Chapter 89 – Your Name

Nothing looked familiar to Owen. Thankfully, an adorably oversized information pamphlet—roughly half his height—did a good job at directing him to where to go and how to operate all of the strange devices given to him in this somewhat cramped living space.

The sliding door that had locked him inside this windowless room didn't budge, and he had tried very hard. His tiny, scaly hands clattered against the solid surface while he listened to Eon muttering on the other side. He wasn't sure if he wanted to talk to him just yet… but he was at least glad he was alive.

With his back against the doorway, Owen looked over the brochure that was nearly half his height. While it wasn't very colorful, it was very informational, and after spending so many days in the Nil Plateaus, having any sort of reading material was a mental breath of fresh air.

Some of the information was… basic, and he skimmed over most of it. He had no idea what sort of Pokémon needed to know what water could be used for beyond drinking. It was embarrassing; of course he'd use it to wash! Assuming they had Passho powder… There wasn't any mention of that. Only that they had Passho berries in the 'cold box,' which they then titled a refrigerator.

He knew of these things. Nevren had invented them, though prototypes were already moving around in Kilo to replace manual Ice work. Controlled Hail Orbs. Basic, mechanical pumps. Perhaps it was a similar technology here?

Everything seemed so advanced. It was like he was staring into Kilo's future, aside from the desolate wasteland everywhere.

Then again…

Shaking the thoughts from his head, Owen's new battle was a struggle to open the fridge. It had some kind of seal on it because he had to pull very hard before the door finally gave way with a sucking noise. Cold air washed over his toes first, then his knees and lower body. Curious, he breathed into the white interior of the lit fridge, creating a foggy cloud.

There were a few Passho Berries indeed. No powder. He'd have to eat and then be—

Eat?

This was food.

The brochure had warned him not to eat it all, but he was so hungry… Maybe he could just have one, since he probably should wash up, and—

Knock went the door and Owen's thoughts collapsed. Before he had the chance to answer, the door opened and revealed Corviknight Xypher and a woven, wooden basket in his beak.

He cawed and hopped inside; the door slid closed behind him.

"Um, hello," Owen said, reflexively trying to sense what was inside the bag. Without Perceive, he saw nothing. "What's that?"

"A gi—" Upon opening his mouth, the bag fell to the floor, and Xypher cawed loudly and beat his wings before ducking down and muttering under his breath.

"Hey, it's okay, it's okay!" Owen said, raising his arms. "Didn't sound too heavy." And he didn't want something that could step on him by accident getting upset. Cautiously, Owen approached and pulled the red cloth back, but he knew what it was before he even opened it.

Bread.

A simple, golden brown, tough loaf of bread, its shape long and rounded. Next to it was a slightly overturned, but not ruined, slab of butter. Tiny, but present, only really enough for a few slices at best, unless he really rationed them.

Owen thought his heart had stopped. Hesitant, he reached forward, "I-is th-that f-for… me?"

"Yes! Yes, yes." Xypher nodded.

Before the phantasm disappeared before his eyes, Owen tugged the bag closer to him and dragged it to a small, raised portion of the dark ground that he recognized—based on the brochure—as a table. He placed the napkin on the table first, and then the bread, and the tiny ceramic plate of butter. There was a flat stick sitting at the bottom of the basket, and a palm-sized, flat clay container of some kind. Inside was an odd, red paste.

"We were told you enjoyed spicy," Xypher said. "Spicy, spicy. Cheri jam. For the bread. Tasty. Tasty, tasty."

It took every ounce of Owen's willpower to eat it like a decent creature. First, he broke off a small slice. Then the stick. Butter first, this time. He breathed the tiniest ember over it. Sizzle. The aroma made him drool and he didn't care.

His teeth sank in and the smell doubled, savory and dusty, yet in a good way. That bread scent was unmistakable, even here. The tiny amount of oil coated his tongue; at some point, Xypher had left for the washroom and returned with a cup of water, which he gently set down on the table. He cawed again, looking pleased.

Owen couldn't see. He was smiling like an idiot and everything was blurry. Even still, he didn't need sight or Perceive to keep eating, stopping only to take a drink of water.

"Not too fast," Xypher said.

"M—mm," Owen agreed. It would upset his empty stomach if he had too much, and despite his temptation to go for a second slice, he set it and the Cheri jam down. "Th-thank you," he squeaked. "I'm sorry. Did you want some?"

"Oh, no. No, no."

The hesitation came nonetheless, but he eventually resumed preparing his second slice, this time with slightly less primal enthusiasm. "And," Owen asked before taking that tantalizing next bite, "how about the others? Jerry? Zena? They're eating, too, right?"

"Yes. Yes, yes."

"They're doing okay?"

