The new cover art has been custom-commissioned from my great friend Plum!
I have always had poor fashion sense.
Whether it comes to the hat adorning my head or the socks hugging my feet, I rarely have a care in the world about my attire. As long as I'm not naked and won't be deemed publicly indecent, the wardrobe has my greenlight.
Clothing combinations?
Matching color schemes?
It's all Greek to me anyway.
Sadly, versatility and style don't always go hand in hand.
Through myriads of shifting cloth and rigid leather, fresh blistered skin on my heel cried out in searing pain from the stiff dress shoes. The cries dimmed only as I allowed for my exhausted body to collapse down on the neatly folded bedside. I'd be the most pompous liar in the world if I didn't admit that the mattress felt like I was being swaddled in the silk of an angel's robe.
Allowing myself a brief moment of reprise, I sat back up a moment later with a reminder that the day wasn't over just yet. I slid the Oxfords off my feet.
Gaping, torn holes dotted both socks' fabric, leaving ample room for the foot to slide against the shoe's innards. I retained hope that the inevitable blisters awaiting their reveal underneath the fabric would be less severe than the pain suggested. The constant scrubbing only worked to heighten the already overly-abundant discomfort. Even the mummified right ankle swaddled in place provided little insurance that the feeling would ease.
My fingers began to trace the outline of the tape, landing on two unraveled ends once bound with a knot. I closed my eyes and loosed a sigh, eyebrows furrowed. I'd taken my time wrapping the ankle after I realized that the injury was a minor sprain, although readjustment took its toll all the same. If I had to judge the severity of the damage, any more misuse would most likely result in a tear or render the foot unusable until fully healed.
A weary gulp settled in my throat. I was still unsure how strenuous my own little journey would last, and the uncertainty was now gnawing at my psyche. Initially, I had envisioned that Calem and I would have minimal difficulty on our venture, but now it seemed to be a pipe dream; the bruises lining my figure testifying as such. The unwelcome gifts I had been bequeathed moaned constantly throughout the day, the pesky aches and cracks seemed to punish me for simply existing. Repressing the festering frustration from the amount of lost time was beginning to shift to an uphill battle.
My eyes trailed to the hand retying the loosened tape. As I stared at the patchwork of warped streaks of scar tissue, an uncomfortable knot formed in my gut. A majority of the damage had stuck to one side; two thin strands of off-color pink creeping along the back towards the ring finger and pinky. The scar tissue seemed to tightly hug the muscle and bones along the rim of my hand and contort, the uneven glossy sheen closer in comparison to scotch tape than skin. Soft moonlight sprayed in odd directions against the coating, the luminescence filtering through the closed window highlighting the unnatural tones.
A wave of unnatural surreality swelled as I caressed the area. Sneaking curiosity morphed into a pressing urge for satiation the longer I studied.
'I've been so focused on traveling and other matters, I'm not even aware of what a portion of my body looks like anymore. Never truly put in the time, have I? How sardonic...'
My stern expression softened, gaze affixed to the covered arm.
I rolled up my sleeve to the elbow.
…
Holy fuck.
Scores of mangled flesh encased my appendage all around. Tan merged with pink, crisped brown morphed into a glossy beige, a thick film of incredulity putting the bow on top. It was as though all of my flesh around the conjoining joint had been shaved off, as if pulling the seasoned skin of a roast chicken from the meat and replacing it with a thin plastic wrap. The damage snaked along to connect with the similar wound on my hand, the trail extending around the intersection of shoulder to collarbone, thinning out as the neck greeted the torso.
My body began to quiver as I set my more pristine digits to inspect the well-beaten flesh path. Despite the malformations, the appendage wasn't entirely devastated and maintained the appearance of an arm, although it was the only positive aspect I could conceive. I felt like I was stroking a piece of a misshapen art sculpture rather than my own body. The sound of rain droplets softly plinking against the roof and window sill seemed to evaporate as a deafening silence replaced the wailing monsoon.
The stringy gangliness, the uneven elevations creating dips and thin grooves from where the starving flames had ravenously feasted… it was all gone. To put the icing on the cake, not only were sections down right asperous, but now that I had taken notice of the gouges, I could feel each divot naturally without the need to touch them. I could feel the battered shirt's scrunched fibers softly scrubbing against displaced holes as I held back the sleeve. I could feel the gentle breeze dancing gracefully around the irregular hide, a lack of body hair from the burns allowing for minimal resistance. I could feel the pit in my heart descend further the longer I lingered on the sight. I could feel it all.
Within my stunned trance, I could barely make sense of my own thoughts. My mind had been tangled like a cord, struggling to wrap itself around the situation my retinas were supplying. The borders between reality and nightmarish fiction had been torn asunder and my sanity was trapped up in arms in an uphill war for stability.
A grim sense of understanding surfaced as I ran my reel of memories back to the young girl in the pokemon center. Her teary eyes and trembling lip… the idea ached in my brain as I hesitantly scrubbed my thumb on a rough patch of skin, the glossy tissue dancing with the undamaged flesh. The reel continued to belch recollections against my mind anyway.
This time, the pokemon center room I had dwelled in came into view. Unlike the young girl, these memories were fleeting, cycling through the metaphorical reel in the blink of an eye.
Fenway, Looker, and the Joys all flipped through the flashes, vague glimpses at each of them.
Then, it rewound to the moment I had met Fenway.
The Spearow and Pidgey amassing into a horde, the shriveled form, the punch, the flames, the…
… fire.
That fire, that burning torrent; it had caused me to have some sort of flashback, as if I was under a mental barrage. The emotions that came with the whirlwind of action thrashed back against me.
Terror. Exhaustion. Uncertainty. Injustice. Anticipation.
...
...Anticipation? Why would that have been thrown into the mix? I didn't know what was coming next; if anything I had no idea what to make of the situation. The entire experience, that raging inferno was… familiar, in a sickened sense.
A sudden jolt rocketed through my body at the idea.
My heartbeat began to accelerate and my grip tightened around my upper left arm. Wrenching my eyes shut, I scrambled to snap the memory reel back on.
I rewound as far as I could, preceding my encounter with Fenway; before the arduous trek through Santalune Forest's outskirts and before the contact with Pansage. The memories finally came to a grinding halt, ramming against the bumper of the "first" time I awoke within the pokemon world. Things were becoming tricky, but I refused to let up.
As I had predicted, the instant I tried to search for any recollection before my awakening I came upon a dead end. Not a single speck of detail to rebound from. An onerous discomfort began to press against my lungs. My choice reaction was to ignore it and press onward.
Despite the glaring failure with excavating the anomalous memory, I knew the effort was not in vain. I had still retained my memories from before my experiences in Kalos, and the sudden flashbacks I had undergone were a testament to a rather malicious event that was buried deep within the realm of my subconscious.
The dilemma now resided on how I could fetch it. Emotions associated with the previous events, I figured, may enhance my understanding of the muddled timeline, although it would only be a hazy shot in the dark unable to pinpoint any accurate details.
I thumbed vivaciously through the figurative file cabinet and began to retrace my mental steps. One by one, I singled out as many details as I could muster to see if there were any other clues that may link back to before Fenway's last ditch effort. A dastardly hunt for anything that had to do with sprawling flames or ignition. Something, anything that might spark a loophole.
…
...
...seems th- that a huge forest fire has broken out of seemingly nowhere! Local authorities and officials are doi…
Bingo.
Team Flare's arson attack. Watching that god awful video; I felt the terror, uncertainty, injustice, but most importantly, I had felt a nudge of anticipation.
See, in both instances, the anticipation had been so buried underneath other feelings that I never noticed it first hand. The staggering clutches of terror overrode my senses to the point where I had unconsciously compared the two incidents and was thus thrown into my panicked state. In that case, the answer had been staring me straight in the face. If I were to be able to anticipate what may have come next, then, in theory, that meant I already had a connection of familiarity to both situations, the connection triggering when I accidentally attempted to envision the outcome.
...
Sprouts of sparks spilled into my mind all at once.
Brilliant bonfires ensnared my vision, sight now a prisoner of the searing pain spreading throughout my form.
Muscles within my left arm shrieked beneath their mortal coil, a demonic slice of heat demolishing the fibers.
Flesh melted to puddy in reverence to the unwavering hell engulfing my ablaze arm.
MAKE.
THIS.
DAMN.
FIRE.
STOP.
I yanked my sleeve back down and my eyes scoured the ground for a nonexistent explanation. Breaths had become shallow without my knowledge and my heart was all too willing to burst from my chest.
A weaker, passive flare seemed to haunt the arm even after my episode, a literal burning reminder. An overpowering dread cascaded over my being. My brain had shown it was willing to risk life and limb to resist any possible means of whatever the hell that was from escaping.
I let myself sit in silence for a moment, taking in what had happened.
...
A weak, dejected grin etched itself onto my face, reluctant acceptance gently pulling me back to reality. "I... guess I'm just not as mentally fortified as I thought. It'll be fine, I guess."
...
One long exhale slithered out my mouth. "I can… try again some other time."
Lightly shivering as I spaced out my breaths, I released the clamped fingers from the reddened marks forming on my palm. The bolt on my messenger bag was promptly unlatched, the smooth texture of my journal's leather caressing my fingers. The metallic glint of the pen smiled up to me eagerly, empty and gaunt eyes staring back.
I clamped my mouth shut, lowering my head. My right hand rose to my face, index finger and thumb parted while resting with my mouth between them. The other fingers sat on my cheek, drowned in contemplation.
