pull on my neck! I think it is Pichu, and start to swipe angrily at it, but immediately the grip grows stronger and I'm lifted bodily off the ground. At the same time, Pichu squirms and yells in protest beside me. I instinctively thrash around, but it's no use. The ground looks much further away now…
"The van's here." A familiar voice –
As his men slowly disperse to swing open the steel doors of the van, a couple of cautious policemen approach Magneton, trying to cajole him to follow them. Navy-Blue turns us to face him, swinging us a little in his grip.
I see the van, and immediately a quick succession of images floods my mind, none of which are particularly comfortable. I don't like where this is going. Funny enough, Navy-Blue seems to read my thoughts, and smiles weakly through his pain.
"Buckle up, kiddies. We're going to the Pokémon Center."
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Chapter Three: Crash of Cymbals
"A-one, a-two; a-one, two, three –"
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"No!"
I lash out, finding a whole new well of energy rising up. Reaching up and gripping Navy-Blue's wrist with both paws, I allow an offensive burst of concentrated Aura to flow through me into him.
The Force Palm attack was weak. But importantly, it came on the heels of a stupidly powerful Zap Cannon. Like a cartoon in which the dazed baddie falls after a feather's touch, so did Navy-Blue. The officer staggers backwards, releasing both Pichu and I from his grip. Even before he hits the snow, we take off running – the one time I'm glad Pichu has any initiative whatsoever.
"Run!" I instruct, and Pichu follows wordlessly. We cover ground quickly, getting away from the place of death, retracing our steps up the steep slope. Behind us I hear sudden shouts and yells, increasing in intensity. Pichu yelps breathlessly, and we speed up.
Pokémon Center visits were never very good for my mental health.
Sure, they healed me up just fine, physically. But I know it just means that I live another day as the Trainer's pet puppet, to be sent out into battle once again, again and again, to promote my awesome losing streak.
Perhaps it isn't the fault of the Center; but the cumulative effect of everything simply makes it a place of horror to my young mind. To be honest, even though it's probably the safest place to be, I'd rather be wandering around town without identification than stay in a Pokémon Center longer than necessary.
Also, the Pokémon Center Pokéblock tasted like cardboard.
And coming from someone who's actually lived on cardboard in the wild: that was not a compliment.
Reaching the top of the cliff, we're quite breathless. But upon hearing the heavy footsteps of a couple of officers hot on our tails, I take off through the trees, and Pichu follows me. We flit between the trees with ease, with the larger and less agile policemen struggling behind.
"Stop!" someone yells through the woods. But I heard his panting, and his voice becoming more and more distant. I grin wolfishly, the shadow from the trees casting black splotches across both Pichu and I, hiding us from sight.
"Riolu – I – " Pichu wheezes slightly, but I don't let up. Jumping from behind tree to tree, I'm sure the officers would have lost sight of us from time to time, nature itself providing its perfect hiding spots. We disappear in and out of vision, between the slits of light and dark.
Hopefully, they'll lose us for good. The cold snow is good for running, stinging slightly at our paws as we hastily retreat.
We break out of the woods, and continued along the shadows of sideshops. We cover several streets in absolute silence, and we hear nothing else other than the swift pattering of our paws and our ragged breaths.
Soon I skid to a stop on all fours, raising my head to look around and behind us. Pichu falls on his side beside me, chest heaving, panting heavily.
The Inn is within sight, and the gates are wide open, just in time for lunch. Around us, a shower of snow gradually makes its way down, cloaking us with a light layer. The only disturbance nearby was an unseen bird, croaking in the distance; and our freshly imprinted pawprints.
No one had followed us. I breathe a huge sigh of relief.
We had thrown off our pursuers, and were safe.
"Hello."
"AAAAAAAA!"
Pichu and I immediately clutch each other in absolute terror, wildly looking all around. No one in sight, save white snow and black shadows. No one, no one at all!
"Strange. No one ever looks up."
Ever heard someone tell you specifically not to do something? The immediate reaction would be, naturally, to do what you were expressively forbidden to do. An irresistible urge to defy that order, born out of curiosity.
It is, therefore, not very hard to guess what Pichu and I did next.
"AAAAAAAAA!"
What we saw was the sun, blotted out by a grotesquely odd shape. The shape got bigger, and it was only after a while did I realize that it was moving closer towards us.
"Enough."
Magneton floats lazily to ground level, staring at us with all three eyes. For the first time I feels a sense of amusement emanating from him. Pichu and I gasp for air, while Magneton gently turns around and floats away.
"Hey! –" I call out, scrambling to my feet. "Where're you going?"
"Inn," comes the curt reply.
As Magneton lazily floats over the short fence and into the construction site, Pichu and I exchange a couple of odd looks. I'm about to call out to him that the construction workers are still there, but he doesn't take notice, and the first words die away on my lips. The sound of construction work, hammering, drilling and shouting floats over the fence, but Magneton didn't seem to care, disappearing behind the fence and out of sight.
It seems like the lure of magnetic material finally broke through Magneton's mental defences.
In all our travelling we probably never got too close to too much metal – the Trainer was sure of that. Unsurprisingly, Magneton loved the stuff, and can't get enough of it. As a rule, the Trainer often kept Magneton in his Pokéball while around electronics, or in shops.
And now, the lure of the motherload of steel bars and magnetic materials in our very own backyard is too strong for Magneton.
There's a short pause, before there the sound of metal hardhat hitting against metal Pokémon.
Bonk.
"Aaah! A Magneton! – Get it away, y'all!"
Pichu and I rush to the edge of the Inn gates, peering around hesitantly. Pichu is the first to poke his head out, taking in the sight quietly. I follow suit after a second, an inner curiosity pleading to know more.
The construction workers face off against Magneton in an uneasy circle. Apparently they've been warned about the dangers of strong magnets in a construction site full of steel and electrical equipment – and the same probably applied to the Pokémon with six U-shaped magnets protruding from its body.
Some carry wrenches or weapons of some sort in one hand. They are closing in on Magneton, unsure of how to deal with this potentially dangerous creature. None of them are armed with Pokémon, but the weapons they have are pretty intimidating all the same.
Magneton has his back towards us. We can't read his expression, and I'm not sure we actually want to.
"We don't want to be here," Pichu breathes.
Those might just be the first wise words that mouse says.
Leaping to the ground and dashing into the Inn as fast as our tired paws can carry us, we hide ourselves away from Magneton in the safety of warm corridors. We rush past a surprised Innkeeper, not even stopping as we pound up the stairs, two at a time. Her irritated voice yells at us, becoming strangely low and distorted as we speed away.
From somewhere nearby, the voices of the construction workers are still audible, drifting in from an open window.
We pull up against the wall, slumping onto the ground, tired. Panting, I look at Pichu, and he arches an eyebrow at me. Evidently, we're probably thinking the same thing.
Hopefully we won't be seeing another Zap Cannon again too soon.
Without warning, an earsplitting sound resounds through the entire Inn.
"LUNCH!"
The voice of the Innkeepers finally dies away, but Pichu and I are still shaking it out of our heads, the ringing still in our ears. Still wary of the fact that Magneton was somewhere on Inn grounds, we creep downstairs.
The Innkeeper roughly sets down two dog-dishes of Pokéblock in the corner. "You two, shoo. Go eat in the corner." She turns away, her black mood permeating the air around her, mumbling and muttering as she goes.
"Not enough that I have to put up with incompetent renovation, I got to feed the workers, too? This is an Inn, not a charity house… what with the police lodging all the Pokémon here for free kibbles, soon I'd have to be offering ten-course meals to anyone who so much as pops his head in the door."
