25.
OshɅwott's RɅzor
A Rowlet with a knife was flying madly in circles about the ceiling of Eiffel's living room, but Ginter was too annoyed to notice.
"Don't tell me that's where you found all that musty water for me to drink this morning," he growled, pointing one knobby finger toward the copper bathtub perched on a carpeted platform in the back of the dimly lit room.
Abra didn't answer. It didn't need to answer. Eiffel's Cyndaquil had made a nest out of the coals in the fireplace, and some of those same clay bowls were stacked up around the hearth to get dry from her flames.
"Are those different than the ones Cyllene uses for her tea?" Ginter asked, pointing at the bowls now.
Abra answered this by disappearing entirely, then reappearing with a bowl in each clawed hand and foot, presumably from Cyllene's quarters.
"Wrong question, I suppose," Ginter said then. He traipsed around a dining table whose chairs were piled high with wrinkled shirts and spats and trousers so he could see the bathtub better. As expected, it was full, and the water was an ominous rusty-gray. A rippling shadow bloomed beneath the surface. Suddenly Oshawott poked its friendly white-furred face into the world, spitting a load of what smelled like sweat and sulfur right into the old man's eyes.
Ginter stumbled backwards and fell into a dining room chair, collapsing to the floor. Coats fell on top of him, as well as a billowing wrinkled eggshell-colored thing he'd learned was this time period's version of underwear. God, he missed slithering out of the boxers he'd slept in and taking a hot shower and pulling on snug, clean briefs!
And he missed soap-on-a-rope. And fluffy towels. And bubbly blue peroxide toothpaste and sterile green mouthwash. And aerosol deodorant that smelled like coconuts and vanilla cupcakes because damn that was a weird but good combination. And shaving gel and razors. Actual cordless electric razors that buzzed with the push of a button and gently shaved away the annoying patchy stuff and those hellish light blond sideburns that cropped up on his cheeks way too fast, like everything else about the man who was Volkner.
"Live fast, fall on your ass, and the grass stains come out with that magic detergent pen that somehow removes blood but not coffee," the old man remarked enigmatically to Eiffel's drawers.
He missed coffee. God, he missed coffee.
The goddamn ancient village didn't even have a goddamn ancient tavern.
But it had the woman who was Cyllene.
And at that thought, Ginter rolled over onto his face and gave a good long dejected moan into the musty carpet.
Abra scooped a bowl of rust-colored water out of the bathtub and dumped it over his head, wiggling its tail in amusement. Oshawott chittered angrily at the waste, while Cyndaquil muttered in the fireplace and Rowlet flew down to perch on the nearest chair back, cocking its head completely sideways so the knife in its beak was pointing down at Ginter's back.
After a good minute of needed depression, Ginter unsteadily pushed himself up to his knees again. The dry gray kimono top and pants Pesselle had given him were a good deal comfier than that bulky merchant ensemble. But they still hung off him like sheets and made him feel flimsy and exposed. It was an absolute miracle that some crisis brought the matron away from surveying his veins and trying to make sense of his heartbeat. Eiffel's one-room hovel would serve as a decent hiding place, at least until he got hungry.
"Give me that knife," he said to Rowlet, holding out one gnarled hand.
"Roooo?"
Ginter pointed at Abra. "If this one's told you anything, you're all just playing with me. You think I'm the rare ware to keep in some collection."
Abra helped pull him to his feet, then took the knife out of Rowlet's beak and gave it to him. Cyndaquil squeaked and pointed her snout up toward an old, square mirror in a frame perched against the mantle. It was still freshly splattered from Laventon's own personal grooming.
It wasn't a simple pocket knife. This accursed little swing-bladed torture weapon was a razor for use on the face.
"A most rare and curious find indeed," Ginter whispered, trailing fingers down his face as he took in his dim reflection. "You've procured yourself a bachelor past his prime."
Furry gray eyebrows scrunched at him from the glass. Scarred lips parted, and the yellowed old teeth were exposed. There was enough beard now to grab ahold of and yank, yet very little mustache except for annoying patchy stuff. He touched that biggest pink rut that crossed over both of his lips like an old, ripped stitch.
"The retainer broke off in my mouth and cut me, then it healed strange. I must have been thirty then. Or thirty-two. It was before my hair turned gray, though the blonder parts were already white by twenty-nine. And that was… twelve seconds in… no… ten?"
And when had the transformation started? Ginter wondered. When he first woke up in the river? Or before that? Or after? There had been a bright red flash that made his muscles burn. He and Luxray had been struck by lightning, right?
