Chapter III

Entry #1:

Some may call me crazy for this.

But today is the day I leave Sinnoh behind. Today is the day I explore the land of Hoenn.

It will be odd going without August. I feel like a thief, planning everything with her, but then leaving the land behind without her.

But the Sea Temple awaits. And, if the stories of it are true, then I cannot let it be found by the wrong people.

I can only hope August forgives me one day for this.

Years ago, back when Steven had been helping August climb onto their canoe, his gentle voice would sweep over the tides. When her heart would hammer and the anxiety in her blood would choke her, he was always the one who would bring her back to the present. And he always did it by asking her to list things to him.

It was always the same.

Five things she could see.

Four things she could touch.

Three things she could hear.

Two things she could smell.

And one thing she could taste.

When she awoke, she tried it. But each thing that she listed would only spike the fear in her gut.

In the twilight, the sand beneath her was orange. The water was black – white crests slicing through it. She could see angry Wingull flocking above the breaking waves, jagged rocks against the shoreline, and the strangest of trees. The leaves looked more like long, green feathers than the usual bramble of branches, and bundled on top, there were little brown… coconuts?

It was wrong. All wrong.

She tried to focus on taste, but it was sand and blood. Metallic and choking.

She tried to think about the things she could smell, but that was salt and damp soil.

As for the things she could touch?

Sand.

Steven's journal, still pressed against her chest.

Against all strange odds, Miss Tidal, her pathetic canoe, was even inches away from her, splintered and busted into two pieces.

But the Splash Plate…

August felt her throat catch.

The Splash Plate was gone.

The Splash Plate, a blessing of Arceus, that had been given to her family for protection…

Though her legs were weak and wobbling, she scrambled to stand.

Oh, Arceus.

She was so screwed once her parents found out.

She had to find it.

She had to find it now.

She had to—

Her heart was screaming again. Her whole body felt like it had been splashed with ice cold water.

Focus.

Things she could see.

Sand. Sea. Stars. Shells. Skin.

Things she could hear.

Shrieking Wingull. Whispers of the waves. Whistling of the trees. A long, hysterical shriek—

August froze as the voice pierced through the night.

Who was that?

It was a scream of agony. Of terror.

And it was coming from—

August glanced over her shoulder.

The choir of greens and earthly browns swarmed the other side of the beach, opposite the shore. It moved in the wind like a breathing beast – rocks arising from the ground, thorns and vines sculpting around it, framing the lush tangle of trees.

A jungle.

She had never seen one like this in Sinnoh. Just marshes and desserts. Nothing like this. Nothing… tropical.

The scream came again, forcing August's bones to rattle.

"Please! Help!"

Her first thought was to plant her feet into the sand and hope she was safe.

Then, she realised that a scream – even one of absolute fear – was still a human voice. If she could find someone, and get them to at least tell her where to go…

Slowly, each step trembling, she began moving into the jungle. The bark had been stripped away by harsh winds, twisting in strange patterns, and the moss seemed more like kelp along the stones. Wet sand squelched beneath her boots, and every now and then, August forced herself to stop at the sound of rustling bushes and squealing Pokémon.

She was terrified.

She had already lost one arm to a Sharpedo. What other things existed here, on this strange island? What if it was that Milotic again, strangling someone with its tail, ready to go for her next?

The screaming was so loud that the leaves around her were shaking. August pried away one of the leaves before her and spied through the darkness.

There was a man there, hugging onto the bark of a tree, shrieking. Beneath him was a swarm of Pokémon that she had never seen before – some sort of canine, but they were grey with dark faces and paws. Their teeth were more like fangs, their tails were rumpled and torn, and their eyes—

August gasped as she found a pair of those red eyes staring into her.

Red, just like the Sharpedo's eyes.

There was at least a dozen of them, barking and howling and leaping up to bite the poor man.

And all August could do was stare.

Even though they were small, there were simply too many of them. She couldn't do anything against them. They would chomp her flesh off. She just knew it.

The man let out another yelp of pain. August felt her throat catch.

If she was there, she would have wanted to save her, right?

Right?

She took another glance over at the man. At the strange Pokémon growling beneath him.

And she took a step back.

No.

She couldn't do it.

She simply didn't have the courage. It was hopeless.

As she took one last glance, she found the man staring at her. His dark eyes were pleading and desperate, and his brown hair was all frazzled as he clung on desperately to the tree.

"Lass!" he cried out. "Oh, lass, thank Arceus you are here! Please, save me! I'm sorry I took yer things! Just… get these heathens away from me!"

August blinked at him.

Then, she took a step back. Dissolving into the undergrowth.