The bedsheets sank in around the journal as it was thrown aside. Cloth wrapped around plastic as the pen followed suit shortly after.
The bolt of the messenger bag unlatched once again, a hand plunging deeper within. It hesitated for a moment, withdrawing a beaten and shrunken pokeball a few seconds later. The ball's luster sneered, as if it could see right through me. My thumb scrubbed over the white button, sluggishly mashing it.
As my thumb left the pressure mechanism, the button sprang back out, the ball expanding rapidly to its regular size. A second tap of the device caused the ball to shoot open, the signature red beam zooming out. A moment later, Fenway sat on the laminated wood floor in place of the beam.
The tiny fox pokemon sank into a deep cat stretch, shaking herself off. Her eyes studied her "trainer", seeking instruction for her next mission. My hand stayed over my face.
I didn't want to look up.
I didn't want to move.
I didn't want to do anything.
A soft scrubbing began to tug on my pant leg followed by a low chirp.
"Fe-e-e?"
I flinched, my fingers tensing and then immediately releasing. An exasperated sigh wafted from my nostrils as the hand washed away from my face. Words drilled against my lips as I tried to spit out my feelings, my mouth refusing to move.
A throbbing chasm opened to swallow my heart whole.
We were one in the same in an odd, warped sense.
Fenway paced back and forth to hopefully get a better defining view of the scarred man before her. After looping around four times, the fennec paused by the bedside. She hopped over the bedside, back legs wiggling for a moment before hoisting the rest of her body. The pokemon sat back down, focus locked on my face. Her posture was as proper as ever, her eyes bearing their usual attentive sheen.
I drew my mouth into a thin line, hoping it would be enough to detract from the purple bags hanging beneath my eyes.
"Fe-en." The pokemon cooed.
I flopped onto my back from the slouching position, rubbing my eyes. 'She really has no clue what she's unwittingly secured herself in for. It's not her fault, though.'
One of Fenway's ears twitched.
'Besides, us two have experienced enough in one day to have enough material for me to write my own epic, despite the ironic terminology. Even travelling down a road net me another handful of bruises to tally. It feels like multiple days have passed since I arrived in town rather than just mere hours.'
In the darkened room, the abused appendage rose up as though snatching what little light levels remained. Appalling body mass clashed relentlessly with the elegant beams. A dry gulp plummeted down my throat.
With another elongated sigh, I closed my eyes and allowed my brain to replay the last couple of hours that had transpired. Something told me that writing the second journal entry wouldn't be nearly as enjoyable as the first.
...
"You really didn't find the battle enjoyable at all?"
"There is an excruciatingly fine line between a normal pokemon battle and outright assault, Calem."
"Are you sure that your feelings toward the battle aren't affected at all by the fact you had lost..?"
The fact that a vein had yet to physically protrude from my forehead spoke volumes to the strength of my poker face.
"Calem, the fact of the matter is the pokemon engaged directly with all accounts of malicious intentions. Besides, I saw the ending result more akin to that of a tie anyway…" I stated in a more stern tone, the last sentence strung beneath my breath.
The future Kalos champion cast a sideways glance my way, waiting a beat before responding. "I think we should find a nice, shaded area fo-"
Grrooooo…
Fenway's stomach decided then to voice it's own opinion early with a boisterous conclusion to Calem's suggestion. Three pairs of eyes drew over to the yellow and red fennec perched upon my shoulder, her deflected focus betraying the poorly hidden hunger.
A light-hearted giggle came from the trainer prodigy in the face of the interruption. "Took the words right out of my mouth! Speaking of mouths," Calem added, readjusting his own satchel. "Fletchling and I both could go for an early snack break."
I cleared my throat, a gruff rumble drawing his attention. "Time is one of the less abundant resources at our disposal. As it stands already, we're severely behind schedule. Another break would only worsen that."
Begging whines tugged against my ear, Calem opening his mouth to refute the statement only to be met with a halting hand. One look at the knit brows occupying my face was enough of an answer to satiate any response he may have proposed.
The teen turned back to face down the dusty path, the facade of contentment presiding over a pout. It was difficult to make out, but the slight scrunch beneath the boy's lip was enough of a tell to know he was biting it on the inside.
Truth be told, I too was famished; if anything, much more so than any other of our merry band. My energy levels had plummeted during the hours we had spent plodding down lanes, the bouquet of bruises proving to be an obnoxious accompaniment. By all means, the temptation to take a knee was alluring, but the sun's placement overhead advised against that. I had already wasted four weeks wasting away in a blasted pokemon center and I had no intention of squandering any more valuable time.
Thankfully, I had an ace up my sleeve, provided to me so graciously by the future ace himself. Calem had mentioned earlier of an encroaching storm that would arrive around dusk, which became a perfect guise to mask the reason for my haste. So far I had done an effective job with keeping the group rolling even if we kept hitting roadblocks, and I intended to hopefully keep it that way the entire route. An awkward silence continuously stalked us instead since our departure from the fields, but it hardly bothered me.
This isn't to say the trip wasn't eventful, though.
…
As we reentered the Route 4 maze from the "beaten" path, a man seemed to be inspecting the archway of the entrance.
The man had dark skin and short, black hair covered by a firm-brimmed beret that draped over the left side of his head. The top of the cap bore a bright apricot fabric, contrasting the dark gray front with an odd emblem adorning it. A tiny, metallic gray ball sat above two matching sets of wings broken into two segments on either side, another strip of gray lining the bottom. The rest of the man's attire adhered to a similar color scheme, a darkened orange on the waist-cut overcoat with a black turtleneck beneath and matching long pants. Tall, orange boots obscured the bottom quarter of his legs.
Specific hat symbol, obviously wearing a sort of uniform, uniform is especially unique… no clue who the man was, but just from the beret and pokeballs secured onto the belt on his waist I could tell he wasn't a run-of-the-mill trainer.
That and the fact he wore two thick articles of fabric in mildly warm weather.
The crunches of grass drew the heavily tailored man's attention to us as we approached, his eyes trailing from the seared archway to our group. I was silently hoping I would be able to slip by the trainer without much hassle, but that wish was swiftly crushed when he held a hand in front of me the moment I attempted to scuttle by. A silent huff blew from my lips.
"Excuse me. May I have a moment of your time?" he addressed formally, intense black eyes locking with mine. He looked to be somewhere in his late twenties, yet his confidence seemed to be backed with thick layers of experience rather than arrogance from his collected manner.
I gave a curt nod and offered my right hand. "Absolutely. To whom do I owe the pleasure?"
"Pokemon Ranger Shep."
"Norman. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, ranger." I greeted, receiving a robust shake from the black-gloved hand embracing my own.
The man's grip felt like a straight jacket wrapping my palm, gradually dumbing down in pressure the longer we held the gesture. It was as though he was conducting an unspoken test between just the two of us. His calm resting face waived the idea, although the expression slightly differed somehow from the one oft housed on my own features.
Nevertheless, I continued the introductions without missing a beat. "This mischievous mistress on my shoulder is Fenway, and the young man to my side is my traveling companion."
At first glance, Fenway seemed to mainly ignore her introduction, although the light tail swish accompanying the statement argued antithetically. Calem took a step forward at the mention of the words 'young man'.
"My name is Calem, Soon-to-be pokemon trainer at your service. Nice to meet you!"
The edges of Shep's lips curled into a warm, comforting smile. "Likewise. It's a delight to meet you as well, young man."
I released the ranger's hand, ignoring the well hidden yet present skepticism within his gaze when we had first locked eyes. While the initial weariness was becoming an unwelcome commonality with introductions, I understood the visual prejudice. If my assumption pertaining to the reason behind Shep's presence was correct, I too would humor my aporetic side in such a case. I especially would humor it if said 'case' were a lean and lengthy man in wrinkled, battered clothes and bruises with a teenager as his companion approaching me. I couldn't discern whether my constantly insouciant demeanor helped or harmed my presentation though.
Shep's attention shifted away from us for a moment, taking notice of an approaching form behind us. He took a step to the left, inspecting the person whom I had hoped to put distance between. One glance behind the man was enough to inform me that I had missed a few areas during my hasty extinguishments.
"Is she traveling with you both as well?" Shep inquired, a hint of curiosity laced in the question.
I had to consciously restrict myself from displaying any apprehension. "Yes, she is, albeit a more temporary addition."
"Hey! You two nearly left me behind!"
The instant the words met my ear drums, I felt my eyeball twitch. Fortunately, both Shep and Calem had turned away from me and had failed to notice the momentary spasm. My brain had already conjured a biting response but I held my tongue before anything regrettable escaped.
"Helioptile sure is worn out now after climbing down. Come to think of it, my energy is pretty sapped if I do say so. Yeesh, you boys should learn to not walk so fast!" The reporter scolded, a composed smile actively contrasting her shaking head as she rejoined us. "It's not too polite to leave someone behind."
A minute, wry curl on the end of my lips tugged on my cheeks. "Polite, hm? Ironic…"
"Huh?"
"I didn't say anything."
Disregarding my muddled murmur, Calem sheepishly scratched the back of his head. "Whoops, my bad. I'm still raring to get back en route and meet the Professor, so I must've let my excitement get the best of me."
I kept my eyes on the officer before me, lightly clearing my throat. Shep peered back my way, one glance at my expectant features reminding him he wasn't simply a passive observer in the affairs.
"If I am not mistaken, you had another question for us, correct?" I calmly reminded. A renewed light seemed to glow behind the man's obsidian orbs as he briefly readjusted his jacket.
