"Stupid architects," Hilda heaved on her bike at the Castelian end of Skyarrow Bridge. "Couldn't they have made a shorter bridge?" She knew fully well that It wasn't the architects' fault that she insisted on traversing the whole bridge without stopping to rest. Still, it felt good blaming them anyway. She had spent the latter half of the ride cursing herself for her stubborn unwillingness to stop, and that line of thought was becoming trite.
She took off her hat and wiped the sweat off her forehead, a great grin spreading across her flushed face as she looked upwards.
To a girl who had never left her hometown in sixteen years, the sheer size and bustle of Striation City was everything that she had ever dreamed of. There were restaurants on every corner, people dressed like fashion models going about their daily lives, and more than a single Pokemart in the entire city. Sheer culture shock. Nacrene City was much the same, although the novelty did start to make way for the routine.
But Castelia City? Castelia City made those cities look like suburbs.
Skyscrapers hunched over her, burdened by billboards blaring products that Hilda didn't even know she needed. A cacophony of discordant sounds needled her very being as though she had kicked a Beedrill's nest. And that was before she even entered the city. It was a whole new world, and Hilda was eager to explore.
Unfortunately, brimming with curiosity as Hilda was, her legs didn't share her enthusiasm. She barely managed to crumple up her bike and shove it into her bag before collapsing onto a bench in the checkpoint gate just before the entrance to the city. She melted into the bench, taking up several seats worth of space. This earned her a disapproving look from the gate attendant, but she paid it no mind. Her legs were jelly and, even though it was barely four in the afternoon, the only thing she could think about was making it to a hotel and getting some shuteye.
Well, before that, she'd actually have to find a hotel. And before that, maybe some grub for her and her Pokemon. How expensive is food in Castelia City anyways? Maybe a convenience store instead of a full-on restaurant? What about a grocery store? Are there even grocery stores in Castelia City, or do people just eat out all the time?
Hilda slumped further into the bench. Planning was never her strong suit. She preferred to cross bridges as she came to them, which has never been a problem before.
The air conditioner above rocked her with gentle waves of cool air. She fought with her eyelids, which were slowly succumbing to the siren song of sleep. Surrounding city sounds faded into background noise that soothed her into sweet, sweet slumber. It wasn't like the attendant could get more annoyed at her, so what harm could there be in a quick nap?
The dim buzzing of fluorescent lights…
The steady ticking of the clock…
The soft rustling of her bag…
The muted conversation of passersby…
… Rustling?
Hilda jolted. A small, orange fox was rifling through her bag. Amber eyes behind a furry mask of black locked with Hilda's. Its lips curled into a smirk — with Hilda's wallet smack dab in the middle — before bolting off into Castelia City.
Adrenaline coursed through Hilda's veins as she took off in pursuit. The thief danced through the throng of the city, taunting Hilda as she barrelled through crowds with hell-bent determination. She shouted for help, but everyone around just averted their eyes in order to stay as mere bystanders.
When the thief took a sharp turn down a side road, Hilda remembered something important. She had Pokemon of her own. Grappling with her belt, she tossed two Pokeballs out in front of her.
Dewott materialized, ardently wielding a razor shell in each hand. He whet his shells against one another as he whipped his head around, eager to lock eyes with an opponent.
Purrloin, in contrast, laid on the ground, lackadaisically lapping at her paw. Deigning a haughty look towards her trainer, she seemed to be saying, 'This better be good.'
Hilda had neither the time nor the breath to explain the situation to them in depth, opting instead to point down at the orange blur that was getting further and further out of sight and choke out the words "Wallet," "Catch," and "Please."
Dewott needed no further explanation. He barreled down the street like a Tauros in a china shop, wayward traffic cones and garbage bags mercilessly cut down as they stood between him and his quarry. The garbage began to run away at some point as stray Trubbish decided to wisely avoid the oncoming whirlwind.
