Ms. Chloe was waiting for him when he returned from town, having dropped off his application to the still yawning Pelipper Mail attendant. Buried under a three-armed cardigan the girls had stitched for her last Christmas and sipping a cup of steaming tea, she was the picture of comfort, even while rocking in the splintered chair on the front porch. She waited to speak while he stood beside her, staring out at the forest around them.
"Care to fill an old woman in on your sudden interest in morning walks?"
"Maybe I just wanted some exercise?"
"And maybe I want some manners from you, young man."
Neither looked at the other, but a grin cracked Malic's facade, an expression matched by Ms. Chloe a second later. A silence sprouted between them, the porch slowly becoming awash with the dawn's light as the sun crested overtop the towering Steelwood trees.
"You're leaving, aren't you?"
Malic stiffened, his averted gaze doing nothing to prevent Ms. Chloe from reading him.
"Oh, don't seem so surprised. I might be old, but I'm not dumb. A bright young man like you outgrew this old place a long time ago, and rightly so. What have you decided on then? I always thought you'd make a great Pokecenter assistant if we could get you to crack a smile now and then."
Silence once again. The words were stuck in his throat, his lips refusing to move. How could he tell her, especially after she espoused the dangers and idiocy of trainers and their journeys for years? Malic could feel his stomach begin to churn. Still, she deserved to know, at the very least.
"I've applied…to be a trainer."
Malic refused to tear his eyes away from the forest. If he looked over and saw the heartbreak on her face, he wouldn't be able to follow through.
"Hmm, well, at least it's better than trying to peddle your artwork on the side of the road."
"What?" The word slipped by as he swung his gaze towards Ms. Chloe, his mind struggling to catch up. She held up a placating hand.
"Now, don't get huffy with me. Your art is good, but I don't know if it's good enough to make a living, at least not yet."
Where was the anger? The lecture? Malic felt like he had been hit with a Confuse Ray; nothing was making any sense.
"I'm not talking about my art. Why aren't you angry with me? What happened to all trainers being idiots, or how needlessly dangerous it is? Where's the lecture about choosing a proper career?"
Ms. Chloe took a long sip of her tea, weathering his tirade. "Oh, don't misunderstand me, dear; I still think it's foolish and dangerous," she said mildly. "But I've also watched you grow up. I know you, Malic. You're kind and resourceful, and you have a good head on your shoulders."
She stood, setting her teacup onto its saucer as she faced Malic. "You have the right to choose your way in life. If this is the path you feel called to, difficult as it might be, I won't stand in your way. I trust you, Malic. I trust you to make the decisions that are best for you. Just–"
She ducked her head, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Just make sure that you come back to us. Even if you fail or realize that life isn't right for you, know that you will always have a home here, despite what the laws say. My trust in you isn't conditional on your success. I believe in the person you are, Malic, and nothing will ever change that."
Malic could no longer make out Ms. Chloe, tears blurring the world into a mass of indistinct colors. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, holding her close like a child might a teddy bear. He didn't speak; rather, he couldn't for a long while. When he finally spoke, all he said was, "Thank you."
Malic pulled away first, swiping his hand across his eyes. Neither acknowledged the damp patch on Ms. Chloe's shoulder as Malic escorted her back into the building.
They both walked into the kitchen, and Malic helped prepare one of the last breakfasts he would have at the orphanage. Neither spoke, having said all that needed to be earlier, and instead were content to be in each other's company.
Soon enough, the pitter-patter of tiny feet announced the children's arrival. Malic noticed a few odd glances in his direction, particularly from Cherie, who sat beside him with an exaggerated, shocked expression. "I can't believe it! Malic, did you know you're at breakfast early?" She hissed out the last word like it was a swear of some kind. Malic lightly shoved her shoulder, causing her to break into giggles, a soft smile adorning his face.
Breakfast proceeded with the usual chaos: several impromptu food fights thwarted by a stern glance from Ms. Chloe, berry juice smeared on small hands, along with the incomprehensible babble of too-full mouths trying to carry on conversation. It was, all in all, a mess, and Malic wouldn't have traded it for the world.
One of his last breakfasts there ended all too quickly, a parade of children filing out of the dining room to wash up, leaving only Ms. Chloe, Malic, and an inquisitive Cherie. She drew herself up, setting her hands on her hips, a stance Malic had seen Ms. Chloe use countless times on unruly children. "Out with it, Malic, I know there's something up. There's no way you would just randomly show up early in the morning. Are you in trouble? Are you getting adopted? Did you get a girlfriend? No, that can't be it."