"Yes, yes I do. I'm sorry if I led you astray. Did you and your friends choose to take the maze to the city?"
Alexa nodded slowly, tilting her head as she did so. "We did, but how did you know we're headed to Lumiose?"
"I heard the teen mention a meeting with a professor, so who else could have been referring to? It seems like my assumption flew true anyhow." Shep stated.
Alexa sent an acknowledging snap of her fingers his way. "Keen ear you have, ranger."
"Appreciated," He replied earnestly. His tone was almost reminiscent of conversing with an old pal, albeit none in particular. "It's not every day a Professor Sponsor passes through."
I raised an eyebrow at the foreign term, but displayed little else.
"How many of you have taken the route before?"
The star reporter for the Kecleon Caper placed a hand on her hip and straightened her back slightly.
"My sister is holed up in Santalune City and I'm based in Lumiose. I practically know this entire route down to the pebble!"
"I've been to the Lysandre Cafe a few times with my family."
"Not once."
A couple wrinkles formed on Shep's forehead from his questioning frown.
"Well, the maze's exit is a couple more turns away in there, and this is one of the emergency exits." He explained, eyes drifting to my shirt and scrapes on my scruffy chin. "Sometimes it can be difficult to make your way through the maze; even I myself get turned around now and again. Did you all get lost?"
"No, not necessarily." I replied bluntly. The devil on my shoulder pleaded for me to sneak a peek at Alexa at that moment.
"Ah, I see. If that's the case, I'd like to ask what it was you and your comrades were doing so far off the path."
Neither of my entourage responded at first. What would they even tell him? Inform the ranger that one of the newest 'additions' to the group had accidentally assaulted a man and his pokemon for false pretenses?
I, on the other hand, felt inclined to laugh at the odd wording. The ranger almost made it seem like we were merely being adventurous. Besides, the man was asking loaded questions at this point. None of this was necessary in the first place.
Shep had probably placed the pieces together the moment we shook hands.
"Fenway had fled me when we had first arrived at the maze and took off inside. This happened to be her 'designated' endpoint. However, I stoutly doubt she will repeat the action." I enunciated as though it were common knowledge.
The observant ranger nodded, frown fading as a stern hardihood replaced it. As though I had innate clairvoyance, I sensed uneasiness shifting from one foot to another behind my right side.
"Oh, pardon me; I nearly forgot to mention something."
Before anyone had the chance to reply, however, I spoke up with an interjection to my own explanation that silenced any other question or thought.
"I may as well cut to the chase for the sake of us all. I believe I understand where this is going and yes; I am the man who caused the damages before you in the maze. I apologize for doing so, and I hope you also believe me when I assure you, I sincerely swear it will not happen again."
Behind the ranger's stoicism sparked a glimmer of perplexion, fleeting as it may have been.
"How did-"
"Two reasons, mainly. The first indication was that we were the only travelers through this route at the time and practically every snippet of reason paints me as the perpetrator, mostly so because I am."
I shrugged as though I was explaining what day of the week it was. In truth, I hadn't known what day it was as I had never snuck a peak at a calendar; and lo, a topic for another time.
"I didn't intend for the destruction to be so widespread, but then again, Fenway is still a recent catch and has yet to be fully broken-in to the idea of being in a trainer's stead 24/7. If there is something I may do to remedy the mess then I would absolutely love to know."
The word "trainer" still felt foreign on my tongue. I paid no mind to the tail that drooped behind my shoulder.
By the swelling incredulity on Shep's face, it was abundantly obvious he wasn't expecting such a response. These expressions were swiftly swept from the man's person as if it were a windshield wiping autumn leaves, the ranger's jaw tightening back from it's loose position.
The tactically-clothed man withdrew a tiny tablet from his coat pocket. Based on the thin, metallic rims I recognized it as a more portable variant of Looker's tablet; rather, it was roughly of the same design. Shep tapped on the device a handful of times before returning his attention.
"Oh. Ah, well then…" He murmured, coughing into his fist. "While I… do appreciate the offer, I'm not sure there is much for you to do in terms of the restoration processes. However, that still doesn't answer my question about your activities."
I nodded. "Right, I was a bit hasty there, wasn't I. You see, I had to follow Fenway through the winding corridors as quickly as I could all the while keeping unnecessary damages to a minimum as she had been-"
"-fending off an aggressive Beedrill that had wandered into the maze. She'd heard the pokemon attacking a few Flabébé and immediately taken off. Norman here was in hot pursuit and fended it off as far as he could with her." Alexa butt in.
My head turned in her direction first, my attention needing a moment to catch up with real-time.
A growing number of butterflies danced in my stomach.
"I caught word that today the oncoming inter-regional Sinnoh Budew migration would be passing adjacent to the lower-quadrant of Route 4, and set up shop this morning down a couple hundred yards off the path." She explained, flicking the side of the camera hung from her neck. "Have you been able to spot any passing through from your post?"
Shep stroked his chin with a thoughtful finger.
"If a full bushel of them came around this way any time recently, then all those stumpy legs must be putting in a good hustle," chuckled the pokemon ranger. "Around nine-ten this morning I remember spotting one or two passing beneath the underpass beside my station. It was right when I had clocked in, too. Easily one of the highlights of the seasonal shift if you ask me."
The crafty Kalosian photographer nodded along. "I'd say the Caper's regulars enjoy them as well, but unfortunately the migratory climate across the route isn't restricted to merely Budew, and Beedrill tend to closely trail behind in search of fresh hunting grounds."
"Ma'am, I don't mean to be rude, but I am a ranger. We're briefed of any environmental or seasonal changes that may affect our posts beforehand."
"Right, right, understood! I just forgot for a moment. Anyways, I was passing through the maze when my partner Helioptile turned the corner and bumped head first into the exact same Beedrill's stinger! It spooked poor Helioptile half to death and made that Beedrill as mad as a Bee…" Alexa trailed off, swiftly backpedaling on her statement. She shook her head, wiping the hint of nerves from her face as though it were mud.
"Well, you understand anyway. I ended up running into Calem on the way, the poor kid ecstatic about his missing friend. We followed the trail, and here we are. Thank Arceus that Norman arrived when he did, or else my own partner would have had more than just a few holes poked through them."
Calem took a step forward. "Mrs. Alexa is right; the moment Norman and I set foot by the entrance, Fenway lost her mind out of nowhere! I wasn't fast enough to catch up with them though."
Shep clicked his tongue as he continued to jot down the conversation on his notepad. After a minute of pause, the pokemon ranger clicked his pen once and brought his head up with a deep exhale.
"I think… there. I've gotten a good enough grasp of the situation. Is all of this true, sir?"
A simple nod was my only response. My eyes remained glued to the ranger.
"Well then," Shep noted. "This'll be fine for now. You two are good to go. I appreciate the assistance."
Calem and Alexa began to walk past me, ready to continue on with their day. I remained stationary.
'Here it comes…'
"Although, Mr. Norman, I would like for you to stay behind for just a moment to fill out a P.E.I. form. It will make documentation much smoother for all parties involved."
'There it is. Of course.'
The future champion stopped in his tracks, pivoting on his heel. His forehead began to wrinkle from the searching squint, eyes flicking between the ranger and I.
The disappointment attempting to chain itself to my vocal chords was swiftly shooed. "Very well. Calem, wait for me at the exit. I doubt this will take long."
Aside from chewing over the answer for a moment and a blink in my direction, the young prodigy obliged. Alexa had already departed. The two of us were now alone, the crunching of dirt beneath sole fading around the leafy barriers.
Shep was the first to speak up. "Color me surprised. I hadn't expected for you to accept so quickly, if at all."
"I may be in a rush today, Ranger Shep," I sighed. "But giving in to annoyance and frustration would only complicate matters further, and waste more time than needed to."
A playfully incredulous scoff escaped the man.
"Y'know, I've met many types of folk who have traveled through this route. All kinds. I've had to deal with all sorts of situations. I also tend to take pride in my ability to understand the people who I have the privilege of meeting in my line of work." The pokemon ranger noted, snapping a pokeball off of his belt.
Shep's relaxed gaze dropped as he inspected the ball. A black-gloved thumb scrubbed against the metal linings.
"And yet, I can't put my finger on you for the life of me, Mr. Norman."
He shook his head. "I don't know how to put this without sounding rude, but you stick out like Skitty in a horde of Purugly. Or rather, a Purugly in a horde of Skitty."
The edge of my mouth twitched. Again, I knew what question he was going to ask, but this time I wasn't sure I knew the answer to give. Or, at the very least, I wasn't sure I wanted to answer.
Shep's eyes locked with mine.
"I know I may be overstepping by asking, but why do you want to go to Lumiose?"
…
"You can't be serious!"
"I very much am."
My traveling partner stared at me incredulously, mouth hanging open.
"I never thought that going on a journey could be so exhausting in just one day… could we please stop for a break?"
"Calem, for the last time, we can't. We'd be lucky to even arrive at the underpass by sundown at this rate with how long we have wasted, and that's only when I'm accounting for skipping dinner altogether."
I flicked a finger against the wet nose bumping against my temple. A sneeze shot out of Fenway, causing her to quit nibbling on my ear lobe.
Alexa shook her head. "Nonsense. Certainly the journey can't be that long?"
My eyelids fell as I sent a glance at her as if to say 'Oh, really?'. She matched my expectant look with a confident smile.
"Now, now, there's no need to be skeptical. We should actually have plenty of time to eat dinner tonight if we keep up a steady pace!"
