Author's Note:

Wow, I'm REALLY sorry, everyone, for how long it's been since I last updated this story. I spent a long time trying to write Chapter Five and failing at it...I wrote about five versions and didn't like any of them, and I sort of ran out of ideas on what to do for this chapter. After that, I went away for the summer and didn't attend to Fanfiction for a while...so yeah, I got pretty sidetracked, and I apologize to all of you for that. *sadfaceee* :(

HOWEVER, the other day, the idea for this chapter suddenly popped into my head and I started to write it down, and then the magic happened again...and voila! Here it is! I'm happy to tell you that I now know what I'm doing with this story once again, so consider it officially restarted! :D I hope I'll update a lot more in the future, even though it's senior year and I'm busy and argghhh...

But anyway, without further ado, here's Chapter Five!

Chapter Five: I Will Follow You Into the Dark

The sun was slanting brilliantly over the roof of his house by the time Ethan came running back from the woods, Marill nipping at his heels and his shoes crunching against the well-worn carpet of leaves on the forest floor. Behind him, branches closed against the blue sky that was fading into violet, a cool evening breeze starting to rattle the leaves between them. He paused when the loud snap of sneakers against dry leaves faded into a soft pitter-patter over the grass in his front yard, and smiled. Red-gold sunset spilled over the green shingles, almost liquid, pooling into every crack in his house and, he imagined, spilling onto the wooden floors inside.

He turned around and whistled, sticking two fingers in his mouth. "Come on, Mari! It's time for dinner!"

Marill bounded after him and waved her arms happily, her ears twitching. She was a round blue sphere that nearly blended in with the rapidly approaching twilight behind them, sinking blue teeth into the gaps between the branches. "Marill, Marill!"

Ethan bent down and ran his fingers over the blue curves of her ears, laughing when he felt them twitch underneath his skin, sensitive as the strings of a harp. The outsides felt like rubber, but insides were soft, delicate, with the texture of wet velvet. It felt like water rippling under his hand, like a sign of life, knowing that there was someone on the other side who understood you no matter where both of you came from.

"Come on, Mare, I know you're hungry," he clucked, standing up and easing open his front door. He kicked off his shoes against the dirt-coated mat and sniffed. The delicious smell of cream of broccoli soup wafted out from the kitchen, filling his nostrils and making his stomach growl.

"Marill, Marill, Marill, Marill!" Marill was dancing impatiently from one leg to the other below him, side-stepping around the messy rows of shoes—his mom's, his dad's, several pairs of his sneakers—and Ethan couldn't help but laugh out loud. She yanked at the hem of his shorts and switched to bouncing on the ball on the end of her tail so that she almost reached his shoulders with every bounce, and finally Ethan rolled his eyes and leaned down, taking his Pokemon in his arms.

"Fine, I give in," he sighed, scratching her behind the ears and eliciting a squirm and a loud squeal of joy. "I'm as hungry as you are, you know. Let's hurry up and get some food then, shall we?"

"Mare!" Marill nodded firmly, sticking out her chin.

Ethan carried her into the kitchen, letting her jump out of his arms when they walked inside. He heard the clatter of plates, and spotted his mom dusting off her hands and untying the Cherubi-print apron wrapped around her waist.

"Mmm!" he exclaimed, rushing over as the smell accosted his nose again. "Mom, that smells delicious!"

"Eat up, honey." She grinned, draping her apron over the rack, and and pointed at two bowls set up on the table—one (red and white) for Ethan, one (with blue waves the color of the ocean, outlined against aquamarine) for Marill. He cried out, nearly forgetting to thank her, and dashed over to the table, cramming the spoon in his mouth. Marill did the same, plunging her nose with a loud squeal into the soup.

"Mmm, thiff iff af deliciouth ath it smellff!"

"Don't talk with your mouth full, honey," Mrs. Gold reminded him, filling a third bowl for herself and setting it next to her son's. "Did you say bye to Lyra today, by the way?"

Ethan stopped, dropping his spoon back into his bowl with a dull thud cushioned by the thick layer of soup. He looked down and swirled it around the green strands that suddenly stuck out among the white, and tried to ignore the wave of the sadness that rose up inside him and threatened to rob him of his appetite.

Yes, he was happy for his friend, but this practically marked an end to an era. He remembered the way Lyra had turned around to wave at him, her wan smile and her huge brown eyes as uncertain as the curl of her thin fingers, and felt the impact of it again, the shock that had nearly knocked his stomach flat when he realized: She really is leaving. Gone. Not coming back for a long, long time.

