Incense of Energy Root: stimulated the mind, bringing thought quicker and greater. Scent of Razz: calmed the racing mind, quelling stresses and woes. Singing bowls: brought the mind even further into calm, allowing one to better enter into zen. All was set up for a proper session of meditation. Taking a deep breath in as he levitated off the floor, Alakazam closed his eyes, allowing the world around him to recede. The singing of the bowls around him became little more than a din in the infinite around him, the chatter outside blurred until it was indiscernible from this din, and the gentle breeze blowing through the psychic's shop was acknowledged, then subsumed into the everything. All was one, and Alakazam felt tiny, yet insurmountable. A mind in a void, dwarfed yet in harmony. Nothing but him, the infinite... and another presence?
The ringing of the bowls stopped as Alakazam's telekinesis was withdrawn, the old orbmaker giving a sigh. His eyes flicked open as he floated down to the floor and walked over to the door, gently opening it.
"Young Oshawott," he blinked before his visitor could even come into full view.
Beck opened his mouth to speak, though his words caught in his throat as the psychic addressed him. What was he doing? Talking to a psychic, so soon after one nearly killed him? He knew it was irrational, but... damn it, that fear was still there. Maybe this was a bad idea. He could come back after the trip, maybe he should just—
"Oshawott?" Alakazam cocked his head.
"Er... h-hey," Beck coughed, gulping hard as he tried to think of what to even say. Before he could get far on that, however, Alakazam blinked and held up a finger.
"You are here to request my services regarding amnesia, am I correct?" he asked. Beck winced a bit, his last opportunity to turn back fleeting as he gave a hesitant nod. He'd thought a night was plenty of time to steel his nerves, though clearly that steel was either rusted or bought cheap— likely the latter, knowing himself. Stupid piece of shit.
Alakazam eyed Beck for a moment before quietly gesturing him inside. Taking a breath, the Oshawott waddled inside, scrunching up his nose to spare himself the overwhelming scent of incense as he took a look around. Much the same as the last time he had visited here, the shop was unusual, to say the least: the ceiling was draped in cloths and had a few too many dreamcatchers hanging from it, eccentric merchandise glimmered enticingly on the neatly arranged tables and shelves, and what Beck could only guess were mantras or spells were carved into the walls in a variety of strange languages (he was fairly sure he could spot Alphic and Hisuian Creole among them, at least). What was different, though, was that the curtain in the back of the room was drawn, revealing a quaint little room with little more than a cushion, a crystal ball, and some singing bowls and candles all arranged in a circle. Beck's tail flicked— he was fairly sure he knew what that was for.
"...er, a-awight, sir. N-nah tehl, plees," he managed out, managing to look up at the psychic's head. As Alakazam started to rummage through his supplies, he glanced back down at him.
"Confidentiality is of priority, young one," he reassured. "And of course, even disregarding that, I would not wish to go against the wishes of one of your type."
Beck's ears drooped. "Whah?" he asked. Alakazam simply gave a blink.
"I would assume that if you have not revealed your humanity after two moons, you would not wish for me to do so for you now. Now, I do believe I left the ginseng here," he murmured casually as he returned to his rummaging. Beck felt a shiver run down his spine as his eyes widened.
"Wh-what?! Nah, nah, am..." he tried, his words quickly catching in his throat. "...h-haw yeh knaw?"
"Your superego, for lack of a better term," Alakazam said matter-of-factly as he started collecting herbs. "A normal feral does not develop a complex conscience so quickly. And while your internal monologue is little more than feral noise, it is organized far too well. And with both of these in consideration... well. I have seen it once before. Yet rest assured— your secret lies safe with me."
Beck really wanted to believe him. Yet even just the thought of another psychic poking through his brain and scooping out his secrets... no, no. Gods, he was just overreacting.
'...wouldn't be the first time, huh...'
With a bundle of various herbs floating next to him, Alakazam gestured Beck towards that cushion. "Do sit. Calm your mind while I prepare the incense," he nodded gently. Beck's lip pursed, though he obeyed, stepping over the unlit candles and taking a seat, his paws folded in his lap.
…
...was he really ready? For... any of this?
That question once again weighed on the Oshawott as he watched the psychic begin preparing his handful of herbs, taking a deep breath to steel himself for what was to come.
Adventurer's Log
4th of Solgaleo's Moon, 1540 Post-Ruinam
Oh, boy, another day, another Poké. Rise and shine, Arden, wake up and smell the ashes.
So first things first, it's the 4th of the seventh today. Happy fucking Revolution Day. God and everyone else bless Unova and everything, yay.
Or wait, it's a lunar calendar, is it the same day? For all we know it passed us by two weeks ago and no one cared. Though I guess if we're taking simple conversion into account then we could feasibly
What the fuck am I even talking about anymore? Ugh back to the point.
The dog still hasn't said dogshit and the old man's still in the rock, won't talk to me. I don't know why I'm so worked up over this, I know I'm supposed to do what literally every other mon in this guild would do, just let bygones be bygones, accept the world's still kinda shit, and go and suck someone's dick (I don't know depends on who's laughing at you) but I can't let this rest. Not like I don't feel like it, I cannot. I tried. I'm going to literally explode if I try to put this off. I'm not even sure what in particular's eating me anymore, it's just a big blob of... bad.
Don't know if I should even be worried. The little gremlin on my shoulder keeps saying I'm overthinking everything, complaining about nothing. But gods.