I couldn't help but scoff. "Optimism is nice, although I can't feasibly see that set of events happening in a one-day framework. Even you yourself claimed to know each path 'like the back of your hand'."
"I absolutely do, and I'm absolutely sure we can arrive in time; I promise!"
'While I don't want this to be taken the wrong way, your word really doesn't bring much reassurance to the table...'
Calem shifted his weight back and forth as he walked.
"So, Norman, what was that weird 'P.E.I' paper about?"
My facial muscles relaxed as I remembered the sheet the ranger had filed. There sure was a lot of paperwork to be completed in this world, although in my instance it had been for good reason. I seemed to sow bad luck into the very earth wherever I tread.
"I believe the acronym stood for 'Pokemon Encounter Incident' or something of the sort. I don't think I need to worry about it though." I waved. "It didn't pose much of a hassle, thankfully."
I found my focus drifting towards Alexa as we kept down the path. She and I both knew I was perfectly capable of explaining myself and my actions, but for some reason still felt the need to interject over my own account of the story. The longer I mulled over the events, the more mystified I became.
Obviously she had wanted for me to build myself up more in the eyes of the man, but despite my intentions, the columnist was more than ready to fib a story for me instead. Whether the reason was an attempt to get within my good graces or not, very little had seemed to add up. Slipping in the fact that she had claimed to have traveled the road we were currently on numerous times and yet still believed we could arrive in a timely manner attributed even more to the mystification.
Perhaps there was a shortcut that she had up her sleeve? Then again, if so, why hadn't she simply stated what it was outright?
That woman truly baffled me.
A shiver of deja vu slithered down my spine. I was beginning to empathize with Shep's irritation the longer I pondered.
My hand wormed its way around to my bag, unhinging the latch and plunging inside. Journal in hand, I began to etch down new thoughts towards the back of my notebook, flipping to a new page. Taking note of the confusion that I had could bring inspiration for the day's entry later on in the evening, and may even help conceive a viable format early.
Writing while walking didn't prove much of a challenge, as it was an activity I was quite familiar with. It was, admittedly, one of my more... odd habits, but most people would pay it little mind. A bit of brain-dumping would also help pass the time better instead of having to converse anymore than I needed to. I had no qualms with socializing, but at the moment I was already tuckered out and the gnawing hunger in my gut was growing ravenous. I didn't dare think about the amalgamations of agony that were my feet.
'I know I can't keep trying to flood my brain with various thoughts and lying to myself. I'm just as - if not more - hungry as the others. Why not slightly indulge, maybe even take a breather?'
A muffled growl of restlessness roared in approval from my midsection. I briefly shook my head.
'Hmph. Peckish as I may be, it's a trade I must be willing to make. Fenway and the kid make it hard to stay stagnant on the matter though. God knows if I stop moving now, I won't be able to stand on these shambles of feet. Honestly, I'm not sure I'm too keen on discussing much at the moment anyway with anyone. Damn you, goat.'
I shoved the matter to the back of my head and continued to scribble. The blasted thought of nourishment would only dredge up monotony and pestering further than need be. Practically anything would be preferable over gastrointestinal wallowing and the encroaching headache setting in.
Neighboring crunches beneath boots curiously maneuvered themselves to my side.
"What are you writing about, Norman?"
"Nothing of importance."
"With how fast you were just waving that pen, it must be something of interest!"
'Conversing it is, then.'
"In all honesty, I'm not sure you'd fully understand."
"Really?"
"Really."
…
"Can I just have the subject at least?"
'I can at least admire the persistence.'
"Pardon?"
"Just the general subject of what you're scribbling about. Y'know, just to dip a toe in the lake."
The pen stalled against the paper for a second.
"I guess it could be described as a 'pinch of perspective'."
"Huh?"
"It's something akin to putting all of your thoughts and experiences into word form, but without injecting yourself or the person who experienced the exact feelings into the story. A comparison to creating a completely new world wouldn't be quite far off."
I tapped the pen against my collarbone, catching the attention of the relaxing pokemon. "Take Fenway for example; who is she to you?"
"Oh, that's easy. A strong pokemon."
"Anything else?"
"A... strong Fennekin?"
A hum sat in my mouth.
"Perhaps you didn't notice, but there's a pattern among both of your answers aside from the simplicity: you were focused on her battling capabilities. Right?"
I received a head nod.
"You may see her as a proficient battler when you initially think of her, but I don't share the same perception of her that you do. I, myself, perceive her, rather, as someone learning about the world; she's still learning how things work, why events and changes occur in ways that they do, often choosing the first approach to coalesce in her mind." I elaborated, tapping the pen against my head.
"Uh… huh."
I looked up to the sky thoughtfully, scratching the scruffy hairs on my chin. "If you think about it, there's two main reasons why the contrasts in perception are so vast. The first reason is due to shared experiences. Each person's mind creates a premonition based on what memories they make with someone, with every detail down to the smallest minutia causing some sort of effect albeit subconsciously. In this case, your experiences are especially limited, placing more strain on the ones you do have in order to form a view point about Fenway. Your catalystistic interaction with her was when we had our battle. The little missus displayed amazing dexterous and combat abilities that most likely superseded the once-over you were able to get of her at the beginning, the extent of which was amplified when I informed you that it was actually her first battle with a trainer by her side. Since this was the most recent, prominent, and only main interaction that you had, your brain is liable to utilize the attributes it had once granted and assign them to who Fenway is to you."
There was a moment of silent thought-collecting before any response.
"I… think I'm starting to get it. What about the second one?"
Deciding to invest my full attention solely on the explanation, I hooked the pen back on the thin hoop beside the journal.
"The second reason is past or personal experiences. These are memories or events that shape your thought process, usually influencing how you perceive the world around you and what your brain will most likely focus on if a thought is to be created. These sorts of view points can be brought about in subtle indicators, but that's a bit too complex to explain without any pre-planned presentation. For now, let's focus on your answer."
I took a brief pause before continuing.
"I can't pin-point what exactly you may be drawing inspiration from since I don't share your memories. I can at least infer that it probably stems from the same thing that spurred your love for battling in the first place. Together, both your personal and shared experiences with said person come together to formulate a perspective. Your perspective is heavily populated by pokemon battles and matters of the like, and as such you responded accordingly to how your perception allowed the rationality to. As a writer, it's my job to show my perspective and the events that transpired through just descriptors alone. Do you understand, Calem?"
Looking up from the inked paper, I glanced at the boy to judge his reaction.
Wispy smoke clouds sloughed out of each ear with his blank stare, blinking over and over as if the teenage trainer missed the imperceptible message floating around my head.
I guess one could say I had a tendency to... delve a tad too far into an explanation when the topic was one I was slightly passionate about.
C'est la vie.
"You must, uh, really adore writing, Norman." He replied, words floundering around his lips.
"Hm. Somewhat." I mused. Internally, a tickled satisfaction resided behind my cheeks. "Sometimes documenting even the tiniest feelings can alleviate them. In a sense."
"Waaaay too much information..." Alexa groaned, massaging her temples with a hand as she fell in line with us.
Although I initially wished to take the Kecleon Caper journalist's input with a substantial grain of salt, the more thought I fed it, the more plausible the realization seemed to be. "True, I can understand how it could overload someone... Explanations of deeper topics aren't necessarily my strong suit, ironically. Half of the time they become so long-winded they could be classified as tornadoes."
"I think what we're trying to say is it's just not everyday that someone comes along with such unique insight." She complimented.
To my mild surprise, the reporter's impressed comment seemed genuine. Then again, reporters typically try to extract as much information from their interviewees as possible. A long-winded response is practically a boon.
"Meh." I simply shrugged. "It's just my own rationale."
A snicker rose from Calem. "You are really weird, Mr. Norman."
"You aren't entirely wrong." I rounded, cocking an eyebrow with the hint of grin cracking through pursed lips.
I had to admit, the teen was beginning to grow on me. The idea of Calem becoming an actual comrade could've held some merit after all. Sure would beat having to walk through silence all day, every day; that was for certain. Of course I had my journal and Fenway, but it wasn't as though I had a telepathic link with the fox and I wouldn't be able to make conversation with dialogue I created myself. At that point I'd be further on my descent to madness than I already was. The looming threat of insanity was beginning to feel more present already the longer I was unable to escape from this endless trail.
Perhaps the boy could remain a useful aid if we remained in touch. Surely the future could prove to be fruitful with his help? Why, from my limited knowledge alone I already deduced that the League held a sort of governmental status for the region. If Calem were to slip inside among their ranks and-
A light slap met against my cheek.
What the hell was I thinking? I had already decided my stance on the option! If I became too involved with Calem, then I would inevitably be thrown into the main string of events and shove my foot in affairs I both shouldn't tamper with nor have any hand in. There was no need to become involved in any affairs that I wasn't required to in the first place, especially avoid association with anyone in a position of political, economic, or socio-economic power. The ensuing setbacks would be catastrophic!
My expression contorted into a scowl as Fenway let out a snort, wagging tail brushing against my bag's strap.
'I should've never agreed to travel with the boy if I knew I'd have my hands bound like this. I may have the future champion as an acquaintance, but I've already far exceeded my boundaries. Calem can think of me as his friend, but that's as far as our relationship can go. Involvement will only delay your return.'
I sighed.
'No use dreading it. There's still pressing matters to attend to.'
