ACT V: EVERYDAY EVENTS.
White-washed nothingness and harrowing silence. Occasional glimpses of the world beyond the glass walls. Pitch black darkness otherwise.
These were his daily routine, the routines of the Monster with Deep Red Eyes. No…"Daily" wasn't correct since he had no sense of time at all. That was his brother's department, overseeing boring things like history and whatnot.
But he too was also bored of his own job, that of overseeing space and planetary evolution. Not that he hated space or anything. Space was silent, ever-expanding and long-suffering. It was faithful enough to deal with someone as difficult as its short-tempered master. It was like that substance all living things needed to survive besides food and air. What was it again?
Water. Yes…water. The Monster with Deep Red Eyes lowered his eyelids and visualized the cool liquid lapping at his legs and waist. He could almost feel the waves crashing against his torso, laughing up at his chin and willing him to take a nice long dip.
Ah, his throat was getting scratchy again. Thirst, maybe? Thirst for a drink? A companion? A friend, perhaps?
But alas, all he could see upon opening his eyes was the endless space he was assigned to rule, with its pearl-shaped stars and faint borealis.
He should've gone back into his millennial slumber after that. He should've yawned and closed his eyes, curling into his warm ball and dreaming of what it'd be like for him to grasp friendly hands and laugh like all of Arceus's creations did.
But something was in his space. Something he'd rather not wish to see, considering how badly it stood out against his clean backdrop like an irremovable blood-stain.
She stood before him like an ant would to an elephant, humming, tilting and smiling her slice-of-melon smile that would've put any joker to shame.
The Little Blonde Girl with Equally Red Eyes met his disdainful scowl and smiled wider.
"How goes your monotonous life, big brother?"
Oreburgh City.
"Here at last!" Piff declared, coming out of the dank tunnel that acted as the city's gate. Turning, he gave his perky smile to Cynthia, hoping to cheer her up. "Let's find a place to rest. You've been pretty out of it for a while now."
That was putting it lightly. Gible had literally bitten Piff into waking up and it had taken no less than an thirty minutes to get an utterly hysteric Cynthia to calm down. Where she had gone and what she had seen were kept under tight lips as she was too jittery at the time to even speak. Johnny suggested mid-afternoon PMS. Piff suspected otherwise.
So they took it easy from there, following the route Cynthia had mapped out. Oddly enough, she made a big deal of sticking to the left side of the path and avoiding any ledges or caves. The way her face had lost all colour at the sight of the tunnel leading to Oreburgh was more than enough reason to heighten the boy's suspicions- she had practically hung from his arm the entire way.
"The PC's that way," Piff remarked, pointing over to the red-roofed building standing above every other building in the small city. "Come on."
The walk to the center was short. Dropping their Pokémon off at the Nurse's counter took even shorter and in a minute, Piff was lying flat on his back against the bed.
"I'm sorry but we only have one room with a single bed left," he murmured, reciting the words of the apologetic Nurse Joy. ""You could always share, ne?" Riiiiight."
Cynthia remained silent, staring out the window and fiddling with a stray lock of golden hair.
"Now's a good time as any to tell me what's wrong," the boy stated, sitting up. "Remember what I said about problem's being easier when they're shared."
The rotten smell was still fresh on her nostrils as Cynthia faced him. Her lips parted, words were bubbling up her throat and she was ready to spill everything she knew. But that was the problem; she had always been ready to tell him, ever since she had laid eyes on that corpse.
She couldn't say it.
No matter how hard she tried, the words wouldn't come out. Something else had happened in that cave. She had seen something hovering in the shadows, soaked in crimson and staring back at her with placid blue eyes.
"Don't tell," it had ordered. And like that, she was stuck with a problem she couldn't let out.
"Sorry," she murmured, looking away again. "But it's nothing. I'll be fine." She flashed him a smile, one that made Piff's body jolt with slight recognition. "Why don't we find that gym or something! I'm sure you're absolutely dying to meet the gym leader!"
Piff regarded her for a brief moment before shrugging and smiling back. "Yeah, let's do that. I'd better know my opponent first before sending him crying when I beat his Pokémon!"
"Hmph. Cocky, aren't we?"
"Confident," Piff replied, tossing his jacket back on. "Let's go!"
Piff had been to Oreburgh once, back when he was ten and on a school field trip to the mines. As such, the gritty, charcoal-scented air felt somewhat welcoming, if not overly familiar. This little industrial city always carried a comfortable air about itself, contrasting with the busy people and Pokémon darting up and down the gravel-covered road. Back then, on the field trip, Piff remembered getting lost in one of the mines with a handful of classmates, a situation more frustrating than dire given the constant whining each of his classmates made. As memory recalled, they ran into a handful of wild Onix and in the end, Piff had saved them when the going got rough, going so far as to actually hurl one into its cohorts.