Pichu shrugs at me, a little amused by the Innkeeper's temper. On all fours, I stick my muzzle in the dog-dish, trying – unsuccessfully – to scoop up Pokéblock with my mouth.
Staring at me, the little mouse tries to copy my actions. Unfortunately, he wasn't blessed with a snout, so he ended up sticking his entire face into the dog-dish with a dry splut. I puff my cheeks up, trying to hold in a snicker.
Pichu looks up at my amused expression, a stray piece of squashed Pokéblock sticking to his forehead. "What?"
I plop down on the flooring, dog-dish in one paw and a piece of food in the other. "Forget it. Just eat with your paw." I popped the block into my mouth.
Beside me, Pichu tries to throw a piece in the air and catch it in his mouth, while I look on. However, Pichu never does get to taste the food, because at the moment when the food reaches its highest point in the air, the doors slammed open with a tremendous crash, scaring us both out of our wits.
The Pokéblock bounces harmlessly off Pichu's head.
A few sweaty, irritated, burly men swarm into the room. They seem as intimidating as a bunch of Gallades and Hitmonlees in the room, though not with quite as much tension as the both of them combined. Their loud voices and loud uniforms quickly fill the room, settling down on the table noisily amid complaints of hunger.
"Thank ya, I say," the foreman says, making himself at home on his comfortable chair as the Innkeeper serves up some food. The lady doesn't reply, grumpily setting down the dishes with a clang and leaving for the kitchen.
"Someone's in a bad mood," he chuckles to his workers, and guffaws. "Right then, I'm not going to wait for you guys, and if I finish before you do I'm still going to steal your food."
Clunk. The noise came from outside, in the general direction of the construction site. Pichu and I share a nervous glance.
The foreman slaps a hand on his thigh. "Them scaffoding's fragile enough without Pokémon scrambling all over it," he cries in a thickly accented voice. He doesn't look like he's from the region, although I wouldn't be surprised if he's familiar with the town already. That scaffolding's been here ever since we've arrived in Snowpoint.
"Best be going out and chasing that Magneton away for good. I don't want to rebuild everything from scratch again. C'mon, men." At his word, the big men groan reluctantly, but follow their leader into the site once again.
Pichu and I exchange glances again. The air in the Inn becomes a little tenser, as we try to go back to merely stuffing our faces with berries. But still, something different is in the air, like an excitement that I can't quite explain. No matter how hungry I was, suddenly I find myself unable to eat.
Suddenly, the foreman's voice shouts something, followed quickly by various other exclamations by his men. Various words that I'm pretty sure shouldn't be repeated in polite company. The Innkeeper's curiosity is aroused – and so are ours.
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Magneton is suspended in the air, above the construction site. Previously, there was a large steel bar that the workers had a problem moving, eventually opting to scrape it across the ground with heavy machinery one meter at a time.
The large steel bar now hovers in the air, a couple of inches off the ground.
Slowly, but surely, it moves.
It traces a short path, rotating slightly. It then floats silently up, up: up to where it's supposed to go, all the while glowing with a pale blue sheen.
I throw Magneton a quick glance. He doesn't seem to notice us all staring at him, as he delicately lowers the steel bar into place. It slots perfectly, the metal clanking as it does so. The only sign of life we get from him is the slight twitching of his magnets, and the steady focus of his eyes.
There seems to be something quietly majestic about the Pokémon, the effortless lift and power contained within those magnets. The only thought that was able to crawl its way into my mind remarked: Well, I don't think those workers will be chasing Magneton away any more.
My eyes flit between Magneton, the workers, the Innkeepers, and Pichu's gobsmacked expressions.
"Well, knock me down with a Caterpie." The foreman whistles. "That's some Pokémon we could use on our side."
Magneton flicks all three eyes towards him.
"But Boss," whispers a worker close to the foreman, "didn't they say never to hire no Pokém –" "Well they haven't seen this one! – " The foreman replies loudly, not quite caring that everyone else could hear. "This Magneton's goin' to cut our workload into quarters!"
"Now," he looks around at his his crew, a sly smile on his face. "Who wants to be an old stick-in-the-mud an' a wet blanket; or – ya know – bend the rules a little bit and knock off early every day?"
The resounding cheers made it obvious which side they were on. The Innkeeper puts her hands to her ears, scowling, disappearing back inside the Inn while muttering something inaudible. Magneton, on the other hand, is being welcomed warmly by the workers, hailing him as their new champion.
For once, I detected a genuine wave of emotion – one of smugness and pride – from Magneton,as he allowed himself to be actually useful to something outside of battling, other than spending his life cooper up inside his Pokéball and waiting to be called upon.
…or, it could be the steel. Probably acts like a sugar rush for him.
Within the half-hour, Magneton is being shown the ropes, being asked to carry equipment and bars and rods and whatnot from one point to the other, the hammering and clanging of metal on metal increasing in frequency now that he's around. Inside, I can imagine the Innkeeper ready to tear her hair out.
Pichu and I haven't moved from our spot, choosing instead to sit down in the shade and observe Magneton at work. The productivity of the workers seems to have increased, and they seem far more cheerful than they usually were. No surprise there, I thought.
"You know… Riolu…" Pichu begins suddenly, hints of trepidation in his voice.
I turn to him curiously. "What?"
The little rodent begins to twiddle his paws as he stares at me, meeting my gaze somewhat hesitantly. "About Gallade… He died. He died at the bottom of the cliff. You brought me there – you said something about a vision! – why didn't you tell me that it involved his death? And here I was, thinking that Gardevoir had seen herself and Gallade having a romantic date at the cliffs or something…"
Despite the fear emanating from his being, I detect some traces of indignation. I raise my paws defensively. "Hey, Gardevoir told me not to tell anyone, all right? And last time I checked, 'anyone' includes pesky little rodents as well."
Pichu ignores the jab. "But this is serious! It's… it's… it involved someone's life – you could have prevented that from happening!"
I felt my temper rising as I glare at him. "So you're saying that it's my fault? Gardevoir had the vision – did you seriously think she would just sit idly and wait for it to happen? What do you think she's been trying to do lately; haven't you noticed the increasing amount of time she's spent by his side?
"And don't you dare suggest that I have done nothing either! I actually risked my life – and yours too, I suppose – by scouting out the cliffs, haven't I?"
He whimpers slightly. "But you could have told me…"
I laugh scornfully. "And then what? What would you have done? Nothing. Look, if even Gardevoir couldn't protect her lover, there's no way we could have made a difference. She told him about the vision – she warned him to stay as far away from the cliffs as he could. Gallade didn't really believe Gardevoir at first, but her message got through in the end. I asked her."
Pichu considers my statement. "Then… why? How? Her vision still came true in the end…"
I sigh, shrugging as I hug my legs. "Your guess is as good as mine."
Our conversation dies away, and the silence is broken only by the sound of the construction work continuing. "Ah well," I say, finally getting up. "I'm very sure watching Magneton is extremely interesting and all, but I'm going to get some lunch."
"Me too," pipes up the electric rodent. Together, we stroll across the compound, but turn around and stare at the usually stoic Magneton, almost happily working away, surrounded by a ton of his beloved steel.
"It's really quite odd," I muse. Pichu cocks his head to the side. "Never thought I'd see him so happy."
"Well, at least he's occupied," I remarked, my mind still whirring. Right next to me, Pichu seemed lost in thought as well, rubbing his chin while staring into the distance, nodding slowly. With all her Future Sight, I doubt even Gardevoir would have been able to predict that.
Whumpf.