I have to do something fucking something
...yeah, more of the same. Guess I'll be back tomorrow, see if I've physically exploded again by then.
Arden blew the loose charcoal dust off the journal page, giving a heavy sigh as he slammed the book shut. The single candle flame lighting the angry room flickered dim warm light onto the walls and the closed door, providing an appropriate ambience for the Quilava as he stared at the floor in thought.
As he sat there, a quiet knock sounded on the door. "Hey... you doing alright?" May's voice sounded gently through the wood.
"I'm just. Writing. I don't know, am I not allowed to write?" Arden snapped.
"...you are, just. Yeah. I'll bring dinner up if you're hungry, leave it out here for you," May murmured, her footsteps slowly starting to retreat.
"...I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Arden cringed to himself. "I'd... like that. I don't know, I just need space. Time. You know, to process that whole expedition. Figure out what the fuck even was anything there."
May's footfalls stopped, the outside quiet for a bit before the door creaked open a crack. Arden couldn't help but turn to look at the Leafeon's amber eye peeking inside. "Hey, I get it. It's all a lot, and there's nothing wrong with being stressed about it. I'm stressed too. But Ardie? Just please remember, I'm here for you. We've gotten through worse together, you've come back from way darker, we'll do it again," she reassured him.
Arden stared at May through the crack before giving a little nod. "...thank you, man, really. Means a lot... I'm sorry for holing up in here again, acting like I'm building a fuckin' bomb up here."
"Hey, come on, we have this for a reason, you know? Really, I don't judge. I mean, you think we're gonna build a whole dedicated angry room and... not use it as a safe space, just use it as a closet?" May cracked a little smile.
"Point taken."
"Right... yell if there's anything I can do for you, alright? I'll leave you to it."
"Course. Love you, Mayday. ...uh, platonically."
"Pfft. Ah, yes. Love you too, Ardie, platonically," May smiled, snaking a vine through the crack to rest on Arden's paw briefly before starting back downstairs. There was a moment of hesitation as she retreated, though before she could begin descending the door creaked open, grabbing the Leafeon's attention. Though his eyes had developed bags in the last couple of weeks, May could still see that telltale spark dancing in them. He had an idea, most certainly stupidly risky, and he was debating whether to go through with it.
"You know. I think I can think of something I could use a bit of help with," he said. May's ears flattened a bit as she cocked her head.
"What's that?" she asked, already dreading the answer. Looking out a window to the Guild campus, Arden put a paw on his chin as he began running strategies and scenarios over in his head.
"How much trouble would it be to break us into the records office?"
It hadn't been this quiet in Phoenix Command in years.
What had happened at the Caves of Being was still fresh on the entire League's minds, and they knew full well that if the world wasn't watching them before, it certainly was now. The main hall which the rest of the underground complex branched out from was all but deserted, the usual crowd either out on missions, training for them, or in briefing, though even now footsteps echoed along the arched stone walls.
Under the stoic gaze of the bronze statue once perched atop the Capitol in Vertress, a Linoone stomped down the staircase leading to the lower levels, eye twitching in his spur-of-the-moment flash of anger. For Cooper of Littora Village, enough was enough. One way or another, the only way he would be able to get any sort of peace was in sublevel three, hallway to the left, first door to the right.
"Xatu. Xatu!" the Linoone demanded as he started into the executive dorms. Taking a sharp right turn, he stopped himself to look up at the wooden door. Canned piano music was ringing from inside, and judging by how fast the tempo was, its player was not in a good mood. A moment of clarity set in as the anger Cooper felt was challenged by a stab of apprehension, his eyes drifting to the walls. There were enough cracks, chips, and faint rust-red stains too persistent for the cleaners to make the rodent briefly second-guess himself, though as his gaze traveled up to the ceiling, he heard the sound in his mind again, clear as day.
The crack of bones, followed by his son's bloodcurdling, agonized screaming...
Before he quite knew what he was doing, Cooper had stood up on his hinds, hot rage pulling his paw back to bang on the door—
"NononoNONO, Linoone!" rang out before the rodent was tackled to the ground.
Cooper let out a grunt, shooting up a glare at his assailant only to withdraw it as he met the frantic eyes of Executive Archeops. "Hah... wut in distortion's wrong with ya?" he demanded.
"What's wrong with me? You almost barged in on...!" Archeops panted breathlessly.
"He almost killed mah kid, fer Pichu's sake!" Cooper retorted. "N wut's all this Tauroshit he's been keepin' from us? You heard him back in the caves, my tail he's from the monasteries!"
"So what? You're just gonna walk in?"
"Naw, naw, I..." the Linoone hesitated. His avian peer waited a moment before heaving a heavy sigh.
"Look. I get it. Xatu can be... a lot. But that doesn't give you an excuse to be an idiot. If you're going to talk to him, well. I'll go in with you," he said. Cooper seized up a bit.
"Archeops. Really, there's no need to git yer neck snapped for this," he said.
"I'll be fine. We have... history together," Archeops pursed his beak. "After me."
As the Archeops started for the door, Cooper stared after, his head finally clear enough to begin demanding what he was thinking in doing this. It was too little too late, of course, so with a quick prayer to Kyogre he managed to unroot his paws from the floor and follow his peer as he cracked open the door. The two didn't dare to move an inch out of place as they got a look at Xatu, the bird pounding passionately at the piano keys and seemingly disregarding the two Pokémon.
