Author's note: To those who are still around, thank you immensely for your patience and sticking with me. This is progressing a lot longer than I anticipated, but by the next chapter everything should reach a satisfying resolution.
Enjoy.
The landscape passed in a dizzying blur as Rapidash galloped across the open field. The Pokemon was known for its incredible velocity, reaching to nearly two hundred miles per hour. However, it seemed the creature was accelerating at a pace faster than its normal range. Its hooves barely touched the ground even.
At this rate, they would reach Pallet before the sun climbed to its highest point, providing their progress wasn't slowed by more trees. Navigating those woods had been painfully tedious. The delay caused to further strain Ki's patience, although it was no fault on the fire horse's part.
The young woman fought hard to swallow her agitation, and instead channeled the energy in ensuring she maintained a firm grip on Rapidash. She had hunched over close to its neck, which was uncomfortable but necessary to shield her face and eyes from the onslaught of wind. Although visually impaired, she trusted the Pokemon and her instincts to know they were still heading in the right direction.
She sensed a subtle shift in the equine's muscles beneath her, and its gait began slowing unexpectedly to a canter. Puzzled, she braved to open her eyes again and sit up to peer ahead. Her heart plummeted to her stomach when she could make out in the distance a large thicket.
I don't believe this...
Her dejection abruptly turned into indignation. She was exhausted both mentally and spiritually by all the hurdles she seemed to be having to jump over. Was it so much to ask to be given a break for once?
As the Pokemon inclined on a hill, she noticed, however, a winding road off to the side where it led straight through the forest. Yet, what caused her heart to nearly leap out of her chest rejoicing wasn't that. It was the sight she caught immediately after.
Just beyond the trees lay a town nestled in the foothills of a coastal valley. Down its center snaked a ribbon of silvery blue. Picturesque white houses dotted both sides of the stream against summer greenery, overlooked by a stunning backdrop of the mountains.
There was no doubt in her mind this tiny village was Pallet Town.
She started to quiver in anticipation of how close she was now to the medicine. No other obstacles aside obstructed her in finally obtaining it. She had also arrived far sooner expected, improving the odds of Mewtwo's survival with the prospect of an early return home.
On her prompt, Rapidash swiftly proceeded to the route. The horse's hooves soon struck upon the path, beating rhythmically against the well traveled surface. They passed the canopy threshold shortly, and entered a woodland which appeared to Ki to have been plucked out of the many fairy-tales she had read as a child.
Sunbeams trickled through interstices of the branches to dapple the forest in a golden ethereal haze, and seemingly light their way. Wildflowers in almost every hue of the rainbow grew alongside the wide passage, mingling beyond in the tall grass. Alerted to their presence, Weedle and Caterpie lurking within popped their heads up curiously to investigate as they hastened onward.
Clouds of dust trailing behind in the wake quickly shrouded the creatures from view, however. Above, Spearow circled and screeched a warning to ward off the intruders from trespassing on their territory. The ill-tempered birds eyed the pair, but ultimately judged they were too fast to be worth pursuing.
The equine Pokemon broke clear of the trees at last, and the road continued on a curving descent cut into the gently sloped hillside. As they neared town, it transitioned to a main street leading into the heart of Pallet. The young woman signaled then to Rapidash to decrease its speed once more, walking slowly now down the residential lane.
She scanned the row of houses forming the neighborhood, but their nearly identical design made it difficult to identify any distinguishable differences. Anxiety started gnawing on her stomach. Which one was Professor Oak's?
Then, on the corner, she spied what was a rather peculiar sight. In front of the last home with a broom in hand and wearing a green apron, contrasted by its pink and white body, was a Mr. Mime. The clownish bipedal humanoid Psychic Pokemon was extremely rare to see, but never one performing domestic chores.
It seemed to enjoy its job, sweeping the road in a cheerful fashion. She could hear it singing also; an old folk song. Intrigued, she wondered if this might be the professor's Pokemon and his dwelling.
Let's stop here, she requested Rapidash.
The fire horse complied with her wishes and a moment later, came to a halt at the edge of the property. Mr. Mime had paused when it noticed them approach, and a nervous expression crossed its features. In hopes to appear less intimidating, the young woman dismounted, but still retained a respectable distance.
Hello there, excuse me, she addressed, with an amicable smile, Would you know where I may find Professor Oak?