Though he had come out with a nosebleed, bloodied fists and a twisted ankle, he still remembered giving them a reassuring smile and putting up a peace-sign, telling them it was okay.
It wasn't that surprising when they looked back at him like they would a monster and kept their distance but it had still hurt nonetheless.
"Hey, Piff! Are you listening?"
The ravenette stopped, looking over his shoulder at the pouting girl behind him. "Hm?"
Cynthia jerked an exasperated thumb in the left direction. "The gym's that way, airhead."
She was right. A gym leader had found Piff's little group and taken them there to meet their worried teachers.
"You've suddenly gone spacey," Cynthia observed aloud, tapping on his head obnoxiously from behind. "Better not let that get the best of you when you see Gym Leader Roark."
Piff blinked. "Roark?"
"Yeah. The Oreburgh Rock-training Gym Leader," she chirped informatively. "Roark's pretty young. He recently snagged the position after the old gym leader retired to continue his journey. I looked him up on the Pokémon League Guide while you dropped your Pokémon off at the counter."
"Oh?"
They came to a slow halt at the dome-shaped building with the words "GYM" strewn across its walls. The building had gotten a neat paint job but otherwise remained unchanged in Piff's eyes.
"If he got the position of gym leader and he's young then it means he's strong." Piff clenched a fist. "I wanna fight him already. This is gonna be-"
The door slid open and a girl in a black hoodie stepped out, wincing a bit as the heavy sunlight slapped her across the face. She pulled her hood closer over her head and turned in the direction of the PC, freezing as she came face to face with the raven-haired boy.
Piff was the first to react, nearly shouting in realization. "It's you!"
When the girl raised her head, parting her jet black bangs and revealing her deep red eyes, Cynthia got taken aback by the hardness of her scowl.
And the splotches of blood on her cheek.
"Nina, it's me, Piff! Remember me?" the boy continued, obviously not seeing the blood stains yet. Nina swiped a sleeve over her cheek before briefly giving him a glance. Her eyes dipped back to her bright pink boots.
"Oh, it's you."
"What's with that bored tone," Piff deadpanned before stepping back and giving her a once-over. "You must've fought the gym leader, right? Wow, you're pretty fast! Did you win? Did you?"
Cynthia was very sure she caught Nina's subtle eye-roll and annoyed huff. "Of course I won. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get my Pokémon over to the PC. Not that they'll need much taking care of."
Her eyes certainly seemed harder as she looked back at the gym. Call it woman's intuition but Cynthia felt rather strange vibes coming from this girl. Her posture looked a bit too rigid and her fingers were twitching occasionally. That, and her eyes looked rather dead despite their vibrant red glow. Almost like the corpse back in the cave…no, more like the blue-eyed figure she had seen.
By the time Cynthia snapped out of her thoughts, Nina was already passing by her and she only registered the girl's passing gaze- glare- when she felt a sudden chill in her spine. Piff's head must've been filled with solid bricks as he deemed it fit to grab the fluttering ends of Nina's white scarf, silly grin plastered on his narrow face.
"Hey, hey, at least lemme congratulate you on your win! Besides, you can't just leave a fellow trainer without coughing up some advice!" he said coyly, virtually blind to the razor-sharp edge in Nina's eyes (on a side note, Cynthia never knew how well eyes could speak volumes until she saw Nina's). "Gimme a few tips, yeah? Is the gym leader really strong?"
This…was weird. That was all Cynthia could observe from the one-sided interaction between these two. To a normal observer, it would've looked like two trainers simply conversing (or in this case, one trainer starting to annoy the hell out of the other trainer) but in Cynthia's eyes, this was different.
For one thing, Piff's accent had switched almost completely, going from relatively normal mainland Sinnohvian to its stark country-side counterpart aka Twinleaf-centric. It was almost as if he was talking to a sibling. More importantly, though Nina's words were brief and heavily-coated, the unmistakable accent was there. Was she a fellow survivor?!
As if reading her mind, Nina's eyes swiveled over to the blonde, rooting her to the spot. Cynthia stared back, very aware of how constricted her throat felt under Nina's ghostly stare. To her immense relief, the latter turned away and stared into the horizon, undoubtedly sifting through her mind for a valid reply to shake off the creep gripping her scarf.
Her pale-pink lips parted. "If you insist on hearing my opinion…Oreburgh might as well not have a gym leader anymore."