Xypher cawed in affirmative.

"Okay. That's… that's good." Satisfied, he ate in silence, wondering why Xypher was still there. Perhaps to answer more questions? Xypher didn't seem like the sort to be very good at… conversations. But the—oh the Cheri jam was—he had to stop eating to savor it. The spice tickled his tongue and reminded him that he was alive. Hopefully. It cleared his airway and warmed his throat. The crunch gave his teeth something to feel satisfaction over.

"You have a bright smile," Xypher said.

Owen flinched, looking up at the huge Corviknight. His eyes gleamed with an odd, simple joy. "Oh," Owen said, swallowing. "Um—thanks?"

"Yes. Don't lose it."

"Oh, I—I won't." And to prove a point, that smile returned. "Thank you again, I—whoever—whatever this building is for, thank you. I haven't eaten something good since I came here."

Xypher continued to stare, but he was attentive.

"Um, and how long do I have to be here?" Owen asked.

"A few days," Xypher said. "You will be fine."

"What for?" Owen tried to keep his voice as docile as possible. He was at their mercy, and they had been nothing but good to him so far. "Is it some kind of… security precaution?"

Xypher's bright expression dimmed somewhat. "Mm… Yes. But I am… bad at explaining."

"Oh." So he knew. "It's okay! I'll just rest for now, if that's what you need me to do. Just a few days, right? And your scouts are going to search for my Mom, right? The Ralts, she might be a Ralts now."

"Yes. Yes, yes."

That was the best he could ask for.

Before long, with the bliss of finally filling his stomach fading slowly, Owen pushed the plate of bread forward with restraint. "I'll have more of it later. I don't want to overwhelm my stomach."

"Do you need help with anything else?"

"No, this helped me enough." Owen searched for and then raised the brochure. "I was about to have a Passho and wash up. And then, er…" Everything was very bare, and he suddenly realized that the natural heat in the room might have been uncomfortable for Xypher.

"Oh! The—the heat isn't bothering you, is it?"

"No. No, no."

He was lying. "It's okay," Owen said. "Really, all the information I need is right here. I'll figure out the rest of it later, y'know? I'm already in way better shape than you found me, and that's good enough."

Xypher seemed unsure, letting out a low, drawn-out caw of uncertainty.

"I know the room's probably a little warm for you. Is there any way I can call for help if I need it? Then you can go."

Xypher hopped toward one end of the wall and pointed with a talon. "Here," he said. On the wall was a button that had a similar star-like design in the middle, black with white inside. "Press this, and then speak. Hello. Hello, hello." Xypher poked the button at the same time.

"Hello? Xypher? Is Charmander doing okay?"

It was like a communicator! Owen's eyes lit up, moving closer to the button and the strange, bumpy part of the wall just above it.

"Yes. Yes, yes. Showing the help button."

"Um, hello, wall voice," Owen greeted.

"…Hello. I'm not in the wall. Just security in the other room."

Right. Communicator. "Er, sorry."

Xypher released the button and nodded. "Do you know?"

"Yep! Thanks, Xypher."

He cawed in approval and hopped to the entrance. He looked back once while Owen smiled. Owen's little flame was brighter than it had been in days, and he hoped Xypher knew what that meant.

"Bright smile," Xypher said again. And then, he left the room.

Shortly after Xypher left, Owen tried to place the bread, butter, and jam back in the basket for later, gently returning the red cloth over it so it looked more decorative. His stomach still felt empty, but he knew it was a bad idea to overstuff himself after going so long without food. Perhaps after his wash, he'd return to it.

The Passho Berry was bitter and dry, but it was still food. He already felt that cold sensation running through his body, and knew to take advantage of it while he could. After referring to the brochure again, he entered the washroom, which had tiny stairways for smaller Pokémon to operate the facilities, as well as several buttons at varying heights to accomplish the same task. A little crude, but universal. They probably had no idea what sort of Pokémon would inhabit these rooms.

These facilities were foreign yet familiar. In many ways, they reminded him of Kilo's technology, yet several decades, or more, ahead. In other ways, it reminded him of something else in his past, which he concluded was either during his time with humans, or some other gap that he suspected was still missing.

He sighed. No use thinking about that now.

The walls were white and covered with red flecks of color like the tips of a campfire. The angular design of the red shapes reminded him of a Togepi's shell. Passing a tall, tall sink, a few other facilities, and finally reaching the back of the room, Owen prodded at a small button next to a glass door. It slid open; he stepped inside to see a gated drain in the middle of anti-slip textured ground.

"…Fancy," Owen had to say aloud, startling himself with how his high voice echoed in the room. Despite how supersized everything was, he had forgotten how tiny he sounded, too.