Malic waved his hands to halt the stream of questions thrown his way. "Calm down, Cherie, and what do you mean that can't be it? You think I can't get a girlfriend?" A snarky grin was his only reply, and he had to swallow the retort that rose to his lips. He needed to stay on track. Cherie deserved to know. "Cherie, there really isn't an easy way to say this, so I'll just come out with it. I'm leaving the orphanage–"
"Well, yes, Malic, one tends to leave an orphanage at some point. Did you finally accept Pat's offer? Are you gonna have to wear a little apron? I am going to take so many pictures."
"–and Grovewood."
Cherie froze, her mischievous grin fading. "Y-you're leaving? Like leaving leaving? You can't! Ms. Chloe, tell him he can't!"
She turned towards Ms. Chloe, who was already shaking her head. "I'm sorry, Cherie, but I can do nothing. He's almost eighteen; The region will not allow him to stay past that."
"But that doesn't mean he has to leave Grovewood! Why can't he stay here with us? With me?" Tears bloomed in her eyes as she moved her gaze between Malic and Ms. Chloe as if searching their faces for a joke.
Malic kneeled, drawing level with her. "Cherie, I know this is hard. Making this decision was the most difficult thing I've ever had to do. But there just isn't a future for me here in Grovewood. I mean, could you see me bagging groceries all day? With a smile?" He plastered on an exceedingly fake smile, which earned a watery giggle from her.
He brushed the tears off her cheeks and pulled her into a hug. "Besides, it isn't forever. I'll come back and visit when I can. Which, provided things work out, should be quite often."
She pulled her face from his shoulder, pulling the strands of hair stuck to her flushed face behind her ears. "What is it exactly you're going to be doing anyway? Please tell me it isn't art. I mean, you're good, terrific, but it doesn't seem too reliable."
"Not this again; she gets this from you." Malic threw a mock glare at Ms. Chloe, who smirked like the Meowth who got the cream. Cherie giggled again, and Malic turned back to her. "No, it's not art, though I'll keep drawing as a hobby. I'm actually going to be a Pokemon trainer."
"...what?"
After repeated assurances that yes, he was serious and no, this wasn't a joke, Cherie promised to keep it to herself, which meant that everyone knew by lunchtime. Throughout the next few days, the children hovered around Malic, reluctant to spend any less time with him than they had to. The afternoons were spent in the fields and the edges of the forest groves, playing games like tag and hide-and-seek until the children were too exhausted to put up their usual fight at bathtime.
Then, three days after Malic's future had become common knowledge at the orphanage, the message arrived. A ranger would be coming to escort Malic to Professor Birch's lab in New Bark Town the next day.
As Malic rested on his cot for his final night there, he couldn't help but slip out again to the roof. He climbed his way back up and looked up at the clear night sky that he had watched for so many nights prior. His gaze lingered on the brilliant stars and the looming full moon before raising an open hand towards the moon, clenching his fist in the air, covering the moon from his view. A small yawn escaped his lips, his eyes slowly drooping closed, the night sky disappearing as he wondered what new night skies he might see out there in the world.
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Arthur Dremble was a reasonably experienced ranger. At nineteen, he had been assigned to a station situated between Lilycove and Fortree fresh out of basic training, nestled deep in the dense, humid jungle.
His proficiency rapidly grew in response to the unforgiving environment and constant incursions of some of the more territorial Pokemon in the area. By age twenty-two, he had been promoted to senior Ranger for his natural talent in battling and relentless pursuit of self-improvement, which had caught the attention of the higher-ups in the Ranger Corps.
This led to him, at his current age of twenty-six, being on the fast track to becoming the successor to the northeastern regional commander. However, at the moment, he was still a regular member of the Corps, and his mission was to escort a potential trainer from Grovewood to Professor Birch's lab in Littleroot.
As they flew barely above the treetops, Gale's wings occasionally skimming across the leaves, Arthur was able to make out the clearing that held Grovewood, the rising sun illuminating the polished wood that composed the wooden wall surrounding the small community.
Gale gives a short shriek as she pushes herself with a mighty flap of her wings, propelling them the remaining distance in the blink of an eye. Arthur had long since adapted to the speed at which Gale could fly, more so out of necessity. Wild Pidgeot had been known to hit speeds of Mach 2 in short bursts. A trained one like Gale could maintain those speeds for much longer.
Gale banked down, seamlessly bleeding off speed as she came to a feather-light landing right in front of the address listed on the application. It was an older building compared to the others in the town; its dark wood dulled by time. A relatively large wooden statue of a Kangaskhan sat atop the arch as a small sign off to the side caught his eye. It read Grovewood Orphanage in carved faded words on a simple wooden plaque planted next to the entrance of the building.
Arthur pulled Gale's Pokeball from his pocket and returned her, pocketing the ball. He pulled the application from his other pocket, the name Malic printed in neat handwriting on the front of the page. Committing the name to memory, he refolded the paper and headed to the front door. Rapping his knuckles against the solid wood door three times, he waited as the sharp click of his hand on the door rang through the early morning stillness.