Whatever comfortable air vanished with her seemingly cryptic words, sending various alarm flags up in Cynthia's mind.
Just so she wouldn't reach a level of fear where her teeth would probably be knocking against each other, the blonde squeezed out a laugh. "W-well, you never know!" Frankly, she was unaware of when she had gripped the hem of Piff's jacket. "Let's see for ourselves what the gym's like, Piff!"
And as usual, he didn't get the hint. "Eh? Why? I haven't even introduced you two-"
"Not interested," Nina replied coldly, ripping her scarf out of his hand. "Bye."
True to her words, she was gone like the wind, leaving a baffled Piff and an utterly suspicious Cynthia behind.
"Well…she's grumpy," he remarked, finally addressing the hand holding tightly to his jacket. "Got a problem?"
Dense idiot! "N-no!" Cynthia snapped, letting go and turning to the gym's entrance. "Come on. You're better off seeing Roark's strength in person than hearing it from the Rapidash's mouth."
"Please don't use fire-type pokémon names in idiomatic sentences. It makes my throat prickly," he replied mock-politely, reverting to mainland Sinnohvian.
"You chose to switch accents now?!" she responded angrily before huffing at his confused stare. "Whatever! Let's just check on Roark, go back to the PC and get our Pokémon-"
The doors flew open so fast that Cynthia's face would've been thoroughly flattened had she taken another step. A bespectacled young man with cordovan-red hair rushed out sweating and panting like he had just run the entire length of eastern Sinnoh.
Cynthia recognized him right away. "Roark?"
"Please move!" he cried, pushing past her roughly. There was a rather sickly smell clinging to him and Piff's eyes widened upon seeing the horrified expression on the man's face. Before he could stop him, Roark had already brushed past, holding an oddly-soaked Pokéball to his chest.
"Hey! Wait!" the boy cried, making to follow him when he made the mistake of looking down at his jacket.
Blood.
He heard Cynthia's short yelp behind from behind and turned, staring face to face with her blood-soaked sweater where Roark had bumped against her. Now Piff was pretty used to such a sight, given the often gruesome fights he had been in back in his younger days but he could tell from Cynthia's expression of shock that the amount on them looked rather unhealthy.
Thankfully, it wasn't theirs and Roark had no visible injuries whatsoever, given how fast he was running at least. "But if it's not ours then…"
Without further ado he grabbed Cynthia's arm and took off after Roark's disappearing figure, hoping that they weren't too late.
Unfortunately, they were.
"I'm sorry, Roark," were the nurse's words as they rushed through the PC's doors. Piff's feet ground to an abrupt halt as they laid eyes on the ghastly-disfigured form of a dinosaur-looking Pokémon lying rock-still in the centre of the lobby floor. Its injuries were so gruesome that several younger trainers must've gone into shock, given the rigid silence in the air. One person had to turn away, slapping a palm over his lips to hold back the rushing bile.
In other words, the fate of the Rampardos lying on the floor was blatantly obvious.
"He passed on long before you reached here," the woman continued, clearly avoiding the gym leader's hollow stare. In reply, Roark turned back to the corpse of his Pokémon and sank on one knee, taking its large head in his hands and burying his face into its rough, stone-cold hide.
Roark screamed.
…
"It's just one fucking situation after another!"
"George! Watch your language!"
The young couple bickered a bit before quieting down once they realized that their voices were growing too loud. Sitting on the park bench a few feet away, Piff toyed with the Pokéballs in his hands while Cynthia merely sat on the opposite side, skimming through a newspaper.
"Sorry," the man called George mumbled, riffling through his brown hair. "It's just that I ain't used to this kinda scenario, ya know? Oreburgh used to be much more peaceful…no murders, no accidents, no robberies, hell, not even purse snatching! But now we've got dead trainers turning up at our city gates and our gym leader's Pokémon suddenly gets offed when a match turns nasty! Damn it…To make matters worse, I heard that a portion of the mines collapsed two days ago when a bunch of Rhydon migrated here underground. Killed a good lot of our guys."
"Their families…" the woman beside him murmured apologetically, gripping tighter on his arm. "George…I'm scared."
The brunette scoffed and ruffled his girlfriend's hair. "We won't stay here too long. Sinnoh might be going to hell slowly but we've got each other and our Pokémon. Besides, I'm protecting you, remember? I'd gladly fight off any homicidal Pokémon for you."
"George…"
A short noise from behind had them turning their heads to look at the source. Piff had gotten up roughly and was grinding one foot against the ground, deep in thought. One look at his sour expression and the couple quietly relocated to another seat, preferably far away.