Purrloin could hardly be bothered. With a roll of her eyes, she prepared to give chase. But a switch flicked when she got a good look at the thief. Her eyes narrowed and her hackles raised. She flung herself up window sills and fire escapes until she was out of sight of her befuddled, albeit grateful, trainer.
That only left Hilda. Legs screaming in protest, she whipped out her bike.
Hilda knew she wouldn't be able to catch up to the bandit in a straight race, so her only option was to intercept it. She had no way of knowing where it would try to run and no time to formulate a plan, so she turned to the only tool she had left. Her gut. She doubled back to a road she had previously passed and started cycling.
Fortunately, her gut was right. Weaving her way through tourists and townies, she spotted the bandit coming her way with Dewott hot on its tail.
Unfortunately, the sighting was mutual. The black and orange bandit bolted down a side alley, leaving Hilda and Dewott scrambling to avoid running into each other.
The alleyway, if it could even be called that, was dank and cramped. Dumpsters overflowing with rotting garbage blocked passage for those nimble enough to navigate past the preliminary bulwark of cardboard boxes, bicycle frames, and do-not-enter signs.
Seemingly unfettered by gravitational or olfactory concerns, the bandit leapt through the alley and back onto the first road they had chased it down. It skittered away as Hilda and Dewott searched for a way back onto that first road.
Hilda hadn't noticed earlier, what with the whole panic of having her wallet stolen and all, but the road Dewott chased the thief down earlier was Castelia's infamous Narrow Street. When she told Mom she was heading to Castelia, she was told under no uncertain terms that she was to avoid Narrow Street at all costs. That call had annoyed Hilda. The way Mom was talking, it was as if it was a foregone conclusion that Hilda would mindlessly stumble down the most dangerous part of a major city with no regard for her own safety. Hilda had wished Mom would just have a little more faith in her.
Sorry, Mom.
The street's titular width meant there was hardly enough room between buildings for two people walking side-by-side. A horrid claustrophobia washed over Hilda. She was reassured only by the knowledge that Dewott, who was riding in her lap, would never let anything happen to her. It was a completely different world compared to the rest of Castelia. There were no salarymen late for work or tourists gawking at every inane facet of the city.
Narrow Street was quiet. Unwelcoming.
Although she avoided the eyes of the occasional person walking opposite of her, Hilda felt watched from all directions. Seedy dive bars and hotels she wasn't old enough to know about glowered at her as she cycled by. A sunglasses-clad man began to approach her, but a threatening chitter from Dewott made him keep to himself. Even the garbage was unwelcoming. Trubbish gathered at the sight of Dewott, preparing for another berserking frenzy.
Stress stripped away years of Hilda's life as they made it to the end of Narrow Street. Much to her dismay, there was no sign of the thief. Hilda collapsed on the edge of a great fountain that stood at the center of Castelia City, accepting that her wallet was almost certainly a lost cause.
Scrounging through her bag, Hilda dug up three-thousand Pokedollars in loose change. It wasn't much, but it would probably cover dinner. It certainly wasn't enough to secure lodging for the night. Nowhere safe, anyway.
She considered battling trainers around the fountain for cash, but the exhaustion of the day was beginning to seep into her bones. Besides, she didn't have her full team with her. Where was Purrloin?
Her train of thought was derailed by a child walking up to the fountain next to her and throwing in a ten Pokedollar coin at his Mother's behest. Peering in, it seemed that throwing coins into the fountain was a common occurrence, as the pure white fountain bottom was obfuscated by a thick layer of gold and bronze coins.
Hundreds of thousands of Pokedollars, just sitting there. Wasn't that sad? Currency was created to be used, to trade hands. Wouldn't the coins be happier being spent rather than rusting at the bottom of a fountain? Surely no one would notice if a few of them went missing…
Hilda clapped her face together with a resounding smack. The fact that she was even considering stooping to that fox's level was proof enough that she needed to get some rest.
"Maybe the Pokemon Center has some spare rooms," she murmured under her breath as she dragged herself off the fountain. Right as she was about to leave, a familiar mewl crooned at her from above.