Her inquiry was met with an astonished blink, the Pokemon staring wordlessly as confusion instead now began to spread over its face. The smile on her lips drooped considerably. It was always the same... Normally, the reaction failed to bother her, but at this point, her patience was worn thin.
Before she could speak again, however, a lilting voice wafted from within the house.
"Mimey? Is everything okay? I thought I heard a strange noise."
Ki realized then the groan of frustration she released had not in fact been internal but aloud. Loud enough to have attracted the attention of the home's occupant. She cringed inwardly and chastised herself for the embarrassing blunder, but perhaps she would have better luck to converse with the human instead.
After a few moments, the front door opened and a young but slightly older female stepped out onto the porch. She was of average height, appearing an inch or two taller than herself, with a slender build and fair skin. She wore a yellow blouse peeking underneath a short-sleeved pink jacket paired with an indigo pencil skirt. On her feet were green house slippers, and her neatly kempt, mid-length auburn hair was tied back with a teal scrunchie.
Catching sight of the teen, she gave a warm smile, but alarm soon crept in her amber eyes as she noted her slovenly state. Her clothes were rumpled and soiled with mud, grass, and what appeared to be tree sap. Streaks of dirt mired her face also, but it was her hair that seemed to have suffered the worst fate. The unfortunate long brown locks were a frizzy, tangled mass atop her head.
Taking pity, she wasted no time to welcome the girl.
"Oh, hello," she greeted, kindly, "Are you passing through, or do you need a place to stay? I have a room available."
The offer came as a surprise to Ki, but she was concurrently touched by the woman's show of hospitality towards a stranger. However, she would have to respectfully decline the invitation. There would be time to rest later, and only after her mission was completed.
"Thank you, but no," she responded, politely, "I am here on an urgent matter to see Professor Oak. Could you perhaps help to point me in the right direction, please?"
"Oh, yes," the woman answered, brightly, "Professor Oak's lab is on top of that hill at the end of the street. You'll have to cross over the bridge."
Ki shifted her gaze to follow the woman's indication. Sure enough, there was a large house, part of its structural design resembling a barn, which sat upon the tall hilltop. Painted a pale sunny yellow, its obvious disparity from the rest of the town's cookie-cutter scheme made it stand out like a beacon. A wind turbine could be seen towering behind it, with yellow blades as well.
Sheepishly, the young psychic wondered how she could have missed it.
"Um, thank... thank you," she stumbled, her voice low, "Ms..."
"Delia Ketchum," the woman supplied, "You may call me Delia."
Ketchum... Ki registered the name with instant recognition. Could it be a coincidence? Yet, Pallet was such a small town she doubted there wasn't a connection.
"I'm Kikara," she returned, "Perchance, would you be related to an Ash Ketchum?"
Delia's eyes lit up the moment she mentioned of the boy.
"Why, yes, I'm his mother," the older woman affirmed, beaming.
"How do you know my Ash?" she added.
Ki couldn't help cracking a slight smile as she found hers to be infectious.
"We only formally met yesterday," she confessed, "But I knew of him before when he came to the Saffron City Gym a while ago to challenge Sabrina. That's my home."
"Oh, then you must be the girl who saved Pikachu," Delia enthused, "Ash told me about what happened with Team Rocket. He is very grateful to you, and I thank you too."
The young woman supposed the words of praise were merited, but she didn't feel as if she had performed an extraordinarily heroic act.
"I could only do what was right," she murmured, demurely.
"You have such modesty, dear," Delia commended, "Ash did mention you wouldn't let him repay you when you had your own emergency arise soon after."
The disclosure caught Ki off guard, freezing her in a perturbed silence. She had sought to maintain a low profile, restricting contact to involve those only necessary of her predicament. Ash, while his intentions may have meant no harm, unwittingly had served to destroy that protective bubble.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear out of reflex, averting her eyes slightly. Her brain scrambled to think of how she could dismiss the subject without suspicion she was deliberately trying to hide something. Regardless of the woman's ostensive trustworthiness, the matter for her was strictly classified.
"Your assistance, and concern, is appreciated, ma'am, but it's crucial I speak with the Professor posthaste and must be on my way," she blurted, at last, the words tumbling out in a rush.
She heard too late the brusque edge creeping into her voice. Mortified by her lack of tact, she clamped her mouth shut and bit her lip with self-reproach. Delia was not an enemy, but she was, although inadvertently, treating her as if she were one.