"I don't get it," Cynthia said, checking the pages. "Not even Sinnoh's Daily covers anything about these murders… and it sounds like they've been going on for a while. There's nothing on the Oreburgh Mines' collapse either."
"…You saw one, didn't you?"
Cynthia looked up, confusion plastered on her face. "Hm?"
Piff glanced over his shoulder, scrutinizing her face. "You saw a body in one of the caves on the way here, right?"
The blonde went still for a moment before averting her gaze like a scolded child. Piff sighed.
"I understand if you didn't wanna talk about it," he said, adjusting his headband and giving her a small sympathetic smile. "It must've been pretty sick."
"Don't remind me." She folded the paper and leaned forward. "You're not angry?"
Piff tilted his head. "Uh, no? Like I said, you were probably too scared and clammed up on reflex." His lips curved into a mocking smile. "Jeez, you look like a tough girl but your insides might as well be jelly."
"Shut up!" Cynthia snapped, tossing the wadded up newspaper at his face. It was a direct hit but Piff didn't seem at all fazed, only stumbling back to catch himself from tripping over a bench. The girl stood up, dusted her skirt and placed a hand on her hip. "So what'll you do now? I doubt Roark's in a psychological position to battle now. I suggest we head over to Eterna-"
"I'm staying here."
Cynthia bit back the rest of her words and an acidic scowl replaced her stunned expression in a heartbeat. "You saw Roark, didn't you? He might as well have lost his own mother again given the state he was in when we left! What're you going to do? Walk up to him, tap his shoulder and go "Hey Roark! I'm terribly sorry your Rampardos died and all, by the way, do you wanna battle?" I personally believe you'll walk out badgeless and with a bloody nose to boot after that and- ARCEUS DAMMIT, PIFF! WILL YOU STOP WALKING AWAY WHEN I'M IN THE MIDDLE OF A SENTENCE?!"
"Sorry!" Piff yelled back, already a good distance away. "I'm just going to talk to Roark for a bit!"
"Are you deaf?! I told you he's not in the right mind to listen to a word you said!" Cynthia screamed, going after him. "Hey, at least slow down! Don't leave me hanging…"
Too late. Piff was far too fast and too far gone for her to catch up to and soon enough, it was just her on the gravelly road. Alone.
Or so she had thought until her grey eyes caught the sight of a black hoodie turning a corner.
…
Oreburgh Gym.
"Somehow I agree with the blondie," Johnny remarked as he and his trainer read the sign on the locked doors.
CLOSED TILL FURTHER NOTICE.
"Then we'll just have to find him," Piff stated firmly, turning around.
"Why d'you wanna battle this guy so much?" Johnny asked curiously. "I'm pretty sure there's other gym leaders 'round here."
The ravenette continued walking as Roark's crying image flashed through his mind. "It had to be him. I always wanted my first gym battle to be against a guy like him."
"Very enlightening," the Chimchar remarked sarcastically.
"I came here once on a field trip with my class. Some of us got lost back in the mines, yours truly included. We ran into a group of angry Onix and I fought them off to protect my classmates."
"After seeing your thing with the Rhydon, I ain't surprised."
"Heh. Anyway, I was pretty injured by the time we got rescued by the old gym leader then and believe it or not, Roark was the gym trainer who got me fixed up at the hospital. I didn't remember him until now."
Johnny hummed empathically before yawning. "I gotta say though, that doesn't make much of a difference. Gratitude can only get you so far. Plus you ain't no psychologist to me. If anything, you might piss the poor guy off more if you just barge back into his life and try to cheer him up."
"I've gotta try at least." Plus, I owe him a lot more, Piff added, smiling to himself. Back then, his classmates had called him a monster and the gym leader obviously hadn't believed him when he claimed to have single-handedly fought the Onix off. But one teenager had placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled at him. Piff remembered those cordovan eyes hidden behind thin-rimmed glasses and the reassuring words he had uttered.
"Well if you did save them then good for you. That makes you awesome in my book, kid. Come on, you look like you could use a couple of bandages."
"Y-you believe me?" the young boy had stuttered, eyes wide and blood trailing down his nose. Roark hadn't stopped giggling at how silly he looked. "You think I'm not a monster?"
"Monster? You? No way," Roark had replied, hefting him unto his shoulders. "You're a hero, kiddo. Be proud of yourself."
Piff stopped at the Pokémon Center. "I never thanked him."
At that moment, the doors slid open and Piff was now facing the broken man to whom he was grateful for. The first stranger who didn't call him a monster.