Two buttons. Red and blue, as well as a green one in the middle. The information he had read—which was thankfully element-proof—said green first, and then red for Fires.

Click, and then Owen waited. From above, a nozzle with countless tiny holes showered him in streams of water, and out of reflex, he gasped and pinned himself against the wall, his feral instincts crying, 'Rain! Rain!' before he came to his senses. Tentatively, he held his hand out, the water flowing between his scales. It was red by the time it dripped off him; he winced. Was that blood, or Void dust?

Suddenly feeling filthy, he reluctantly stepped under the gentle flow. Cold. He held the red button. Warm. Hot. Scalding. Not enough. There.

Owen sighed, steam clouding his vision and rain muffling his hearing. The Passho Berry wasn't going to last too long, but he could afford to idle under the water. The steam cleared his head. For a few blissful moments, he didn't think about the Guardians, or the Hunters, or Eon. Just the water, and before he knew it, he was thoughtless.

A sudden tapping startled him out of it.

"WAH!"

Gasping water-saturated air, Owen turned to the transparent shower door and saw the steam-obscured form of an icy Sandslash. Owen held his chest, panting, and approached the shower door. Running his hand over the glass, he saw Hakk standing with a container of something and a rough-looking cloth.

"You forgot these," Hakk said. "Also, hi."

Owen tapped a button to open the door, taking the bottle—smelled like soap—and cloth. "Um, thanks," Owen said. "…I'm doing okay, by the way," he added, closing the door again while he tried to comprehend the bottle, which was simply labeled, Scale Wash and Polish. Two in one? Impossible…

"Good to hear," Hakk said. "Xypher mentioned you had a few questions."

"Oh, right." Owen glanced back at his tail; the flame ignored the water. As long as it didn't start hurting, he could afford to enjoy the—why was the ground so red? Owen shuffled his feat, watching the red water flow into the drain. Grimacing, he glanced back at Hakk. "I had a few questions about… this place. And some of the things that happened while I was here."

"I figure I'll answer the ones we always get," Hakk said. "First, you're dead. I think I mentioned that before, but I want to reiterate, you're definitely dead."

Owen wanted to contest this, but he felt it would be a pointless battle. "Okay," he said. "And why am I a Charmander?"

"Right." Hakk sat down near the shower. Oh, so this was going to be a long talk, was it? Could he have at least waited until he was done washing? The water drowned out his voice…

Hakk continued, "Even though you're dead, you can still die again here. Each time you do, all of your energy is drained away, and you're reborn near where you had died before. Either from the ground, or in the water, somewhere, you'll wind up. Sometimes you fall from the sky; better hope you don't die again when that happens."

"I—right." He couldn't contest that. He had found his old body. "Right. I found my old body back in these wastes. It was in a huge pot of… of stew!" Owen shuddered, not wanting to think further about it, but he knew he had to ask. "How did it wind up there?"

"Some tribe must have found your body and scavenged," Hakk said. "If it was abandoned, probably means they had to run from a Titan. Still, I'm kind of surprised that you're this lucid after what you went through. Feebas is still really out of it."

"Zena?" Owen said. "What do you mean?"

"Well, she probably got killed somehow, too," Hakk said. "Each time that happens, you come back a little less… you. Well, a lot of less." Hakk looked off. "Me, I'm a class B. I died a long time ago, but I've been making a slow recovery since then. Used to be C, and that's probably where Feebas is going to fall under."

"…Xypher said he was D," Owen said. "So, he died a lot?"

Hakk shook his head. "Doubt it. You can probably only afford to die once or twice at best before you're totally gone. He forgot most of his past completely, and it's not an easy climb getting it back. Xypher and I have been scouts for the better part of the last century or so, and he was barely able to talk back then."

The water was starting to hurt, but he still had to get the scale wash on. He finally figured out how to work the cloth with the soap and started rubbing between his fingers, then his shiny head, and worked his way down. The water helped temper the grave news.

Owen tried to keep his voice even. "What makes that happen?"

Another shake and noncommittal shrug. "There are stories of people who see a red light when they die, and then some oppressive darkness, before they figure out how to fight back. That entity is something that's got a name: Dark Matter."

"Dark… Matter." He didn't recognize the title, but something about the description sent a cold chill down his spine.

"Seems to me that stronger spirits can break away sooner, but if you stay too long… Well. Eventually there's nothing left of you except a blob of shadows."

"A blob of—" Owen nearly dropped the cloth. His flame sparked. "The… the wraiths?"

"Yep." Hakk's eyes trailed to the geometric, colorful design on the walls. "Around here, we call them Void Shadows. Because that's what they are, when you think about it. Empty shadows of what they used to be. So… don't die. Don't get reckless just because you're immortal. Because 'you' aren't."