Snow is kicked up, a few inches in front of us, as a circular band surrounds us both. Steel wire gauze flutters down onto us, and we're quickly entangled in it – a mess of paws, tails, and string. I realize, a little too late, that we were so preoccupied with watching Magneton work that we completely forgot about Navy-Blue and his gang.
The net twists, and we're flipped on our sides. The burly policeman holds on tightly to the Butterfree net, with us squirming inside on the other end, very much like a couple of trapped animals. The steel wiring resists our feeble attempts to cut through it, and we're quickly airlifted and – quite literally – carried away.
With a deft fling, we're sent flying out of the net, finding our marks on the cold gray wall of the inside of the police van. I slump to the floor, positive that my bones were at least cracked, while a long whine from my left told me Pichu had also found the loving embrace of the hard, steel wall.
Hitmonlee and Gardevoir are not riding with us, having already been picked up by an emergency ambulance and rushed to the Center nearby. We suffered only "minor injuries" and permanent emotional scarring – so I guess we were sitting on the delayed van on the way to the Center.
Obviously, the way Navy-Blue saw it, the best cure for emotional scarring is physical scarring. I rub sore joints, suspiciously eyeing bruised patches of fur. If that's true, he's doing a heck of a good job. I might just need the visit to the Pokémon Center after all.
Magneton wasn't with us, left behind at the Inn. We heard the dull clunk clunk of his work slowly dwindling away. He probably didn't even notice us. Navy-Blue and his cronies probably thought it wise to not approach him again – after all, once bitten, twice shy.
He didn't need the visit anyway. He's the only one unhurt, after all. Later, I would hear that Navy-Blue and gang had to be treated at the nearby human hospital for electrical burns. Someone was hospitalized for half a week.
We had just gotten off the Cold Gray Police Van Express, and were now staring into the imposing façade of the Pokémon Center. It is surprisingly big (although it could be that we're just small-sized) – and towers far above us, its pillars reaching for the sky.
Tall guys in flowing white robes – gowns? – quickly wheel unidentified Pokémon in on stretchers, disappearing behind the closing doors. Pichu makes a movement to follow, but Navy-Blue picks him up in mid-spring. His hand comes down hard on my own head and collar, and although I instinctively flail my paws it makes little difference.
He walks us through the door, bringing us into the Center proper.
Our situation is forgotten for a while as we stare around the Center. Chanseys bob around, cooing and staring at us curiously. The tiled floor has a still, clinical feel about it, white and sterilized. Our two other Teammates are nowhere to be seen, though I spy an infirmary for injured Pokémon. Altogether, it seems like a perfectly normal Pokémon Center – something does seem a little off, though –
Our situation is quickly brought back to remembrance.
Navy-Blue announces his arrival by dumping us roughly on the counter. I wince a little at the rough treatment, and a whine nearby tells me Pichu and Mr. Hard Table didn't have a very friendly first meeting either.
"Tough little tykes," he grins at the Nurse behind the counter.
Nurse Joy – as it invariably always is – sighs a little, casting an exasperated sigh at the police officer. For a moment there, she reminds me of Gardevoir.
"Always acting tough, eh?" she smiles wryly at him. The officer responds by puffing up his chest exaggeratedly, and acting insulted.
"Why, Nurse, these two are tough customers! Just the other day that Riolu managed to –"
"Save it," laughed Joy, lightheartedly flicking aside Navy-Blue's concerns with a wave of her hand, leaving him to splutter the rest of his sentence into silence. Turning her attention to us, she patted my head and tickled Pichu's chin, causing him to smile appreciatively. She laughs a little, continuing to scratch his fur gently.
"The big bad policeman treating you badly, mm?" Both of us immediately nod vigorously, and I turn to snarl at him for added emphasis. The colour flushes into his face, but he doesn't move or say anything. Seeing his exasperation, I break into a grin.
Joy "ha"s, turning around to face Navy-Blue with a triumphant expression on her face. "No need to go around bullying smaller Pokémon, you. These two "tykes" are so adorable! Why – you afraid of a little Riolu?" she jokes good-naturedly. I nod, too – before freezing mid-nod, realizing what she just said.
Was that a jab at me?...
At my dawning comprehension, Navy-Blue smirks. Besides me, Pichu tries to stifle a giggle, but fails. I turn around and glare daggers at him. He completely loses it, falling over backwards on his back and laughing out loud.
"Your face!" Pichu managed to wheeze while catching his breath. "Priceless! Ahahaha – "
I swear, if I'm offered an ability that boosts Intimidation stats, I'd learn it in a heartbeat.
Joy notices my sour reaction, and quickly brushes my head. "Naw, just kidding. You'll grow up to be a strong Pokémon soon, eh?" I nod wryly and slowly, my cheerful mood slowly dissipating in the cold Center air-conditioning.
She doesn't notice, turning back to Navy-Blue with a twinkle in her eyes. "Don't worry, I'll meet up with you later, once I knock off. Okay? Now, shoo. I need to go attend to these Pokémon. You have their Pokéballs?"
At the mention of that word, I freeze.
Pokéballs are not exactly the best means of transport. Despite all the half-baked company reassurances that "Pokéballs are perfectly safe and comfortable for your Pokémon!" (Really, who do they test them on?), Pokéballs aren't really what they're all cracked up to be.
It's a continual numbing sensation while you're captured, and if your leg falling asleep is any indication, it's positively painful for the first second or so upon release. The best part is that there's no way out, unless the Trainer releases you, or the button's accidentally pressed. That actually does happen, a surprising amount of times.
"Nah." The voice is Navy-Blue's.
I look quizzically at him. He stares back at us for a moment, then leans in closer to Joy and drops his voice. Her expression changes from one of shock, to sadness, to some odd form of empathy. I guess she gets the message.
"Mm. I think I saw him once, here, when he first arrived. Poor kid." Her voice is low.
Our Trainer's not coming back to claim us. Not this time round.
Meanwhile, Pichu is absentmindedly scrabbling around the tabletop, and comes across a hard sweet. "Ooh." He reaches out a paw to pat it, completely oblivious to everything else.
Nurse Joy sweeps Pichu up unexpectedly. The candy's sent clattering onto the floor, but no one seems to take notice of it.
"Whoa – " Pichu blinks, but Joy cuddles him and prods a finger on his cheek. "I knew I've seen you somewhere before, haha. Now, now… follow me and I'll give you two a little check-up. And I'll take you away from the nasty poowiceman," she coos, with a cheeky grin and exaggerated voice. Pichu brightens up, turning around sticking his tongue out at Navy-Blue.
The nasty poowiceman splutters in disbelief.
Who has the last laugh now? I smirk back, before leaping off the counter and following Joy and Pichu into the deeper parts of the Center.
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"They're that kid's Pokémon." Navy-Blue whispers, thinking we can't hear. Joy doesn't seem to understand, although I sense a growing, niggling worry and the starting of a flower of fear. "That kid. You know, the one found murdered in his own Inn room, dagger through the back." Joy perks to life at this, peering anxiously at the policeman.
"His Pokémon need medical help. One dead, one escaped, two severely injured, and the other two right here," he counts off his fingers. Six.
"Dead?" Joy repeats.
"Dead," replies Navy-Blue. "A Gallade. Jumped off the cliff near the Inn where we're keeping them, just this morning. Cheerful way to start off your day. We don't suspect foul play – yet – only because we haven't had enough data. I'll keep you informed. Meanwhile," he goes on, "keep an eye on those two."
"What?" Joy blinks, stealing a glance at Pichu, who is patting at the sweet. A perfect picture of innocence. "You suspect them?"
Navy-Blue laughs carelessly in a low voice. He quickly sobers up.