"I believe I made it quite clear that I am not to be interrupted," he said sternly as the song quieted down. Archeops glanced at Cooper before swallowing and continuing.
"Kit. Please, mon, come on. I'm sure you felt Coop here from all the way in here, the mon needs answers. He's been nothing but loyal and hardworking for this League since the war, and you... well, saw what happened to his kid, you know. Distortion, I need some answers. You've never told me the whole story," he said. Xatu didn't flinch, only continuing to play aggressively.
A moment passed, however, before the tempo of the piece began to slow, the pounding ragtime piece becoming a slower waltz as the totem bird soon nodded. Archeops and Cooper let out breaths they hadn't known they were holding and cautiously made their way in, the Linoone glancing around. This was a first for him, he'd never been this far into the bird's room. It was somewhat barebones, with little more than a perch, a couple shelves of assorted trinkets, and the old piano in the center of the room. The out-of-tune instrument continued to plink as Archeops took a seat, Cooper hesitantly following suit as he watched both of them. Silence hung in the air for a moment before Cooper managed to clear his throat.
"So... with all you were sayin' before you nearly killed... before evrything. You've... been hidin' somethin' from us, haven't ya? That yer a human."
Archeops frowned a bit, watching Xatu carefully as the executive stayed with his back to them. Before long, though, he finally turned his head to look at the two, the piano still playing.
"To put it simply, yes," he nodded. "I did not begin as a Natu. I was indeed a human. I began my tale under the same sun, yet in a world alien. To put it more thoroughly... is more complicated."
Cooper's mouth opened, the rodent struggling to even choose which question to ask first.
"...if you've been... that the whole time, why in distortion have you been eggin' us on 'bout findin' a human when you...?" he eventually settled on one.
Xatu simply blinked and returned his gaze to the piano. "I told you. It is a rather complex affair to put simply," he said.
"Ah don give a damn, I got all day; wutever you've been keepin' from us, cough it up!" Cooper demanded.
"Linoone..." Archeops warned, stepping back a couple paces. As the two watched, though, Xatu's waltz began to slow once more, becoming a gentle sonata as he blinked and hung his head.
"...hmf. So be it," he said. Before Cooper could say anything else, he felt something worm into his mind. Not a psychic attack, no. A connection. Xatu evidently had something he wanted him to see.
And with that, Cooper felt his mind open.
'This was a mistake this was a mistake this was a mistake—'
The more incense Alakazam lit up in front of me, the more my brain screamed at me to just cut my losses and leave. I could come back later, right? Maybe my time would be better spent preparing for the roadtrip, maybe my memories really didn't have anything important, maybe—
"Oshawott. I know it is intimidating; it will be alright. I will take the utmost care in the process," Alakazam said, not looking up from his preparations. "Just relax, and tell me when you are ready."
"Y-yeah, yeah," I nodded, glancing towards the door one last time as the psychic closed the curtain to block out the light. I... could still tap out. I could just get up and leave, maybe...
...no. No, I'd seen too much, I had too many questions. I had to know.
"...am rehdy," I nodded.
"Very good," Alakazam said. "Now. Sit down, and close your eyes. Withdraw into yourself, tune out the world, as though all you feel is your being floating in the infinite expanse of your mind."
I did as instructed, taking a deep breath as I tried to bury my nerves. One by one, I tried to tune out the sounds around me into a meditative blur: the wind outside, the fishermon at work, the sound of Alakazam's breathing, the flicker of the candles, my own beating heart...
Calm. Calm. Just stay calm...
"...now," Alakazam's voice reverberated through my mind. "We are almost there. Take an echo of memory, and hold onto it. The more vivid, the easier it will be for the process."
I... okay. An echo. I could do that... where would I even start, though? What would count as vivid? Was I overthinking this? As I scrounged my mind for something that'd fit the description, something pulled me ever so slightly from the zone. In my daze, my paw nubs had started flexing, as if playing my banjo. ...wait, banjo...
...home, home again; I like to be here when I can...
I felt Alakazam snag at something locked in my subconscious.
When I come home cold and tired, it's good to warm my bones beside the fire...
...this was it. I could feel the metaphorical lightbulb in my head starting to flicker. I felt myself falling into my mind as something came flooding back.
Far away, across the field, the tolling of the iron bell calls the faithful to their knees to hear the softly spoken magic spell...
…
I felt like something should have been happening by now. Why wasn't anything happening? I opened my eyes to ask what I'd done wrong—
Fuck—!
I jumped back in shock; mentally, at least. Some... thing stared back at me. Pale, hairless skin, thin bony build, wearing clothes of all things... wait. Waitwait. Was... that a human?
...yeah, no question. That was a human, my memory said so. Had I actually forgotten what humans looked like? Like, sure, I knew the general body shape, but... that was a human? I'd... been expecting something else. I wasn't sure what, but regardless I felt both underwhelmed and overwhelmed at once, however that worked.
"...passable," the old man sitting before me nodded, giving a grin through his grayed beard. I felt my own face smirk, my body acting of its own volition as it rested a banjo in its lap. Oh Arceus I had legs...
"Really? Th-that's it, passable?" I chuckled.
"Ah, yknow. Might be in a better mood next time, who knows. It's all in God's hands," the old man laid back.