The coldness of the words overpowered the heat of the water. Owen took a steady breath and pressed the green button again, the rain from above slowing to a steady trickle. He felt a dull pain; he had been in the shower for too long.

"What's with putting water in a Fire room?" Owen asked.

"Dirt baths tracked filth everywhere, and the dust doesn't wash away to flame baths," Hakk said. "We threw Passho Berries at it and called it a day." He tossed Owen a soft, white cloth to dry off.

Owen was thankful to see that the cloth remained white when he was done drying; grudgingly, he had to admit that water was effective at washing away dust.

"Thank you," Owen said again, looking down. "So, what do I have to do to pay you guys all back?"

Hakk smirked, rolling his eyes. "Well, right to the point, are you?"

"Yeah, well…" Owen couldn't maintain eye contact. "I don't know. Sorry I phrased it that way."

"Nah, y'know, I can respect that. It's practical. Kinda weird coming from you, though. I barely know you and you seem like the type to just give out generosities without thinking about it."

The Charmander quickly returned to drying off. "Isn't this place uncomfortable for you?" he asked Hakk.

"Downed an Occa before I came in," the Ice-Steel Pokémon replied. "Anyway, here's the deal. We keep newcomers cozy while we evaluate their mental stability. After that, we work on integrations, and that's your repayment. Give back to the village that saved your hide."

"Oh. That's it?"

"Yep. Fair's fair."

It sounded too fair. "And what else do I have to do?" His flame crackled, and he wished it hadn't. Charmander were too expressive.

And Hakk seemed to notice. "What's that mean? What else? Figure that covers all of it."

"Do I have to fight for anyone?"

"I dunno, maybe if a huge attack comes in, but at that point it's in your best interest anyway." Hakk shrugged. "If you aren't one for the front lines, you can find a safer job. Maybe a berry farmer."

Only the residual drip, drip, drip of the showerhead punctuated the silence.

"Y'know, probably not a good idea to snarl at the hand that feeds you," Hakk cautioned.

Was he snarling? He couldn't tell anymore. His flame was at least three times its size before bread, though, but that might have been because he finally had food in his gut. He tried to calm it. Deep breath. In. Hold. Out. In. Hold, but softer. Out.

"Sorry," Owen said, and he realized he'd been saying that a lot. Submissive as always. Squeezing his fist, in an act of defiance, he said, "I've just had a long string of being led by others acting nice just to use me." But he didn't have the courage to look Hakk in the eyes.

"Tch." Hakk shrugged. "Take it or leave. Not my problem." He turned around, waving noncommittally. "Just don't cry when you're becoming a Void Shadow."

Hakk's steps echoed, the door outside opened, and Owen briefly felt the impulse to chase him and slip out and escape. But his feet felt glued to the ground, and he wouldn't have been fast enough anyway.

By the time the thought was only half-developed, the door shut, and Owen was alone again.

After walking out of the washroom and past the sterilized, hard walls—which suddenly reminded him of Quartz HQ despite the opposite colors—he approached the bread basket and quietly ate another few slices. Despite everything, they were still delicious, and he was certain to finish the bread when he woke up again. But now, it was time to sleep.

Once again, the information he was provided helped guide him. Against one of the walls was another little button, this one a gentle orange, a little lighter than his scales. A press, and part of the wall depressed and slid away, revealing a closet with two items. First, a fire-designed blanket that smelled vaguely of Rawst leaves, like the plant had been pressed into fabric. Nostalgic. And finally, a curious, white bag stuffed with something soft and fluffy. It resembled a nest.

Owen hopped into the closet and looked around. It was a little cramped; he could only take three paces inside before touching the wall. There were shelves high and well beyond his reach, but it didn't look like anything was there. Pressing a button from inside, the closet door slid shut, and the only light source was his flame.

Tentatively, he dragged the oversized blanket onto the nest-shaped bag and curled it over him. The fabric brushed gently against his body and curled around his underbelly. He took in a small, surprised breath; something this soft was unimaginable after the nights he'd spent on dusty, hard dirt. But then, he sank into the bed, like a tiny Oran nestled in custard. The soft nest caressed his back and underbelly at once; his cheek enjoyed the warm, fuzzy kiss of the bed.

Blurry thoughts melted into cozy darkness.

Muffled sounds surrounded Charmander. The shuffling of fabric against the ball that had become his new abode. The gentle clicking of the feet-coverings the humans wore on hard ground. Charmander knew this place; he had been here once, when he'd gotten sick. Charizard hadn't known what to do, and Marowak had gone to seek the help of the humans, despite how much he didn't care for them. That was when Charmander had thought it was serious.