A few moments later, an older woman opened the door, her eyes peering at him from behind small circular spectacles. "How may I help you, young man?" She asks, her hand pushing her glasses higher up on the bridge of her nose.
Arthur cleared his throat, "Good morning, Ma'am. I'm Arthur Dremble, a ranger here to escort a person by the name of Malic to Littleroot town in response to his application to be a sponsored trainer of the Hoenn Pokemon League." His formal and stiff delivery was met with silence for a few moments before the woman chuckled slightly. A slight blush flashed across Arthur's face, but he kept his composure for the most part as the woman's laughter continued for a brief time.
As she calmed, she eyed him critically, her pleasant demeanor still present in her face. "Ah, I'm sorry for laughing at you young man. I'm Chloe Heathers, the matron of this orphanage. So, you're the one who's escorting Malic, huh?" He nodded, and she opened the door wider, waving him in.
As he stepped in, loud conversation and laughter greeted his ears as Ms. Chloe led him to a larger room, the majority of it occupied by a long wooden table, and the few dozen children sat around it. As he entered the room, the children paused, turning in their chairs to look at him.
The gleaming eyes of children focused on him, staring him down for a moment that seemed to stretch for hours. Arthur blinked, and they all seemed to teleport from their chairs into a ring around him, a clamor of questions ringing through the room. "A ranger!? So cool!" "Do you have Pokemon!?" "Can we see?" "Will you play with us?" Arthur was quickly overwhelmed by them, his dazed attempts to answer overrun by a flood of new questions or comments.
Ms. Chloe smiled bemusedly from the doorway, watching as the childish exuberance quickly evaporated the formal exterior of the ranger, rendering him a flustered and confused mess. She eventually called the children off, much to their expressed disappointment, and led them outside while being tailed by an exhausted ranger. "Terribly sorry for that, Arthur. We don't get many visitors here, and you having Pokemon riled them up more than usual."
Arthur stared at the laughing and screaming children running around in the field, and a small smile formed on his lips. "That's alright, Ma'am, I didn't mind. Although, I can't help but notice they seem quite young. Would you mind pointing out Malic to me?" He rested his back against the wall, crossing his arms as he sighed in relief, grateful for the building's shadow.
Ms. Chloe gave a weary chuckle as she, too, stood in the wall's shadow. "I'm afraid finding Malic won't be that easy, Arthur. He has the habit of being in the most inconvenient places for people to find him. I honestly haven't the faintest idea where he might be now."
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Little did they know that Malic, awakened for the second time today, listened from his perch on the roof above their heads. 'So, he's my escort.' Malic languidly thought as he stared out across the field of swaying grass and laughing children, the sunlight transforming the grass into shimmering ripples of gold as the wind danced through it. He breathed in deeply, taking in the sight of his home, his family, for one last time before being forced out into the world.
What he was doing might have been childish, hiding away from the ranger, but he wanted, no, he needed to see this view one last time. To burn this place of memories and happiness into his mind. Malic knew that it would be a long time before he could return, and by then, the world would have changed him. He would no longer be the Malic of Grovewood orphanage but instead a trainer of the Hoenn league…at least, that was the hope.
He stood up and clambered back into his room, carefully securing the latch behind him. He grabbed his bag, an older brown leather bag with a wide, padded strap that crossed his chest, going over his right shoulder and connecting to the bottom of the bag by his left hip. The slim, one-pocket design of the pack made it rest flush against his body, giving it a streamlined look. Despite its relatively small size, the pack would carry everything he needed in a few specially-made Devon Corp storage containers. Each was a square gray box that fits comfortably in the palm of his hand, a black diamond button in the center of one of the sides.
They possessed similar functions as Pokeballs, able to absorb and store inanimate objects like tents, clothing, medicine, and pretty much everything else a trainer could need. The amount of space each unit possesses varies in price, with the cheapest ones holding about 20lbs and the most expensive holding up to 500lbs. Malic's possessions, consisting of a few pairs of clothes, his art supplies, and the small amount of berries Ms. Chloe gifted him, only occupied 1 of the cheap 20 lb holding units, leaving him with another available for use. He picked up the bag, and underneath was a brown paper-wrapped package with a small note.
Curious, he shrugged the bag off to the side and plucked the note off the package.
Malic,
While I can't give you money for your journey, I can at least ensure you don't grow cold. This was my husband's, and I'm sure he would be proud this old thing can be of use once again.