His best friend was leaving on a Pokemon adventure, and he was going to stay behind. Everything would be different now that Lyra was gone, too. He was the last one now. Who would he play with?

Ethan nodded after gulping down what was left of the soup in his mouth, and reminded himself to speak slowly, coherently. "Yup, I did." He looked up and tried to grin. "She's going on a Pokemon adventure, too? I mean—I had no idea that she was leaving! Why didn't you tell me, Mom?"

His mother shook her head as she sat down next to him. "I had no idea, either!" Frowning, she dipped her spoon into her bowl and took a small, much more polite sip of soup. "Hmm, I think this needs more salt. But yes, who would have known that Professor Elm was eager to take on another trainer? I mean, he has Kris of all people under his wing and then he has you to help out around the lab, and in all these years I've never known Lyra to show an interest in Pokemon—"

But Ethan was no longer listening, nor was he even chewing on the chunk of broccoli that, while nestled safely in his mouth, felt as if it had suddenly taken a leap downward and become lodged in his throat. All thoughts of Lyra had evaporated in a thin coil of steam, drifting away from the now boiling kettle of water that sat upon his skull. His cheeks had taken on a bright pink at the mere mention of Kris's name, as if a tiny Cyndaquil inside him was breathing an Ember onto both of his cheeks.

He had been thinking a lot about Kris lately, if he was honest with himself. Ever since the day she had dropped by before facing the Elite Four, he couldn't get the thought of her out of his mind. It seemed that the regular wooden fence that made up the boundaries of his mind had fallen away, letting his thoughts careen around his brain like bouncing balls, leaving behind the rules and regulations he had known since the day the three of them became best friends. It wasn't her so much as what had been said, what had happened between them that day when she so casually knocked on his door.

"Ethan!" his dad had called. "There's someone here to see you!"

He heard the loud, confident chatter before he was even all the way down the stairs: the flippant response of, "Oh no, Mr. Gold, it's fine, I just wanted to say hi to Ethan before I left. I'm just here to check in with Professor Elm. Oh, and I'm really excited to get to Kanto, you know. I heard it's beautiful, and of course it's very different from Johto. And how have you been lately? Is business going well? Yes, I heard that Goldenrod City is doing terrifically recently, business booming and all—oh, and where is Ethan? Oh, no, please don't worry about me, I'm in no rush at all—"

Kris? His mouth widened in surprise. He knew that voice. Kris was here? What did that mean? Had she lost—or had she won?

Well, knowing her, she would be the first to tell him. A wry smile spread across his face as he waited from behind the corner of the stairs, only the top of his head and his eyes peering out from behind the banister. Kris would stop eventually and see him. He could practically see her hands waving nonchalantly through the air, her pigtails vibrating above her shoulders as she spoke.

It occurred to him now that that moment had probably been the last time he had ever looked at Kris in a normal light—smiling, chattering, her raven-blue hair bathed in the sun's glow from his open front door—as the girl he had known for as long as he remembered.

Sure enough, moments later, he heard the cry of "Oh, there he is! Ethan!" soar up from the front door, and then Kris swept past his father with the athletic, strong-legged authority she had developed from her years of biking. Without even taking off her shoes (he could practically hear his dad wince in the wake of the muddy footprints that were surely swimming before his eyes, imaginary or not), she planted her feet on the stairs and marched up toward him.

"Well, well, well, look who it is," he joked, grinning and crossing his arms. "Gee, what happened to earn us a visit from you, the great Kris almighty?"

"Oh, be quiet, Ethan." She punched him playfully on the shoulder and shrugged off her white jacket, slinging it over the railing of the stairs, as they walked up the rest of the stairs and into his room. Kris plopped down on his bed and swung her legs back and forth over the edge, the way she always did. "Something good, that's for sure. How could I not come see you? I'm here in New Bark, aren't I? I already ran into Lyra outside, but I have to make sure I get to see all of my best friends…"

But there was a sparkle in her eyes, a strange sparkle that Ethan hadn't seen before, and he supposed now that he should have known what was coming.

"Well, I'm glad you stopped by," he piped up, blinking himself out of his momentary stupor. "Why are you back, though? Are you taking a break from the Gym circuit right now?" He didn't want to add it, but silently, worriedly, he wondered: Did you lose?