Those old memories made him anxious, but it was strange to not feel the usual feelings that came with it. He had no heart to beat; he had no mouth to breathe with. So instead, he stewed in this semi-state of being, wondering exactly what sort of human was going to become his partner. And, more importantly, if he would be worth following on his adventure.

If he was weak, Charmander planned to leave his new partner at night, just like what happened to Thinclaw and his useless partner.

Even more shuffling and chattering followed, and Charmander didn't care about much of it. He wiggled impatiently within the ball, but then suddenly he felt like he was falling.

"Whoops!"

Caught in the giant hands of the assistant.

"Sorry about that, little guy. Careful, you're on a table!"

He could wiggle if he wanted! Charmander giggled again, and again, violently this time, because he wasn't going to be told what to do. The human sighed, but he had a vague sense that she was smiling, too. He was placed on the table again.

"Look this way, Charmander. Can you see?"

He could, he thought. She was pointing somewhere, toward the entryway. He never walked out of there. He didn't know what it was like beyond those doors, where the human buildings were. But at the entryway was also a boy.

Short. Young. Thin. His skin was pale and his eyes were strange. He must have been a human from a different region. Charizard told him that humans were different depending on where they were from, just like Pokémon. But humans looked the same, so he had to study how they were supposed to tell each other apart.

Hair. His hair was brown. Brown was okay. It was short. Didn't go past his ears. His eyes were brown, too. But he liked how this human appeared, too. The human had wings, Charizard wings.

Humans could have wings? That was strange.

"Are you Timothy?" asked the assistant.

"Yup!"

Oh, Charmander didn't like his voice. Shrill. He probably screamed when he lost, like all those Bulbasaur that picked fights.

The assistant giggled. "Based on that costume, I think I know what Pokémon you're going to choose."

Costume? Humans had more than their usual coverings? Humans never made sense.

"Well, you'll have to appeal to Charmander first," the assistant said, and then looked at Charmander. "Are you ready to come out?"

Not really, but he had a feeling Charizard would be disappointed if he didn't. And he could only imagine the disappointed stare from Marowak…

He wiggled in reply.

"All right. Here we go!"

Picked up and tossed, Charmander reflexively jerked forward, his vision suddenly flooded with light. Materializing on the ground, taking his first breath, he shook off what felt like a hot wetness from the energy that had surrounded him, and then he looked up at the boy.

A lot bigger up close. But still short.

"Hey!" Timothy said, crouching down. "My name's—"

Charmander spat a puff of fire in his face. He spoke too loudly and suddenly and closely. He wasn't anything like the assistants and that meant he'd be a bad partner.

But the human, startled at first, grinned even wider. "Already looking for a fight, huh?"

The assistants laughed. "Ohh, look at him. He's a little defiant, you know. Are you sure you want to have him for your first Pokémon?"

"I'm sure!" Timothy said, and Charmander couldn't understand his enthusiasm.

"What?" Charmander asked. "No! You're supposed to run away! I burned you!"

"Aw, it's alright," Timothy said, rubbing his thumb on his nose. "I wouldn't want to get a Fire-type if I couldn't handle the heat!"

Charmander flinched. Did the human understand him? Humans didn't understand Pokémon, not unless they'd been with them for a very long time, like the human with the flame-proof coverings that always visited, or Charizard's old partner. Through feelings. And this human shouldn't know his feelings.

"You aren't allowed to understand me yet!" Charmander said, pointing angrily at him.

"What's wrong?" Timothy asked, crouching down again.

"You—" Charmander tried to find the words, but the concepts eluded him. In Timothy's eyes, he saw the reflection of the flames that were leaking from the sides of his mouth.

"It's okay. We're gonna go on an adventure, right? We'll learn about the world and get stronger, together. It'll be fun!"

Charmander's flame hummed loudly behind him, but that was the only other sound in the lab. How did Charizard start off with her partner? Was it the same? So many of his siblings had gone away and returned with wings, or at least returned with a smile. A few were unhappy. But this… human Timothy. Which result would he be?

"So what do you say?" Timothy asked. "My name's Timothy."

He stared suspiciously, then spat an ember that evaporated in front of Timothy's face. He only blinked. Impressive. "Smallflame," Charmander replied.

"It's good to meet you, too," Timothy replied. "Sorry I can't pronounce how you might want to be called, Charmander. But I'm gonna give you a name I can use instead. Is that alright?"

A name. The title that Charizard refused to let anybody else use. And he was going to receive one from this inexperienced boy?

Well, if he wound up hating him, he could always get a new one.

"Okay," Charmander agreed, nodding.

"Well, you and I are going to go on our first adventures, together, right? And we're gonna become the number one duo in the whole world!"

It sounded like he had practiced this. But he had to admit—it sounded enticing. The strongest? Did he really know how to do that? If that Bulbasaur could beat him with just the help of a human… who knows what he could do?