"Roark," he called, making the man raise his head and finally stare. His grief was almost visible, permeating the air with such an intensity that Johnny could've sworn the environment was freezing over. Piff felt it too but stood firm, giving the man time to recognize him. Gradually, it dawned on the man that he had seen this bright-eyed boy before and his eyes flickered before growing dull and hollow again.
"Coliot…Rosewood?" he asked, adjusting his glasses and standing straighter, undoubtedly trying to put up a mature face. Some things never changed.
"Piff," Piff corrected, pocketing his hands.
Roark started for a second before smiling a bit. "Yeah, sorry. Least I got your other name right."
"It's not something people'd forget in a hurry," Piff chuckled before flashing his own smile back. "So I heard what happened."
The gym leader lowered his gaze. "Haha…yeah. Things got a little out of hand so I had to shut down the gym for a bit. From the looks of it, you must be a trainer now. Congratulations… I suppose you wandered here for your first gym badge, eh? Just…like I promised…"
Johnny blinked. "Promised? Oi, Piff, what's he talking about?"
"I still remember what you said that day when we left the hospital," Piff said, ignoring Johnny for the time being. "When I told you to show me your Pokémon."
"As memory recalls, I called out… Rampardos…" Roark stated softly. "He was still a Cranidos then."
"Yeah. He was very protective. Almost bit me when I tried to touch him."
Both chuckled briefly before staring back at each other.
"Hey, Piff…are you still following that dream of yours?" Roark asked lightly.
Piff's smirk softened till it became a straight emotionless line. "Yeah. I'm going to be the best Water-type trainer in the world and your Rampardos was to be my first major opponent. You said it yourself."
"That when you're older, let me test your strength. Greatest water-type trainer vs Greatest Rock-type trainer, right?"
Roark pushed up his glasses again, although this time, his shaky hand remained on his face.
"Piff, I lost my best friend and starting Pokémon. The first and strongest Rock-type that I ever had. And I haven't even spent up to a month as gym leader in this town."
"Well…I started with a fire-type."
Roark's eyes narrowed (Johnny's as well but the Chimchar decided to give Piff the flaming axe some other time). "A-are you trying to make a joke out of this, Piff? Do you even understand how I feel right now? Look at me! Two weeks in and I've already had my own partner killed because of my inexperience and lack of good judgement! I'm no trainer, Piff! I might as well have killed Rampardos with my own two hands when I allowed him to keep fighting…when I refused to back down even when the odds were glaringly stacked against us!"
Wait a minute, Johnny observed as Roark's voice grew steadily higher. Isn't he…spilling his guts?
Piff's almost nonchalant attitude confirmed it. "Yeah…so?"
"So…SO?!"
Johnny wobbled as his living platform was slammed against a wall, held by his collar.
"You haven't lost a Pokémon before, have you?!" Roark roared hotly, struggling with his own inner turmoil. "Do you know what it feels like to have your loved ones killed? Rampardos wasn't some pet I kept on a leash! We were virtually brothers! I'm this close to jumping off a cliff, you know! He and I did everything together… Without him, I don't know what I'll do with myself now! How can I be a Gym Leader, Oreburgh's primary protector, when I can't do something as simple as knowing my own Pokémon's limits?! Do you understand, Piff! The moment Rampardos died…I lost everything."
Finally, the tears fell in small trails as Roark's grip loosened considerably.
"But I guess you wouldn't know," he continued in an even voice, reining his emotions back in. "You haven't lost a loved one before. Hmph, I suppose you were insinuating that we both failed in our chosen fields right from the start. I lose my rock-type and you start with a fire-type, a clear signal of doom if I ever saw one."
The next few seconds were spent in silence as Roark distanced himself and readjusted his glasses again. The small city's chapel began to ring its bells as the clock struck 5PM, echoing softly and taking its fill of the thoughtful silence.
"I appreciate that you cared enough to make me spill my feelings," Roark added. "After all, a problem shared becomes a whole lot easier. However, I'm starting to doubt that. Rampardos won't come back, that much I'm matured enough to realize and admit. But I doubt I can readily accept it and move on. I will…but…it will just take some time."
He turned in the direction of the gym. "I'll battle you today, Piff. I still have some other Pokémon on hand and though not they're not Rampardos or even at his level, they should still give you a good fight. Win or lose, I'm resigning and taking an indefinite break from this worthless dream of mine."
A hand gripped his shoulder and Roark cast it a disinterested look.
"Keep your badge. Or give it to someone else. I didn't come here to battle some broken nerd or his late Rampardos. I came here to battle Roark, Man of Stone, rising Rock-type master and my self-appointed mentor."
