12.

One CrɅfty Coot


Cyllene's quarters were a dreadful mess again.

She still didn't know this yet, because when she awoke there was sunlight sparkling through gaps in the threads of the stretched canvas surrounding her, and a white-and-yellow blanket draped over her, and something very small and hard pinching into the small of her back. She rose confusedly, right hand trailing over her splintery wooden bed to find the offender. It was a single hex nut — not unlike the ones Rye and Colza were always throwing at each other in the pasture when the only plow rusted apart.

Then she heard a familiar grunting rasp from just beyond the canvas. Her heart dropped like a stone.

I am in Ginter's caravan!

"Am I not wanted here?" Ginter was asking. On his usual stool again, and slouching, Cyllene could see from his silhouette.

"No, we need you here, Ginkgo Man," came the nasally voice of Captain Tao Hua. "But aren't you supposed to restock soon? Someone's been stealing from the craftworks and they're still out of their smallest screws. Anthe said she's out of black thread. Also I'm supposed to work with you on inventory. The Commander said so."

"What inventory?" Ginter asked slowly.

"The village inventory. It burned with Galaxy Hall. We don't have any records of what we have, and what we do have is getting spotty. You need to get off that stool and back to the Coastlands to restock at once!"

The old merchant coughed as if annoyed.

"Do you really think I can 'restock' whenever I want in the Hisuian frontier? I sell what I have on hand. It's not like I owe your village anything."

Tao Hua scoffed at that response. "Pesky, arrogant lazybones! You are the Guildmaster! You run a business! Surely you can order wares to be shipped to the landing in the Coastlands whenever you wish! You could change the routes and have them shipped to this side of the island! Or have your subordinate merchants cart them to you! I'll have you know the Commander is on edge as we speak. He's furious. He's furious with you. And if you're not up to the task of supplying us with what we desperately need—"

"Then you can tell your 'furious Commander' to stop puffing his chest and ignoring me every time he walks in my direction. If he wants to storm out here and cross me himself with that ten-pound mustache I might just consider your complaint. Until then, don't talk to me unless you're interested in the wares I have."

There was that cantankerous side of Ginter again. As Cyllene listened, he then finagled a handful of coins and a credit out of the elderly Captain, and sighed as Tao Hua went away.

The merchant stood up and came around to the front of the caravan, where he parted the canvas and peered inward, to where Cyllene could stare at him. The gruff, grim wrinkles stretched into a yellow smile.

"You're awake. Good. Let's get to that breakfast you wanted."


She had been sleepwalking, Ginter explained. Outside in the deepest part of the night, and snooping beneath a "crazy" lightning storm. In her unconscious state she'd refused to be returned to her quarters. Screamed, even, though she couldn't remember a thing. ("I thought you might not.") So with a little help from the night guard, he'd bundled her up and stowed her in the caravan, waiting for her to sleep properly, and then slept himself in the cool grass between the wheels.

"Captain Zisu was up again, too," he said, seating himself at the wooden picnic table just outside the village canteen. "Several new sleepwalkers, in fact. And we now know it's not limited to the village."

Cyllene just continued to stare at him, bug-eyed. He'd taken a spontaneous dip in the creek to cool off, and now that too-large silk shirt of Eiffel's was soaked, sticking to his trunk like a transparent film. The fabric was so flimsy she could see the texture of his hairy chest and nipples swelling out beneath.

Rei was right. He was too thin. And probably getting thinner.

"What the hell," she said aloud, slapping both hands on the table between them.

"Accursed," Ginter agreed, folding so he could rummage through his pack in private. He dumped a pile of apricorns on the table — hard-shelled nuts the perfect size and roundness for the crafting of capsules. There came a vicious hiss from Shinx, and then a yowl as the old man popped two freshly-bleeding fingers in his mouth.

"And no one's seen you sleepwalking yet?"

Ginter shook his head. "I've slept with one eye open since I landed here. Too dangerous to do more than doze, especially in my condition."