But the lightning didn't really hurt. It just burned a bit. Normal for lightning. The cap hurt. And the apron. His stomach had only started bubbling when he buckled the belt in place. It started bubbling ominously when he put his hands on it. He could remember that because right after his hands had begun to shake. He couldn't remember when Luxray started shrinking and de-evolving. It seemed like forever ago. And before he woke up with his legs in the river…
Ginter frowned trying to retrieve those muddled memories now. It was like sloshing his hands around in deep, dirty bathwater. Fifty years really were five minutes, just as the same was true the other way around. Things that should've been mere weeks ago were suddenly ages ago, with missing meanings and overgrown emotions.
"She had… covered my bed in all that craft store crap, and told me I'd best sleep at the hotel that night — he'd booked a suite for two weeks, for 'anyone' to use, but I knew that just meant me…"
Ginter grabbed the tip of his beard and yanked, flicking the razor blade all the way open and holding it in his left hand. It was so sharp there was no sawing required, and it all came off in one clean slice.
"And I forgot my pills, so I had to go back, and then all the crap was off my bed, and they were in it…"
Two more slices, then three. Whiskers fell to the mantlepiece in uneven clumps. He swept them away with his kimono sleeve and they fell onto Cyndaquil, who shook and sneezed with a bright tongue of flame rippling down her back. The odor of sulfur intensified.
"But then the electricity started malfunctioning, which made her pissed, which made him really pissed, but at least it made things less awkward…"
The length was gone. Ginter had begun to scrape his wet, bristly face with the razor blade. He held it at too blunt an angle and immediately cut another sharp gash in his upper lip — this one perpendicular to the deep pink rut. Abra gripped three claws around his shoulder, purring as if to discourage any further attempts at grooming.
"Well, pop out and get the professor," Ginter spat, blood landing in flecks on the mirror. "He can show me how to shave."
Abra popped away. It was gone for longer than a few seconds this time, leaving Ginter with enough patience to gently cut a good bit of gray off his cheeks. His usual sharp chin was finally coming back into view, though it looked almost crooked with the way the wrinkled skin was layered on.
Rei came in the front door, then, in a fit of tears. He didn't even notice the old man bleeding at the mantle until he bowled right into him and they both came crashing to the floor. The razor went flying, then hit the far edge of the bathtub with a clang and sank into murky ruddy depths.
Oshawott stopped paddling happily at once, freezing right where it floated.
Ginter grimaced. "Didn't Pesselle poison you for the day yet? Why are you in tears?"
He felt Rei stiffening as he came to the realization he was not alone. The boy rolled off of Ginter, who merely crossed his arms and refused to sit up again.
"You're a whole snotty mess, boy. Don't think I'm going to bite you. Out with it. Tell me what's wrong."
Rei wheezed trying to catch his breath. He seemed to be panicking. Ginter didn't know how to deal with panicking. He couldn't even finish a shave. He rubbed his fingers across annoying patchy stuff, and they came away covered in blood.
"Damn that Abra. I would've sent it for Cyllene's beer stash. Rei, does the professor keep any alcohol in here for disinfecting things?"
Rei gave a long, low whimper to that.
"I cut my face shaving."
Still no coherent response.
Ginter shook his head. He popped open Luxio's Poké Ball in his pocket, and the cat steamed out to coalesce on his chest, almost crushing his ribs before he barked the command to get off.
"Do you think you could steady Rei's panicked heartbeat, Luxio?"
Luxio gave an affirmative "mroww" and then clamped his jaws down hard on Rei's right forearm. Blue static trickled out like venom from his fangs, and the boy's whimpering heightened to a terrified squeak.
"STOP! STOP! LUXIO!"
Ginter sat up and seized Luxio by the back of the scruff, yanking until his partner cheekily released.
"Didn't you learn anything when you evolved!?"
"Luxxrrrowww."
"Oh, very funny. You learned the move Thunder Fang. Did you break his skin?"
Rei wasn't moving, and Ginter had to roll his sleeve up to confirm it was only a few purpling bruises in the shape of Luxray's teeth. "You're bad!" he scolded his partner. Luxio merely purred and began to give himself a proper grooming.
"I'm sorry, Rei. I promise he's getting better. Electric-type Pokémon can't help but release their energy in unmanageable ways sometimes."
Rei sniffled. Slowly, he crawled up off the floor and into one of the dining room chairs, where he wrapped both his arms around Rowlet and squeezed it like a pillow.
"I shall never find myself not terrified of everything," the boy said then. "I'm a cowardish child."
"If you're calm enough to speak, you're going to tell me where the alcohol is."
"The professor keeps a bottle of port under the floorboard you're sitting on."
