Chapter 32 – Instincts

"That's off limits!" Amia cried. Her voice carried over the echoing factory, even as Owen stood in paralyzed horror. Was Brandon really ordering his Pokémon to steal his bag? His Everstone?

"Whaaat, scared he'll go crazy?" Brandon teased. "C'mon, it's time we put it to the test. What do you think, Hecto?"

"I have little information on Owen's sanity if he evolves, one way or the other," the canid Zygarde said. "He demonstrated restraint the last time he evolved against Azu, but he was still unstable."

Gahi buzzed his wings angrily. "Well I'm not gonna let ya!" he said. "Owen's gonna evolve on his own terms!"

"I'd love to see you try to stop that," Brandon said, gesturing forward with a smug grin.

Amia immediately ran forward. She promptly slammed her face against an invisible barrier; it flashed white when she hit it. "What—"

Brandon smirked at her. "You said you'd let them fight on their own, right?"

Amia stared at Brandon in disbelief. Then, in a split-second of pure, fiery rage, she slammed her fist against the barrier. Fire enveloped her hands, spreading in five directions upon impact. The sudden heat made Rhys take two steps back.

"Whoa-ho, calm down!" Brandon said, keeping his hand up. "Owen's in no danger, right? Let the guy fight. Charmeleon, Vibrava, take that bag at all costs!"

"Right!" They rushed toward Owen, completely ignoring Gahi. The metal Charmeleon went for the bag, while the Vibrava generated and hurled another volley of mud and sand toward his opponent. The Mud Slap missed, but the Charmeleon had already rushed for the bag.

A burst of fire exploded below—Owen had planted a Fire Trap in case they tried to get close, and he took advantage of the explosion to get some distance. If they were going to try to steal from him, then he just had to escape.

"Mom! Rhys—Gahi! We're leaving!"

"Oh, no you don't!" Brandon said. "Guys! Quick!"

Charmeleon's steel body had a scorch mark on it from the Fire Trap, but he advanced anyway. He didn't have to attack, after all; his mission was now to steal the bag. Vibrava launched another wad of mud just in time. Owen had grabbed his Badge, deciding that escape was a better idea but the Mud Slap blinded him, and he reflexively rubbed at his eyes. He heard another fiery explosion to his right; the metal Charmeleon shrieked but lurched forward and grabbed the bag.

"Let go!" Owen said, and the two reptiles—one metallic, one fiery—held fast on the fabric. Owen was trying to be careful and not tear it apart, but his metal counterpart was significantly rougher. "C-c'mon, this is expensive!" Owen begged, looking at the metallic claws tearing into the lip of the bag. "Nngh, that's not—can you just stop?!" But he saw the bag tear, and as a reflex, he let go.

The metallic Charmeleon fell back with a loud clang, but the bag was in his arms. "Got it!"

"Finally," Brandon said. The Charmeleon stood up. They watched Owen for the evolution to take place. Hecto, off to the side, stood expressionlessly, staring.

"No!" Amia cried. She huffed and slammed her fist on the barrier again, but it didn't budge.

Rhys readied the Suppression Aura. "Amia," he said lowly.

Amia gulped, readying the same technique.

Owen held his breath, looking at his hands. He looked back at Amia and Rhys and their Suppression Auras already swirling to reset him. All that talk about how he'd be ready, all that encouragement to pull through one more time. And it all faded the second things actually happened. So that's how it was. Already prepared to take him down… So much for building him up.

How many times did they lie to him about this, too? No—that wasn't fair. They were just being careful. He told them to be careful. He shouldn't be mad at that. Maybe they really didn't lie, right?

Owen looked at his hands, squeezing his claws together. He breathed slowly and deeply, eyes closed, and puffed out a steady ember from his throat. Meditate, calm the aura. Release the anger steadily; let the restlessness settle down to nothing.