I always mess things up...
Her palms became clammy, and her stomach churned nauseatingly as it twisted itself into knots with fearful anxiety. While she had the overwhelming urge to flee, she resisted the temptation. There was no point to make an already embarrassing situation worse than it was. She had a responsibility to face any resulting ramifications.
Kikara's outburst was unexpected, and left the older woman feeling confused and dismayed. What had provoked this sudden change in her demeanor? She hesitated to speak again as she did not wish to further incur her wrath.
However, judging the teen's body language, her normally pleasant disposition overrode all umbrage. It was evident she was quite aggrieved and felt remorseful of the gaffe. Delia wondered then if perhaps the topic of their conversation was the reason for upsetting her somehow. The woman couldn't possibly imagine the sorts of things going on in the poor girl's life to elicit such a defensive reaction.
She began to notice then also the color had drained from Kikara's face and was nearly pale as a ghost. Immediately, her maternal instincts propelled her off the porch, and down the walkway towards the road to reach her. However, she was forced to a halt when Rapidash unexpectedly blocked her path, wedging itself between the two.
The huge, fiery equestrian fixed her with a belligerent stare. A slight chill ran up her spine as it then stamped its front hooves once, producing spurts of dust from the dry earth beneath. The message of its intent was a clear warning; it wanted to scare her away in its perceivence of her as a threat.
"Oh, my," she breathed, nervously.
Delia never saw Kikara move until suddenly she was standing in front of her to intercept the Pokemon. When the teen approached, the change in Rapidash's behavior was immediate. Its hostile posture evaporated becoming relaxed and more amicable.
She lay a gentle hand on its muzzle, and began to run over it in long, soothing strokes. She appeared to be communicating with the creature, though no words were ever spoken. After a few moments, the horse stepped aside a few paces to a respectable distance from Delia, then briefly lowered its head as if to apologize.
Having successfully deescalated the situation, an unexpected wave of dizziness flooded through Ki. She leaned a bit against Rapidash as she started to sway on her feet. Her head throbbed painfully, and the sunlight now seemed too harsh and bright, forcing her to shut her eyes to the glare.
She was startled to open them again upon a light touch on her shoulder. Delia's concerned gaze met her languid one.
"Oh, you poor dear," the older woman clucked.
"Come with me to the house and rest," she insisted, wrapping her arm around the teen's upper body to support her, "I have fresh, cold lemonade, and I was about to make some sandwiches."
"But..." Ki tried, although feebly, casting an anxious glance towards the hill.
"There's no need to worry about going to Professor Oak's place," Delia assured, "I will call him for you on the vid phone."
In that moment, the young psychic felt defeated. She could ill afford affronting her host even more if she continued to resist. As much as she hated to admit also, the break was sorely needed in the price she kept paying to push beyond her limitations. Without further protest, she allowed the woman to usher her inside.
Ki began surveying the interior of the home as they entered. Her attention was foremost drawn to the walls and ceiling painted a light and dark turquoise respectively. Under her feet, the floor was a beautiful golden honey wood flowing past into the room ahead she assumed to be the kitchen. It ended abruptly at the staircase to her right, transitioning to faded burnt sienna carpet.
The living room where she stood was decorated with a yellow sofa, chair, and matching ottoman. Along with a low coffee table, its polished stone surface gleaming, the furniture was set atop an area rug in the same shade as the carpet on the stairs. A large birch wood cabinet ran behind the length of the sofa, with a table lamp and two small potted plants adorning it. One of which was, interestingly enough, a cactus.
Overlooking the arrangement, a multi-pane patio window allowed in generous natural light to illuminate most of the room. It was framed by a yellow curtain neatly tied back at each of the sides. A sliding door gave access to the deck on the front of the house.
In the corner nearby sat another, much larger, plant. There was also a stand holding a small television. Images of what appeared to be a garden show were flickering on the screen.
"I like to watch for tips and new ideas," Delia commented, breaking the brief period of silence between them, "I just love plants, and growing yummy things to eat in my garden. In fact, I picked some fresh tomatoes this morning we can put on our sandwiches."
Ki mustered a wan smile, declining for the moment to express her dislike of the vegetable.
"If you'd like to wash up before lunch, the bathroom is upstairs to your right," the older woman continued, "Do you need any help?"