On a new page the emboldened words "To-Do" appeared, with two smaller subsections reading "Now" and "Later". The bottom half of the page was then sliced off from the rest from an inky line, "Reminders" resting slightly below it. I wasted no time filling in the segmented spaces.
After a full fifteen minutes of emptying my internal calendar, I placed a period against the last bullet point of the Reminders tab. A brief once-over found no spelling errors or grammatical errors, and I seemed to be finished.
As I went to close my journal, one last idea I had crammed in the back of my head slid into focus. I slipped my thumb beneath the shutting pages and wrenched the cover back off to the page, noting the final addition under the Later tab.
It read:
"-Possible suitable trainers:
Calem"
A sting of guilt and shame seared my chest with each letter. Even though I kept reassuring myself it was the right course of action, my selfish side still whispered bittersweet nothings to my rationality. Back to the deeper crevices it went.
"Mr. Norman, what involvement are you talking about?" came Calem's curiosity.
For a fraction of a second I felt myself flinch. "Publishing something. That- it has to do with my work in Lumiose. Also, you did the 'mister' thing again."
"Shoot, sorry! But are you going to publish a book or magazine?"
'Does this kid ever run out of questions?'
"Well, that's, uh, sort of the issue I have."
Calem snapped his fingers. "Ohhh, is that why you've been so worried? You'll miss your meeting with your… publisher?"
...
'Just roll with it, Norman.'
"Right on the money." I praised. Silently I was hoping the commendation would cease the young trainer's questions.
From the light beaming off of his smiling cheeks, it seemed to be enough for him. Alas, the third wheel decided to give her input as well. Again.
"An author? I guess I shouldn't be too surprised from all the scribbling," Alexa chuckled to herself. "It's like your resume is looking better and better for a position at the Caper!"
"No thank you." I swiftly replied.
Aside from a slight deflation, the reporter's cheery demeanor held strong. "It was just a quick jest, nothing to get your pants in a bunch! Besides, you'll have plenty of time to mull over your answer should you reconsider before we board the Sante-Lume."
My immediate reaction was to laugh at the idea. I could hardly fathom finding myself under the same employer as the lady here, let alone take a job opportunity straight from the aforementioned correspondent. However, beneath the childish spite peeped a sprouting question.
After a hefty chunk of silence, I finally voiced my confusion. "Did you mean 'Santalune'?"
"No, Santa-Lume," she repeated before shaking her head with an apologetic smile. "Ah wait, sorry! I forgot for a moment you weren't from Kalos, Norman. Usually us locals refer to the Miare-Ody Metro as 'Santa-Lume'."
'What metro?'
"What metro?"
The smile faded away. "Is… are you making a joke? You sound serious so-"
"Serious as I ever am." I accidentally cut in. My right eye twitched slightly.
This earned a confused stare from Alexa, eyes searching my features. "Odyssey Village?"
I stared blankly back.
"It's the main stop on the route to Lumiose City. That Odyssey Village?"
I blinked again.
"Wait, don't tell me… you didn't know about Odyssey Villa- you two were planning on going solely through Route 4 to Lumiose City?!"
I raised an incredulous eyebrow. As far as I could recall, there was no Odyssey Village connected down through Route 4. The route was a one-way trip from Santalune to Lumiose and back.
"Yes ma'am, Lumiose or bust!" chirped Calem.
Even Calem held the same premonition as I. I hadn't seen a map nor caught wind of anything of the sort about another prominent or even named town that stemmed off of the route. What was she talking about now?
"Do either of you understand how long that sort of trip would take only on foot?" Alexa probed.
The young pokemon trainer shifted on his feet. "Two days?"
I tapped my bag a few times as my gaze wandered about, gathering my thoughts. "Hm… I hoped to arrive within the day."
A look of incredulity plastered itself on the reporter. "Jeez, do you even know how long Route 4 goes for?"
Calem began to study his shoes. A frown sprouted forth on my features. If it wasn't obvious, my patience had rapidly dwindled.
"Here's a proposition: Instead of berating us for incompetence, perhaps you can enlighten us on how our plans are misconstrued?" I cut in, lowered eyes coercing a phlegmatic response.
Alexa picked up her dropped jaw and let out a muffled noise reminiscent of both a sigh and a groan. "Arceus almighty…" The news reporter patted her hips and seemed to recompose herself, snapping her head up. "To travel from Santalune to Lumiose purely through Route 4 without using the Miare-Ody Metro would take a little under a week, and that's if the only stops are for meals."
By the time 'meals' left her mouth, I felt a new gnawing pain beside my own hunger. For the sake of my sanity and mental state, I prayed that the situation wasn't leading to where my gut was telling me it was.
"Fine, I may as well be the one to bite the bullet. How far would you estimate we are from Odyssey Village?
Alexa tilted her head up to peer over the horizon. Her eyes locked on something, but I was unsure what specifically drew her attention. "Thankfully, we only have a little over an hour left if we continue at the same pace; maybe about eight kilometers, tops."
"Thankfully indeed." I puffed out, a thoughtful grunt resonating in my throat. The heralding of fortunate news was unfortunately short-lived when I realized the implications of another section of land to traverse. The aching paranoia begged me to not ask the next million-dollar question.
Once again, Calem decided to voice my thoughts exactly.
"But how long will the Miare-Ody to Lumiose take?"
"Oh, the metro? Ha! No worries there; usually it hardly lasts over an hour."
I released a hitched breath I didn't know I was holding when Fenway's tail smacked me over the back of the head. It was like a dream. The next step home wasn't so far out of my grasp after all! Perhaps - just perhaps - whatever force that could have been pulling the strings decided to slacken it's grip for just a instant. Wailing stomach, shredded clothes, and exhausted muscles were finally being repaid from the down payment, hopefully in full soon.
Despite the onset of chapness, my lips cracked into a relieved grin. "I say we're burning daylight then. Dinner is but a hop, skip, and an hour away."
Fenway responded with a low bark as if agreeing through reluctance while Calem fastened a winded determination on his face. I was unable to see Alexa's expression, but her slightly straightened posture told me enough about her revitalized spirit.
Maybe it was the reporter's renewed optimism or the thought I would be able to take my next step. Perhaps it was simply that my brain was elated to be able to have a moment of reprieve. Regardless of the reasoning, I could feel the ever-present and overbearing weight on my shoulders alleviate itself ever so slightly.
Sure; the frustration with both myself and the journalist was certainly present, but the emotions were swiftly squashed. Damnation from unconscious ignorance is a fool's dread, and Alexa didn't have a crystal ball. Calem's lack of knowledge left me perplexed, but I doubted anyone around his age group knew of each and every town within the respective region either, at least by heart. I planned to delve deeper into the subject, though the only reason I had yet to drop it in my mind was inane vexation. No use in lamenting the past any further.
What I did lament, however, was my footwear.
Hoo boy, did it sting as the invisible devil struck his trident through my ankle with every single step. I could only imagine the inevitable discussion with that detective about adequate footwear.
To put it simply, an earful would've been a grave understatement.
Grrrooo…!
'One step at a time, Norman. One step at a time.'
…
…
"Are you sure you're alright, Mr. Norman?" asked Calem.
"We only have a tiny distance left. I'll be fine." I soothed, wobbling slightly.
I didn't truly know how much further we had.
The future champion chewed on the answer momentarily. "I could hold your bag for you if you'd like."
"While I do appreciate the courtesy, I'm going to say no thank you. Trust me, Calem."
He studied me, eyeing the lack of weariness. Finally the boy nodded with a defeated sigh and began taking inventory within his own stachel. When my companion finally turned away, my shoulders drooped for half a second before returning to their usual position. My feet sank into a trudge against the late afternoon gravelly earth, no audible drag of cork sole against the way.
Standing on a bed of blisters did little to aid the faltering either, aiding only to make any pebbles underfoot feel like unsteady razor blades.
The environment had shifted drastically within the first ten minutes; the vast plains fading into nothingness with their cacophony of rich flowers clocking out in time for a denser variety of plant life. A few olive trees were sprinkled among the lanky Cyprus lining the way. Tiny shrubs and unkempt grass seemed to be the main coating along the forest's floor.
The trail steadily narrowed over as we headed in deeper, transitioning to be at home in the tree-lain landscape rather than the previous esplanade. The width was parallel to the size of a country backroad, scattered light still breaching down on the course ground due to the route slicing through the treeline and large clouds overhead. The geography switched itself from flat plains to the occasional hill with a twist and turn.
Instead of the streamlined, light tan dust that coated the route closer to the maze, the path had adopted an unsteady texture with slight dips and divots. I found the later route to display blatant signs of wear the further north we went in contrast to the well-kempt tourist areas. In all fairness, the term shoddy would be a poor description - if anything, the trail was still well-defined - when compared to other hiking paths. Interestingly, I couldn't recall ever spotting a single morsel of trash tossed astray either. Another neat point of contemplation for the journal this would make.
Eventually the dirt road bisected itself into two, one half-section striding ahead with an impeding hill restricting further view and the other veering off to the left, a sharp sixty degree left turn driving through thicker foliage.
A sign stood at the crux of the divergence, similar in composition to the beautified one in Santalune aside from the sleek, silver fixtures gleaming instead of the darker, thin metal. Upon the nice sheen were two instructions.
" - Odyssey Village
Route 4 - "
It read.
Although we veered left, my mind was stuck on a loop from the Route.
'There was no village or settlement anywhere along the way to Lumiose in either game. I remember the game's map as clear as day!' I wrestled with myself. 'And yet it exists all the same. From what means was this even caused?'