Owen could tell that everyone was holding their breath. Even Gahi. The Charmeleon—still a Charmeleon, without any white and black light—looked at Brandon. "…You really wanted me to evolve," he said. He swung his arms down, fists clenched in some sort of juvenile anger. "What's wrong with you?!"

"What—of course I did!" Brandon waited a few more seconds. Exasperated, the Machoke raised his arms. "And why aren't you!?"

"Because I knew something like this was gonna happen." Owen growled, pacing in a small circle. "Enet might've tried to steal it as a prank, or maybe Willow, y'know, something like that. Or Mom would get impatient and take the bag away while I was asleep, see if I was calm when that happened? I don't know! People get moody! What if one day I just happen to lose my stone, misplace it?" He glanced back at Amia, whose Suppression Aura dissipated from the shock. "So that stone isn't in the bag anymore. It hasn't been since this morning."

Brandon squinted exaggeratedly. "Th—where is it, then? Or are you in total control of evolving, now?"

"Owen…?" Amia said. "Did… are you stable? In control?!"

Owen smiled sadly at his mother, shaking his head. "No. I'll never know that until I actually evolve."

"Okay, so, what, then?" Brandon asked.

Charmeleon, defeated, handed Owen his bag back, muttering a quiet apology for tearing it.

Owen smirked at Brandon, holding his hands to his hips proudly. "I ate it."

Several seconds of silence filled the echoing factory.

Brandon's arms dropped. "…WHAT?!"

"You ate it?! Owen! That's dangerous!" Amia said. "You can't swallow something that large! How did you—"

"I just grew in size a little, ate it, and shrank back down," Owen said. "I guess I tried to simulate Growth from my Grass Orb, or something. I did it while I was on my morning stroll, thinking about ways to keep anyone from stealing my Everstone."

"Okay, but, Owen," Brandon said, "lemme… just… What exactly is the exit strategy for that? It's probably stuck in your stomach. It's way too big to go through the rest of your guts."

"I ate it with that weird vine in me," Owen said. "I dunno where it is, but it's stored somewhere when I became a Grass Type. I feel fine. If I ever want it out again, I'll just spit it back out."

Gahi buzzed over to Owen and started poking at his stomach.

"Uh—Gahi," Owen said quietly.

"Hang on, trying ter find it," Gahi said, prodding at different parts of his belly. "Oy! There it is," he said, prodding at just below his chest with one of his legs.

"Yep, that's pretty stomach-regiony." Brandon put a hand to his forehead, making another loud ringing noise. "Unbelievable. So much for testing your full form."

"And I'd like it if you asked first!" Owen said, pointing at Brandon. "What if I went crazy and you couldn't stop me?! I'd destroy this factory!"

"Aah, it's not that easy to do," he said. "I'm a lot stronger than you think, y'know."

"Okay, sure, if you're strong, maybe I can't beat you, but what if I used these Poké Balls that were lying around, found a working one, and captured you? Then once you escape from it, I'd just attack you and throw another one at the same time. I'd just chip away until you got too tired to fight back!"

"O-Owen, that's… a little elaborate. How long were you thinking about that?" Amia said worriedly. "A little, um…"

"…Huh," Brandon said. "Didn't actually think of that." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I guess there's a slim, slim chance that might make me flinch. I'd be more worried about those things getting out of here, though. Man, I forgot that's your specialty, Owen."

"What?" Owen said. "Specialty?"

"Yeah. I heard from Arceus all about you four—the ultimate mutants that Nevren and Rhys designed. The perfect team. Mispy, who was able to heal and sense those who were injured by aura—Gahi, whose speed could dodge attacks and deal ones that couldn't be dodged—Demitri, whose attacks were so potent that not even Protect could block them—and then you, Owen, who knew how to come up with the best strategies on the fly, and who was aware of the whole battlefield at once." The Machoke nodded. "Defense, agility, offense, and Perceive." Brandon said. "Isn't that right, Rhys?"