"The Gallade jumped off by himself. Eerie enough, not to mention he was the leader of the group or whatnot. And then the other three of his Pokémon start a no-holds-barred brawl amongst themselves, with two injured and one missing."
He pauses, letting his words sink in.
"We might suspect suicidal tendencies. Those two are the only ones left." Navy-Blue cautioned. "Just… keep a closer eye on them. Don't want to dirty my hands with more paperwork, what with more Pokémon dying on my watch."
Joy tsks, turning away, busying herself by scooping up Pichu in her grasp, knocking away from him the Rare Candy that skittles across the ground of the Center, lost in the shadows.
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After our checkup, we wander around, bumping into irritated trainers and the occasional Chansey. Despite my latent fear of the Center, it isn't so bad with Pichu around. I really want to find what happened to Hitmonlee and Gardevoir. When will they be discharged? Would they come back to the Inn? Were they badly hurt?
The questions buzz around my head, the noise threatening to overwhelm me with worry unless I find out the answers I'm looking for.
Unfortunately, Pichu keeps sticking to me like an annoying – sticking – thing – which simply refuses to come off, and so I have to explore the Center while Pichu bounces along behind me and peppers me with questions about things I don't know, diverting my attention away from my search to trivial things that I don't care about.
"Riolu, do you think it's raining outside?"
"Riolu, why do they only hire Chanseys here?"
"Riolu, how in the world does Magneton reproduce?"
…okay, wait, I was mildly interested in that last one.
In any case, after "Riolu, do you have any water? I'm thirsty from talking", I have the strongest urge to stuff his mouth up with a roll or two of gauze. I continue to grumble inwardly, wishing for someone or something to take this annoying electric rodent away for a while.
Thankfully, about this time the legendary Pokémon of luck decides to stop being an idiot, and gives me some good fortune this time round. A particularly free off-duty Chansey wandering around the Center notices the bored mouse, and offers Pichu a ride in her egg-pouch; her egg being kept somewhere else safe.
I almost push Pichu into the Chansey.
Pichu glances at me, raising an eyebrow questioningly. I nod enthusiastically, trying my best to conceal a broadening grin. Chansey nearly laughs.
With my go-ahead, Pichu happily accepts, eagerly clambering up the Chansey's body to get at the pouch. While this is going on, I mumble a hasty thank-you to the Chansey, who happily waves it away with a flipper-like hand.
Pichu disappears into the pouch for a couple of seconds, before popping his head out over the edge and waving eagerly back. I nod weakly back at him, vaguely aware that people are starting to stop and stare at the sight. When he isn't looking, I mutter a quick word of thanks under my breath, unable to believe my luck.
"Mush!" Pichu yells happily, pointing forward.
The Chansey chuckled, and waddled forward obligingly at a far slower pace than he wishes.
"Aww, come on…faster! Faster!" he cajoles, almost jumping up and down inside the pouch, but the Chansey merely smiles and slowly shuffles forward at a leisurely pace. Pichu's odd antics attract some attention as he and his unusual steed plod away slowly towards the far end of the Center, with people starting to smile and point.
Well, at least he's having fun, I muse.
And now that he's out of the way…
I quickly run around a little, glancing quickly at the many signs propped up all around. I can't read human language, but I do recognize familiar symbols from other Pokémon Centers. Perhaps with Pichu distracted, I'll be able to find what I'm looking for easier.
By closing my eyes and bringing up the memory of a horrible incident involving Gallade and Gardevoir, I try desperately to recall the symbol for the emergency ward…
A glowing picture on the wall roughly matches the fuzzy image in my mind. Hoping I'm right, I quickly dash down that corridor on all fours. There are only a couple of turns, but quickly the corridor gives way to large double doors with a glowing word emblazoned across it.
Skidding to a halt, I pause for a second to catch my breath. Then, pressing my ear to the door, I try to listen for any sounds from Gardevoir or Hitmonlee, but the buzz of activity behind the door makes it impossible to pick out any single voice.
Shrugging, I cautiously push open the door a crack and slide in.
The world behind the door bustled with quiet activity. Chansey and nurses alike flitted between doors and corridors, beds and operating tables. Once in a while a stretcher would squeak across my field of vision, the attendant Chanseys pushing them to unknown destinations.
Choosing one at random, I scamper after a certain stretcher, in the shadow of the rather large Chanseys. Glimpsing left and right, I hope to search for anything that could help me, but all stretchers look exactly the same to me.
Look, I'm two feet tall. I can't even see who's on the stretcher.
I pass ten minutes like this, ducking from shadow to shadow, avoiding Nurses and Chanseys, all the while hoping to sneak a peek of two familiar faces. The search is mostly unfruitful, only with the sounds of medical instruments clattering against metal and the occasional instructions to break the monotony.
Row after row of patients. Burn patients. Paralysed patients. Patients requiring immediate medical care. And a closed door, with a dimly lit sign above it – closely surrounded by anxious Blisseys and scurrying Chanseys.
But as I'm just about to give up hope, a little glimpse of white and brown happen to catch my eye. I do a double take, stumbling to a halt and checking the corner of my eye. I can't be that lucky, can I?
I take another peep through the windows of the glass.
Gardevoir and Hitmonlee.
Yes. I pump my fist silently.
"Aaaaaaaaaaa!"
What a shrill scream!, I think, wincing and covering my ears instinctively. It takes me a moment to realize that the scream comes from a rather observant Chansey, and the rather observant Chansey was observing the rather unobservant me.
My jaw drops open in a silent "oh". I stagger backwards a little, as the Chansey shrilly chatters away something unintelligible. Putting up my paws in surrender, I suddenly look oddly like a criminal in the dock, shivering. An ominous shadow looms over me, and I look up, not knowing what to expect.
"Out! Out!" I blink, confused, flailing about randomly as a couple of strong Chansey muscle me out. You do have to understand – these aren't your ordinary Chanseys… they may look pink and fluffy but they really do pack a punch. Before I knew what was going on, they had pushed me to the main doors and I stumble out.
But that was not before I had caught sight of my quarry.
Hitmonlee was lying, nearly completely motionless. The sight of the once-proud fighting-type Pokémon needing critical medical support was a sobering sight to behold. Not even Gallade could land him in that state. How far the mighty have fallen.
Beside him, Gardevoir was in a far worse condition, having attacked recklessly and suffered deep cuts and bruises. It seemed like a scene out of a movie, she was attached to so many wires and beeping instruments and the green line that flickers everything she rasps for breath.
Both of them had various body parts are wrapped in gauze, but oddly enough, their injuries don't seem too serious. Perhaps it was the fact that the Pokémon next to them is really seriously injured, but –
And then there was a blur of silver and white as the Chanseys threw me out. I flail my paws, drawing circles in the air, trying to regain my balance. But I can't stop stumbling forwards, and almost immediately crash into a gray mass of fur.
"Ahh!" I take a few steps backwards, eyes squeezed tightly shut, raising a paw to block myself.
You do have to understand – if it were Hitmonlee or Gallade I crashed into, I'd be blasted clear across the room before I had a chance to explain. Over time, it's become an instinctive reaction every time I so much as brushed against someone's ankles.
And what with Gardevoir looking so much like Gallade, you should see her reaction when I instinctively plead her for mercy and blindly run away. Well, in our team, there's a need for fast reflexes.
But this time, there comes no Blaze Kick or Focus Punch, but instead an amused grunt.
A muzzle presses against my head, and I shrink away in fright.
"Whoh there," a kindly voice said.
I hesitantly pry open one eye, lowering my paw. An odd expression must have been etched on my face, because the other Pokémon immediately starts chuckling. Footsteps sounded, and the Pokémon's trainer squats down, looking me kindly in the eye.