"Um, no, thank you, I think I can manage," the girl assured, finally finding her voice again.
"Wonderful," Delia acknowledged, gleefully, "I'll be in the kitchen. Please make yourself at home."
Then, humming a sprightly tune, she sauntered past and disappeared through the doorway beyond. Ki's gaze lingered after her for a moment before shifting uncertainly to the stairs. Contrary to the warm invitation, she felt as if she were intruding. It was nature's sudden and urgent prodding which won out over her reservations.
Gripping the banister, she mounted the first step and proceeded the climb to the second floor. She paused once she reached the landing as she discerned the bathroom's location. There were three doors down the short hall, two to her left and one to her right. Remembering Delia's directions, the young woman made a beeline for the right.
Ki felt her wall of defenses began to fail upon setting foot inside the facility's afforded privacy. She slumped back against the door and exhaled a long, breathy sigh as if she had been holding it for quite some time. She then gulped air in earnest trying to stabilize her emotions.
Everything seemed to be going wrong. She wasn't supposed to be here. She should have been at Professor Oak's by now to pick up the medicine, but she was stuck in this house until she could recoup her stamina. Was it pride, stubbornness, or just perhaps plain rotten luck she often found herself in arduous situations?
She sniffled, and a flowery scent tickled her nose she didn't initially notice. It snapped her back into focus, taking a few moments to examine the room curious of the culprit. Delia's touch was evident in here too.
The walls were a soft peach, and was the right balance of femininity to create a calm and relaxing atmosphere. A lilac printed shower curtain hung over the bathtub, and a fresh bouquet of lilacs sat on the vanity. Combined with a lilac candle she determined to be the main source of the smell, the effects soothed the young woman's tumultuous mind.
Nature signaled again, with more insistence, at that moment then to remind her to attend to her business. Afterwards, she approached the sink to wash her hands, idly glancing up in the mirror positioned above it as she did so. What she saw in her reflection nearly made her gasp aloud in horror.
Her face was smeared in filth from various substances. Inspecting her clothes, she found them similarly defiled, but it was her hair which gave the real shock. How was she ever going to fix this unruly nightmare?
Albeit polite, it was no wonder Delia had suggested she "freshen up". KI felt utterly embarrassed to have presented herself in such a state. Even more shameful, the prospect of showing up at Professor Oak's in bad appearance would have been a lack of respect for the famed researcher. She couldn't think of leaving the room until she was at least somewhat decent again.
Locating a linen closet, she extracted a clean washcloth from the neatly folded pile. She wet it thoroughly and applied a generous amount of soap, starting to scrub her face. Formerly white suds became tinged brown, dripping into the basin below, as the muck was removed.
She kept her eyes shut to avoid any seeping in, and relied on her other senses to rinse out the cloth. After squeezing some of the excess water, she draped it over her face once again to wipe away the soap. A bath towel followed in short order to dry off. She repeated the same process for her forearms.
She then leaned forward closer to the mirror, examining for any spots she might have missed. Satisfied all traces of dirt were eliminated, she set to work next on the Raticate's nest which was her hair. She realized, while picking out debris, sticky residue from the tree sap had essentially glued the locks together. It would be an impossible, and painful, task to untangle them with only her brush. She would have no choice but to wash her hair too.
Returning to the closet, she searched the shelves a moment before she spied bottles of shampoo and conditioner. She would use just a bit, but she hoped Delia wouldn't mind. She didn't want to seem overreaching of her permissible amenities.
It was challenging to accommodate her long tresses under the sink's faucet. However, the shower was entirely out of the question. She felt it would go too far of polite company to take a full bath.
With the same towel, she wrapped her wet hair, twisting it snugly in a neat turban atop her head. She attempted in the meantime to clean her clothing, but there was little she could do. Most of the stains were ground in the fabric.
Abandoning the effort in admittance of defeat, she instead went to retrieve her hairbrush from the smaller front compartment of her overstuffed backpack. She also procured the hairdryer she remembered seeing in her prior rummage through the closet. She plugged the appliance into a nearby outlet before unraveling the towel.
She vigorously rubbed the linen all over her head to absorb as much of the remaining moisture as possible. Switching the dryer on to 'high', she made several aggressive sweeps through the damp, stringy locks. The heat soon transformed them into bouncy brown waves cascading down her back.