He realized too late that his flame was blazing with excitement. Trying to hide it, he shifted his weight and stared up at Timothy with more awed hope than he'd ever admit.

"Heh, looks like you're already looking for a fight," Timothy said, grinning. "Number one! I'm gonna call you… Owen!"

It was so soft! Owen opened one eye to the dim glow of his flame glistening against the polished walls of the closet. It was a cramped bedroom, but that was really all he needed. After all, he didn't have to toss and turn at all in a bed he could practically sink into. He didn't want to move; he only curled his tail around a clump of the nest and stretched inwardly.

What did he dream about? The humans again. He'd been getting those a lot lately. Timothy was…

So warm. Maybe if he slept a little longer…

Owen had never seen trees so tall and green. He wondered how they burned. But Timothy said that wasn't a good thing to do, so he had to keep to himself. Keeping his tail high, he glanced up at his human partner, who was panting while going down the forest path. He didn't know where they were going or why, but Timothy had what he called a "map." If that flat piece of paper could show Tim the way, then maybe he had some other magic that he didn't know about.

But the human roads with the shorter grass were long behind them. Instead, Tim was wandering the woods nearby.

"Okay, Owen," Tim said, looking down. "I need you to translate for me, alright? Some Pokémon can't understand me as easily."

"Translate?" Owen asked, frowning. "For what?"

"Just repeat what I'm saying, but, like, to them. With the grr grr words you use."

Owen growled. "What do you—"

"Yeah, like that!"

The growl became a snarl. "You could at least TRY to understand me!"

"I—I'm sorry, that's just what it sounds like to me!" Tim brought his palms forward. "I'm not some master trainer. I'm working on it…"

"Better learn fast." Owen huffed, already missing the lab assistants. Then again, their ability to understand him had been hit or miss, too…

Tim cleared his throat. "Hello, um, wild Pokémon!"

The hopeful look that Tim gave Owen was enough for him to reluctantly comply… slightly. "Sorry to bother you!" Owen translated.

"I'm going on an adventure! And I was wondering if anybody here wanted to come with me!"

"Ignore us! He's an idiot!"

"Thanks, buddy," Tim said, grinning. "Okay, now try this." Turning his attention back to the trees, he shouted, "I've got food, and shelter, and you'll get to become stronger with me!"

"Seriously, just leave him alone and he'll leave you alone!"

Silence filled the air afterward. It wasn't a windy day, and the sun poked glittering holes through the treetops with what few gusts there were.

"Are you sure you translated me?" Tim asked. "It felt kind of different…"

Owen shrugged. "Maybe they aren't intereste—"

Just then, a Pidgey fluttered out of the trees, sizing Tim up from the air. Eventually, he landed on the ground, and Owen's tiny shoulders sagged. He perked up when Tim looked at him again, but his flame was dim. Poor fool.

"An idiot human?" Pidgey asked. "Then why're you with him?"

"Well, I still have to get stronger," Owen said.

"Hmm…" Pidgey chirped contemplatively, then looked at Tim, and then back at Owen.

"So, what's your name?" Owen said routinely, wondering if this Pidgey was really considering joining…

"Greatwing."

Owen stared suspiciously. "Doesn't seem that great to me."

Greatwing chirped dismissively. "What's yours?"

"Smallflame."

"Yours fits."

Owen crouched down and snarled, fire defying his name.

A loud tapping noise echoed from the tree to his left.

Light flooded through Owen's thin, scaly eyelids. An incessant tapping echoed from the wall. He squinted uncomfortably and groaned, sinking deeper into the soft bed.

"There you are," Hakk said, sighing. "Why didn't you take your bed out to the main room?"

Owen groaned and tried to curl up around the soft cushions, squeezing them between his arms and thighs.

"It's already one in the afternoon," Hakk growled again.

"It's what in the—" Owen half-groaned, but then stopped. He didn't have the energy to shoot up, but he had enough to open one eye partway. "You guys use hours?"

"Oh, right. Some of you guys don't—wait, you know hours?"

"Yeah. Can I sleep for another?"

"1 PM, little guy. C'mon, get up. I need to run an eval on you."

"What kind of eval?"

"On anything you remember. See what class you are, log stuff like that down, I dunno."

Owen groaned again, this time a little more loudly so Hakk was sure that forcing him awake after at least a week of almost dying was unjustified. But the icy Sandslash refused to listen, and instead added, "And if you take too long, I'll freeze your bed."

"Then maybe I'll burn you," Owen threatened emptily.

"Joke's on you, I ate another Occa."

A snap of cold bit Owen's nose and he whined, finally sighing and rolling out of bed with a defeated flop.