"There, there," he murmured, smiling. "Wolf here's a pretty friendly one, so no need to worry."
The Mightyena nodded curtly, grinning. "You be careful now, kid."
The trainer ruffles my head a little more, and then stands to leave. The Mightyena nods at me, then drops his voice to a low whisper.
"Someone you know inside?" He pointed his snout towards the emergency room, whose double doors had swung closed by themselves by now.
I nodded, but was careful not to betray any emotion. Images of Hitmonlee and Gardevoir float into my mind's eye. When would they be discharged? Even though I try my best, a little worry starts to surface on my features.
The Mightyena paced a little, his tail flicking from side to side in growing unease. Eventually, he came to a halt, stopping in front of me. Nodding sympathetically, he wishes me good luck in a low voice. I watched him slowly pad away after his master, and disappear back into the human crowd in the Center.
Momentarily confused by his act of empathy, I don't know what to do at first. After a couple of seconds, I belatedly decide to follow after him, but suddenly find myself lost in the crowd, unable to pinpoint the friendly trainer and his Pokémon. They had instantly melted into the sea of unfamiliar faces and Auras.
I shrug, planning to return to the Inn by myself. There have been a lot of things I have to think over, so much so it's making my head hurt. Magneton's odd behaviour. Gardevoir and Hitmonlee's condition. Navy-Blue and his smirk. Joy.
Someone's shoes brush against my tail, and I immediately whip around, paws at the ready. I see nothing, nothing except for the seas of legs and unfamiliar Pokémon and strange faces.
Something inside me rises up, trying to get me to move. I want to, but somehow my paws are rooted to the spot, glued there by the skin of my paw to the cold tile of the Center. The crowd pushes in all around me, paralyzing me physically and mentally.
"Breathe – can't – breathe –" I whisper to myself, holding out my paws to stabilize myself, as if walking a tightrope. I wobble a little, nearly falling forward – but my paws still remain tightly fixed to the ground. Suddenly jerking forward, a picture drops into my head – that of Gardevoir and Hitmonlee, lying motionless, barely breathing, on the snowy ground –
Thinking about the bloody battle between the two Pokémon still brings a shiver to my spine. The cold, clinical air-conditioning just became colder. Magneton, Gardevoir and Hitmonlee, Navy-Blue, Joy, Magneton, Gar–
A tap on my shoulder.
"Aaaaaaaa!"
Then a chortle, a giggle, and then full-out laughter. I whip around to find Pichu, doubled over in laughter. Seems like the Chansey-ride didn't manage to hold Pichu's interest for long, either.
My plans of trekking back to the Inn myself deflates.
While I muse inwardly, Pichu resumes his noisy chatter, filling my ear with unnecessary details of the treats and laughter he'd gotten from odd passers-by, and the nearly-comical story of how the ageing Chansey finally ran out of steam and had to take a break.
As we near the exit, the one-sided conversation turned to dinner. As Pichu rambles on about food, and missing Pokéblocks, my stomach starts to growl when I realize that we haven't actually had a proper lunch. In the middle of Pichu describing a sweet that a passerby gave him (it was red, shiny and in a wrapper, Riolu, did you know that you can't eat wrappers? I always thought – ), my patience finally ran out.
"Would you want some Chansey pouch-eggs?" I ask exasperatedly.
Pichu halted. "Wait, you can eat those?"
I snort. "I sure hope you can. After spending so much time in a Chansey's pouch, you'd be turning into one any day, sooner or later."
I continued walking, but Pichu remained frozen, motionless. Looking backwards, he had stopped mid-step, and he was positively trembling. It seems like not having Gardevoir around boosted his gullibility meter again. This would be fun.
"Wish it'll be sooner. I'm hungry, too, you know." I offered helpfully, deliberately running the tip of my tongue across the edge of my mouth.
Grabbing the still-frozen Pichu by the paw, I amble off back towards the Inn, my mood considerably brighter. I can't help but suppress a grin as Pichu's distressed wail of "But I don't want to be an egg ~!" suddenly echoes through the entire compound.
It's a little more effective than I hoped it would be – Pichu has completely stopped talking. Instead, now he's trying his best not to sob, but it comes across as an odd, choking noise, repeated twice every five seconds.
"Quiet," I shush him. Already some people are starting to take notice. It always works: his threat of tears. I can't believe how many times he's gotten his way with the humans because of this. Pichu's probably very cunning; just that he doesn't know it. Or pretends not to.
"Okay, fine, sheesh," I roll my eyes. "I was just kidding you."
Pichu murmurs something through muffled sobs that sounds like "I knew it". He still seems very shaken, sniffling as he shuffles across the cold tiles.
We break out of the Pokémon Center, and are greeted by a blast of icy wind. There's no snow falling just yet, but there are clouds rolling over the horizon. The streets are half-deserted, with only a few residents milling about and some children playing on the streets.
And suddenly, the weather has taken a turn for the bitterly cold. I breathe out, a small cloud twirling into existence near my muzzle. Watching the cloud tear itself into fragments in the wind, an idea materializes in my head.
"Okay, I'll make it up to you," I say, shivering a little in the cold weather. Turning to Pichu, I point down the street, in the general direction of the Inn. "Let's have a friendly little race. You know, to get the blood pumping, maybe warm ourselves up a little."
"A race?" Pichu cocks his head to a side, but I can sense his competitive side's interested. "But that's not fair, you know Quick Attack –"
"What sort of Pokémon do you think I am?" I ask incredulously, putting on a hurt voice and an indignant expression.
Ignoring Pichu's half-hearted protests, I shrug and point at a sideroad. "Fine, if you don't trust me so much, I'll take an alternate route. I'll take a longer path through there, down past the bakery, TM shop and towards the Park, and then circle all the way back," I explain, sketching out the route in midair.
Pichu seems content, and a slight smile starts to creep over his face. He nods, going on all fours and placing a paw in front, mimicking a runner ready to start. "I'm going to thrash you so badly, not even your Quick Attack'll help," he sneered at me, trying to talk me down.
Psh. Amateur. I hold back the urge to roll my eyes while readying myself on all fours.
"Yeah, yeah, good luck with that. Ready?" I say, glancing at him. "Last one to reach the Inn is a rotten…"
I pause.
"…egg."
I take off running, laughing, loving the sound of Pichu's distressed wail from behind me.
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"I win! I win! I win!"
"Firstly, you've said that before. Many, many times. Secondly, you can't dance, so you shouldn't, really. Thirdly, that was thirty minutes ago, so I'd very much appreciate it if you'd just stop."
"But Riolu…" Pichu grinned deviously. "You lost the race! You challenged me to one and you lost!…"
"It's just a race, Pichu," I groan, shaking my head. Both his high-pitched voice and the clangs coming from the construction site are getting on my nerves, and neither is good for my growing headache. The route was far longer than I had expected, and – to be honest – I had actually used Quick Attack to speed me along the last stretch. Seems that it wasn't enough.
"A Buneary blocked my way."
Pichu rolls his eyes. "Big deal. Unless…" His eyes sparkle. "Oh hoho, Riolu! I didn't know you were like that!"
I blink at him, confused. "What?"
Not letting go of such a golden opportunity, Pichu continues, cooing sweetly. "So… is it going to be a June wedding? Are you inviting me? Are you inviting Hitmonlee? Can I be the best Mon?"
"I – what?"
Pichu rolls over laughing. "Aww come on! Did the Buneary block your way or did you block hers?..."
Indignantly, I reply. "It was a male Buneary."
There was a short pause, before Pichu purses his lips. "My, my, Riolu."