"Then what the hell," Cyllene repeated. "Is it going to happen again tonight? Should I just not go to sleep? There are already rumors that something's wrong with me. Zisu said I should think about forfeiting my rank as Captain. Eiffel even made some offhand comment about me working better in the office than the field. I wanted to punch him right in that fat, bloated gut of his."

"That doesn't seem necessary," said Ginter. He scratched his beard, pensive. "I could bolt you in your quarters overnight. I'm quite handy that way."

She sighed. "That would just be cruel. What if I hurt myself by accident and no one was there to see?"

"You need to stop threatening to hurt yourself."

"I'm not threatening anything. I'm saying there's a chance—"

"How about we stop thinking about that right now?" Ginter suggested as he dipped in his pockets and dumped handfuls of black tumblestone in among the apricorns. "Teach a coot how to craft."

His pack fell over where he'd stashed it under the table. Shinx snarled within.

Cyllene slid the apricorns aside with a sweep of her arm. "I thought we could have breakfast first, and then do some crafting."

"I can craft and eat at the same time," Ginter said, sliding them back over. Two of them rolled right off the table.

"I don't serve men in caps," growled Beni, catching them both before they could hit the ground and pressing them firmly into the center of the table. The cook squinted gray eyes at Ginter with all the suspicion expected of Kamado's oldest confidant.

Without missing a beat, Ginter snatched off his cap and flung it away from the table, watching it spin and land gracefully in the dead grass. Then he folded his hands neatly in his lap and gave Beni a polite little smile.

"Ginter is a friend of mine," Cyllene said, coughing to hold back laughter. "I've decided he's harmless."

"Harmless isn't the right word," Ginter corrected. "I've chosen to be agreeable in Cyllene's presence."

Beni shook his head as he sauntered away, tugging a white bandana tighter around his skull. "Don't let him beguile you in your vulnerable state, Captain. Ginkgos are demons. They lie about everything. Even the faces they wear are false."

Cyllene picked up an apricorn. She considered popping it on the back of that bandana with perfect aim, but wouldn't that waste a perfectly good new Poké Ball?

"Is your face an illusion?" she asked Ginter.

"This is unfortunately the very face I was born with," he replied, patting down the lengthy gray on his chin. "What about yours? Those strange, missing eyebrows…"

She rolled her eyes. "Do you have tail jerky in the wagon? I thought I smelled it."

"I have an unbelievable amount of tail jerky. It's all on me."


Ginter was very excited about crafting.

"Usually you want to let the shell dry after cutting it, but it's so hot out it probably doesn't matter," Cyllene was explaining. "So the next step is to sand it down smooth with the tumblestone. It's thought the special energy contained within the stone entices Pokémon to shrink into miniature, so we're imbuing the wood with it. It helps if your hands are a little sweaty."

"Righth," mumbled Ginter, furiously rubbing down both apricorn halves at once, the small knife still gripped between his teeth. "Ston'th carry thpethial energh."

"Be careful with that," she scolded, working intense circles with the tumblestone in her right palm.

They had retreated to a shady part of the creek that wandered through the village. The sun was ruthless, turning faded green leaves into glittering mirrors, and scathing where it broke through the foliage down to dry, dead earth. Cyllene winced when Ginter's boot slipped and sloshed in the muddy little trickle running past.

"This afternoon I must write a request bulletin," she said. "The Survey Corps must center its efforts on studying Pokémon that can use Rain Dance. It hasn't rained naturally in over two weeks, and Buizel derives its powers from freshwater."

"Of course," said Ginter, sucking where he'd sliced his left thumb. Shinx smelled the carnage and wrinkled his muzzle. "Wouldn't want to upset your lengthy beauty routine."

"Or yours," Cyllene replied. "You'll be keeping to baths from now on, if you want to stay here."

"Aye, Captain."