Owen's heart was racing with some strange mixture of anxiety and anger. Even his abilities weren't something he controlled? That Fire Trap that he spent so much time developing and planning—was that just what he always had? Was it all planned? His awareness of everyone's body language, reading if they'd attack or not, where things were. Was it all…

"Ngh… yes," Rhys admitted. "Those are their abilities."

"That's… my ability?" Owen said. "So—my whole thing about just knowing the flow of battle? That's always been stronger as a Charmeleon… when I'm closer to—" Owen shook his head. "No. That's just what I built up with practice. I read all those books to learn more about dungeon explorations, and my practice with that knowledge is what made me how I am! That's not something I was supposed to know. I did that by myself! Because that's what I liked doing, and what I wanted to do! It's not some instinct! Is… is it?"

"Instinct… I wouldn't call it that. Maybe your talent." Brandon said. "By the way, hate to break it to you, but having an innate desire to do something? Kiiinda sounds like instinct. But hey, you honed it!"

"But it's still something that I was born with." Owen said lowly. "Or… no. Not born. Designed with. Is that it?" His voice broke. His claws dug into his palms. "I was designed to be like this. I didn't… choose at all!"

"Owen," Amia said softly. "It's not like that. It's okay. I mean, you still had to refine it! Right? Rhys?"

Rhys nodded hastily. "Y-yes, it isn't as if you can be born with total knowledge of, say… what Dungeon Orbs are, or Seeds, or Berries. You had to learn those. You just had… a specialized mind for putting those pieces together, Owen. More than usual."

This still didn't sit right. The fiery Charmeleon went back to looking at his claws, but then at Brandon. "…And you're not coming with us?"

"Nope," Brandon said. "Sitting right here. I've got a factory to guard."

"Right," Owen said. "…Then I guess we're just gonna go."

"Owen? You aren't going to… finish the fight?" Amia asked.

Brandon glared. "Hey, you still gotta evolve one way or the—" Brandon suddenly stopped talking, squinting at the ceiling as if it said something stupid. "Arceus is saying to just let you go." He rolled his eyes. "Whatever. But for real, you aren't fighting? What kind of mutant are you?"

Owen felt that heat in his heart—the temptation to fight. Or at least to yell back in defiance. He gritted his teeth. That was part of his design, too. He wanted nothing more to fight. Therefore, he answered. "No. I'm not in the mood."

Hecto, who had been watching silently from the corner of the arena, turned his head at Owen. He said and did nothing else.

"I won't stop you," Brandon said. "Just don't touch anything on your way out."

"Thanks," Owen said curtly. He headed for the exit, not even looking at Amia or Rhys. Instead, he glanced at Gahi. His tone softened. "Do you want to ride on my back again?"

"Eh—nah, I'll just fly next to yeh. If I get tired, I'll… go on."

Owen nodded, then left. Amia tried talking to Owen, but the most response she got out of him was curt hums and silent nods. Rhys knew not to interact. He walked out of the factory, ignoring the clicking of his claws on concrete, and stepped out into the sand and onto the black, sandy shores.

At the edge of the shoreline, Owen scanned the blackened sand and dark water. He looked at his bag, irritated at the little rips on it from his metallic counterpart trying to pull it away. He snorted.

"I can't believe I let them do that," he said. "Should've just told them from the start that I wasn't able to evolve… Now look, I probably have to get this thing sewed up, repaired, all that… Ugh!" Owen stomped his foot on the ground, splashing dark water and sand in the air. He protectively lifted the bag, narrowly avoiding getting it dirty again.

"Hey," Gahi said.

Owen looked back. "It's alright," he said. "I just need to cool off, that's all…"

"How come yer all mad?" Gahi asked.

Owen took off, so Gahi flew after him. As it turned out, Owen was too fast—Amia and Rhys trailed behind but knew to keep away. Gahi only kept up because of his natural speed.

"I guess I got a reminder," Owen said. "Just—a reminder of what I am, is a way to put it."