Roark froze as Piff looked him in the eye with hard purple orbs.
"Grieve, Roark. You lost your best friend and I understand completely that you need time to accept that. I may not be that same stupid 10 year old whose challenge you accepted but we still made a promise, one I intend to keep no matter how long it takes. So feel free to turn on the waterworks and mourn your Rampardos. And when you're done, when you're finally ready to pursue your dream once more, gimme a call."
Intense purple burned into stunned cordovan before tearing away as Piff walked past Roark.
"By the way, just 'cause I got a fire-type starter doesn't mean my journey will go up in flames. That's one thing I now intend to prove to you and the rest of the world."
"What are you saying, Piff? That you care more about an even battle than the pain your opponent went through to get to that state of mind?!"
"You're not listening, Roark!" Piff growled. It was Roark's turn to be surprised as Piff grabbed his own collar and dragged him down to his eye level. "Why do you love rocks? Tell me!"
"What sort of question is that-"
Johnny raised a flaming finger and Roark huffed in annoyance.
"They're sturdy, unchangeable and can even be unbreakable. They can brave whatever fiery storm rolls by without so much as cracking and eventually form mountains."
"That's the sort of person you are!" Piff snapped, pushing him back. "Be sturdy. Don't break. Grieve. Move on. Brave whatever shit life tosses at you and become a mountain. That's what Rampardos would want, isn't it?"
"…"
With a sigh, Piff spun on his heel and started off. "I've said enough, Roark. I'm truly sorry to hear about Rampardos and please know that his death was not your fault. I also apologize for my rude approach to cheering you up and I'll completely understand if you leave the gym anyway. I won't like it…but I won't judge you either. Hopefully, we'll meet again on better terms. Bye."
Oh. Hell. No.
This boy couldn't just waltz back into his life at the worst possible time and throw a crap-sack speech on getting himself together (or whatever the hell he was talking about) before waltzing back out just as quickly. Even a shrink could've offered better advice than that and Roark hated those more than anything! Who did Piff think he was? Why did he seem much more matured with every statement he spouted from his motor-mouth? And…why the hell did he make so much sense? Even if his words came out jumbled, Roark saw the right behind every single one of them and his eyes gradually widened as he realized that this boy had clearly overtaken him in the four years between their fated encounter.
"Wait," he called out, stopping Piff in his tracks. "I realize that I am clearly disillusioned by the death of my Pokémon and in my moment of weakness, I must've come across as pathetic. I'm sorry. I'm certainly not fit to be your mentor."
Roark stood straighter now and called in a tone finally level enough to give him that responsible air he once held. "But Piff…if you lose your Pokémon to death…what would you do?"
Johnny immediately felt Piff's countenance still for a moment, as if lost in thought or caught off guard. The boy slowly raised his eyes to look at Johnny, the latter of which simply gave a shrug.
"I'm flattered, kid, but we ain't as close as Rock-boy and his dead dino," the Chimchar mumbled stoically. "Same goes for the Wooper."
It was low but Johnny could've sworn that Piff snorted in disbelief. Nevertheless, he nodded at the blunt truth in the Pokémon's words and looked over his shoulder.
"Well?" Roark asked.
"Hm…I'd probably do something rash," Piff replied, grinning. "Pretty hypocritical, yeah, but I still won't give up on my dream."
The older trainer mulled over the words before nodding and lowering his head. "I see. You can only say that because you're yet to solidify your bond with your Pokémon."
"Yeah. I guess so."
"…I'll think over your words," Roark continued, turning in another direction. "But don't expect a call from me anytime soon."
Piff nodded and together, both young men headed off in opposite directions, one in pursuit of a badge and the other to prepare a befitting exit for his best friend of over eighteen years.
But as both travelled down their separate roads, neither couldn't help but sneak some last words in. Interestingly enough, they both said the exact same thing.
"Thank you."
…
This is bad.
Cynthia's heartbeat spiked.
What am I doing?
Her throat had gone dry.
Damn it! Me and my stupid brain! I should've just kept my mouth shut instead of…
Calling.
Her.
Out.
"What do you want," Nina asked, her deathly-hoarse tone already pulling Cynthia's heart up to her throat. In the evening sunlight, she looked scarier than usual and- Arceus, her red eyes were absolutely aglow! Yeah, Cynthia really messed up this time. "Or did you just call me over for a staring competition."
There was no impatience in her voice or even a questioning tone. Every word that came out of her mouth was a level, almost deadpan, demand.
Cynthia swallowed and stood her ground. "You…killed Roark's Rampardos, didn't you?"