Malic tucked the note into a side pocket of his bag and began to open the package. The paper parted to reveal a folded blue leather duster jacket. The smooth Tauros leather exterior was soft and dotted with bronze buttons lining one side, shining slightly in the dim light. The inside was a simple brown cloth lining, holding Mareep fleece inside for insulation and comfort. Malic slipped it on, feeling the slight but comforting weight of the jacket settle on his shoulders, the hem falling about mid-way down his calf.
He slid his bag back on, adjusting the strap to rest comfortably on his shoulder while ensuring the bag lay flat against his back. Finally prepared, Malic descended the stairs to the first-floor hallway and headed towards the door leading out back to the field. He pauses for a few moments just before the door's threshold, his hand resting on the handle. Before any doubts could seep into his mind, he took a deep breath and opened the door, stepping out into the bright morning sun.
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The sudden opening of the door a few feet to the side of Arthur had his body tensing, his hand dropping down to the Pokeball at his waist. His body was off the wall, slightly hunched, prepared to run or fight at a moment's notice. His eyes darted towards the source of the sudden noise, only to see a red-headed teen step out of the doorway, his cyan eyes meeting Arthur with a level gaze.
Arthur forced his body to relax as Ms. Chloe spoke up from her spot in the shade, "Ah, Malic! Perfect timing, we were just talking about you." Arthur studied the now-named Malic a bit closer.
He was fairly tall, only a few inches shorter than himself, with a slender build and an almost girlish face. Though it was hard to tell with the long duster hanging off his shoulders, the worn clothing that peeked out spoke to a life of hand-me-downs and repairs, which fit with him being an orphan. But what caught Arthur's attention the most was the lax posture, and the almost bored stare Malic directed his way. It reminded him of some of the more powerful wild Pokémon he had encountered, a total surety in their strength. Of course, it was much less intimidating coming from a teenager without a Pokémon, but the resemblance was worth noting.
Arthur stepped forward and extended his right hand, "I'm Arthur Dremble, a Ranger sent to safely escort you to Professor Birch's lab for the PWO trainer recruitment program. Are you prepared to leave?" Malic's eyes hardened at the mention of leaving for a moment before regressing back into the seemingly default bored expression on his face. Malic reached forward and grasped Arthur's hand, the firm pressure surprising Arthur momentarily.
Malic then turns to Ms. Chloe, who steps forward and tightly hugs him. This prompted the children to rush in, each taking a turn hugging Malic. There were quite a few who burst into tears and one or two who directed a pouting glare in Arthur's direction. The procession of hugs continued for a few minutes, and Arthur awkwardly waited to the side, eager to get on the way but unwilling to interrupt the moment he was witnessing. Eventually, the last pair separated, an older girl tucked into Ms. Chloe's side with a splotchy red face.
Malic stepped away from the group of bawling children and walked towards Arthur. "Ready to go now?" Arthur asked as he reached down to his belt, enlarging Gale's Pokeball with a press of the button. The teen nodded, still having not spoken to Arthur, and Arthur tossed the Pokeball into the air. The Pokeball opened in midair, and a burst of white light ejected from it, pushing the Pokeball back in the air toward Arthur's waiting hand. The light coalesced into Gale, who let out a shrill shriek as she stretched her wings out, sending a short gust of wind careening into Arthur and Malic that rustled their hair and clothing. Gale's sharp eyes caught sight of Malic standing next to Arthur, and she hopped forward to be face-to-face with the boy. They stared at each other, the Pokémon's piercing black eyes facing directly into Malic's, until Gale chirped and gently poked his nose with her beak.
Malic blinked in surprise as Gale seemed to nod to herself and offered her back to Arthur and Malic, lowering her body and extending her wing forward to let them climb on. Arthur smoothly scaled up her back, settling himself in the leather saddle before extending a hand to Malic. He hesitated momentarily, then scrambled on, his climb not nearly as smooth as Arthur's. He caught Ms. Chloe and the children around her waving out of the corner of his eye, but before he could return the gesture, a sudden rush of wind forced his eyes closed.
Malic felt himself be shot into the sky, the wind whistling in his ears, his arms grasping the jacket of Arthur in front of him. He cracks open an eye wearily as the wind seems to settle, only for his eyes to open wide as he stares down at his home. The shining rooftops and the swaying treetops all could be seen at once. He slowly turned his head, stunned as he saw the ocean, a glimmering sheet of blue stretching well out to the horizon, the small white forms of Wingull and Pelipper diving into the water.
In front of him, Malic could see a fast-approaching clearing in the forest, the angular shapes of houses and buildings in stark contrast with the surrounding greenery. As they got closer, the vague shapes sharpened into brick buildings, tiny slivers became dirt roads and paths, and small movements were revealed to be people walking around. A faint murmur in the wind gradually became louder as they fast approached what Malic recognized as Littleroot Town and the starting point for his new life.