"Yer instincts, y'mean? Being good at solving problems? I mean, hey, rumor has it that humans were the same way." Gahi buzzed further ahead so he could get a better look at Owen. "We all have instincts. I wouldn't know how ter fly without'm."

"I guess so," Owen mumbled, then raised his voice over the wind. "But… but it feels different that I was designed instead of just… born like everyone else. I know Star may've started life and designed that, too, but I bet they changed a whole lot, generation to generation, from what she first made, right? But me, I'm… I feel… predicted."

Gahi stared dumbly at Owen. The Charmeleon understood that this may have been too much. "I feel like I'm not me, I'm just… what someone wants me to be. And I'm just… being that, like I was supposed to. I feel like I didn't… make any choices. No real ones. It was all predetermined, and I never really had a fork in the road, ever. I… did what everyone wanted me to do."

"Eh." Gahi looked uninterested. "I guess I c'n see that. Either way, sorta annoying that we've got these instincts that people don't understand."

"I don't even want them," Owen said. "Why couldn't I just be a normal Charmander, or a Charizard, or whatever? Then I'd just… I dunno."

"What would you do?" Gahi said.

Owen hesitated. He didn't think that far ahead. Sure, it was a little nice to think about living a normal life, but how would that go? Would he even be strong enough to become a Heart if he wasn't… who he was? After all, only the most talented fighters would become one. Everyone else had to take on normal jobs to get by. That wasn't so bad, but…

"I think being like this is kinda cool," Gahi went on.

"Cool…? You think it's cool?" Owen repeated, glancing incredulously. "You think it's cool that your whole destiny was predetermined by—by killers, and you were supposed to be their weapon? You like being nothing but a—but some sort of… muscle head?"

"I mean, kinda," Gahi said. "I'd say I'm happy."

Owen squinted at Gahi, but then looked forward. He didn't respond. Gahi just didn't understand yet. Maybe he would if he actually understood what it meant to remember.

The rest of the flight home was silent. He stared down at the ocean for a while, mulling over what Brandon said. Instinct? Talent? More like his design. He wondered if this was how the first Pokémon ever created felt like. Star made them to behave a certain way, didn't she? He could feel her presence. She was trying to talk to him.

Well, he wasn't in the mood.

They flew over the beaches. Owen saw the Chasm of the Void to the right: the great, black Abyss yawning toward the sky. Subconsciously, he veered away from it.

Far ahead was Kilo Village. If he flew a bit higher, he'd actually be able to see the tiny buildings within the crater. Owen sank lower in altitude, if only to get a change in scenery.

"Not too close, Owen!" Amia called. "You're a flying Charmeleon!"

"Ngh." He complied, but still looked down. They were like specks to him from this height, but he could still see the vague features of the Pokémon below, the sections for training, for food, for entertainment—and Anam's Thousand Hearts. Even from this height, he saw the giant, heart-shaped building.

Owen wondered where he got the name from. Why a thousand, so specifically? It was a hefty number, after all. But then again, it was a good number for the size of the world.

"Owen, don't you think we should just warp back home, dear?" Amia asked once again. Owen lost count of how many times she'd asked.

"You can," Owen said. "I just want to fly." That wasn't entirely it. But he needed more time to think, and he knew that if he got home, they'd convince him to fall in line, like they always did.

Amia sighed, looking at Rhys. Really, they could have been home by now, before they even took off. But Owen had flown too far away for Rhys to use his Badge for warping back.

Eventually, Owen slowed down to pass his bag to the Gardevoir.

"Do you know how to repair this?" Owen asked her.

"Oh, um… I'm not very good with… fabrics," Amia said.

"I can assist," Rhys said. "Owen, why are you leaving this with me? We're all going home."

"I'm gonna fly on my own for a little bit."

"Owen—you can't do that," Amia said. "What if a Hunter—"

"Don't give me that," Owen snapped, speaking lowly. His tail flashed blue, but then it dimmed to a weak red. "S-sorry," he mumbled, looking away.