I give up, throwing my paws into the air, refusing to pursue the subject any further. Living with Pichu, I learn to recognize when a conversation's been twisted so far out of its original context that it's better off dead. While Pichu cackles, I try to steer the topic back on point.
"And anyway, a small rockslide occurred on my route. Nearly killed me, to boot. So that delayed me quite a fair bit. Happy now?" I offer hotly. I wasn't lying – the image of the cracked boulders spilled across the road still remained vividly etched into my mind; mighty stones that had exploded violently into crumbly debris.
Even though it's not that cold out, I shiver. I abruptly sit down, wrapping both paws around my body; rocking back and forth just a little bit. Outside, light snow falls, shimmering in the dying sunlight.
I expect Pichu to tch disapprovingly, but surprisingly, he sobers up. "Yeah, really? I thought I felt a little tremor. Good to know my mind isn't losing it," he shakes his head forcefully. "You're still alive, at any rate." I look at him, a little concerned. It's strange when Pichu acts that way.
An instant later, he's back to his overly-cheerful self. "But Riolu – that doesn't change the fact that you lost! And I win, I win, I wi –"
The little bit of concern I had for him evaporates.
"Bet I could take you down in a battle, too!" Pichu goes on to ramble. "What with you having such a lousy record, I'm sure I'll be able to kick your sorry butt from here to – " He goes on to talk more about how awesome he is compared to me, but I take nothing else in.
Oh, he's gone and done it this time.
"What?" I hiss, suddenly serious. "Is that a challenge?"
Pichu smirks and nods, knowing he has me by the collar. I know it too, but like an angry little puppy, I simply allow myself to be dragged wherever he wants to go. "Yup. Bet I could fend you off in a one-on-one fight. What about a nice spar? We haven't had any in a long time."
He smiles, leaning in closer. "And anyway, you could always need some help, hm? You've never been too good in battles now, haven't you?"
Very irritated, I defend myself hotly. "Of course I can! I'll spar with you any day of the week!"
"Good, it's settled then. I knew you wouldn't back down." I bare my fangs at him, but Pichu shrugs it off. He takes a long sip from his cup, obviously enjoying the moment. "As to the place, I've got an idea already."
True to form, I detect waves of smugness and – and is that a trace of fear? – emanating from him. I raise an eyebrow questioningly. Pichu seems to read my mind exactly, and nods. "Somewhere where I know you won't have the advantage this time around. It'll frighten you out of your bones."
I tch. I didn't know Pichu was prone to exaggeration.
"And where is this fabled place?" I mock. "The Pokémon Center? Because, you know, that's the perfect place for Pokémon to be fighting. Very easy for you to be healed, I believe, after I beat you to a pulp. Or what, have you somewhere scarier than that?"
Pichu doesn't seem fazed by my taunts. Instead, the waves of malicious glee grow a little, along with that increasing sense of fear. I tasted Pichu's fear, and it stuck, leaving a ghastly taste in my mind, feeding my own fear and making it grow.
"The cliff." Pichu points out dramatically across the snowy landscape. In front of the Inn, not a far distance away, was the familiar, yet unfamiliar wood of trees we had just passed through, in our escape from Navy-Blue. Our escape away from the scene of death.
"The cliff where Gallade died."
This time, I spoke my mind.
"Are you insane?"
Pichu purses his lips thoughtfully. "I'll need to get back to you on that one."
I make a noise of disgust, turning away from the electric mouse, talking as I walk off. "Not funny, Pichu. I don't even want to know why you'll want to revisit that place. Nothing but memories, all of them bad. Is it my fear?" I suddenly turn back, only to glare at his back. "You were mighty scared there, too, you know."
He doesn't reply.
"Come on, Pichu." I layer my voice with steel. "Don't take me for such a fool. I know you better than that. The spar's only a convenient excuse to get to the cliff. To get me to the cliff."
He still doesn't' reply.
"Going to hurl me off like you did Gallade?"
"It wasn't me!" Pichu suddenly yells back, twisting around, electricity cracking around his cheeks. Without a second's thought, the bright light arcs from his body to where I stand. Instinctively, I dodge, painful memories of the Trainer's evasion lessons suddenly surfacing, and the bolt strikes the ground where I was a split second ago.
My fist connects directly with Pichu's torso, sending him flying across the room and into a nearby wall. At the same time, his electricity stings my paw, forcing me to double over, clutching it in pain. The electric mouse thuds against the wall and collapses in a heap.
"It wasn't me," Pichu gasps, staggering to his feet. I hold back another punch, but still glare at him with a steady eye.
"Then why?"
"I want to investigate."
"I thought we went through this, Pichu," I sigh, with the air of explaining something simple to a child, "…that we can't. This is out of our hands. After that incident where Hitmonlee and Gardevoir nearly tried to kill each other, they're not going to be in the best of moods. And who're you going to interview this time? The trees?"
"Exactly."
I pause to look at him. His eyes are set, a little uncertain after my words, but still certain enough that he will go through with his plan – whatever it is – nonetheless. He drops his voice, making sure no one else was around.
"We'll investigate all around. Footprints, pawprints, whatever. Scratches on the trees. Disturbances in the snow. We might hit upon something, anything – something that will get us closer to the truth. I don't want to be kept in the dark anymore."
"If the truth could take down Gallade, I don't exactly want a confrontation with it," I shoot back. "Think about it. What if it's the creepy sound we heard that day? A Pokémon? A human? What do we do then, huh?"
My dissuading won't work – out of all times, Pichu chooses this to try to be the bigger Mon (ha) and to be giving long speeches about overcoming danger and his own personal fears. I shake my head exasperatedly, irritated that the message isn't penetrating Pichu's thick skull.
"Look, you're a mouse, I'm two and a half feet tall. No one's going to take us seriously. And what if we really do find out?" I grip him by the shoulders, shaking him a little. "The best case scenario is we don't find who did it. The worst case scenario is that we end up dead!"
"I don't care!"
"You really want to do this? How do you know that we won't meet Gallade a little earlier than expected, in a wooden box six feet under?"
And the reply is one of shaky, yet stern confidence.
"I don't!"
Surprise, surprise. There's something you learn everyday about people and Pokémon you thought you knew. For example, that Pichu could be so obstinate.
"Look, this is going to be suicide." I pace up and down in front of the Inn gates, waiting impatiently for them to open. Thanks to our race, the Inn isn't yet open for our dinner, even though my stomach is growling. Pichu hears it, and giggles. The sound is unnatural in the heavy atmosphere.
"I want to get to the bottom of this. I'm going to go myself, right now." Pichu plants a paw down firmly in front of him, the way he is when he tries to be obstinate. I grasp my head in my paws, trying to shake myself awake.
When I look up again, the mouse is gone.
A scattering of prints in the snow indicates where Pichu has run off, in the direction of the woods nearby. I swore in my mind, muttering curses under my breath, dropping to all fours and quickly closing the distance between us.
"Pichu, wait up!"
Pichu stops, looking over his shoulder at me panting up to him. For a second there I see my own grin on his face, my smugness emanating from his body. Just like that time (seemingly so long ago) where I asked him to go to the exact same cliff – no, the exact same spot – with me.
"I know you'd come," he says with a knowing grin that suddenly sent a shiver down my spine.
And then he was off.
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In a few minutes, we are at the same spot again. The vista greets us once again like old friends – silently, majestically, and in spite of Pichu's bravado and my uneasiness we are both stunned into silence. The marvelous carpet of trees below us are still as amazing as before.
Except now, the sky is tinged with a slight shade of blood-red.