All of his fears evaporated, however, when the wide, dazzling smile split Kris's face in two, opening a gaping hole of sunlight in her eyes. She did a little bounce on the tips of her fingers and swung her leg particularly hard, letting it slam against the frame of Ethan's bed with a loud thunk. "Actually…"

Ethan's heart did a tiny flip in his chest when his eyes met hers, and for the first time he noticed how crystal blue they were when they were glowing with happiness like they were now. Kris was grinning up at him, and though it was the same old Kris that it always was, he couldn't help but think that it wasn't. It struck him how little, right now, she looked like the tomboy he knew she was…peering coquettishly at him up through her eyelids and pushing her shoulders forward in the tight red tank top she always sported underneath her jacket. She was smiling at him as if she was waiting for something; waiting, yes, but for what?

"What?" he echoed. "Actually what?"

Kris gave another kick, her pigtails bouncing perkily, and beamed.

"Would you believe me if I told you I won all eight badges?"

Ethan blinked, not sure he had heard right. It hadn't been that long that Kris had been on her journey, had it? "You what?"

"I said…" she repeated, her grin widening, "would you believe me?"

It took a few seconds for Ethan to get his voice to work, and by the time he succeeded, everything came rushing out in an incoherent flood.

"Oh…Kris—of course I'd believe you!" His hand was rapidly twisting the brim of his cap back and forth on his head as he lurched forward toward where she was sitting. "It's you, after all, and…wow! Congratulations! That's—amazing, honestly!" And before he could think about it, buoyed by the weightlessness of motions that had been repeated hundreds of times and had become as easy, as fluid, as tipping onto his back underwater—he reached forward and threw his arms around her shoulders, squeezing hard.

A new, unfamiliar surge of warmth rushed through his stomach and when he felt her bare arms, a moment later, rise up and close around him. For some reason, the gesture sent tingles running from the place on his shoulder blades where she touched all the way down his spine. He breathed in, and instantly realized what a mistake it was when the scent of the ocean filled his nostrils, but sweet, as if someone had flung the petals of a freshly picked rose inside its waters, flowery juices leaking into the blue.

The hug seemed to last much longer than the few seconds he was sure it really had, but soon Kris drew back, a smile dancing across her lips, her cheeks strangely flushed. Do I look the same way? he wondered.

"Thanks, Ethan," she murmured, and then before he knew what was happening, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his cheek in a short peck.

"Oh—I—no problem." His fingers rose almost against his will to the spot on his skin where her mouth had rested a second before, and he fought to blink away the fog that had settled over both of them.

Did this mean what he thought it did?

"Oh, and here!" Relief washed over him; the normal Kris was back, he was sure, as she bounded forward and grabbed his Pokegear from where it had been resting on his desk. "You know what, I think we should keep in touch, Ethan." He heard the click of buttons, and then a resolute slam as she set it back down on his desk. "I put my number in. Call me sometime, okay?"

"Yeah. Sure, I will."

He stared at the screen, at the string of numbers that, even if it was invisible to his eye, he knew now lay buried underneath the list of names under his contacts. Just because Kris was normal again, it didn't mean that everything else would be normal afterward, too, did it?

"I have to go now," she said flippantly, so much that he was sure he had imagined everything else that had happened. And then he heard the quick pitter-patter of footsteps as she turned and gathered her jacket and raced down the stairs. "Wish me luck, Ethan! And don't forget to call!"

"I won't—" he started, but she was already out the door.

"Bye, Mr. Gold!" she called out, and then the door swung shut, and she was gone.

Having grown up with girls all his life, Ethan had never been one of those guys who spent every moment of his day obsessing over them and wishing one would like him or talk to him or, Mew forbid, kiss him. He never lamented over which girls were the most beautiful or who had the best curves or which of them he could ever imagine dating. He thought of girls as what they were—people, some who were kind and some who were mean and some who were somewhere in between, some who didn't like him and some who could be his friends. But now, for the first time, he realized that, in fact, Kris was a girl. Lyra was a girl. And—like the boys at school who sneered and made crass comments about girls' bodies, or the ones who sighed to each other and played video games all day because they never managed to get themselves girlfriends, even though Ethan never cared about something as tacky as romance—he realized that girls were confusing.

"Kris?" he whispered, the sound hissing through the room and bouncing off the silent walls, even though she was no longer there. "Good luck against the Elite Four."

He let his fingers fall from the mark on his cheek, and swore that, if he tried, he could still smell the scent of the ocean.