She wasn't quite finished yet, however. There was just one thing left to do before she could leave. After a quick tidying up, she put away everything as she had found it. The exception, of course, was the towel and washcloth, which she disposed of in a dirty laundry hamper.
Shouldering her backpack on once again, she finally stepped out of the bathroom. She was aware she had spent a great deal of time in there, and was feeling somewhat discomposed. Delia must think her impudent.
She fretted also she had needlessly frittered it away. In this crucial race against the clock, every precious minute counted.
Ki crept down the stairs and walked measuredly towards the kitchen. At the doorway, she paused hesitantly a moment, weighing her options. Was it too late to run?
"I'm afraid we're past being shy," the older woman's voice suddenly sounded from within, almost causing the teen to jump out of her skin, "Come in. You must be starving."
The young woman drew in a deep breath and steeled herself, finally crossing the threshold. As what she had seen throughout most of the house, the light and dark contrasting turquoise color scheme continued in here also. So did the pretty wood flooring, which oddly pleased her.
A row of differing size cabinets painted in a pale sunny yellow lined the far wall. Adorned with a peach curtain, they were separated by a window, which overlooked into the backyard. Directly below it sat the stove wedged between two bottom cabinets, while near the end of the long, spacious white formica countertop was a farm style sink. The wall behind was highlighted with a back splash of salmon pink tile.
Arranged near the refrigerator, a wooden bench table and four chairs served as a dining area. It was set with plates full of fresh sliced tomatoes, crisp lettuce leaves, and slices of ham and turkey, and provolone and muenster cheeses. There was squeeze bottles of mayonnaise and mustard accompanying alongside, and a large pitcher filled with ice cold lemonade.
Delia was placing down a loaf of white wheat bread to complete the spread when she caught sight of the girl. She flashed her a beaming smile.
"I see you're feeling better," she remarked, candidly.
Ki felt a subtle heat rise in her cheeks. The change in her appearance was too significant not to notice. It was naive of her to assume the woman wouldn't comment in relation to her long absence.
"I do, yes," she admitted, her voice barely an octave above a whisper.
She stiffened all of a sudden as the delicious smells wafting to her nose from the table caused her mostly empty stomach to react. Wrapping her arms around her middle, she ducked her head down abashedly. Her tumbled curls partially veiled the deepening spread of red across her face.
"You'll feel even better when you fill your belly up with food," Delia responded, mirthfully, "Sit."
Giving a faint nod, the young woman obediently approached the closest chair, positioned from across the fridge. She quietly pondered the selection in front of her after settling in the seat, but needed further gentle persuasion before she reached for her choices. She finally proceeded to assemble a turkey sandwich, topping it with a slice of provolone, a piece of lettuce, and a light spread of mayo.
There was an audible crunch between the soft, buttery slices of bread as she took the first bite into her creation. The leafy vegetable was tender and moist, with its slightly sweet flavor complimenting well against the saltiness of the roasted meat and the mild nutty smokiness of the cheese. Finishing it out, the thin layer of mayo was just the right amount to give the sandwich a subtle tangy kick.
It surprised Delia the teen used so little to make the sandwich, a perplexed frown furrowing her brow of its paltry appearance. She was used to Ash and his friends large appetites and heaping generous portions. It quite unsettled her to see the opposite.
Ki could feel the older woman's eyes on her watching intently. Midway through her eating, she paused to set the sandwich down on her plate in uncomfortable self consciousness.
"I know you think of me as strange," she said then, quietly, after swallowing, "Perhaps I would too were I in your position."
Delia started upon hearing the girl's words. A disconcerting expression, however, quickly crossed her features. Was she reading her mind?
"For most of my life, people have not been kind to me," Ki continued, "So, I have had very little reason to trust anyone. Yet, you and your son, and his friends, have shown me there are a few good people out in the world, and that means more than words can express."
The older woman's face relaxed, changing to one of sympathy. This certainly explained why the girl had been holding herself so distant and guarded. She reached out and lightly touched her arm in a gesture of comfort.
"No one here is going to hurt you," she assured, "I will help you in any way I can, and Professor Oak too, whatever it is you need from him."
"There's a special potion I must acquire to cure an ailing Pokemon back home," Ki disclosed, haltingly, "He's gravely injured and sick. He won't live otherwise if I don't get it to him soon."