"Ah, yes, of course," I rolled my eyes. As my memory's self sat back to rest, I took a look around, metaphorically quivering. I didn't know what to make of this all. The building seemed like any other, though more well-built, more advanced in its production, more permanent. Strange objects I began to vaguely recognize were littered about: that was... yeah, that was the old man's six-string from before... something. Electric, too, he'd learned how to play on that, and he'd apparently taught me. That was the furnace, like every house had for warmth. That was a... what was it called? It shot bullets, like way faster than a Bullet Seed could, it was really really good at killing things— wait, wait, a shotgun. He had a shotgun just leaned up against the wall. Okay. Anyways... that was the radio, a bulky thing but something told me it was reliable. It was buzzing static at the moment; not that I could tell what it was, I wasn't focused on it, so it'd all have just flown over my head. Good to know I never could multitask even way back when...
"Hey, Mr. Van Virbank?" my body asked. "Been wondering on something. Nothing too pressing, but you know."
"Yeah? Go ahead," the old man sniffed.
"Well. I could probably take Saturday to help the hunting party," I began.
"No," Mr. Van Virbank quickly said.
"Nono, hear me out. I don't do anything on Saturday anyways, I don't have my shift then. I could be doing something for the town," I continued.
"Look—"
"Please. I can hunt, I've shot a few Minccinoes. I can learn as I go. Hell, you'll have my back. I dunno, I can't just keep sitting around on my ass while everyone else is trying to keep us alive. Look at Dad, he—"
"Samuel Beckham Blair," Mr. Van Virbank demanded, looking at me with a suddenly intense gaze. "I... look, kid. I get it, I do. You're doing plenty, alright? Your pop's done what he's done, this is your life. My dad nearly got his brains blown out on Cinnabar Beach. Twice. Does that mean I gotta, I don't know, go fight one of the gangs up in Blacktown to get even?"
"No, no, of course not. But that was the eighties, back before shit hit the fan, things are different now—"
"You still have to remember that you're only human. Sometimes you can't do everything, and that's alright. Cut yourself some slack from time to time. Working the telegraph line's a damn fine job anyways, I'd say you're doing plenty."
"...I guess," a sigh escaped my mouth.
"...hey. Samuel. It's dangerous out there, is all. I just don't want you getting mauled or something. Not to say cowering's the right call, but Pokémon are Pokémon. Even if they aren't feral, even if they're our partners, it's still too easy to lose an arm out there. You get what I'm saying?"
My body hesitated before nodding, pursing his lips as I watched through his eyes. Even as my past self moped, I couldn't help but wince guiltily as I looked into the old-timer's eyes, brushing a mental paw over where my Zubat scars would have been.
Considering how I'd ended up an Oshawott in the first place, I... ...fuck...
The radio abruptly buzzed to life behind Mr. Van Virbank, the static being drowned out by a chipper voice. "Wake up, wake up, rise and shine, all you beautiful people! It is seven AM sharp on the clock, and you are listening to Radio Striaton West! It is the twentieth of February in the year of our Lord two-thousand and sixty, and it's looking to be a beautiful day out there, the neighbors say clear skies all around! Perfect to knock out your work, take your Pokémon out, maybe have a nice afternoon off? I don't know, I ain't your mom. Whatever the case, you know who to tune that there knob to!"
A moment of silence hung in the air before Mr. Van Virbank pushed himself up with some difficulty. "Well. Think that's your cue there. We'll keep working on House of the Rising Sun next week, maybe I can let you try a song or two on the Hendrix?"
"Yeah. Yeah, uh, that sounds good," I watched myself nod.
"Great. I'll see you when I see you. If I haven't fuckin' croaked by then, heh," the old man smirked as I picked up my banjo. Wait, but... I couldn't just leave now, it didn't feel right. I'd clearly known this guy for a good while, and I'd somehow gone and failed him. I didn't know how, but... couldn't I just learn more? Have another moment with him? Maybe do some psychic voodoo magic to actually talk with him with my own voice? I couldn't just—
The door closed behind me as I looked back, regret bubbling up as my body continued forth into whatever else I'd left behind.
"This has to be the stupidest thing you've ever done," May sighed through her teeth.
"I find that offensive. You're discounting fifteen hard-earned years of stupid shit," Arden shot back. Despite his words, May perhaps had a point. With the morning rush in full swing around them, it was certainly unusual for Team Apex to be just sitting idly in the middle of the central plaza just staring at the records building. Every puzzled look sent a pang of dread through May's soul, though it was clear that her partner wasn't quite as ready to fold.
"Look, just. There's better ways to do this," May hissed.
"Yeah, what, request everything on the expedition, wait five, six moons for it? As far as I know we might not have that time," Arden said.
"I guess, but... I don't think I can do this. You're going to get caught, and Mesprit have mercy when you do."
"You can't? Oh, yeah, sure, well—" Arden began, though immediately stopped himself. He'd managed to catch some snide comment between his teeth, just barely stopping it from leaving his mouth as his memory scolded him for even thinking of bringing it up.
"They... it was... like I wasn't their daughter. Everything's just broken. Jasmine, she... I just want to..."
"Nononono, May. It's over now..."
The Quilava stared into that wounded, terrified little Eevee's eyes, and the deeply concerned gaze of the (dare he say it) beautiful Leafeon she had become stared back. He was quiet a bit before he sucked in a breath. "It's gonna be alright. Promise. I know what I'm doing."
May hung her head, considering a moment before Arden's ears pricked up.