Purrloin lazed across a neon billboard advertising synthetic Slowpoke tail, eyeing her trainer with a self-aggrandizing smile. She hopped off the billboard and strutted down Narrow Street, daring her trainer to follow. And she did.
Hilda went down Narrow Street once more, which was thrice more than she would have liked to in the first place. Purrloin took great pleasure in taking her sweet time sashaying down the road, until eventually stopping in front of a nondescript building crammed between two similarly generic buildings. She clawed at the door, prompting Hilda to go inside.
The building contained a single business on each floor. Hilda read them as she dragged herself up the stairs to follow Purrloin up the building that had no elevator. A candle shop, a restaurant, a law firm. There was a wide assortment of different businesses occupying the building. Finally, Hilda made it to the fourth floor where Purrloin had stopped.
On the frosted glass pane of the office door on that floor was a minimalist logo of a crescent-moon with a beak-like protuberance and text below it.
"'Whittaker Detective Agency,' huh?" Hilda read aloud. If there was anyone in the city who could find her wallet, she supposed it would be a detective. Happy that Purrloin had found a solution, she rapped on the door. Upon hearing no reply, she tentatively pushed the door open.
"Excuse me? Anybody ho—" Hilda stopped. She locked eyes with an oh-too-familiar fox Pokemon as it roused from its nap on a coffee table in the center of the room.
Frantic scratching of claw on marble reverberated throughout the cramped room. The thief made a break for the open window. Hilda rushed to intercept, but her knees buckled. She could do nothing but watch as the Pokemon evaded her grasp once again and disappeared out of sight.
Only for it to float back up and through the window.
The thief snapped and swiped at an unseen force dangling it through the air to no avail. Purrloin took the opportunity to paw at its tail like a pinata, seemingly having a bit too much fun. Before Hilda could react, a yawn broke out from the other side of the room.
A lanky man wearing a slightly oversized blue and white trench coat walked in from a side room carrying a mug. The Murkrow's feet around his eyes belied his otherwise youthful appearance. A colossal Pokemon that Hilda had never seen shaped much like the logo on the door trailed close behind him, its eyes blazing with psychic energy. The man sauntered over to the floating fox, plucking it out of the air by the scruff of its neck.
"Thank you, Lunatone. That will be all," the vibrant purplish haze surrounding Lunatone's eyes dissipated as gravity once again took hold on the now haplessly hanging Pokemon.
"As for you, Nickit," the man's eyes narrowed, "I warned you about stealing from people. You got caught — like I always told you you would — and now I have to clean up after your mess," Nickit went limp, avoiding eye contact. The man sighed. "Just shake them off properly next time, alright boy?"
You're only mad that he got caught? Hilda wanted to retort, but the adrenaline fueling her since she had her wallet stolen was wearing off. Her muscles wailed, drowning in a day's worth of built-up lactic acid. She had let the debt of fatigue pile too high, and her body was coming to collect. The floor rose up to meet her as her vision darkened. The last thing she saw was a brief shimmer of purple coat her skin as sleep overcame her.
Rays of sunshine flitted over Hilda's face, waking her from her slumber. She stretched, looking around the room with bleary eyes. For a hotel room, it looked awfully like somebody's bedroom. It took her sleep-addled mind a few more moments to realize that she didn't make it to a hotel last night, and that this most likely was somebody's bedroom. She shot out of bed.
She fumbled with the Pokeballs on her belt in an attempt to call on either of her partners, but they were both gone. She panicked when something stirred at the foot of the bed, only to sigh in relief when a familiar blue face peered back over the edge. Hobbling over to Hilda's side, the ringlets of deep blue rimming Dewott's eyes were eclipsed by his smile. Hilda pulled him into a deep hug.
"Thanks for looking out for me, Dewott. I can handle myself from here. Take a rest, you've earned it," Hilda called Dewott back into his Pokeball, her own smile not reaching her eyes. She messed up, and Dewott paid for it.