"Thank you," Ginter said. He went to the bathtub, where he stuck both arms in the dirty water to slosh around searching for the razor. Oshawott discouraged this with another spike of water in the eyes, then hopped out of the tub and scampered over to the floorboard, prying it up easily with the little seashell that had been attached to its belly.
"That works too," Ginter said, pulling out the bottle of port. Then his blue eyes seemed to glitter. "Oshawott, could you use your scalchop and shave the rest of my face?"
Oshawott blinked. Ginter blinked back. Ginter dumped a whole pile of Eiffel's drawers on the floor and sat down opposite Rei, where he poured a bit of the old sour wine into a clay bowl and bent himself to press his lips in it.
"Pffft! Tastes like fart water!" the old man cried.
"What are you doing?" Rei asked, alarmed.
"I told you I cut my face."
"Why did you cut your face!?"
"Shaving!"
"You were shaving your face!?"
"What's wrong with shaving my face!? I wanted the accursed itchy beard off!"
Oshawott hopped up on the table, rubbing its white paws together until the natural oils were thick and slick. It began massaging Ginter's cheeks in gentle circles, greasing them up, then carefully used the razor edge of the scalchop to cut away the remaining patchy bits, even tapering the sideburns and trimming the frazzled wings of hair that fell down in front of his ears.
"O-oh," Rei stuttered. "You meant… just… shaving your beard, and cutting yourself on accident. I thought you were… doing blood magic or something."
"What the hell is blood magic?"
Rei squeezed Rowlet to his chest until the spherical bird trilled grumpily. "I'm sorry. I'm getting all turned around," he whimpered. "Ginter, you must get yourself away from this village. You must know by now it isn't safe."
"Hmph. You know, I tried that this morning, and Cyllene brought me back here to get smothered. The trick is, you have to escape her first. It's something I haven't quite cracked."
The boy's eyes widened until they were almost brimming with tears again. Somehow he got a hold of himself and took a deep breath, lowering his voice until it was quieter than Cyndaquil's flames crackling in the fireplace.
"Magic is real. I finally sawrit with my own eyes. Now I imagine you'll tell me I'm silly for ever doubting such a thing."
Ginter wanted to groan. Oshawott was now coating his face in something that smelled like plum blossoms. He touched his cheeks and found they were wonderfully smooth, even with all the wrinkles.
"I thought I already told you this, Rei. If I were a wizard, I'd be sticking my thumb in the air to summon thunder, and I wouldn't look this old."
Rei nodded. "Well, naturally. Cyllene did say you were transformed against your will. Was it an aging transformation?"
"SHE SAID WHAT!?"
Ginter slammed both his fists on the table. The bottle of port tipped over and began dribbling all over the drawers, staining them a mottled magenta.
"Cyllene's a very powerful witch," Rei said. "Is she more powerful than you? Did she turn you?"
"Cyllene is not a witch."
"You can't hide it from me anymore. I bet you planned to teach me some of your magic anyway, if I ever got into the idea of battling."
"I'm not a wizard."
"But everyone saw amp-amp-bay!"
"Amp-amp-bay isn't magic. Just something to help jog Shinx's memory."
"Cyllene didn't even use an incantation. She's wicked powerful. She can make her eyes glow red with enchantment. I should've known sooner. Please tell me, Ginter, are you with or against her?"
"Well, I'd like to think I'm with her," Ginter said through his teeth. "But as you can see, that's impossible."
"Right," Rei said. "Right. I imagine she jilted you as well."
"What the hell is jilting—?"
"Listen, she's got Laventon. She turned him into a Snorlax, and Kamado caught him in a Poké Ball. He would've eaten the village otherwise. You've got to help me escape her. I'm the only one who recognized what she did was magic. She'll be after me soon enough. I hope she doesn't get me in my sleep like those poor Wardens."
Oshawott had found a comb and was trying to tame Ginter's staticky rat's nest, stiffening over and over when the little shocks bristled through its fur.
"Ask anyone. Ask Kamado. Everyone saw the professor transform. He… he looked so frightened and in pain. He couldn't even stop himself from swelling until his clothes tore off and he was naked except for the fur…"
"Where is Cyllene now!?"
"Well, don't think I was going to follow her! I don't know where she went! She was drunk on her own power and magic!"
Ginter stood up from the table. He looked disgustedly down at the bowl of port, then picked it up and drank it all down, fresh face going puckered at the tang.
"I can't believe she told you I'm transformed."
"She told Laventon too. She said that's why she was turning him. So he wouldn't go telling anyone else. But I don't think she realized I heard it too. She'll realize it soon enough once she's sober."