"So, tell me about your parents," Hakk said. "Do you remember them?"

"Which ones?" Owen said.

"Uh." Hakk's eyelids lowered, frowning. "You only have two parents."

"Nope. I was adopted."

Hakk rolled his eyes. "Don't give me that. Who are your current parents?"

Owen glared, but it didn't last. He sighed and went on, "Gardevoir Amia and Magmortar. Well, I mean, not really a M—"

"That's one interesting pair," Hakk said.

Owen huffed, deciding it wasn't worth going over more. "And I ran into Mom in Nil Plateaus, so she's still there. Are you preparing those scouts?"

"They're gonna go out today to search for her. High priority, mostly because, you know, she might be able to sense Z-Crystals like you can."

So that's what they were called. Owen nodded and said, "Right, she might. I think the powers I had in Kilo were related to those. That might be why we can sense them."

"Right," Hakk said, but Owen could tell he wasn't interested. "So, you were adopted. Do you remember your real parents?"

That one made his tail spark. "They're both my real parents."

Hakk sighed tiredly, rolling his eyes. "Your… other parents?"

Owen sat in front of the table and inspected his bread. Still a few slices left, so he prepared some for himself and offered Hakk a slice as well. After Hakk declined with a casual wave, Owen said, "Charizard Amber and Marowak Daichi."

"Well, at least you remember both sets despite getting killed," Hakk said. "That's really lucky of you."

At least I got to have some luck, Owen thought bitterly. "Yeah. Actually, I probably wouldn't have been able to tell you about Daichi and Amber if you asked me a few days ago."

"Eh? Why's that? Kept it a secret from you?"

"Well, I don't really know," Owen said. "I don't think so. I've just been getting those memories back."

Owen nibbled on the slice. The bread had gotten hard since the night before, but it was still delicious, and now that he wasn't quite as savagely hungry, he took the time to coat the slice in butter and jam at once. He took another bite, savoring the crunch now that he was used to it, but then realized Hakk hadn't said anything in a while.

The Sandslash was staring at him so intensely that Owen stopped eating. After swallowing, he nervously asked, "What?"

"You're getting memories back?"

"Yeah, uh, it's actually been happening a lot lately," Owen said. "Ever since I got in some, uh, a lot of stuff in Kilo. Been happening a lot more now that I'm here, though."

"Right." Hakk's composure returned almost as quickly as it had left. "You're getting memories back, okay. You're saying you have more memories now than when you'd arrived?"

Owen nodded.

"Got it." Hakk crossed his arms, then clicked his two claws together. "You know that's impossible, right?"

"Uh." Considering it was literally happening to him overnight… "No."

"When was the last time you got those memories back?"

"When did you wake me?"

"Don't get sassy with me, when did you get them?"

"When you woke me. I've been getting them as dreams. Sometimes when I meditate, too, I guess? I bet if I tried, I could."

"And how do you know they aren't false memories, or just… I don't know, tricks your head is trying to do to fill in gaps of what's missing?"

Owen frowned, humming. "It's been happening without anyone interfering with me. I think… I think I know what returned memories feel like at this point. I've had a lot of seals, and these are too real."

"Hmm…" Now, Hakk seemed troubled, which was odd, because until recently, Owen had been sure Hakk didn't care about anything. "Okay. Guess that's it for the eval."

"What—just like that? You didn't have more questions for me?"

"Well, my part of the eval." Hakk started for the door. "Just sit tight, okay?"

Owen's chest felt tighter, and he was tempted to run out with him, but he knew that'd get him nowhere. He had to cooperate until he could get Zena and Jerry out safely, too.

While watching Hakk, Owen tried to relax and tell himself things were fine. Even though he had no idea where everyone else was. But it felt like a few of them were close… But then again, that was probably just Zena.

Why did it feel like there were two nearby, then?

" . . . door!" called a feminine voice—Owen recognized it as the Jynx from last night.

Right when Hakk stepped out, he suddenly slammed his paw on the wall, sealing Owen's room. Owen sprang to his feet, leaving behind his bread. By the time he was at the door, loud thudding punctuated the air and the ground shook lightly beneath his feet. An odd, yet familiar whistling accompanied the chaos, but only for brief spurts. Was that—

"OWEN!" Gahi's muffled voice forced its way through the door.

"Gahi," Owen whispered, but then came to his senses. "GAHI!"

More scuffling, and then Hakk grunted. Some heavy piece of pottery broke, and then ice shattered on the walls. Gahi roared, and then another thud followed—this time against Owen's door. Owen gulped and stood a little closer. "Gahi, what's—"

"Get away from there!" Hakk shouted.

"Make me!" Gahi shouted back, and then he clawed at the doorframe. Not a scratch, but Owen heard every hard slam.