"I know you're still there!" he called out.

August could feel her whole body shaking. Could feel her teeth clacking against one another as she mumbled, "I cannot, I…"

"Look, I'll give you your weird stone thing back! Just get these feral demons away from me!"

"What?"

"Yer stone thing! The blue rectangle! I'm sorry! It just seemed so magical and…"

August stepped forward again, pushing the leaf out of her face and eyed the man. None of the Pokémon had noticed her yet. Thank Arceus.

"You have the Splash Plate?" she asked him softly.

The man, sweating and shivering, gave her squinted, bewildered glance. "The wha—Yes, Arceus, I took that thing! Now, please, just get your bloody Poochyena—ouch!"

One of the Poochyena had leapt up high enough to sink its fangs right into his arse. August winced.

She needed that plate back. She needed it desperately.

But… herself? Against twelve or so Poochyena, as he called them?

And did he seriously think she had sent them his way, because he had taken her Splash Plate?

"Do you have any Pokémon with you?" August asked. "Can't you just… fight them yourself?"

The man gestured down to the clearing. There, by the corner, were three Pokémon, gawking at the Poochyena before them. The blue one was shivering just as much as August, the green one seemed completely nonchalant, and the orange one was cheering excitedly for the Poochyena.

Perfect.

Three Pokémon. That would do.

Calming her nerves, August stepped out into the clearing. A few of the Poochyena instantly turned towards her, but she raised her hand in surrender and hovered by the edge.

Remembering the Sharpedo.

Remembering her miracle stitch.

Remembering the Splash Plate.

"You three," August said, using her arm to point over at the man's three Pokémon. "Do something."

She tried to sound commanding, but her voice came out like a quivering rasp. The Pokémon just stared at her, snorting.

"Do your thing," she tried again. "Fight."

Then, the blue one started crying.

"They're babies!" the man on the tree called out. "They're not gonna fight!"

August wasn't even mad. She was simply too busy breathing – in, and out, and in, and out – because the fear within her was spiralling. Poochyena were turning towards her. Some were approaching her, the hairs on their back sticking up straight, their fangs barred—

What did she have with her?

A journal. Her bandana. Her soggy clothes. Her—

As one lunged for her, August reached down, clutched onto a stone and hurled it.

It smashed into the Poochyena's face, leaving a slick and bloody line down its fur and through its eye.

Suddenly, all eyes were on her. The Poochyena growled.

August froze.

She was so dead.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I just want to go home. I just want my mum and dad. I'm so sorry."

She knew she was about to cry. Her lip was trembling, and the tears stung at her eyes. But she tried desperately to push it back, to push it away, because dammit, if she was going to die here, she couldn't do it looking like a coward. She was a pirate's daughter – she could pretend to have some semblance of courage, even in her last moments of life.

The Poochyena with the bleeding eye glanced over at her stump of an arm. Nodded slowly.

Then, it bowed its head and turned to the other Poochyena. Made a short bark.

And, just like that, they were all gone. Darting out of the clearing, grunting and snorting on their way out, following behind their injured friend.

"Thank you, gentle witch!" the man was crying out, sliding his way down the tree, rubbing at the small puncture holes in the back of his pants. "Thank you! I will never take your possessions again."

August stared at him.

She wished she had the mouth of those who could just blurt things out. Instead, she just gaped, blinking and panting.

He thought she was a witch?

There were witches on this island?

His dark eyes were shining so bright as he patted down his thick, fluffy beard. From close up, he looked even more ridiculous – he was a huge man, tall and bulky. His britches were belted all wrong, and even his blouse was buttoned up in all the wrong spots.

August tried to remind herself that not everyone was a noble. Not everyone would dress as proper as the servants in her home.

Besides, her own clothes were tattered and torn. It wasn't like she could really say anything.

Instead, she gulped down the apprehension in her throat.

"I would like my magical stone back," she told him.

The man grimaced, his gaze catching August's stump of an arm. Then, as if he hadn't even noticed it, he said, "Ah, yes. Right. I can… arrange that."

"What do you mean, 'arrange that'? I thought you said you had it."

"Yes, I have it. Well, I know where it is. But, you see, dear witch, it's a bit complicated because…"

"Because?"

"Well…"

August glanced over at the three Pokémon that were hobbling over to them. The green one had its yellow slit-like pupils locked onto her, the orange one was flapping its tiny little wings, and the blue one…

Well, that one was still crying.

But August saw the strange glow, coming from within its belly. The light protruded straight through its skin, blue and ethereal, crystal and rippling, like it had swallowed a glowing crystal—

August's eyes widened.