A silent scoff left my mouth. 'I'm beginning to get the notion every answer received is bundled with more complications.'
As if on cue, a stroke of fur brushed my collared nape, a pom pom of yellow fur draped around my right shoulder. Tiny puffs tickled my collarbone.
'Poor girl must've finally felt the exhaustion catch up with her.' mused my mind. Carrying the slumbering pokemon wouldn't be too difficult, although the hill our crew were now walking up the side of didn't seem promising with extra pressure weighing on my feet.
I glanced over to the wide-eyed and bushy-tailed newsie. Doing my best to hide my reluctance and in a hushed voice, I whispered, "Being a person of travel, would you happen to have a good grasp of restaurant directions?"
She made to shoot me an inquisitive look but fell short when her eyes found the tuckered pokemon. "Are you sure? It's-"
"I am not asking for you or I."
For some reason, I swore I could make out an ounce of fleeting disappointment. "Understood, understood. Closest one should be a block from the first left 'round Rhyhorn Road; it's a quaint place with a big 'O' made of rocks on the sign. Can't miss it."
"Thank you."
"It's no trouble." replied the columnist with a soft smile. My eyes decided to become tricksters then, trying to deceive me that Alexa's cheery exterior truly faltered for half a second after her response.
A foul taste had been left in my mouth for some reason despite my mouth watering at the idea of a complete meal. It was as though a slimy ball of consciousness sagged down my esophagus. As to the cause, I wasn't sure. There was nothing on my mind at the moment that could've elicited the feeling, and to my own knowledge I hadn't committed any reprehensible actions.
'What even is this feeling? My throat is clear and dry, yet the congested contents dripping down still appalls me. How… wait.'
It's something small.
'Who cares about feelings or throats right now? We're burning daylight.'
That's right. It's an obstacle.
'This gloom… it has no place in my psyche. I have more pressing matters.'
There are more pressing matters.
"Mr. Norman?"
"Hm?"
"... you're mumbling again."
Damn it.
"Still working on it."
Calem rolled off the topic, bobbing his head to and fro before letting it hang forth. "This hunger is going to make me go nuts and talk to myself too if we don't get to the village soon."
I nodded with an affirmative 'Hm'. Thankfully, I didn't think he caught the entire string of thoughts. Instead, the third human member of the motley crew piped up as we left the crest of the hill.
"Fret no longer! Our destination is just over the hill, boys." Alexa announced, trotting ahead. With an added flair, the reporter stuck her arms out to the right after passing us as though to say 'Ta-da!'. Points for bravado, I'd give her that. Fenway merely stirred momentarily despite the volume.
The journalist's antics proved fruitful as just around a cluster of tightly packed sat an exceptionally wide half-valley of mostly flat ground dotted with rustic yet well-kept buildings of all types, each roughly similar stature and shape. Although the hill we were descending had a rather plateaued incline, the horizon spanned on for an incredulously far range, half dominated by the village and the remaining land being annexed by sleek grassy fields swimming along. The only tall natural structures were Cyprus trees and hedge clusters, but they were a scattered minutia. My sightline was eventually blocked by a set of hills slightly lower than my own, restricting my view of the half-valley.
Due to the later hours the day began to encroach upon, a slight golden tint cascaded itself along the view, magnifying the strength of stretched shadows crawling east. Various smaller shadows milled along the darker, smoother roads defined from a nicer material than the underfoot silt. It was all in all an especially rural plains landscape from a distance, but with a unique rustic charm instead of shoddiness or underdeveloped architecture.
In fact, the architecture held a surprisingly modern sheen to it. Perhaps it was the late afternoon sun deceiving my eyes, but many of the larger buildings seemed to be constructed of materials I couldn't identify from a distance. A substantial quantity of the smaller ones consisted of the usual wooden outer layer, brick, or concrete. Unlike the neighboring city of Santalune, Odyssey Village's architecture in stark contrast was spaced out much further from itself, lengthy expanses separating homes. Pockets of concentrated civilization huddled around the entrance to the "minor" settlement with enough compact buildings to fill five blocks until finally drifting off.
Suffice to say, Odyssey Village completely subverted my expectations for a sleepier humdrum with the natural elegance in the open town. Somehow, the word "quaint" still fit the bill for a description.
I was beginning to pick up on the trend that each town in the region had its own brand of unique, unmatched beauty.
As we neared the wooden archway greeting us for the first time, a mystifying feeling swirled in my chest. For some reason, a sense of familiarity washed over me the closer I came.
"Finally!" Calem exclaimed. "I thought we were never going to arrive!"
Alexa laughed. "Always feels that way. Never gets easier!"
"I hope that is only a jest." I commented.
The reporter snickered from my reply. "Oh phooey, no need to get your pants in a bunch! The freeway is always another option. But from your starstruck stare when we came over the hill I'm willing to be you're more than happy to walk any day."
I raised an eyebrow. 'I guess I did allow my gaze to linger for a while. I suppose I'm more surprised with the extent to her perceptive abilities.'
"You're right. Seeing Odyssey Village simply reminds me of something."
"Oh, and what might that be?"
"It is what I'm attempting to decipher." I stated, brushing off the inquiry.
Alexa didn't question me much further after that. As we came within earshot of the town, the soothing ambiance noises made themselves apparent; rustling Cyprus trees and soft taps of shoes against shifting ground meeting the eardrum.
I gazed back up to the archway. Various scuffs and bruises layered the strong, elderly wood, a sturdy base securing each point of conjunction with a mix of rope and metal. Sprinklings of light gray sat on the metal from weathering, but no rust could be detected from my position. Suspended above the road on the main arch was the word "Odyssey", expertly carved into the rounded log.
Although masterfully crafted, the sign itself failed to spawn any significant feelings. I still had no clue as to where the ominous emotional wave was stemming from.
"Wait, I remember this place!"
Coincidentally, it was Calem whose excitement exploded with returning memories.
"Do you now?" came my mixed reply.
The boy nodded ecstatically. "Mhm! It was many years ago, but I know I've been here a few times before! That's why I felt I recognized the name of this place!"
"Hah. Don't tell me; you had already known about the existence of the Miare-Ody in some fashion?" I shot with a pinch too much sarcasm thrown in than I would've wished.
Thankfully, my travelling companion brushed off any of the harsher sentiment. "I didn't know so much about the metro since my parents usually always drove me into the city, but each time I came to Odyssey Village it would be to see my neighbors race in there!"
As the young protege finished, he lifted an excited finger ahead of us and slightly to the right, directly towards an exceptionally wide building I had first viewed from the hill. While it still stood taller than a majority of the other structures around it, the height was far from edifice classification.
The length of the building, however, was a separate ball game. Easily the longest out of any other construction in the village, the purple roof seemed to extend far beyond eye's capability whilst remaining above the tops of the avenues before us. The party had stopped to the side of the connected four-way intersection of dirt roads, and yet the roof of the building could still be spotted from above the other one-story shops and homes ahead. I could even recall a course of some variety connecting to the inside of it, nearly twice the size of the complex itself.
"I was once friends with my neighbors' daughter, and she would always talk about how fun riding on a Rhyhorn was. I haven't talked to her much these days since she's always been busy, but she always knew how to pump someone up for a race! I've honestly always wanted to participate in one, and I can't wait to see if I can try after dinner!"
"If that is your wish, so be it. I'm far too exhausted to engage in any 'excitement' for the rest of the day, much less participate in a race of any sort." I waved off. "Besides, I doubt we will have any time to do so if we wish to secure a seat while dry."
A handful of thick clouds had begun to roll in over the crisp evening sky, sunset setting the entire sky alight with a delicate gradient of orange and crimson.
"All of the seats are under the roof. Plus, Rhyhorn are too sturdy for a few drops of water to impede one of their races! A storm is no problem."
I sighed. "That is not what I was referring to. I meant a seat on the metro. Besides, the likelihood of the racetrack you mentioned still accepting participants both on short notice and with so much of the day already passed by, your chances of gaining entry are direly slim."
"The metro?! But we just spent the entire day walking! There's no way we can still make it into Lumiose today!" Calem fought, staring in bewilderment.
"I fully intend to do so. Surely we will be able to."
"But how? That's over an hour away, and we'll be soaked by the time we arrive!"
"Calem, I don't believe you understand me. Lumiose is merely around the corner at this point."
Suddenly, a difficult impasse was set before me.
On one hand, I could wait out the trip and forgo more invaluable time in returning, but also would be granted the option to avoid having my only possessions waterlogged and trudge through the gates. Calem and Alexa would also accompany my travels around the city for some time.
But, on the other hand, I could continue pushing myself one step at a time until I reach the Looker Bureau. It would save time in exchange for the possibility of being rained out and other risks. The chance of Calem's cooperation would be virtually nil, but it would be an option should I choose to part ways. Not the most pleasant option, but an option nonetheless.
Then again, every option by then was unpleasant.
The pangs of guilt pounding in my chest and mounds of fatigue that were now full mountains exponentially worsened the feeling of it all.
Alexa walked back from a window that she'd been peering through, a defiant hand on her hip with her head cocked to the side. "I'd really hate to burst your bubble here Norman, but you're getting way too ahead of yourself."
My jaw unconsciously clenched at the insinuation. 'Oh, please tell me she will not say what I believe she is about to say.'
"The Maire-Ody closes her doors to ticket sales around seven each day. Seeing as how it's pretty late, I doubt that you'd be able to catch a ride ticket either. Even if you did, I doubt you'd get past the gates of the station without collapsing with the state you're in." She began, motioning to look me up and down. "And that would only be possible if dinner was off the table completely. Unfortunately, the Rhyhorn races are only available in daylight as well."