"Owen," Amia said gently. "It's dangerous."

"Is it, though?" Owen said. "Think about it. Rim could've killed us at any time. I don't even know where Eon is. And you know what? I don't think I can beat her even if I fully evolved. She commands my kind. So, I think she just doesn't want to hurt me!" He blew out a few embers that instantly dissipated in the wind. "And she can't take me away, or she would've done that, too. So, you know what? I'm fine. I'll be fine." He stared at Rhys. "Isn't that right?"

Before Rhys could answer, Gahi spoke up. "Ehh, I dunno if it's safe to go out on yer own like that," he said. "What if Rim shows up and does try something?"

"I'll fight her."

"Yeah, uh, maybe not," Gahi said.

"She doesn't want me to evolve," Owen said. "If I try to fight, or I throw away my Everstone…"

"But what if she just kills you?" Gahi said. "Yer a threat now."

"I don't think she will," Owen said. "I saw it in her. She doesn't want to hurt me. Don't you think so, Rhys?" Owen nodded. "Even back then, before I even became the Grass Guardian, she was just trying to scare me off. That was it, wasn't it…? She doesn't want to hurt… me. I don't really know why yet, but… I think it's because I used to be with them. Maybe she'd feel bad."

Rhys made a sound that was a mixture between a pensive hum and a frustrated growl. "I suppose not," he said. "She wouldn't want to harm Gahi, either. But I want you home by sunset, understood? Minimize all interactions with her. Do not let her take your Everstone. Okay?"

"I won't."

"Yer gonna be okay?" Gahi asked, slowing until he was near Rhys and Amia.

"Yeah," Owen said. "Besides, if Rim does show up…" he trailed off. "I want to… give her a piece of my mind. Even if she doesn't want to hurt me, she's still a Hunter. And…"

"Sunset, Owen," Rhys said firmly.

"Please, dear," Amia added.

Owen just huffed, but he gave a minute nod in reply. This was their compromise, was it? Always treating him like a kid. But maybe he deserved it. He spent so many lifetimes with memories in a fog that he never had the opportunity to grow up. He always forgot, over and over. Or was it just in his design to be juvenile? Owen wondered if even this spine that he grew, as Brandon put it, was another part of his nature.

Owen glanced at Amia's worried eyes and his tail dimmed even further. "Maybe she won't show up at all," he said, feeling a lump in his throat. "I'll… I'll be back. Sunset. Or maybe earlier. I have my Badge." He flashed it, even though the rest of his supplies were with Rhys. "If I run into any trouble, I'll come right home. Besides," Owen said, smiling slightly. "Star will keep an eye on me."

This, it seemed, was enough. Amia reluctantly flashed the Badge in the air, and she and Rhys vanished with Gahi.

Owen drifted away from Kilo Village. He scanned the landscape and found a small clearing. Something about that location drew him toward it—he remembered this sight, from the skies. But the memory was too blurry to make out the details. But if it was familiar, then it was when he was a Charizard. He followed his vague memories to the ground.

Right when he landed, the memories struck him, like a punch from behind. The trees stood tall on all sides, and the ground had shin-high grass all over. Some parts of the grass seemed shorter than the rest, but for the most part, it was as if nothing had ever happened here. But it did.

Plant-like flesh squished between his claws. He felt intense heat from the back of his throat. He saw fearful, tiny eyes staring right at him under the moonlight. The flames overtook his vision after that. A feminine voice screamed and he looked up. A Lilligant. Owen rushed forward, gliding over the ground, sharp air swirling around his claws—

Rhys shouted desperately behind him. "Owen, STOP!"

"Stop," Owen mumbled.

Someone within knocked on his mind. He jolted where he stood, staring at his arms. Trembling. His legs felt like jelly. He thought, for just a moment, he had wings. That brief second filled him with so much primal fear that he was positive he saw his chest physically throb with his heartbeat.