"No."

The man winced again. "So, er…"

"No. You can't be telling me that… this… this… thing… ate my stone?"

"It's not a thing," he cut in. "It's a Mudkip."

"It ate a plate that belonged to Arceus."

That caught the man's attention. "What? Arceus gave you that?"

"Yes. Well, no. It doesn't matter." August frantically gestured down at the Mudkip. "The blessing of Arceus. Is. In. Mudkip's. Stomach."

"Well, what do you propose we do? Cut him open?"

The Mudkip, who was already crying, began shrieking louder. Then, it choked. Then, it gagged, wheezing and coughing.

August winced.

"I think he'll eventually have to spew it out," the man explained, nodding thoughtfully. "Just give him some patience. My son will be here, too, soon. You can talk to him and…"

August shook her head. "The Mudkip is coming with me."

"What? That belongs to my son!"

"Well, tell your son that if he doesn't want me to send more rapid Poochyena your way…"

The man immediately threw his arms up. "Yes! Yes, I'm sorry! The Mudkip is all yours, oh, gentle witch!"

August hadn't expected her half-hearted threat to work as well as it did.

Still, she quickly grabbed onto the Mudkip's tail, dangling it into the air. In all truths, she had told her father that she wanted no business with Pokémon – not after the accident, anyways. They were feral, wild creatures. So, as she limply lifted it and carried it away, she had no idea if she was even holding it right.

It did stop crying, though. She figured that was a good sign.

She reached the shoreline again, where the black waves washed close to her feet. Her canoe lay there, a creaking skeleton, with Steven's journal close by.

For a moment, as she gazed at the dark blue cover of it, she felt the wave hit her – whether it was the adrenaline fading into true fear, or whether it was the absolute loneliness and confusion, she didn't know. All she knew was that she couldn't hold herself up for longer.

She dropped the Mudkip onto the sand. Sank onto her knees.

And sobbed.

The Splash Plate was in the stomach of some strange Pokémon. There was a pack of Poochyena, likely to come after her for bashing their leader's eye with a stone. There was no way to use her canoe now, and even if she could, there was no way to know where she was or where she had to go.

She was stranded.

Her tears fell onto the sand, and she felt the Mudkip inch closer and gently touch her knee. She kept crying, though, letting the sobs wrack through her.

It was so cold. And she couldn't make a fire – she had never learnt how. She didn't know how to feed herself here or build a shelter. She didn't know if there were any other people here, and even if there were, how could she trust them?

A warm hand found her shoulder.

"Hey," a soft voice said. "You're not really a witch, are you?"

It was the man from before. August blinked back her tears.

"No," she answered.

"What's your name, lass?"

"August."

He sat beside her, wiping the sand from his hands. "I'm Birch. Do you need help starting a fire?"

August tried to say yes, but all that came out was another choked sob.

"You'll be alright," he said gently, patting her back. "You'll be alright."

She shook her head. "I'm not from here. I don't even know where here is. I just want to go home."

"Where is home for you?"

"Pastoria."

"Pasta… what?"

August wiped at her cheek. "Pastoria. Southern-most point of Sinnoh."

"Sinnoh, you say?"

"Aye."

"Lass…" Birch trailed off, pity in his eyes. "You are a long, long way from home."

Her skin felt suddenly too cold. "Where am I, then?"

"You're on Littleroot Island."

August furrowed her brow.

The name wasn't familiar to her. Was it close to Snowpoint? Or was it maybe near Canalave?

"That's near Sandgem, right?" August asked.

Birch shook his head. "Littleroot Island is the southern-most point of Hoenn."

Hoenn.

Hoenn.

August felt her heart come to a halt.

She wasn't even in her own land anymore.

"Don't cry more!" Birch quickly said, thumping on her back again, as if it was actually doing something. "It's alright, lass! It's not bad here. I mean, sure, we have some rapid Poochyena, and there's a pirate issue going around, but…"

August had already zoned out, though.

Why had that Milotic dragged her to Hoenn?

Was any of this because of Steven Stone?

She listened to Birch ramble on until he had fallen asleep, his Torchic lighting a small fire between them. Meanwhile, August lay in the sand, gently smacking on the Mudkip's back, hoping desperately it would spit out the Splash Plate.

She didn't want to read Steven's journal – not while Birch was snoring beside her.

Still, she couldn't help but flick through the first few pages, the pain and loneliness enough to make her insides ache.

Had Steven Stone brought her here somehow?

And why?

Why?

Entry #4:

I have only spent a grand total of one minute in Hoenn, and I can confidently say this:

The Pokémon and people here?

Absolutely bonkers.