"—and remember, what do you always do at the bottom of every document we keep in there?" Cinccino asked her assistant in training as she strolled out of the records building. She was answered by said assistant violently slamming her bureaucratic stamp into the wall, leaving it stuck at least six inches in there.
"Kill it!"the Tinkatuff boomed, psychotic grin plastered on her face.
"Very good! Now, that should be it for the day, let's go get your hammer now, and we can work on your restraint tomorrow..." Cinccino smiled proudly and patted her student's hair, not noticing as Arden streaked behind her and caught the door before it could close on him. Giving a pant of relief, he glanced to May as if to signal to her that it was now or never. The Leafeon stared after him, gritting her teeth before she took a few wary glances around the plaza, and seeing most eyes were on the newsboard behind her, reluctantly trotted after Arden.
"Right. Rightright. Great. So we have, what, an hour or two before she comes back and we've gotta bounce? Plenty of time," Arden wiped his forehead, stepping over the barrels and boxes in storage.
"Plenty of time my ass," May groaned.
"I know, I know, I owe you," Arden nodded. Like he still owed her for Greedent's Rebellion.
"Okay, we take the guards out on three. Trust me, it'll be fine. They won't even notice he's gone."
...and Manaphy, he guessed.
"Look, Ardie, I'll just. Not let this slip, do my best you impression, and no one has to know you're stuck as a Leafeon lady for however long."
And the Almost-a-Disaster of Point Forest...
"We run in, poke the Moss Rock, and run back out. Easy hour or two. We've got plenty of orbs. You're being neurotic."
…and the Battle of Gazette Heights…
"Napoleon would be proud, my ass. Look, the back assault up the hill there's way too small…"
...okay, yeah. He really needed to make a list.
Whatever the case, he could still see that same apprehension in his partner's step as he climbed up the ladder to the second floor, where he was met with a locked door. He pursed his lips and waited on May. "All yours, Mayday..."
"Arden... you know I don't like doing this kind of shit."
"I... look, I know, I'm sorry. There's... probably a spare key in there. Only time you've gotta do it. It's this or figure out how to put a door back on its hinges in an hour..."
"...we could. We've done it before."
"That was three hours."
"..."
...click. May's vines slid out of the lock as the door creaked open, the Leafeon taking a deep breath and staring off a moment.
"...May. Hey," Arden put a paw on her shoulder, though all this did was make her jolt violently and shoot him a dirty look before proceeding a tad too quickly. The Quilava watched her go a bit before following, his face neutral but his mind already yelling at him. That was the Contempt. Just a level above the Look. He was treading dangerous ground, he knew that much. He was all too familiar with it.
…
"For fuck's sake, mom! I'm sixteen years old, please just quit talking to me like I'm a goddamn piss baby for five seconds! ...yeah? You think so? Well, maybe I'm just the latest in the big line of failures this family is, you ever thought about that, huh?!" And he stormed off.
That was the last time he ever spoke to them.
…
Doing his best to bury the memory, Arden gritted his teeth to regard his surroundings, quietly swearing to himself. The two were met with walls of scrolls, rising at least ten feet overhead; far more than Arden had been anticipating. This... could be more difficult than he had thought.
But he'd already come this far.
Pulling the spare key off the wall, he squinted at the labels, growling as he started to realize just what Cinccino meant when she liked to say 'organized chaos.'
"...I start on this side, you can start on the other. Or just... go back to the base," he said.
"The team sticks together, right?" May responded, pulling a scroll from its slot. Arden just stared after her before doing the same, only half-reading the scroll as he unrolled it.
'Fuck. Fuck, fuck, gods damn it, you idiot. She's pissed, you heard that. You've fucked it. Incredible. Everything she's done for you, and you still mop the floor with her...'
Finding the tome wasn't what he was looking for, he stuck it back, though paused as he realized how fast he was breathing. Head was spinning. Felt like he needed to get out now and physically disappear for the next few days.
Shit. Panic attack... no. No. He could hold it in. He couldn't drop this onto May on top of everything, not now. Nothing was even that wrong, was it? He was just being a wuss again.
Everything was fine.
Everything was fine.
Everything was fine.
Everything was fine.
Everything was fine.
…
As he kept up his work, May paused to look over at him. She could hear his ragged breathing, his sparking vents. She watched him a moment before quietly padding over to sit and scour the archives next to him. At the very least, she could let him know she was here. And... just keep a neutral face. If he saw he'd worried her... she couldn't let that happen to him again.
Arden had already helped her so much. But when would he let himself be helped, though...?
Cooper had heard of powerful psychics being able to plant images in Pokémon's heads, but he had never thought he would be on the receiving end. And yet there Xatu stood, ever so casually doing just that. As of right now, there was little for his mind's eye to behold, but it was evident that would be changing soon as Xatu took a breath.
"There once was a boy in a distant land. He lived in a small town, one much like every other, and he wished for naught in this simple life. He lived happily. And yet his land was one ruled by the ambitious yet arrogant, those who only wanted more. And in the prime of the boy's life, his nation took up arms, and the world descended into war," he said, playing a slow tune on his piano. "The boy, naive as he was, chose to rise to the occasion and defend his country's honor."
Cooper raised an eyebrow. He thought he'd heard something about this in the human history seminars. Something about a Great War between... what was it, Kanto, Johto, Habanero? He was never the best when it came to these sorts of details. "Aight, ancient history. Got that. Wut's that gotta do with anything?" he inquired, to which Archeops winced.