He closed his eyes, struggling to meditate. His chest felt like it was going to explode. Uneasy breaths slowed into a steady rhythm. His fire crackled like a Blast Seed. He swallowed something invisible, and then took a final breath.

He pushed the aura forward. The blue ember became a Jumpluff. "Klent…"

He floated gracefully down—he looked completely solid, like he was alive again. He was so light that he floated in the wind. His pom-poms behaved like flotation devices on the grass. "It's been… quite a while," Klent said.

"Yeah…"

Owen looked at his claws, then at his tail. Some of the grass was singed from the flame drooping too low. He breathed deep, red transitioning to green, the flower at the tip of his tail blooming into a brilliant crimson this time, contrasting against his green, leafy scales.

Owen tried to raise his left arm forward, but it felt numb. It didn't respond. "…I'm sorry for…"

"It's okay, Owen," Klent eased. "It… it wasn't you."

"But—but wasn't it exactly me?"

"Not the Owen I know."

"Klent…"

A consistent, easy breeze blew past them. The petals of his tail shivered in the gust. The tall grass blew all in one direction, making a watery, whishing noise throughout the thin forest.

But it was him, wasn't it? It was part of him. That horrible monster that was sealed away in his mind was as much Owen as the suppressed version talking now.

The Jumpluff turned away. "…As much as I say that I know you as someone else now, Owen… I don't like being around here very much. There aren't many good memories here. Very few…" He sighed. "I'll be returning, now. Owen, will you be fine on your own?"

"Y-yeah. I just want to… take a walk."

Klent nodded and evaporated into an aura ember. Owen walked down the path until the grass got shorter, away from the residual influence of the previous Grass Guardian. The Mystic side of him appreciated the scenery; the natural side of him preferred a hotter climate. He didn't know what his 'true' side felt about this place. Perhaps it didn't feel anything.

What was it like to feel nothing? Owen shivered. To lose all sense of self like that…

Once he was on a landscape with grass that only went up to the top of his claws, Owen felt the presence of someone powerful. The leaves on his body stiffened like fur and he slowed his pace. He could feel the anxieties of the spirits within him. Calm down, it's alright, Owen thought to them.

He knew who it was. So, he wasn't surprised when he saw an Espurr appear in front. He snorted and continued walking. He sensed no malice, but he also realized that it was going to be impossible to get anything out of her. As much as he wanted to have his questions answered, there was no point in talking.

There she was, the Hunter herself. What was her role in all this? Did she once command him? Did she want him back? He obviously wasn't going to follow that. The Charmeleon stared at her with half a mind to…

Owen didn't know what he wanted to do to her. There was a block in his thought process. Attack her? No. That didn't feel… right. But—she was a killer. She killed Cara and Forrest. She forced Demitri, Mispy, and Gahi to evolve. She made them get reset. He never got to talk to Forrest. But Cara was terrified. But she also seemed relieved. Was she like Zena?

Rim had her gaze on the ground. Owen walked right past her. And then she turned around. With his cursed Perception, he knew she did. He walked for a few minutes; the Espurr never made a move. Instead, whenever he got too far away, she vanished and reappeared behind him, following without moving a muscle.

Realizing she wouldn't stop this, he finally turned around. The Espurr still had her eyes on the ground. After a moment of quiet that was cut only by the wind, she took slow, hesitant steps toward him. Owen could tell that she was too nervous to speak—and his vague memories suggested that she wasn't much to talk in general.

Who was Rim? Owen's claws tapped against one another, fists clenching. Why did Owen feel so familiar with her? The memories were right there, but Star's block prevented them from emerging. If only he could rip it away. He had to know. Rim, who was she? Was she Owen's commander? What did she know about him? Why did she run?

Could she fix him?

Rim sat down. Owen watched her. The grass caressed her tiny legs and intertwined with her gray fur. The way she moved was delicate and deliberate. Her ears twitched when a breeze rustled the fur the wrong way.