When the apricorn halves were sanded, Cyllene produced the steel rings, hinge, vent caps, and latching mechanisms forged by the smiths of the craftworks. The task was to rough up the edges of the apricorn, and then hammer these into place, securing them with tiny screws, so the result was a simple hinged spherical capsule with a hole in the top and bottom for stringing.

Ginter was quite disappointed in this. He'd thought everything would be hand-made.

"Well, if you want to forge latches and vent caps, you can ask the smiths to teach you. I'm not even going to think about their ovens in this heat."

She winced watching him spit his own blood into the dirt. "You're seeing the Matron about that."

"It's a scratch. I can't even feel it."

"One drop of medicinal leek juice and it'll be healed."

"I'm surprised you pass that drug around so freely," Ginter scoffed. "Don't you know it's addictive?"

Cyllene shook her head. She took a roll of cotton gauze out of her satchel and tied a tight knot around his thumb. The red quickly soaked through.

"I know it's addictive, and I refuse it when I can. But then we have kids like Rei with crippling pain to manage, and it becomes an unfortunate necessity. Or so I'm told."

"From his Pikachu?"

"From his Raichu now, thanks to you."

Ginter laughed softly in spite of himself. Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he unbuttoned his left sleeve and rolled it to the elbow, baring the thin forearm to the flickering light.

Cyllene gasped.

"Isn't it pretty? It's over fifty years old. Still hurts sometimes, too."

It was the scar she'd felt whilst dragging him away from the bandits, now in full view. A magnificent feathering fork, like the shadow of lightning, cast in maroon and winding up from the meat of the thumb to just past the elbow. It puckered in places where the skin around it had ruptured. The base of the wrist looked bruised, even. Discolored and puffy, irritated from scratching.

"I can teach Rei to control Raichu's powers. But the path he's chosen is a perilous one. To understand Electric-type Pokémon, you must become the kind of person who dances in a lightning storm and loves it. Expecting to get shocked. Don't think about consequences. Just let the current course through your body and see where it leads. That's my advice to you as well, Cyllene. Keep doing things like what you did to save my life."

She dipped a brush and painted the top hemisphere of her Poké Ball a shining, bloody red. Ginter was reaching for the pot of blue. He hadn't used strong enough materials to warrant blue paint, but she'd allow it. He was being creative.

"It's not about being fearless, you know," he continued, when she hadn't replied. "You're still allowed to wake up in the morning and say 'What the hell.'"

Cyllene blew on the wet paint, scraping the latch with her thumbnail where it had dripped.

"Would you do that for me?" she finally said. "Teach Rei?"

"Now there's a better use of that almighty favor than breakfast," he said, inspecting his handiwork. He lifted the latch and his Poké Ball sprung open with a beautiful click.

"I'd call it human decency," Cyllene said.

"Well then… Now that I look more like a respectable Pokémon wielder…"

Shinx whipped his tail at Ginter's boots, eyes shining and teeth bared. In a flash, Ginter flicked his right wrist, and the Poké Ball popped on his partner's forehead, right where the hinge met fur. It popped open, and Shinx puffed into steam, retreating inside like an agitated storm cloud.

Ginter swiped his right hand and snatched the ball before it could hit the ground, latching it once more with his thumb. He tossed it up over his head and caught it behind his back with the left again.

"Go write that bulletin," he told Cyllene, that glint in his blue eyes growing eerily bright. "I'll get to work on the boy."

"You'll fix that cut first. Take this and tell the matron I sent you," Cyllene said, unclipping the plum blossom insignia from the breast of her gi.

"Aye, Captain."


no one ever saw it before…


~N~

Tao Hua looks like this guy in my old college friend group who decided it would be an awesome idea to have a tea party, invite our friend who lived a half hour away to come, and then not bring any tea or snacks to the planned location. Then got mad at the people who decided to go to Subway while he was retrieving his entire Keurig from a different residence hall. It was a hot mess. XD

Published by Syntax-N on FanFiction . Net July 16th, 2023. Please do review! Please don't repost.