Calem deflated some out of the corner of my eye.
"My only gripe is with these infernal shoes. I'll stop by a boutique and be on my way soon thereafter. Food doesn't concern me."
"But it does concern her!" Alexa hissed, pointing at the curled pokemon around my neck. "How are you going to feed her if you don't stop to eat?"
I shook my head, expression remaining stoic. "Of course I have enough for her. While I may not have any for myself for the time being, it is not my priority."
"How will you be able to focus on whatever this 'priority' is if you can't even stand?"
"I've already said I can walk just fine."
"Hardly! I saw how hard it was for you to scale the hill, let alone walk on a bad ankle for hours on end. You're not fooling anyone." She spat.
I wanted to respond, but shut my mouth before anything trickled out. The self-constricting chains wrapped around my aching heart kept tugging to release their captive, but held strong.
'All of what this woman has said is correct, you know.' reminded my conscious.
"My goal is not to impose my agenda onto you all. It's-"
"It's either way not going to be possible."
The chains had a sharp increase in tension, the pulling force growing exceptionally fierce.
"The outcome is not something any of us can decide."
"Yes, but we do control our own actions that lead to them and take responsibility for the results."
Another subsequent yank of the chain.
'This quarrel is foolish. You know it is foolish.'
"I must arrive within Lumiose as soon as possible. I don't see many other options I have at my disposal, and if this is the only means then there must be a secondary choice somehow."
"Don't you see, Norman? There is no other way. Wh- what even is this ultimate matter that requires your utmost attention?"
'Back down. Why even argue if you wish to part ways in the first place?'
"If I'm to be completely honest, I don't feel comfortable disclosing that right now and deem it a bad idea."
Alexa released a long, steady exhale. "Alright. I get we all have our own goals, but unless it's something that would be life threatening or of equal importance, would waiting just one, single night ruin everything?
I remained silent.
"Then letting yourself rest just enough to be in working order will have to do." The journalist finished, a firm gaze locked with my own. I swept up the frown I had acquired, replacing it with that of a natural and neutral expression.
Calem stepped forward between the two of us. "I… understand that you have an important thing you need to take care of in Lumiose tomorrow, but do you think at the very least you could watch my race tomorrow if I get in?"
It was unlikely anyone noticed, but a thin band of sweat rolled down the side of my head.
'Sooner or later. I knew it was going to be sooner or later. I was only hoping that the choice would have to be 'later' instead of 'sooner'.
I looked down at Calem's expectant features, a subtle but present spark behind his eyes. It was the sort of glimmer that melted away reason and demolished logistics. A type of youthful hope that is invaluable to a childhood and manipulates the compassion of the soul no matter how well fortified the guard.
A type of hope I found myself very much jealous of from its absence in my own soul.
Yes, the moment I laid eyes on the spark, the chains had yet another surge of strength, the third time too great for me to withstand.
"If the situation arises, then… yes. Yes, I will come watch."
With the assurance of my arrival, he pumped his arm with a fist, a poorly hushed "Yesss!" under his breath. Despite the pokemon genius' elation, the sentiment fell short at my feet.
I was restrained against my will, forced to partake in an ultimatum suspended above the point of a double-edged sword. A dastardly, aggravating predicament of my own design encapsulated it's maker.
'Ask the question. It is just one. Question. Then, rest.'
An uncertain puff slid out my nostrils, body swiveling to Calem.
"If I am to defer from my path and settle down, then a call is in order. Unfortunately," I paused, carefully moving my bag to withdraw the foreign device without disturbing the snoozing fennec. "I don't know how to use this."
I placed the "phone" in Calem's opened palm. The action earned an inquisitive glance from both my companions, but I refused to elaborate. Such was a question for a better suited time.
Calem investigated the technology in his grip for around a minute before speaking.
"Oh, uh. Well, this is a pretty… special model, and I have no clue how you got your hands on this," He quickly murmured under his breath. "But it's a direct-import Silph Co. PokeGear with some weird mods on it."
I quirked an eyebrow. "Mods?"
"Modifications. I haven't seen many of these before, but if I remember correctly…" Calem trailed off, withdrawing a thin card from his pocket. The protege made to swipe the card along the PokeGear's edge, perplexed at the lack of an area to do so.
With an annoyed frown, he shifted the communication device around in his hand, inspecting each side before handing it back to me. "A PokeGear is supposed to have a slot to place your Trainer ID, but for some reason this one doesn't even have a slot."
"Weird indeed." I blinked, unsure how to reply from inexperience.
As Calem seemed to fumble with the device, I took a moment to think about why Looker would've bestowed a means of communication to me if I was unable to use it in the first place. 'Is this his way of coercing me into becoming a trainer for whatever reason? On second thought, doubtful. He would have simply supplied me with it after my journey to Lumiose if that was the case. The PokeGear would be useless without an ID.'
I snapped my fingers as the realization hit me like a truck.
"May I see it for a moment?" I asked, a theory fresh in my mind.
Calem, still staring at the bewildering PokeGear, shrugged. "If you have any ideas, I'm stumped."
As I retrieved the tool, I began to swipe my thumb along the groove between the disconnected screens. The black screen on the inside of the groove briefly glowed a weak green before unlatching itself and swinging open.
"Neat."
"Whoa, it's fingerprint authentication? How did you know?"
"I guessed."
Instead of having a keypad on its lower quadrant, a secondary touch screen stared back at my face with my own eyes in the reflection. The factory-new sleekness seemed to gleam off of every corner, the Silph Co. logo abruptly flashing to life on the top screen. I clasped the sections together once more and slid the phone-reminiscent gadget into one of the outer pockets on the bag.
With all of the most pressing matters satiated, it was time to turn in for the day. I had too much on my mind to linger longer than was necessary.
"Thank you for your help." I simply put, offering a curt nod.
I had already taken a few steps through the square when the voice called out to me. "Where are you going, Norman?"
Glancing over my shoulder at the confused young man, I motioned to the slumbering scarf. "To rest. I hope you both will soon as well; it's been an admittedly long day for everyone. I'll be outside the Rhyhorn course at nine tomorrow."
"Sounds like a plan!" called my traveling companion.
I snorted from how Calem still had such liviness in him. "G'night, you two."
"Good night!"
"Sleep well! See you in the morning!"
The moment I disappeared around the corner of the flower shop, I withdrew the pokeball from my bag and tapped the circle in the middle. My shoulders bounced up at first to recalibrate from the sudden relief of pressure only to sag back down. A heavy breadth surged through my lungs, each step finally pressing down with their true overbearing weight.
Just a few more steps to go.
Nightfall came much sooner than I had anticipated, and the accompanying foretold shower was right on its heels. The moment I heard a soft 'click' of the motel's deadbolt lock the door behind me, the roof overhead spurred to life with a coating of downpour. I apparently got in in the nick of time, a needed reprise of good fortune that I'd thought to have been all but present.
After I had split off from the merry band, I wasted no time in following Alexa's directions to the cafe she had so avidly recommended. The sign did a phenomenal job of catching the weary eye, yet it seemed to slip in naturally to the rest of the quaint village's common aesthetic. Colors, material, and design checked all of the boxes. I couldn't recall many details by then as I had effectively been reduced to autopilot, but I could remember I had ordered take-out.
Unfortunately, in my haste to depart for a place of lodging, I had encountered a major oversight. I never asked for directions or a map to find somewhere to turn in for the night.
Apparently I found a way to increase my levels of aggravation via my own exhaustion-induced insufferability.
Ahhh… such bitter-sweet irony.
Nonetheless, I spent the next half hour stumbling my way (in a literal sense at times) throughout the village with the guidance of the occasional passerby. Sometimes I swore I passed through the same streets multiple times, which I would not be surprised if such was true.
By the time I finally arrived upon the doorstep of the Motel Lune, I was glad I'd placed Fenway's pokeball in my bag rather than on a suspender node. I dreaded the thought of losing consciousness with precious cargo secured to my person.
I could only imagine how the scene looked from the perspective of the man behind the motel's counter. Perhaps it would be something akin to this:
Forecasted storm clouds rolled in during a mundane afternoon of dried business, the usual customer inflow evaporating into the darkened clouds and sky overhead. With the new batch of starter pokemon available and the annual Regional Professor Inauguration, a lowered clientele body would hardly leave a staff member astonished. Yes, today had been strung in with every other day in the week, a slush of boorish gray.
And as if the storm gray storm clouds themselves streamed through the front door, in stepped a man of shambles. Despite wearing the fatigue on his tattered sleeves, the disheveled man's posture and speech vastly contradicted the apparel.
As he approached the desk, his only words were "Single room, please. I will only stay one night." Articulate and straight forward they were, accentuated further by the depth of his voice.
Most anyone working behind the front desk by then would have already either been uncomfortable or exceptionally suspicious of a shady character entering the establishment. This came to fruition with the man that had the unfortunate pleasure of having his shift be that night.
Although nothing especially disastrous happened, the poorly masked confusion and uncertainty on the worker's face did little to put my mind at ease.
…
Scritch scritch scritch.
…
Not good enough.
Scrrrrch.
Even sitting on the bed by my lonesome hardly made a difference. I had already hit an innumerable amount of roadblocks in such an abysmally short amount of time that I could hardly even bring my thoughts into order.
A strong inhale came through my nostrils and left through my mouth.