He wondered if Rim missed him, or if he was just an asset to her that she was trying to get back. He really didn't know. But her heart beat in an odd way. Her breathing was slow. It had nothing akin to a body preparing for battle. If anything, her spirit to fight was nonexistent. Rim wouldn't be able to fight even if she tried; like Owen, she just wasn't in the mood.

Who was Eon? It was such a familiar name. He felt so close. Yet, those memories were perhaps the most locked away. Were they good memories, or bad ones? Any time he thought back, his stomach twisted itself in knot after knot. He just wanted it to be over. He just wanted to know. He envied Gahi, so nonchalant about his missing past. But knowing him, he was just putting on a brave face. It probably bothered Gahi, too. But what could he do about it? Nothing.

But Owen could. As a Mystic, he could fix this himself.

Rim focused on the ground; The grass cut away. The dirt rose up and swirled into a flat, brown plane. Then, little figures rose up on the ground, and a grid formed a square in the middle, with a figure taking up each square on the two bottom and top edges of the grid. Half of them on Owen's side, the other half on Rim's.

Owen blinked. Chess. Chess! The memory crashed through the block, but it was the only one. A specific memory. If only he could have pulled out a few more.

He had played it all the time—it was a game that Nevren knew, though where he learned it, he had no idea. He didn't know what half of the pieces were called anymore; he just knew what they could do by their shape. One of the pieces on Rim's side jiggled and floated up, moving two spaces toward Owen.

Was this what she wanted to do? A game? The petals on his tail swayed rhythmically and he sat down in front of her. The grass felt nice against his leafy scales. Perhaps the fields weren't so bad after all.

Owen intended to counter with the same move. He reached forward, but a barrier blocked his way. He let out a confused, reptilian chirp, looking at Rim. Those giant eyes stared wordlessly into his.

He retracted his hand and closed his eyes. He used his Mystic powers and slowly slid the pawn forward to mirror her move.

Rim smiled and made her next move.

Owen defeated Rim easily. He wasn't sure how many moves it took for him to beat her, but he made them so quickly that Rim felt pressured to match his speed. Her mistakes were devastating. Owen looked down at Rim with a little smirk, but Rim beamed with her big eyes.

It unnerved him. He could read bodies, but he couldn't read minds. All he could feel from Rim was a radiating, happy heartbeat, a satisfied puff of air from her tiny nose, the muscles of her face contorting into a rare, genuine smile.

It was contagious. For a moment, Owen stopped caring. A dumb smile crossed his scaly lips. And in that moment, his heart felt a little lighter, too.

Rim stood up; she walked around the board, toward Owen, and pushed at his side. Owen tilted his head; he scooted, but then Rim made a slightly more twisting motion, and Owen understood.

He spun until his tail faced the board. Rim sat back on the other side. Owen felt it again—that feeling of something moving. Rim made the same move as before. But he wasn't sure about any of the other pieces. He knew that they would be in their original positions, but he couldn't feel them yet. He had to focus… There. The pieces were all there, as were his. So, he focused on that one piece again and mirrored her move.

The game was slower, but it allowed Rim more time to think. She was harder to beat, but Owen soon knew the entire landscape of the board.

Even the wild Pokémon in the trees that were watching them. The plants that swayed with the wind. He sensed all of their movements. Even the hidden ones lounging in the bushes. The leaves loosening with the incoming autumn, starting their slow transition from green to red.

He had no idea he could expand himself like this, to feel the land as if it was his own body. Perception. Was this it? Was this what it felt like?

He never felt so… correct before. Was that the word? But this was his design. Wasn't this what Rim wanted? But he wasn't killing anybody. He wasn't fighting. He was playing a game. And everything around him felt… peaceful. Could mutants know peace?

The game was over before he knew it, and with a final, decisive thump of the piece, Rim's king was trapped in checkmate. Owen felt Rim's smile when she stood up.

Yet, by the time Owen had turned around to face her, she was gone.