"Oh, and do you know which Pokemon she picked, honey?"

It took a while for Ethan to resurface at the sound of the voice that wasn't Kris's or his mind's. He clawed his way up through the thick soup of his own thoughts and finally broke through the film, gasping for air and shaking his hair out of his eyes to blink cluelessly at his mother. "Huh?"

"Lyra. Do you know what Pokemon she picked?" His mother smiled at him, spoon hovering midair, waiting.

"Oh. Yeah." Ethan dipped his own back among the white-and-green swirl, broccoli greener than the the leaf of a Chikorita, greener than the skin of a fully-grown Meganium. "She picked a Cyndaquil."

His mother hummed in approval. "Wow, a fire type. Impressive. They're not easy to train, that's for sure. I hope Lyra has the skill to control hers—"

But again, Ethan wasn't listening to his mother's speech. He was thinking about Cyndaquil, about Lyra's Cyndaquil, who was so ready to fight and yet so reluctant to befriend her, about the Cyndaquil that completed the triangle of Professor Elm's starting Pokemon (there was only Totodile left now), about the Cyndaquil that seemed to live inside him, coating his cheeks in fire whenever he thought about Kris. Cyndaquil were great Pokemon. They were sweet and easy to take care of, like Marill was, and at the same time every trainer knew that they would become fearsome opponents when they grew into the great hulking beasts that were Typhlosion.

But now, when he thought of Cyndaquil, he thought of Lyra, and suddenly he realized, without Kris, and without her, how alone he had really become.

He dropped his spoon abruptly back into his bowl, where the last few droplets of spoon hardly served to muffle the loud clang it made against the china.

"Mom, I'm going outside for a walk, all right?"

His mother looked up, scanning his face, and then grimaced in sympathy. "Oh, honey…you're upset, aren't you?" She nodded, not waiting for his confirmation "I understand. I know you're going to miss Lyra. You were always so close. But just remember that you can always—"

"No, I'm fine, Mom." Ethan smiled. "I promise. It's not that. I just—need a bit of air." He held out his hand toward his Pokemon. "You coming, Marill?"

"Marill Mare!" The aqua mouse ran her tongue over her lips, licking the last drops of soup that stained her blue skin white, and nodded. She scampered off her chair as quickly as she could and trotted after him toward the front door.

"I'll be back soon, Mom," Ethan promised as he pulled on his shoes and opened the door.

Night had descended on New Bark Town. A cool breeze ruffled his hair and arced softly, gracefully over his head as he and Marill stepped outside, and he could hear the quiet chirps of bug Pokemon all around. Ethan pulled on the brim of his baseball cap, tugging it down over his forehead. He jammed his hands in the pockets of his shorts and started to walk, winding past first his house and then the short path that cut toward Lyra's.

As he stared up at the lit window upstairs of the house he had been to a thousand times, he imagined Lyra's mom sitting at her desk upstairs behind the closed curtain and looking at pictures of her daughter, now that she was gone, going through all of the pictures of her and Ethan playing together and Kris an animated blur or a grin next to them. Not much had changed since then. The thought made him smile. He and Lyra still sat together as Kris bounced around them, always a few steps ahead of both of them, her legs never stopping in their chase for glory.

Who was he to think he could catch up to her? Or, now that Lyra was gone, too, to either of them?

Kicking at the grass underneath his feet, Ethan circled around Lyra's house and started toward the lab. He couldn't see the lights from here, but he wondered if Professor Elm was still working, if he was still doing research downstairs or if he had moved upstairs to have dinner with his family. He used to live in Ethan's house, he knew, before they had moved there. But that had been before Ethan was born. He sometimes wondered if the professor ever wanted his house back, or if he was happy that his future assistant had moved there, that the old shell he had left behind had been filled by new shoes that had, in turn, shuffled a few houses over to follow in his own footsteps.

"Marill?"

"Hm?" He turned toward his Pokemon and saw her staring up at him with bright, liquid eyes.

"Marill." Marill brought her voice down to an urgent whisper, and Ethan tilted his head in curiosity.

"Is there something you have to tell me?"

"Marill Marill." Marill nodded her head in the direction of the lab and then turned back to him. "Marill Marill."

At first, when Ethan turned toward the lab, he didn't see anything out of the ordinary. He didn't see anything but the dark navy and purple of the night, the branches as curved and crooked as claws yearning the scratch against the walls of buildings. He didn't see anything but the yellowish glow that the streetlights cast upon the ground, the shadows playing over the staunch, matter-of-fact walls of the lab.