"I am getting to that," Xatu bit back with subtle venom in his voice. "...despite the horrors he saw, he never once doubted the honor of his comrades, his nation, his race. Amidst the terror, empathy and humanity never fleeted from those forced against one another. And yet... there came a day that would forever alter the boy's fate."
Cooper's eyes were abruptly drawn to Xatu's. With the bird's intense gaze holding his captive, the mental images being shown began to manifest more clearly. "On a day stained by the blood of countless, a weapon was being constructed. Born of desperation, made in an effort to finally tame the world of Pokémon. And yet... from what I have learned? That world cannot be tamed."
A wave of information pounded the Linoone's mind. Cinnabar. September 1, 1982. Around his mind's eye, soldiers charged from their fortifications into the heat of battle. ...no, that wasn't right. They were running away. A mansion in the distance was ablaze, some... thing blasting from the roof. "The ancient sources call it Mewtwo. A Pokémon designed for battle, to be as intelligent as a human, yet still with all the savage instinct of a Pokémon. And the boy was within its sights when it tore free and began to kill without mercy."
"The lines are falling apart, sir! The Johtonese are going to swarm us if we don't—"
"To distortion with the lines! What in the gods' names is that thing?!"
"H-hail Mary, full of grace..."
"Help us! Someone help us!"
"Mama...! Mama!"
As the humans screamed in his head in alien speak only bridged by Xatu's psyche, Cooper could see nothing but chaos, dust, and bodies as men fled, Kanto's chrysanthemum standard splayed pathetically on the ground as the abomination rampaged. The booms of artillery fire and Pokémon attacks from the encroaching Johtonese grew closer and closer as the humans around him dropped everything and ran for their lives. He could only stare in mute horror, only breaking his blank stare at Xatu's timesight to look at Archeops for some sort of rapport. It was evident he'd seen it all before.
"And yet even in the most desperate of situations, the boy saw it fit to stand his ground. It did not feel right to abandon his place, for these were the men and women who he had come to know as friends. Brothers and sisters. And his humanity won out one last time," Xatu said, his piano's musing becoming darker and slower as it all played out.
"One last—?" Cooper began before his attention was snapped back to his mind's eye.
"I can stay by the guns. You all can get the platoon out and rendezvous with Lieutenant Satoshi back at Vermilion. ...don't worry about me," a particular voice echoed in the badger's mind. Almost too familiar. It was only a moment before only that one human stood defiantly, staring the artificial Pokémon down with a rifle in hand. Cooper couldn't quite believe what he was seeing, not even when the man began shooting at the thing. The... Mewtwo, was it? The Mewtwo flinched as a couple connected, though the rest simply popped against an invisible wall as it turned to glare down at the human. Rage burned in its eyes and blood seeped from its arm as the human waved his arms and ran away from his evacuating comrades.
Even though he would barely last a minute against it, that was all he needed. Nothing could stop the inevitable, however, as Mewtwo raised its hand, the very island seeming to tremble in tune with its pounding psyche as it prepared to strike.
Cooper just shivered and looked away.
No translation was needed.
Church bells tolled in the distance as I watched myself walk along the street in my mind's eye, my hands tucked into the hoodie I was wearing. I vaguely recognized what I was seeing, but that familiarity was mixed with confusion. None of this felt right. Not only the steadily thickening crowds of humans starting to fill the streets, not only the bizarre sharp architecture, not only the fact I couldn't quite understand what any of the Pokémon cries meant. No, it shouldn't have been this worn down, right?
Grass and flowers grew from the cracks in the pavement, tents and makeshift structures littered the roads meant for vehicles, the occasional pulverized building sat slowly being reclaimed by nature, and even the buildings still standing didn't seem like they were in as good shape as they should have been. Even the humans around me looked dirty and unkempt— maybe it was their clothes, maybe it was their general demeanor. Whatever the case, it was like everyone living here just didn't clean their city properly for the last however long. …Or couldn't.
What year did that radio say it was? 2060? That couldn't be right, none of what I'd seen so far had even remotely suggested anything of the sort. What had happened between that peak and…?
As my body continued on, clenching its weird long fingers, I couldn't help but note the scene around me, one of grime, rusticity, and resigned murmurs. I vaguely recognized the place I was walking through now, it had once been part of the city park. Now, though, the green lawns were gone, replaced with tilled farmland filled with farmers out in the morning sun. They'd clearly decided that valuable fertile ground couldn't go to waste, even in the middle of the city, a conclusion that spoke volumes about the situation here. What was more alarming, though, was what sat beyond the farms. A sizable wall sat with a large hole in it, workers and their Pokémon hurriedly working to patch it up. Claw marks all over the twisted metal suggested that this hadn't been a case of the thing just falling over. The farmers didn't seem to care, though, just continuing to weed their fields without so much as batting an eye. This seemed normal to them.
Though the streets still echoed with the laugh of children and the chitters of Pokémon as I'd expected, the subdued hum of laborers and the calls of ferals living in abandoned houses were just as prevalent. The odd snippet of conversation was no more normal, with some talking about their Pokémon, some of their sick family, some of the logging quota they'd need for winter, and others still of a recent breach of the city's defenses. This couldn't have been the Striaton I had known, was it? I'd grown to expect some great utopia or something like that, but… this place just seemed scarred more than anything.
My body seemed to disregard the lament of the tolling church bells as it ducked into one of the houses near the old park, pausing to listen for someone before continuing on.