It's a few seconds before any of us can make a move. "Beautiful sky," Pichu's voice drifted into my hearing range. I turn to look at him, a quizzical look on my face.
"Well, we're not here to appreciate the blazing sun, so yeah." Pichu turned away from the cliff, leaving me at the precipice. I glance down, once, quickly, then looking away before the fear claimed my legs and my sanity.
"Right then," I say, still trying to look at the edge out of the corner of my eyes. I forcibly tear myself away, feeling a sort of pain when my eyes attempt to look at something out of their range of vision.
"What now, genius?" I mock, dragging my forepaws and tail across the light layer of snow. "We've just ran across the entire forest, leaving behind our fresh tracks. The ground has been stamped on more times than you have been in battles. How are you going to decipher what happened last night?"
"I, uh –" Pichu looks around him, at the messed-up, dirty snow. "Hm."
I flop down onto the snow, feeling the crunch of the snow against my paws.
"I know what we could find," he suddenly brightens up. Without warning, he falls onto all fours, and starts scrabbling about in the snow, some distance away from me, kicking up snow in the air like some kind of manual snow-clearing machine.
I lean back in the snow, closing my eyes. This could take some time. The last time Pichu tried to track down his lost berry, he managed to dig up large holes in someone else's lawn, believing that the berry had been buried by an opportunistic Pachirisu. We had quickly skipped town after that.
"…the murder weapon!" Pichu crows triumphantly. My heart skips a beat, and I quickly leap over to see what Pichu held in one paw, high up in the air. My eyes immediately focus on the object in his grasp, preparing for the worst.
"…it's a stick."
Pichu held it in front of his nose. "Well, yeah."
I cross my forepaws and tap the ground impatiently. "There's a billion and one other sticks out there. And what, do you really think Gallade, the oh-so-mighty, Mister "Come-at-me-with-a-Hyper-Beam,-I-won't-budge" Gallade would be beaten senseless and whacked off a cliff with a twig?"
"What's more, no one found any signs of physical injury on Gallade. Well… except for the fact that his entire front was crushed from impact."
"How'd you know?" Pichu was curious.
I pointed to my ears. "I overheard Navy-Blue. You should probably pay attention more, what you hear might actually come in handy sometime."
"Hmph. Anyway, I still think Exhibit A here is responsible," he huffs, holding the stick in his paw, brandishing it at me like some weapon. "So this is what I think happened last night…"
Gallade walked over to the edge of the cliff. The cliff Gardevoir specifically told him not to go to. Crazed Pokémon, believing in her dreams so, thinking that someone out there would be able to get me! He thought smugly, crunching through the snow as he made his way to the edge.
As soon as he got there, he was mesmerized by the beautiful scenery that lay ahead of him. What a sight! He thought, followed by The nerve of Gardevoir, not to share it with me…
He was so amazed and lost in his own thoughts, that he didn't hear the unknown figure creeping up behind him. He realized it a little too late, whipping around in shock and horror, squealing like a newly-hatched Pokémon in his surprise.
But it was all futile, because the unknown figure poked Gallade with a stick square in the chest. Gallade stumbled backwards, wheeling his arms in the air frantically as he tried to keep his balance.
But of course, his big, egoistical head eventually imbalanced him, sending him toppling over the edge and into the loving embrace of the hard ground below.
…Pichu grinned. "Ta da. What do you think?"
I stared at him, jaw agape.
"Come on," urged Pichu, tugging on my forepaw. "Tell me how awesome you think it is!"
"That…" I finally find my voice. "…is the worst theory I've ever heard. And that includes your 'The Trainer accidentally stabbed himself in the back while he was sleeping, and couldn't be bothered to wake up' theory."
Pichu hmphs childishly, dropping his gaze to stare at the stick. "I still insist it was a valid theory."
"Give it up, Pichu," I urge. "Look, there's nothing you could use for evidence, except for a stick you plucked from the ground and a story you plucked from thin air."
"I'm still thinking about it," Pichu says stubbornly. "'sides, it's more than what the official police are doing now," he retorts. "Seems like the winter over here has made them grow icicles in their brains."
I chuckle a little; it's not like Pichu to be so biting. Maybe the cold is getting to all of us. The sun having set, the darkness comes quickly in Snowpoint, and right now dusk is starting to look pretty intimidating. Soon we won't be able to see anything one paw's-length away.
From what seems like far off, I hear the loud bong of the city's clock tower chanting the time. Tapping in time to the beat, I turn to Pichu, who is still staring at the stick in the growing blackness of night.
"Time to go, Pichu."
(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((()))))))))))))))))))))))))))))
We made it just in time, before the Innkeeper closed the gate. She must have been half-blind, half-deaf or heartless (I'm guessing all three, just to be sure), but we squeezed in through the gate just as she was pushing it shut. Pichu lost a bit of fur on the end of his tail, but he'll be fine.
"See? If you had listened to me, we wouldn't have been in such a rush."
"Save it," Pichu pants, getting a plate and loading it with Pokéblock.
"Psh. And what do you have to show for your work today? A grazed tail and a stick. I still can't understand why you insist on carrying that thing around. Good thing for you the Innkeeper doesn't seem to care." I settle down beside him.
Pichu opens his mouth to reply, but before he can get further than "Well, I –", the door of the Inn swings open with a thud. Involuntarily, we both turn to look, food and conversation forgotten.
"Gardevoir!"
With one voice, our bickering suddenly ceases. Pichu leaps down from his chair, scampering over to where Gardevoir is. Framed in the doorway, the older Pokémon looks a little unstable, still bearing swathes of bandages here and there, but alive – still alive and almost-well.
She smiles a little as Pichu skids to a halt in front of her. But I notice that after bending down to pat him on the head, Gardevoir struggles to stand upright, her hand grasping at the door frame for additional support. She walks forward, limping a little in her left leg, but the bandage around her foot unfolds to reveal an almost-healed bruise.
"Miss me?" Gardevoir smiles wryly at us. I look back at her, flooded with multiple emotions all at the same time. She looks physically worse – not in the sense of just being beaten up – but a little more tired, a little more worn, a little more – odd – than before.
The thought doesn't stay long, though; because another thought pushes it out of the way.
"Miss me?"
The brown Pokémon pushed his way past Gardevoir, a little roughly. Hitmonlee didn't even bother to look at us, marching off towards the stairs. Halfway there, however, he turned around and doubled back to the table.
"Dinner, eh?" I nod.
"Good." He swipes my plate of Pokéblock in his good hand, stomping upstairs with a swagger in his step. Perhaps he likes to be reminded that he's still the same old Hitmonlee everyone knows and hates.
We hear him clatter noisily up the stairs and slam his door. The lock turns.
Gardevoir shrugs a little. "Leave him be. He's a little irritable right now."
"No kidding," mutters Pichu. Louder, he pipes up: "So, how are you? Feeling better?"
Gardevoir grasped at her left shoulder with her right hand. "A little sore, but nothing much to it. The Nurse says I should be back to my normal self within a day or two. Right now, though, my foot's a little sore, so I can't move around too much."
"Your leg?" Both of us stare at it. Being closer to our eye-level, it makes things much easier.
Gardevoir nodded once. "Yeah, I think so. Apparently, must have knocked it against something, or I fell on it. I don't quite remember now. You know what?" she suddenly straightens up; "I think I should go rest. For once, that Hitmonlee might just have the right idea."
"What about dinner?"
"They gave us some at the Center. They sent us back too – didn't want us to walk our way back, apparently. We got discharged maybe an hour ago, but they sure took their time in making the needed arrangements."