Her ears perked up at the sound of voices from beyond the bedroom door. She creaked the door open to find the lanky man from the day before zoned out sitting across from a sobbing blonde woman.
"—and he would bring me flowers! Not for my birthday or anniversary or anything, just because! Well, not always, I mean, we only met twice, but he would've done it more! And, and they were my favorite kind! And then he—" the woman turned to blow her nose into a tissue offered to her by a short beret-wearing dog Pokemon at her side, when she finally took notice of Hilda.
"Oh! I'm so sorry! I didn't realize you had company," said the woman, attempting to compose herself. A pregnant pause. "You know, Roark and I used to be company," she blubbered into her tissue.
"I can certainly understand your pain, ma'am. I'll do my due diligence and be in touch when I learn anything. Now, if you don't mind, my niece and I have some business to discuss," said the man, unceremoniously holding open the door for the inconsolable woman as she made her exit, sniveling all the way.
He flopped back onto his couch, motioning for Hilda to sit on the now freshly unoccupied chair. The beret-wearing Pokemon, who apparently belonged to the man and not the woman, dutifully made his way to a kitchenette in the corner of the room and began boiling hot water.
"Want a cup? Smeargle makes a mean cup of instant joe," Hilda's attention was torn away from the unusually domestic Pokemon, whom she now knew to be called Smeargle, to the bedraggled man. He yawned, running his fingers through his dark, ocean-colored hair. Cowlicks crashed against one another in a barely controlled tempest one could technically call a hairstyle, but most would just call it behead.
"No thanks," said Hilda. They sat in an uncomfortable silence before Hilda decided to break it. "So, who are you?"
The man sat up straight, piercing Hilda with a steely gaze. "Awful rude of you to barge into my office and make demands of me before introducing yourself first. Honestly, Juniper sure knows how to pick them."
Hilda could sense no hostility in the man's voice, but it sent Swanna bumps rippling up her arms nonetheless. "How do you know I'm one of Professor Juniper's assistants?" she gripped Dewott's Pokeball as she asked, watching the man warily. If the man felt threatened by Hilda at all, he didn't show it. h He thanked Smeargle, gingerly took a coffee cup from his outstretched paws, and sipped at its contents before finally speaking again.
"My name is Whittaker. The eponymous Kristoff Whittaker of Whittaker's Detective Agency. A pleasure to meet you, Miss…"
"And Professor Juniper?" Hilda crossed her arms. Kristoff raised an eyebrow at her in offense. She wasn't willing to give him anything until she got a solid understanding of the situation.
"You have a Dewott," Kristoff stood up and began pacing around the tiny room while cradling his coffee. "An incredibly loyal one at that. He damn near mauled me when I had Lunatone carry you to the bed. I swear, I could feel him giving me the stink eye all night through the bedroom door," Kristoff chuckled. "Back on topic, the only novice trainers who start with an Oshawott are one of Juniper's. She's stringent enough about her prized Pokemon pack that she wouldn't give up one of those to any outsider, no matter how much money they'd be willing to front. Well, I'm sure you probably know her better than I do Miss," — he pulled out a familiar leather pouch from his front trench coat pocket with his free hand — "Hilda, is it?"
Hilda snatched her wallet out of his hands as quick as lightning. "You said you're a detective? I say you're a no-good thief!" Kristoff handed off his empty coffee mug to Smeargle so he could hold both of his hands up in a display of guilt.
"You're absolutely correct, I am no good at being a thief. Unfortunately, I picked up a problem child that I have gotten too attached to to get rid of. It's in a Nickit's nature to swipe goods from inattentive people. Thankfully, as a detective, I usually have the skills and the resources to track down whatever poor soul found themselves as Nickit's prey. Though, truthfully I am quite surprised. Nobody has managed to tail Nickit back here before. Generally he picks on weak looking trainers, but I suppose he misjudged you quite heavily," Fortunately for Kristoff, Hilda was weak to compliments, even the backhanded sort. She shoved her wallet back into her bag and dropped the issue.