"Sammy, hey! You're back early. How was Otto?" a voice asked, a weathered, bearded man leaning in and giving a smile. Through his old cap, his kind eyes, and the scarred face wrinkled with smile creases, I could tell almost immediately he was the same man I'd been haunted by. The man who'd stargazed with me. My father…
"It was alright," my body sighed as it tucked my banjo away. "I'm about to go to work, just. Picking up my stuff."
"Yeah? Well, I have breakfast if you want it. Scrambled some eggs, think I did alright," my dad said.
"I'm fine," I replied, getting up to face the man. He just kept rubbing at his old Serperior's coils, the snake giving contented hisses in his lap.
"...right. Well, promise me you'll get some fresh air at lunch, alright?"
"Yeah," I nodded before adding under my breath, "It's almost like I wouldn't need to worry if I weren't cooped in there all day."
My eyes snuck a glance back as I started out the door. My apparent human father just pursed his lips, keeping his sad eyes on me firmly as I left. All I could do was watch from the passenger seat.
"...don't go… no, why're you walking away? Talk to him, damn you, he's right there, you're not gonna—"
"Really. Sometimes it feels like no one understands me," my body muttered as it trudged along. My eye mentally twitched.
"You moron, you buffoon, you absolute sha-ing idiot…"
I'd had enough. Thankfully, it seemed that my displeasure was noticed, as I felt the vision begin to fleet. The last thing I saw before I was pulled from my mind's eye was that dirty street and the brown hair in my face, my ungrateful human self still shuffling along.
That… I… what else had I just shrugged off? What was my life like? These people who'd meant this much to me… my gut told me I had really cared for them, so why had I…? What was wrong with me…?
…
Receipt of Insurance. Paid for by Team Apex, 19th of Yveltal's Moon 1531. 8,600 Poké paid for repairs to base interior and insured furnishings. Signed, Quilava Arden and Leafeon May.
Arden blinked as he silently read the document in his paws, giving a humorless chuckle to himself. What a bitter little blast from the past. He couldn't help but glance back at May as he tucked the receipt back into its place, making sure she wasn't paying any extra attention. The most that May knew about that day was that he'd stayed home, had an episode, and things had gotten wrecked. The details were murky and changed depending on Arden's mood, but anything beyond those three concrete points was simply speculation on the Leafeon's part.
It wouldn't have been much help to fish for details, anyways. The event itself was little more than a blur to him. The points he remembered most vividly were his looking into the mirror that had sparked that initial intrusive thought, and then…
…the trashed living quarters had towered over him like mocking giants, staring down judgingly at a younger, less jaded Arden; a pathetic wad of fears, angers, conflicts, hates, as he would call that Arden today. That Quilava could only try to hide himself from God's eyes by pressing himself into the wall and curling himself up tighter, his chest aching from his heaving sobs. He wanted his mother. He wanted his brother. He wanted May. But at the same time they were the last thing he wanted.
…what did normal people do when they were that sad, he wondered? That lost? That broken? What could he have done differently? Was the wall really necessary? The great lie he still lived by…?
…it didn't matter. He was fine now. Yeah.
"—Arden. Arden. Earth to Arden, hey."
A couple snaps of a vine pulled Arden back in from his reminiscence, the explorer looking around briefly before turning his attention back to his teammate. "Yeah. Hi."
"We're out of time. Cinccino's gonna be back any moment. We've gotta skedaddle," May said, pointing to the sunlight shining through the cracks in the ceiling. Arden opened his mouth to protest, though his eyes darted back to that receipt snug in its place.
"...yeah. Yeah, alright. I'll… come back tomorrow. If Cinccino asks me, you were never here," he nodded. May gave a nod of appreciation before silently pushing the last trace that they were in this room back into place and hurrying out the door. As Arden followed close behind, he hung his head.
"...thank you. Really. Like… for everything," he half-mumbled. May glanced back, pausing for a second.
"Uh… yeah, of course. We look out for each other, right?" she said with a bit of a smile before slinking out the door. Arden blinked in the glaring summer sun as he hurried after, doing his best to not look suspicious as the two walked past Cinccino and her scary new assistant in training.
…he liked when May smiled. Genuinely. It was just… nice.
…
"Pike, man. Uh. Since there's a more than zero chance one of us doesn't come back tomorrow, I wanted to ask you something."
"Ah? On what?"
"Well, uh. I wanted to ask May about something, and—"
"Ohh, I see. Ya wanna getcha dick wet."
"WHOA. Whoa, no, what is wrong with you? Fuck, it's not like that!"
"Aww. Ardie-wardie's in love. Neva thought I'd see de day!"
"Jesus Harold Christ, Pike, I come to ask you for one favor—"
…he couldn't help but notice May looking back, chuckling a bit and giving her tail a wag at his own little smile.
Heh. They really were perfect for each other, weren't they.
...still completely platonic, if anyone asked.
"Despite all that had transpired over that eternal moment, when the little soldier boy burst forth from the egg, his egg… he knew nothing. Only that he did not belong in this body. And all he knew to do was scream."
Cooper's tail was flat against the wall as Xatu quietly continued to speak, the vision of pastsight having given way to simple ideas planted into the Linoone's head. Archeops was silent, as though he was innately familiar with this tale, though Cooper managed to muster up the courage to speak.
"You're… you're a reincarnate, sir?" he coughed. "I… ah thought those were just myths."