I arose from my seat, hand slithering away from the messenger bag lying to my side with PokeGear in hand. The journal flopped on its side, pages splaying out awkwardly against the bed sheets and pen rolling away on the frills.
'Over into the mirror, and done. Take a look, and then be done with it.' Nagged my brain.
Step by step, sharp pain by sharp pain I hobbled into the bathroom. An oval carpet mat seemed to caress the wrapped bottoms of my feet as they slid onto the fibers from their adjacent course cousins. An older, somewhat blurry mirror greeted me on the left wall, a few minor cracks sprinkled around the edges of the sink directly below. The porcelain throne resided beside it, a shower-tub combination obscured by a green shower curtain riddled with hydrangeas.
One by one, buttons slid back out their holes and fabric shifted. The battered dress shirt sloughed off my body as if I were molting, the caked on sweat bearing a notably dingy odor. Hung on the door handle, the odor lingered around my nose as if stalking defenseless prey.
I turned back to the mirror, rotating my torso back and forth, allowing the tensed joints to crack and pop as they released the waves of tension. Occasionally one pop from the bunch would sour, a string of aches riding along my muscles.
Almost all at once, I felt the stings and scrapes that marked my body up and down from the day's previous tussle flare up once again. It was as if a swarm of fire ants had taken up residence within my shirt and become agitated at its departure.
'That's not quite pretty, now is it…' I commented to myself as I finished up my stretches, finally gazing into the mirror.
Similarly to the first time I laid eyes upon my arm for the first time, I had to wrestle with my rational side that I was in fact not peering through a warped fun house mirror, but rather staring at what was left of myself. It was no dream by any means, no matter how much I wished otherwise. Just cruelties of real life coalescing with one once presumed fictional.
The heavy damage sustained on my arm traveled deep into the outer reaches of my chest, flowing from the middle of my right pec to collar bone. Pink tissue began to spread thin from then on as if taking a more graceful approach, a delicate web of four lines strung up my neck and only one arriving above the jawline. The trail rose a bit further around the ear but lastly stopped on the lower earlobe.
After the experience that had rocked my person only minutes prior, I refused to focus any longer on the scars. They would remain there for the rest of my life, so there was no need to make haste in mapping them out now.
Moving on, I picked up the PokeGear and flipped it open; however…
'Ain't that new.'
My attention had found a new target while doing so.
As the Silph Co. logo began to illuminate the dank bathroom, I began to tilt my head back and forth, investigating my features.
From my time spent recuperating in the pokemon center, my facial hair decided to annex a majority of the lower half of my face. From ear to ear resided a thin layer of stubble that highlighted the jawline, but was not prominent enough to be considered a true beard. My already gaunt eyes appeared even scruffier from the unruliness of my eyebrows, the edges of the brows blurred from the poorly illuminated room.
In reference to the mental image I imagined myself as, the lanky frame in collaboration with the overall scruffiness could certainly lead one to think my age certainly surpassed that of the mere twenty in which I resided. To my surprise, I was much more lithe than my last visitation by reflection. Stringy muscles clung against my arms and seemed to accentuate the visible damage and exhaustion I had experienced. I had partially expected to lose weight throughout my stay with the pokemon center, but to heal at a rate that my body fat would dissipate to such a degree was... unsettling, to say the least. However, as I gave the discovery some thought, the bewilderment began to leave much like my previous frame.
The human body is an astonishingly special machine at times, and is able to rebuild itself over time. Although that may sound common place, the means and speed of which the task is carried out is the point of interest. The body turns stored fat and energy into necessary building components to repair damages. When sustaining heavy damage, the system documents each of the areas that were harmed, ensuring that areas of buildup in nutrients able to be recycled be utilized properly from the areas. Said areas that are used as wells are then sapped of mass from loss of nutrients, causing muscle and weight loss. The affliction is commonly found within hospital patients and seeing as I was one in the same not long ago, the mystery was hardly one at all.
There was one aspect, however, that did not match up the rest of my expectations, rekindling the mystification.
Regardless to my intrigue, the PokeGear finally came to life.
Brree-brree.
Brree-brree.
Brree-brree.
Brree-brree.
"Hello?"
"It's me, Norman."
A surprised pause sat over the phone. "Norman? Good heavens, how have you been faring? I say, the Pelipper Postal is bound to receive a sternly-worded message if the package were to have misplaced such a special package."
I sighed. "Hmnnn… No, no need for alarm. The package arrived just two days ago. I began setting off directly after it came into my possession."
"If that is so, what might be the cause of your delayed arrival?"
"I'm unsure whether you realized or not, but a multi-mile journey on foot lasts more than one day at the minimum." I answered, finger twirling through one of the dusty strands of white hair on my head.
'Not sure what could have possibly caused this, but thankfully it's not a product of a destructive force as some of the other changes. I could get used to the color.'
"Do you mean to tell me you attempted to travel from Santalune City to Lumiose City relying solely by foot as a means of travel?"
I lifted an eyebrow towards myself in the mirror. "What do you mean?"
"My friend, there are other, more effective modes of transportation from town to town than by foot."
"I don't recall seeing any other means."
"Norman, if I am not mistaken, I recall you mentioning in our last interaction that your world was strikingly similar to ours in terms of technological advancements. Do you, by chance, know what a 'car' is?"
My fingers began to pinch the bridge of my nose as the irritating realization set in. "Unfortunately."
Another dumbed sigh came over the PokeGear's speakers. "Well then, no use in berating one's self."
"Agreed."
"Now then," Looker began, "I have only three last questions before other, more pressing matters are to be discussed."
I stopped pinching my nose, hand resting above the sink to support me hunching over it. "Very well."
"Pardon me if this is made out to be on the rude side, but why refrain from contacting me until this very moment?"
"I didn't know how to use a PokeGear. Sure, I have had devices similar, but never anything quite like this."
What came through the 'phone' next sounded like what could've been a thoughtful hum. "I see. In any sense, your answers do thankfully suffice to quell many of my worries. How have you been, young man?"
"That is… difficult to explain. To… well; I guess to put matters simply, even though I have spent less than two full weeks conscious in this world, my body has become too reminiscent of a punching bag, especially for my liking. Fenway and I have holed up in Odyssey Village for the night thanks to the others. We will be catching the first trip to Lumiose tomorrow."
"Others?"
I nodded. "I met two people - a younger boy in his mid to early teens and the head journalist for some newspaper; Kecleon Paper, was it? Something along those lines. Anyhow, I ended up agreeing to travel with the teen, Calem, since we both are heading to Lumiose. Coincidentally, he has business with the Pokemon professor."
"You have my commendations for making friends so quickly. I feel that I've heard of this young Calem somewhere else before, though…"
"To my knowledge, both of his parents are prominent pokemon battlers."
A snap of fingers cracked over the PokeGear.
"Oh my, that Calem? Son of Angela and Henry? My, that is a stroke of luck after all! It is good to have a stroke of luck after all this time, isn't it?" Looker laughed.
"Ironic, considering that the boy beat me in a battle the first time we met. Calem's on his way to challenge the gym circuit after he receives his pokemon from Professor Sycamore." I laughed as well, but much less joyfully than the Interpol detective.
A long stretch of silence sat suspended on the line.
…
…
"... are you in a secure environment currently?"
"I am."
An affirmative grunt grumbled through the speakers.
"I cannot possibly imagine what this experience must feel like for you."
"That makes two of us then." I commented.
Looker continued on. "By the airiness in your voice and slowed speech pattern, your fatigue is painfully evident. How are you holding up?"
I thought for a moment.
"Thankfully stable. Sticks and stones; although my arrival will be delayed. My feet have taken a beating and need to heal. A pinch of homesickness is slipped in there somewhere too." I blew out, cautious in my wording. There was no fallacy in my words, but I didn't want for the feelings to be misinterpreted.
'There really is a lot to take in and think about now. It's tedious to keep track of with everything happening so fast. Being truthful to myself is the trickiest task of all.'
"I understand that this situation may be an unfair and harrowing one, but you need not lose hope. Remaining steadfast in hardship is something that a person of your spirit must endure if they wish to be successful. I…" Looker trailed off. "I believe what I am meaning to ask is, what do you have planned next?"
I looked up from staring at the sink drain into the mirror; into my own eyes. The jade orbs gazing back held no twinkle in the moonlight.
"I..."
I'll figure something out.
I never knew there was such a trove of synonyms for "finger".
Fun facts aside, there are a few important updates.
First and foremost, my promised update did not come back in September. For that, I apologize for yet another late submission, but these chapters have become increasingly difficult to write due to how much time they take to plan, write, edit, and proof.
Secondly, this chapter is not nearly as up to snuff with the others, at least in my opinion. I always go back and reread my own work in my free time and try to correct little spelling errors that I see, but due to the massive amount of content I'm working with, sometimes entire incorrect sentences may slip under my nose if I am working later into the night on chapters. This chapter is no exception, and has a bountiful pile of mistakes I am working to fix. Expect for concurrent changes to take place as usual.
Third, updates will now be monthly as to better accommodate for my living situation and schedule. It is not something that I want to impose upon myself, but forcing myself to write upwards of 12,000 words in two weeks is absolute madness even with a relatively-free schedule.
And lastly, this chapter is dedicated to a friend of mine who supports both me personally and the series, going out of their way to be a great friend to me and everyone else they know. As of posting this, it is their birthday, and I wish you a happy birthday with this chapter.
Thank you for your patience, and I hope you enjoy the sixth chapter of FFF.
Until next time homies.