Kristoff clapped his hands together. "Well, I would say that about wraps everything up. I've returned your wallet, put you up for the night, and the real villain of the situation has thoroughly learned his lesson," he jerked a thumb towards the window of the office.
Out on the fire escape were an exhausted Nickit and a chipper Purrloin, whom Hilda had forgotten all about in her morning panic. If Hilda didn't know any better, they would have looked like they were in the middle of a very strange game. Every time Nickit tried to close his eyes, Purrloin would bat him on the head, depriving him from his much desired slumber.
Upon seeing her master up and about, Purrloin pried open the window and ran to Hilda's side, but not before turning and playfully sticking her tongue out at Nickit. Nickit's eyes met Hilda's and she felt gratitude radiating from the battered Pokemon. For a brief moment, Hilda felt sorry for the poor thing. Then she remembered how exhausted she was when he stole her wallet. Hilda mimicked her Pokemon, sticking out her tongue at Nickit as she scooped Purrloin into her arms. Good girl.
Hilda turned to face Kristoff. "Who was that woman who was here earlier?" Purrloin hopped out of Hilda's arms, planting herself next to Smeargle as she scoped out her next plaything.
"That would be Christine, a client of mine. This is a detective agency, as you are well aware. Unless you actually are illiterate, in which case, you have my condolences," Smeargle jogged around the room, taking great caution not to knock over any furniture. Purrloin doggedly — cattedly? — followed in pursuit, nipping at Smeargle's tail-brush while all the while staying just out of range of actually catching him.
"Christine asked for my assistance with finding her missing boyfriend," he pinched the bridge of his nose, "And then spoke for thirty minutes more about how much she loved him. Then you woke up. You have my thanks for the save."
Kristoff reached inside his trench coat and casually tossed out a weathered ultra ball containing a burly Stoutland. Without prompting, Stoutland meandered over to the pursuing Pokemon. Purrloin squared up against her new challenger; but, before she could blink, Stoutland was already carrying her to Kristoff by the nape of her neck. Nickit snickered from the fire escape, clearly glad to see somebody else on the receiving end of that treatment for a change.
Hilda called Purrloin back into her ball. "So? Are you gonna find him?"
"Well, that was the plan, yes. And, as I am currently burning daylight, if you wouldn't mind—"
"I'm coming along," Hilda declared.
Kristoff blinked. "As I was saying, I am currently burning daylight, so if you would—"
"Don't pretend you didn't hear me! I'm going with you!" Hilda repeated, digging her heels into the cheap carpet underfoot.
Kristoff sighed, releasing enough air to inflate a balloon. "And why would I let you do that?"
"Because if you don't, I'll tell the police where they can find a repeat wallet-snatcher and his trainer," Hilda stated matter-of-factly. Stoutland uttered a guttural growl, but Hilda stood unfazed.
"Down, girl," Kristoff called Stoutland and Smeargle back into their Pokeballs. He glanced at Nickit, but put his Pokeball back in favor of letting him take his much-needed nap.
Kristoff looked at Hilda, his expression unreadable. "May I ask why?"
"Because I don't trust you. I want to see for myself that you're really not a bad person."
"And letting you follow me around for a single day would somehow be sufficient in proving this?" he asked. Hilda nodded.
"Well, let's get going then, shall we?" he said, opening the door. Hilda opened her mouth to counteract his argument before her mind caught up with his words.
"Wait, you're letting me come along? Just like that?" It was her idea in the first place, but she had anticipated more pushback from the gruff detective. A sort of, "This is a man's work, girlie," you know?
"Indeed, just like that. Now hurry up, I already told you we're burning daylight," Kristoff held the door open.
Hilda grabbed her bag and began to head out before stopping just short of the door. "Wait…" Hilda reddened. Memories of the previous day flooded her mind. Cycling for miles and miles, running around Castelia like a madwoman, dragging herself up several flights of stairs…
"Erm… Do you mind if I use your shower first?"