But then the blur of movement caught his eye, a piece of night that didn't quite fit in with the rest, like a patch slapped hastily over the twilight and sewn on with threads of starlight. Ethan squinted and drew forward. It was a flicker of red flashing by amidst all of the blue, something that didn't belong. He tiptoed forward across the grass and waited, afraid he might scare whatever it was away. Maybe it was a Pokemon, some rare Pokemon that never showed its face around these regions. Maybe he could tell Professor Elm about it tomorrow, and they could laugh and marvel over the fact that it had been here, just a few steps outside his lab.

But when whatever it was moved again, this time, seconds later, he caught it—the figure, skinny and all limbs like a spider, ducking out from behind the walls of the lab and disappearing a second after in the tight, sporadic movements of something that doesn't want to be seen.

His fingers gripped the hem of his jacket. "What is that?" he breathed.

"Marill." Marill shrugged. It's beyond me.

"I…we should go investigate," Ethan murmured, creeping forward and pressing his back against one of the walls of the lab. The creature—whatever it was—had emerged from the other side of the building, and he hoped that from where he was standing he would be able to spot it if it moved again.

A moment later, he heard a rustle and turned, laying his cheek flat against the surface of the wall. Ethan leaned forward and strained his eyes, staring at the field before him, daring the creature to emerge. And this time, when it did, materializing from behind the wall of yet another building, whatever it was was caught under the full glow of one of the streetlights. Ethan's eyes widened when he saw it.

It wasn't a Pokemon. It was a boy, with red hair streaming down toward his shoulders and a pale, pale face, decked in a navy blazer and blue pants. His mouth was pressed in a thin line as he streaked across the field and toward the safety of the woods nearby, something round and shiny clutched in his hand. Ethan had never seen him before, but he recognized the look in his eyes, the same look he always had moments before his mother caught him doing something he shouldn't be, like playing a computer game or talking on the phone when he should have been doing his homework: fear.

"That…that looked like a person, Marill," he deadpanned, his heart pounding.

This wasn't normal. This wasn't a regular occurrence. The thought hammered through his mind in a steady beat as Ethan had to remind himself of it over and over again. This was something strange, and unusual, and the fact that it had happened in the quiet, peaceful town of New Bark made him shiver.

"Marill." Marill nodded matter-of-factly.

"I think we should go after him." Ethan was surprised at the flat tone of his voice, which he had never known, ever, to be flat otherwise—shocked, really, considering his suspicions as to what the boy had been holding as he ran.

"Marill?" Marill looked up at him, I believe in you and Are you crazy? shining in the dark round pupils of her eyes at the same time, a testament to the power of the bond between human and Pokemon.

"Yeah." Ethan nodded, starting to trace his path back toward his house so that he could pick up his Pokegear and then, inevitably, let his mom know what he was planning on doing. "I'm serious."

"Mare, Marill." Well, I'm in it if you are, the Pokemon seemed to say as she shrugged and scampered after her trainer.

Ethan squinted into the night again, trying to find any sign of the red-haired kid. "But first, we should tell Professor Elm, and my mom…"

He broke into a swift jog when he passed by Lyra's house, and as his eyes skimmed over the lit window again, he remembered that this was something he would definitely have told her, had she been home. Tomorrow, then, he would call her, and tell her what he would seen—

He jolted to an abrupt stop, Marill colliding against his heels, and slapped his hand against his forehead. Of course. How could he have forgotten? He didn't have Lyra's number. The knowledge made his stomach sink; unlike Kris, he had neglected to ask her for it before she left. When would he be able to talk to her again? They had never not spoken to each other for so long—not even during all of the times they had been grounded throughout the years, not when he or she was away on vacation, just never.

But maybe there was someone else he could talk to. Someone else…

And at the faintest hint of the thought, curling around his head like a tendril of smoke, a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth—almost against his will, as if the warmth in his chest was struggling to soar out of his body and had just found a handy escape route. Yes, he might not have had Lyra's number, but he did have Kris's, now that she had given it to him. And they were friends, right? Especially after…what had happened. He could call her, couldn't he?

Yes, in fact, now that he remembered it, he had promised to call her. The warmth inside him hummed with contentment, vibrating through his veins. Ethan broke into a run again, back toward his house to fetch his Pokegear. It was a plan, then: tomorrow, first thing, he would call Kris.