Her eyes drifted downward to stare at the half-eaten sandwich. Suddenly, she had lost her appetite, pushing the plate then gently away. She couldn't sit here eating good food when Mewtwo lay miles away so close to death.
"I gotta go," she announced, abruptly, jumping to her feet, "I can't stay any longer."
"But you haven't finished your lunch," Delia protested.
"I can't eat, nor rest, until he's well again," Ki resisted.
Delia pursed her lips. While this wasn't her son she was dealing with, the same stubborn attitude certainly was.
"Now, you listen to me, young lady," she rebuked, firmly, "You can't take care of him properly if you're not taking care of yourself. Why, if he is anything like Pikachu is with Ash, the poor thing will be terribly upset you made yourself sick too."
Ki was instantly brought to a complete standstill. How could she have...? There was no way of her knowing, but nonetheless the older woman's intuitive assessment rattled the young Psychic to her core.
Slowly, she sank back down in the chair, feeling defeated.
"You're right," she conceded, softly, "He would."
Delia gave the despondent girl an encouraging smile.
"He's very lucky to have you," she stated, "The level of commitment you're showing is testament of a strong bond between Pokemon and trainer."
Ki didn't bother to correct her, seeing it best for her to assume she was his trainer rather than awkwardly explain she was in fact not. However, a tiny, bittersweet smile fluttered across her lips. Delia then slid the plate in front of her again.
"Why not finish your meal, and right after, we'll phone Professor Oak," she promised.
Although a little grudgingly, the teen complied and picked up the sandwich once more. She proceeded to polish it off in three big bites. It was chased down with a glassful of the citrusy beverage in nearly one breath.
Returning the glass to the table, she looked expectantly then at the older woman. Delia couldn't hide her displeasure of Kikara's less than desirable response to her request. Yet, she could only sigh in resignation as she had given her word.
"Alright, let's go make that call," she beckoned.
Ki eagerly hopped to her feet once again, and trailed close on her heels into the living room. She was led to the table behind the couch where a small green terminal she had noticed earlier rested. The woman picked up the attached receiver on the side and punched in a series of numbers on the keyboard.
After a few moments of waiting, the darkened screen flickered to life suddenly. A man with grandfatherly features appeared as he answered the other end of the line. Only his upper half visible in the monitor, sporting a stark white lab coat over a high-collared brick red polo. His cropped gray hair, while neatly combed, had a few wayward tufts sticking out on one side.
His brown eyes were lit up with warm recognition of the caller, smiling broadly.
"Why, hello, Delia," he greeted, jovially, "It's certainly always a pleasure to hear from you, but rather unexpected. Is everything okay?"
"Hello, Professor," Delia responded, amicably, "Yes, I'm fine. I'm sorry to interrupt."
"Oh, it's quite alright," he dismissed, "I just finished making my rounds to feed the Pokemon their lunch."
"Say, where has Ash run off to today?" he added, "He hasn't been by my lab."
"He went with Brock and Misty this morning to train in the mountains," she replied.
"Good, good," he approved, "It's about time that boy started to get serious. The League is only a few months away, and- oh?"
He stopped short upon spying the unfamiliar face of a female emerge in the monitor's view as she peered around Delia's shoulder. The girl, appearing to be in her late teens, scrutinized him with reverence in her unusual deep green catlike eyes.
"I see you have a guest," he observed, intrigued.
"Actually, professor, she's the reason why I called you," the older woman informed, "She'll explain it to you."
She stepped aside then and placed a gentle hand at the younger's back in a bid to coax her foward. Tentatively, Ki approached the terminal to present herself in full accessible view of the professor. She fought to quell the anxiety creeping up in her all of a sudden.
"Well, hello there, young lady," Oak addressed her, cordially, "No need to be shy. I'm Professor Samuel Oak, Pallet Town's resident Pokemon researcher. I study their behavior and relationship between their human companions. And you are...?"
She swallowed thickly, and drew in a deep, calming breath before she opened her mouth to speak.
"M-my name is Kikara," she stated, her voice quavering slightly for a moment, "I'm from Saffron City."
"Saffron City, eh?" he mused, "That's quite a journey. Say, you wouldn't happen to know Saffron's Gym leader, Sabrina?"
Ki stalled briefly on the question. She was loath to impart too much sensitive information. Yet, if she revealed her ties to Sabrina, perhaps it could help improve her likelihood to secure the potion from him. She decided it was a risk worth taking.