"Yes. And?"
The blonde gave a start at Nina's lax reply. "And? You can't do that! It's-"
"Wrong?" Nina cut-in, rolling her eyes over to the Starly flying overhead. "The rules permit such things, provided it was unavoidable. In this case, I blame the gym leader's bad judgement. I can assure you that killing your opponent's Pokémon in a fair match warrants no query from the Pokémon League. They said it themselves."
"I know that!" Cynthia retorted and that was the truth. It would be a personal shame for her not to have memorized the contents of the League handbook by now. "But…something tells me you could've changed the outcome of that match without resorting to killing."
Nina's expression remained flat as Cynthia boldly looked her in the eye.
"Your Pokémon clearly must've been over-leveled for Roark to defeat, or am I wrong? But he didn't know this and accepted your challenge anyway. Thinking you were a normal starting trainer running around with Tier-1 babies like every other young trainer in Sinnoh, it was only logical for him to underestimate you and get the beatdown of a lifetime. He must've been stunned into thinking he wasn't trying hard enough and Rampardos must've believed that as well, thus pushing them both into overstepping their natural boundaries. Long story short, Rampardos was killed when Roark told you to give them your best shot. Well?"
The hooded girl finally deemed it fit to roll her eyes back to Cynthia's form, just the slightest bit wider. Was she surprised? Impressed, maybe? Or annoyed? The rest of her face certainly didn't give anything else away and Cynthia was starting to doubt of Nina was even human.
"You have good deduction skills."
Wait…was that a compliment?
"For a blonde."
Scratch that! Nina was certifiably dirt in Cynthia's books now!
Nina's figure now slouched against a lamppost, red eyes fixated on Cynthia's slowly boiling frame. "So what are you going to do? Arrest me? Tell me off? Fine me, maybe? In my defense, detective, I warned Roark when he asked me to go all out. But as a stereotypical man of his rock-brained caliber, his pride wouldn't listen. So I did the honorable thing and gave him the battle he was asking for. I daresay I didn't expect his Rampardos to kick the bucket after one single all-out attack from my Pokémon but I guess that's what makes Roark the lowliest of the Division-1 gym leaders. The end."
Cynthia's shoulders trembled. "…Why…?"
"Hmm?"
The blonde girl raised her head, eyes narrowed hatefully and glistening just the slightest bit with angry tears as Roark's agonised cry made it's way back to her memory. "Why don't you sound the least bit sorry, dammit! You just killed a man's best friend and you stand here like it never even happened? Did you even apologize?!"
"Apologies are unnecessary. I won. He lost. Nothing else matters." Nina looked away. "Besides, saying "I'm sorry" won't bring his Pokémon back."
"Did you see him at the PC?!" Cynthia yelled, nose to nose with the remorseless trainer. "He might as well have lost everything! And you're not even the least bit apologetic? You don't even have a shred of pity for someone who lost a loved one indirectly by your hands?!"
"…No. I do not. His plight is none of my concern. I just came for a badge. Not to be harassed by some self-righteous broad who probably thinks she can change the world or something."
Cynthia froze before gritting her teeth in anger. "You're a monster. A heartless, cold-blooded, power-hungry bitch who should be put as far away from Pokémon as possible. Preferably in hell."
At that, Nina visibly paused. Slowly, her brows dipped and for once, Cynthia had finally coaxed an emotion out of her.
Crap, Nina looked even scarier when she was annoyed. But at that point, Cynthia didn't care. If worst came to worst, she'd fight Nina with her Pokémon, no matter the outcome.
Nina's lips soon parted in a sneer, exposing some of her rather sharp dentures and Cynthia's hand rested on Turtwig's ball, ready. Her eyes were daring Nina to utter those words. The words that would either resort to schooling Nina in a humiliating and utterly satisfying battle or an unpleasant parting with Cynthia's own Pokémon in which case, her position as a trainer would be severely jeopardized.
Let's take this to the battlefield.
Why don't you prove it, you dumb blonde?
You're all talk. You say I should be put away? Then do it yourself!
Battle me!
Those were the possible comebacks Cynthia was expecting from Nina's parted lips. Her fingers trembled with a mix of anxiety, fear and anticipation as her brain came up with all possible scenarios for the undoubtedly-incoming battle.
So one could imagine her utter shock when something black and hazy escaped Nina's ajar mouth for a brief second. The hooded girl drew back sharply, placing a palm over her mouth and glaring at Cynthia, almost as if she had some secret that had been nearly found out. She quickly turned and wound her scarf over the lower portion of her face before casting Cynthia a passive glance.