"No," Xatu blinked. "The Legends do not find a human to exercise their will immediately. There are many others who come before who they do not find suitable. Subject Blue may well have been their hundredth candidate. Or thousandth. And having been torn from Yveltal's wing, for those forsaken souls there is only the choice between oblivion and a reality that has marched on without them. And alas… the little soldier boy did not fit."
When Cooper blinked, he found himself back in the vision. Above the three towered Vale Keep, the ancient sword-shaped structure and the city that had been built within it jutting high into the sky. He could swear that he could see something fall from its heights, though Xatu began to speak again before he could make sense of that.
"The boy fought through fourteen long years without knowing what he was. Four were spent starving. Then six in chains for stealing bread for his family. And then four more on the streets of Vale Keep, little more to them than an escaped fugitive. And it was then that as he first learned to gaze into the past, he beheld a world alien to him," the bird continued. The images around Cooper and Archeops began to shift once again, different scenes and images flashing as though through a broken mirror.
"...you saw…" Cooper breathed in understanding. That… that had to be a lot to take in.
"The works of gifted hands and hungry minds. Where the pains of survival were eclipsed by ambition, curiosity, and passion, and where under the guiding hand of man all sapiency marched united in the desire to become something greater than themselves. And through those rediscovered lenses, the boy saw before him only ashes. And knowing that this world he had seen was forever lost… the boy fell into despair," Xatu looked up, the vision around them returning to normal.
Cooper followed his gaze only to see that yes, something had been falling. A Natu, eyes closed as he plummeted from the top of the Keep. The Linoone's eyes widened and he instinctively began to rush to the bird's aid, though Archeops stopped him and gestured to simply watch. It was nearly halfway through his fall that the Natu suddenly seemed to have a change of heart, his eyes bulging open as he began to scream. His little wings flapped desperately as he attempted to stop his fall, though all he managed was to do was slow it before…
Cooper averted his eyes, flattening his ears as he tried to block out the sounds of cracking bone and agonized screams. Xatu simply watched impassively as illusory Pokémon screamed and ran over to where his younger self had impacted the ground.
"...and it was so that in the darkest hour of the boy's life," Xatu said as someone pushed past the crowd, his large shadow looming over the broken bird, "that a savior appeared. A guide. …the Director."
"What are you doing? Is this a show to you? Get a doctor! He's losing blood!" the Director demanded before crouching down to try and tend to the Natu. It was on this note that the psychic connection was severed, the image of the broken Natu and his future mentor dissolving into the cold, emotionless face of what that Natu had become as he finished the morose piano piece.
"And so we stand here today. With that world the boy saw closer than we have ever seen it. Do you understand now?" he cocked his head. Cooper just stared for a moment, what he had seen bouncing around in his head before he settled on a simple nod. Archeops clenched his beak— it never got easier to watch that all.
"Well… we appreciate it, Xatu. We really do. I'll escort Commander Linoone back upstairs to digest this all, and we'll, uh. Give you space," the fossil coughed. Cooper began to ask what he had just seen, though all that came out was a choked badger squeak as he was pulled out of the door by the executive beside him.
Xatu stared at the door for a minute, listening to Archeops' vague promises of explanation over dinner before the two's footfalls retreated. With that, he turned back to his piano. It was moments like these where he was satisfied that this form was incapable of crying.
After all he had been through, this was only right. A broken world had tried to break him, and yet here he stood prepared to fix it. While ashes couldn't be reassembled back into wood, that wouldn't stop them. All the pieces were in place: the last orb was just within reach, and Subject Blue would come soon enough if he knew what was best.
He would achieve this righteous goal.
He would go home.
He would save this world by the Director's side.
…
"...the Guide and I along that hidden path, we set about to return to the bright world, and without a care for any rest," he quoted quietly to himself, "we climbed forth, he first and I the second, until I beheld through a round opening the beauteous things that the heavens do bear…"
"Now, Oshawott. Please. Promise me you will take these and whatever visions you will come to see in stride. I have found that restoration of memory such as this can be… destructive," Alakazam pursed his lips. "Take it slow and easy, and know that what is done is done. I shall be here to discuss should you wish, yes?"
"Y-yah," I nodded my head. "Tank yeh."
With that, I turned to waddle away, my eyes glued to the ground. I… what had I just seen? There were so many implications to unpack from that brief little glimpse, not even counting my personal life. I didn't know whether I was any closer to really coming to a sound decision or if this visit had even helped in the slightest, but… at the very least, I could comfortably go forward with this expedition. I was gonna find Keldeo with Rye, we were gonna find the Link, and we were going to save the world. Because that was the right thing to do.
…
…right…?
"...thence we came forth to rebehold the stars."
Author's Note: "Oh, college isn't gonna throw a wrench in my writing like every other fanfic writer, writing's easy, it'll be fine!" said the stupid, naive Sudmensch, oblivious.
I deeply apologize for the hiatus, I did not intend to be gone that long. No, this story isn't dead and it never will be. I've just been really burnt out and juggling a whole lot at once, though most of all I've been doubting on and off that this is a story worth telling. Like, those early chapters are gonna need a rewrite. My god.
Whatever the case, I should hopefully be back with shorter chapters. And while I know I sound like a broken record, I mean it: rate and review, please. It really does mean a lot, and hearing you guys' feedback helps inspire me to keep writing. You've all been such a lovely audience, and I look forward to completing this story with you. Please feed my ego.
Until next time, I just want to say: sha.