"Yes, I live under her guardianship," she admitted, finally.
A pensive frown spread over the man's features as if a memory had suddenly resurfaced.
"Hmm, I seem to recall now hearing of that name before," he disclosed, rubbing his chin.
The woman's eyes grew wide at this, shock reverberating in their emerald depths. How much did the professor already know of her? What had Sabrina told him?
"Though it's been quite a few years ago," he continued, "Sabrina contacted me for a Trainer's license to register to a Kikara. As it is rather unique, it would be logical to come to the conclusion you are one and the same."
"That... that would be a correct presumption," she confirmed, quietly.
"It's odd, however, after all this time we should meet," he remarked, candidly, "You never came to collect your Pokeballs, Pokedex, and starter Pokemon."
"I am not a Trainer in the traditional sense," she clarified, "I have no desire to catch, own or train Pokemon of my own. Instead, I train those brought to me by other trainers who have problems with understanding each other because the Pokemon has special needs. I help them both to overcome that barrier."
The professor's brow creased even further, appearing utterly perplexed. Could it be possible she was...?
"I've heard rumblings amongst my colleagues of a girl who could communicate with Pokemon," he said, after a slight pause, "They called her the "Pokemon Whisperer"."
So it would seem her reputation had proceeded her even in this remote corner of the region. Her lips twitched in the barest hint of a smile. The medicine was as good as in her hands.
"But, I am skeptical of its validity," he then added, "There have been many people to claim, fraudulently, they can speak and translate Pokemon language. Yet, if you could provide me proof..."
His response wasn't entirely unexpected, but she balked at the idea of a demonstration in convincing him. She did not render her abilities on a whim. It went against her code of ethics.
"It doesn't matter if you believe me or not," she started, her voice low, "I..."
"Rapidash," Delia abruptly interjected, "Professor, she stopped Rapidash from trying to attack me because it listened to her."
"You have a Rapidash?!" Oak exclaimed, incredulously.
Ki's patience was fast beginning to run out. The conversation had already dragged on for much too long. Time was slipping literally through her fingers to save Mewtwo. She was desperate to hurry back home to him.
"Professor, I apologize, but the answers to your questions must wait until some other time," she interrupted, firmly, "I've traveled here on an imperative errand seeking the SecretPotion."
Oak's excitement evaporated and was quickly replaced with concern. The SecretPotion was a powerful elixir used to cure Pokemon suffering from life-threatening injuries or illnesses. It was so strong, in fact, Pokemon Centers were not authorized to carry it. Because of its strict regulations, trainers had difficulty accessing it, and limited supply also was available.
"I've been working with this Pokemon for some time now; a few months actually," she continued, softly, "I've grown quite attached to him, and he bonded to me as well."
Her breathing began to accelerate as her face abruptly darkened. The muscles in her neck and jaw became tightly clenched, and Delia noted she had balled her hands too into fists at her sides. They visibly shook with pent up ire.
"Yesterday... yesterday, he was attacked and tortured by his Trainer, who was a member of Team Rocket," Ki faltered, hearing them both gasp, "I rescued him and brought him to a place I knew where he'd be safe, but he sustained extensive damage, and contracted a raging fever."
"I couldn't take him to a Pokemon Center at the risk it would be the first place they check if they should come looking for him," she reasoned, anticipating the question before either one could pose it, "And while I keep a small emergency stock of potions on hand, they wouldn't be able to effectively treat him as his ailments are too severe. So that's why I came to you, to ask for the one medicine that will."
She paused to gulp in a shuddery breath of air, struggling to hold back tears. Her mouth felt like it was full of cotton, and her tongue was parched as sandpaper. Her lips were tingling also from the lack of moisture, but water would have to wait.
"Please, please help him..." she implored, her voice catching in her throat, "He's my friend... my dearest, best friend... I just don't know what I'd do without him."
Samuel Oak was nothing if not a compassionate and empathetic man. He'd dedicated decades to a field of work directly involved in the cohabitation between humans and Pokemon, and why some form close, symbiotic relationships as such as in this case. With the teen's impassioned plea and her glassy-eyed distraught expression, it hurt him all the more for what he was about to tell her.
"I'd be more than happy to give you the potion," he obliged, "But, you see, I'm afraid I don't have it."