"I've said enough for today. It's pointless talking to a Mary-Sue wannabe like you. Go back to that annoying trainer you were clinging to earlier and hopefully, you can have someone to share in your bouts of stupidity."
"Hey!" Cynthia snapped as the hooded girl began to beat a retreat. "I'm not done with you."
"Oh really? Then here's some advice," Nina replied nonchalantly, neither stopping nor even giving her another look. "You're probably going to die very soon at the hands of that blue-eyed serial killer who was responsible for the bodies in the caves. Your chances of survival will only remain healthy as long as you drop the annoying, self-righteous act. He thrives on your insecurity, Cynthia. Remember that."
With that, she stalked off, leaving a dumbfounded Cynthia in her wake. Upon turning a corner, her satchel rustled for a bit before Atria popped out, yawning and stretching her sore little arms.
"There's no such thing as an indoor voice with you human peasants, is there?" she remarked, rubbing her eyes. "Why'd you even talk with a person anyway. Did you finally find interest in something or were you just lonely?"
Nina kept silent, trudging along and only adjusting her scarf tightly over his lips.
Atria tilted her head. "You've reached your daily limit already? Must've been one absurdly long talk with whoever pestered you. Guess it can't be helped. Wake me up when next I'm necessarily needed."
And the Piplup sank back into her bag, closing her eyes and slightly recalling her victorious battle with Roark's Rampardos. It wasn't that she particularly cared for the outcome of that battle since it was sort of expected, given Nina's brutal nature. Atria was just following her own end of the deal.
Her little fist tightened. So long as I can avenge my herd, I don't care whose blood stains my hands.
…
"There you are!" Piff exclaimed as he caught sight of Cynthia standing shock-still in the middle of the road. "Johnny almost thought you had ditched us when we didn't see you at the PC! The least you could've done was leave a note with Nurse Joy or something- Hey…you look mad. Did something happen-"
"Oh, nothing happened," Cynthia said acerbically, narrowing her eyes. "Now if you hadn't come two seconds earlier, that would've been the exact opposite."
"…Huh?"
Cynthia growled in frustration before shoving Piff aside and stamping towards the PC, calling over her shoulder, "So are you just going to stand there or what?"
Piff didn't know what to say in return so he simply gave Johnny a confused shrug and followed after her.
"Judging by how fast you got back, Roark obviously didn't battle you. If that's so then we're leaving this town," Cynthia stated firmly once he had caught up. "Everything here just seems way too wrong for my liking."
"Forgive me, your highness, but it's getting late. Although I wanna leave too, I don't think it's a good idea right now," the boy interjected. "I'm pretty sure I'll be alright but it'd be too dangerous for you, especially when we get to the caves-"
"And why's that?!" she spat, turning around to face him with her eyes lit up in metaphorical flames. "Afraid some Zubat might jump me or something? I might've lost to you once, Piff, but my Pokémon are by no means weak!"
"That's not what I meant!" Piff countered. "Remember what that couple said about dead trainers turning up? I heard there's a serial killer on the loose around here and here's the punch line, all his victims were girls!"
Startled, Cynthia stepped back upon hearing those words. Now that she thought about it…
The fresh corpse resembled one of those blonde Battle Girls who trained fighting types.
All of a sudden, Cynthia felt something drop in the pit of her stomach and she quickly turned away to hide the visible paling of her skin color.
"…I got it," she finally uttered. "We'll leave tomorrow."
"Nice!" Piff cheered, walking ahead of her with a coy smirk. "Guess shock value really works after all."
"Roll over and die, jerk," she hissed, trudging after him.
Unknown to either trainer, a figure swathed in flowing black watched over Oreburgh from the top of its highest building.
He smiled upon zeroing in on Piff and Cynthia. "I've found them."
"Good," the radio receiver attacked to his earlobe beeped. "Collect them both, preferably unharmed though it makes less of a difference. Do whatever you wish with any nuisances."
"Understood~"
And he vanished in a whiff of smoke as the clock struck six, leaving his unsuspecting targets to their own devices for the time being.
Or so he had thought.
The man never knew that Chimchar had astonishingly large visual and auditory perception.
Johnny smirked. Piff jerked Cynthia back and whispered into her ear. Cynthia's grey eyes grew wide for a second before casting towards the building.
Slowly but surely, something akin to inspiration overcame her thoughtful features and she looped her arm around Piff, drawing him close and mirroring the spark in his eyes.
"You two better not be joking, especially since I've got a plan."
Author's Corner.
Slybill: X and Y's coming out tomorrow! And I'm well enough to be there at the midnight launch! *does happy dance*