Ginter sighed, then picked up the whole bottle and took a big swig, gasping and gagging.
"I need some of Cyllene's beer. Where did you say Professor Laventon was?"
Rowlet finally managed to escape Rei's grasp, shooting up in a burst of tannish feathers and rocketing around the ceiling again.
"He's trapped inside a Poké Ball, I imagine in Kamado's storage trunk. Didn't even put up a fight. I didn't expect him to. Professor Laventon's always been very humble and kind. He took me in when no one else would, you know, and he was going to pay for my studies back in Galar. At least until he decided to sail off east and never return. I couldn't let him do that."
Ginter went back to the mantle, taking in a much more fetching reflection. Still not the man Charm slobbered on, but he'll do for now, he thought morosely. At least I was never destined to be hideous in old age.
A set of huge knuckles rapped twice upon the front door.
And then Commander Kamado came in, not in tears, but scowling. He stood in the doorway like a deep shadow eclipsing the blue-gray sunlight. His mustache twitched when he spied the room's two human inhabitants.
Luxio bristled and growled at Ginter's side. The old man trailed his fingers through his partner's mane, never flinching when the blue static trickled up over his hand.
"Well!" Ginter exclaimed then. "Look who finally decided to seek the Guildmaster out himself. Come to peruse my mental catalogue of rare wares and curios? Or perhaps thank me for saving your village from Lord Electrode?"
His smirk stretched wide. Kamado said nothing. His black eyes drilled into Ginter until they seemed to reach his soul. The huge man then began marching forward. Luxio growled this time, static flashing brightly around his fangs.
"Hold," Ginter whispered, clasping his left hand tightly behind his back. "Do I trouble you, Commander?"
"You do indeed," Kamado rumbled. He unsheathed a very sharp, slightly curving katana from the inside of his kimono and pointed it at the old man's chest. The tip just pierced his collarbone, already wet with the blood from his lip.
"Tell me, Ginkgo Man, what you and your loyal Pokémon partner know about fixing electric lights. And don't lie. The Security Corps is well aware that Captain Cyllene is occupied elsewhere at the moment and cannot vie for your innocence. She didn't look into it anyway."
Ginter's smirk fell instantly. His blue eyes flicked to Rei, who sat up straight in his chair and said nothing. Two flashes of scarlet outside the windows proved Zisu and Ress were guarding the encounter.
"Are you going to kill me?"
"Banishment is fair," said Kamado. "Without your caravan. Or your cap. Or your callsign and authorization to sell in this region, which, through Captain Tao Hua's correspondence with Guildmistress Tuli, we have learned you do not possess."
There was a green uniform and a fez outside the window now. Tao Hua's smirk was full of rotted pits where teeth should've been.
Ginter backed out of the katana's tip, frowning when it smarted. "Cyllene—"
"Has been presented with an ultimatum, which she has chosen not to honor. I am still Commander of this expedition. You are an enemy in our midst, and you will face your punishment with the dignity I expect."
Kamado nodded, and the two in scarlet marched up to guard the door while he traipsed around the table, keeping the katana stretched out straight until it was nudged into the small of Ginter's back.
"Recall your beast."
The old man took a deep breath in. There came the hissing of steam, and the wooden capsule fell harmlessly back into his pocket.
"You're still going to kill me when we get outside the village gates."
A thick black mustache crept up and brushed against one of his ears.
"And would you prefer I killed you now?"
"I don't think the wicked witch of the waste would like it either way."
There came a pause. No one spoke, and even the splashing of Oshawott back in the bathtub and the rapid fluttering of Rowlet came to a sudden halt.
Then all at once, Kamado gave something between a grunt and a laugh. He shoved Ginter forward with the hilt of his sword. He stumbled into the arms of Zisu and Ress, who escorted him out into the sunlight and the empty streets leading to his fate.
"At least I finally got rid of that accursed beard," Ginter said.
"You cut your face shaving," said Ress, indifferent.
"You're a creep," Zisu added.
Ginter sneered. As they passed by Tao Hua, he broke into a vigorous cackle.
"And I burned down your goddamn Galaxy Hall."
~N~
Chill chapter this week.
The Ao3 posting of Where it NeVer RɅins now has illustrations! Just a few so far, but I bought a whole bunch of art supplies for my birthday (including glitter markers for you-know-who's blues.) And that's what they're for! And FFN's stats have been broken for over a month, so if you take a look over there, I'll know you passed by!
Published by Syntax-N on FanFiction . Net and by scrivenernoodz on Ao3 October 16th, 2023. Don't repost. Do review!