So saying, she swept past us, ascending the stairs and disappearing out of sight. The Innkeeper, meanwhile, grumbles about random Pokémon barging in late at night, having to open the gates for the Center ambulance, and about the rising cost of funeral proceedings.
I yawn, snapping my jaw shut with a snap. "I'd probably join them soon. We'd better finish up fast, before the Innkeeper uses you as a tablecloth."
My Teammate tsks at the comment, shaking his head. "She'd rather use you. Riolu pelts are more absorbent." But nonetheless, he leaps onto his chair, and begins eating his food.
"Funny," I laugh. I pull myself back up on the table, wondering whether the food will give me sweet dreams like last night's. Sweet dreams, of course, until Hitmonlee and Pichu came a-hammering at my door.
Pichu moves a couple of dry food pellets on his plate. Playing with them like trains, he arranges and rearranges them into shapes, making vague train-noises and collision sounds under his breath like an overgrown newborn. A little "train" mashes into the other, smooshing both pellets together, out of shape, while Pichu whispers a "boooom", thoroughly enjoying himself.
He catches sight of me watching, and quickly turns beet red.
"What're you lookin' at?" he snaps, hastily – but a little too late – pushing a couple of pellets into his mouth and chewing frantically.
I shrug nonchalantly, arching an eyebrow and giving him a knowing smile. "Oh, nothing." I pick at my food as if nothing has happened, finishing up a couple of Oran berries quickly. Pichu doesn't say anything else: choosing instead to go back and finish his food in silence.
"Don't play with your food. You know what they say."
"I wasn't!" Pichu indignantly protests, voice muffled through a cheek full of food. "I'm not so childish. You're the one who always builds towers out of your Pokéblock."
"Ah," I shake a paw at him, "but that's architectural beauty and a display of creative power. Playing train-goes-boom-boom with your pellets? Not really."
Pichu hmphs and goes back to his food, grumbling under his breath.
But soon, curiosity does get the better of him. As it always does, and as it always will. He squirmed in his seat the entire meal. But when dinner's drawing to a close, and night has completely blanketed the town, he finally decides to raise the question that's been eating away at him.
"But Riolu, what do they say?"
"Hm?" I feign ignorance, raising an eyebrow questioningly.
"You know. About people who play with their food. Not that I ever do, of course," he hastily added.
"Ahh – are you sure you want to know? If you don't know, maybe it's best that you shouldn't." I push myself off the chair, carrying my empty plate off to the kitchen. When I return, Pichu fixes me with a stare from his seat.
"Tell me," he demands. "It can't be that bad, can it?"
I shrug. "Depends on whether you're too much of a scaredy-Skitty."
Pichu pulled a face. "I'm definitely not! Fact is, I'd probably be more, uh – uh, not scared than you! Uh – and compared to me, you're – you're a scaredy – scaredy…" He scratches his head, still thinking about the best insult he could throw my way today. "You're a scaredy Slowpoke!"
I nod wryly. "Uh huh. Sure. Your eloquence is amazing."
"Anyway, Riolu. What is this big secret of yours? A Pokédollar for your thoughts."
"Like you've got any money to spare."
Pichu scowls. "You know, I'm going to keep bothering you until you tell me."
That was new news. "Well," I rub my chin with a paw, looking pensive. "You make a good point. I was intending on getting some sleep tonight."
He brightens up. "So you'll talk?"
"Yes, yes. Gather around, children."
Pichu leans in close to me excitedly, his ear next to my muzzle. I grasp it in a paw, ready to whisper.
"Those who play with their food… soon become food themselves." I step back, wearing a haunted expression on my face and pulling it into an incredibly sad, scared shape. "There. Scared now? Don't say I didn't warn you beforehand."
There's a near-silence, the only sound being the night wind whistling outside the Inn. For some reason, all sound in the Inn suddenly seems to have dimmed down a little.
"Gar- Gardevv- " Pichu mumbles, trying to get himself to call Gardevoir, and restore some sense into the crazy words I'm telling him. The little guy's terrified, but trying so hard not to show it. He's largely failing, though, he's shaking, trembling, and can't string together a coherent word to save his sanity.
"Shhh, don't call her," I whisper, pressing a paw to Pichu's muzzle.
Pichu's protests die away into nothing.
"I've seen many Ralts go like that…" I drop my voice to a low, ominous tone. "It's well-known these cute, smaller-sized Pokémon usually – well – go like that… She might have had a similar experience when younger, as a Ralts. We don't want to wake up bad memories now, wouldn't we?"
Pichu nodded slowly, my paw still over his mouth.
"Besides, I'm a little surprised you didn't know. What with… you know… Pichus being picked off pretty often."
An odd silence falls on the both of us.
A sudden clang of metal on metal from outside breaks it. Is that Magneton still working?
"But oh well, no worries. Probably a whole lot of hearsay anyway," I say, brightening up, grinning, putting on that bubbly voice once again. Pichu, unsurprisingly, doesn't share my enthusiasm. "Time for bed, Pichu! You know the Innkeeper doesn't like it when you stay up too late!" I continue chirpily, unnaturally happy.
When Pichu doesn't show any signs of relaxing, I reassure him playfully. "Ahh, you're always so serious. I'm just teasing. You'll be mostly fine,"
"Y-You sure, Riolu? Really?" he murmurs, clinging onto me slightly. His paws grasp at my fur. I think he pulled off some tufts.
"Yeah, yeah," I try to peel him off of me, slowly. Don't want to lose more fur than I already do. "Don't worry so much. You're going to kill yourself with a heart attack one day."
"Huh," Pichu sniffles a little, wiping his nose with the back of his paw. "J-Just so you know, I'm planning to outlive you. If the Trainer were still around, I bet you'd be killed in your next battle. Hmph. So there." He punctuates that statement by sticking his tongue out childishly. I bristle inwardly at that comment, but outwardly I shrug, turning to go. At least he's let go of me, finally.
As Pichu picks up his small plate, I call over my shoulder. "Oh yeah, just one more thing. Stay indoors more. You know, away from windows, the sky, and stuff. Take it from someone who was wild once."
Pichu tilted his head slightly, still inquisitive as ever. The fearful look crept back into his face, slowly, showing slightly in the nervous twitch of his features. "Indoors, away from windows?… Wait – w-why?"
"Oh, that's how a childhood friend of mine went. I just remembered. Was a pretty cheerful guy, just like you, too. A small little Pokémon, no taller than you or I, and as adorable as anything. One day, he decided a quick nap in an open clearing, near a lake, with no one else around. That's how he went."
"Went? Wh-what do you mean?"
I make a sweeping motion with my free paw, going Caaaaawwwwww… then clenching it tightly, vehemently, in mid-sweep; catching something invisible in my grasp, complete with strangling and choking coughs. After a second or two, I released my fist, letting it fall limply back to my side, shrugging back at Pichu resignedly with a half-smile on my face.
"He never did see that Fearow coming."
Without another word, I run up the stairs into my room, slamming the door shut behind me. Behind me, Pichu suddenly breaks out into a hysterical scream, the plate clatters shrilly on the table, and Magneton's rhythmic clangs are suddenly interrupted by a clap of thunder.
The rain falls, dots against my window, the patter-patter lulling everyone to sleep.
Soon, it morphs into a great roar, the little animal growing to a fearsome beast, drumming down on window panes and walls with a vengeance. I am not a fanciful person, but I could have sworn that there's something in that rain makes my fur stand on end.
Maybe it's Gallade, his ethereal voice shouting against the storm and the wind.
Magneton keeps working. Through my open window comes the grating sound of metal against metal, ringing out dimly in the roaring rain, oddly in time of the crash of the cymbals in the sky.