"Get over here you—where'd he go?!"

"Hah!"

"Hrk—"

Someone crumpled next to Owen's doorway and he held his breath. "Gahi?"

"How d'you open this thing?" Gahi shouted.

"Gahi? What did you do?!"

"Stay away from there!" Jynx shouted. An Ice Beam cracked the air, but then the ground rumbled. Jynx shrieked, and then it was quiet again.

"Gahi, stop!" Owen screamed. "They're friendly!"

"—Eh?"

"Stop right there!"

"Don't move!"

"Try anything and you're a popsicle!"

"Gahi," Owen quickly said, "just say it was a misunderstanding! Okay?"

"Gahi!" This time, it was a tiny voice that Owen couldn't help but feel was familiar. Who was that? "You… buffoon! Stand down! Do you want to get us all killed?!"

"…Did Trina die?" Owen asked.

"Eh? No, she just became a Snivy," Gahi said as shuffling sounds grew closer.

"Okay, star-wings," said one of the scouts. "Don't fight back. Got it?"

"E-excuse me!" Owen called, pressing his hands hard against the door. "It's okay! This is my friend, Gahi! He's weirdly colored because he's just like me! I can sense him!"

"Hey, lemme go," Gahi snarled, and then a flurry of voices shouted for Gahi to stand down.

Owen, no matter what he said, was drowned out by them until they all yelled in surprise.

"I said let go!" Gahi snapped, but his voice was coming from the far end of the hall.

"How did he do that?" Hakk wheezed, his voice nearest to Owen.

"I think he has the Psychic Orb, or at least its power," Owen said to Hakk.

"Psychic what?" Hakk said. "What kind of crazy company do you keep?"

Owen wasn't sure if he had the time to thoroughly answer that one. Instead, he said, "You know how I can sense those crystals? Gahi probably can, too. That's how he got here so quickly. He—"

One of the guards tried something, because there was another scuffle, and suddenly more groans overtook the fighting.

"Gahi, enough!" Trina commanded.

"Nu-uh, you ain't blamin' that one on me, they started it!"

"Gahi," Trina said again, "having your foot on their back is not helping."

"Seriously, Gahi?" Owen groaned, shoulders slumping. He bumped his head against the door, screwing his eyes shut. "Have some tact, at least…"

"Bah, they asked fer it."

Just hearing the fighting was annoying Owen, but he doubted they were going to open the door and let Gahi in. They probably didn't expect a Flygon to be able to teleport, but they wouldn't be fooled a second time.

"A'right, a'right," called another, smaller voice, and for a moment Owen thought Gahi had suddenly become a Trapinch. "What's goin' on?"

"Eh? Who're you?" Gahi said.

"The one who's gonna knock yeh ter next week if yeh attack someone else. An' that goes fer all o' yeh!"

Owen's scales tingled. He felt something powerful on the other side of the door. "Gahi, be careful," Owen whispered.

"I heard that," the small voice said, and Owen suppressed a squeak.

The fact that Gahi wasn't saying anything worried Owen.

"Now, here's th' deal," the small one said. "You go an' skedaddle down the hall an' wait in a room, eh? Gonna talk with yer friend. He's gonna be fine."

This voice sounded familiar and he couldn't figure out why. Owen was so distracted by rummaging through his memories that he didn't pay attention to any of the talking until he heard Gahi's footsteps, this time further down the hall. Two other sets of footsteps accompanied him, and Owen wondered if several more floated in the air.

Gahi's tail thrashed on the ground to punctuate his anger, and Owen deflated, sighing. That… could have gone better.

A patch of darkness coalesced near the center-bottom of the door. At first, Owen thought it was a wraith and hopped back, spreading his arms and channeling fire through his claws and throat. But then, when his instincts subsided, he realized there was no way a wraith could be here. It felt too strong, anyway…

The shadows shaped themselves into something that vaguely resembled a bipedal body. Big head, wider than his shoulders. Owen was only a little shorter than this tiny, terrifying thing, and that only made him worry more. The last small, powerful creature he'd had to deal with was Rim, or Star.

Two orange ovals appeared on the creature's head, centered with a yellow glow. A tiny, thin smile spread below them, smoky wisps drifting off of his head in an ethereal haze.

"Heh. Heya." The shadowy creature made a gesture like he was tipping an invisible hat. "Charmander, eh? Good ter meet yeh."

"Hi." Owen's default wasn't doing him any favors. "Um—I mean, I'm sorry for Gahi. He's—"

"Nah, nah." He waved dismissively. "I ain't mad. I know the sort. Heh… Hey. I saw on the feed that yeh were sayin' some weird stuff."

"Oh, right, um, Hakk mentioned that he needed to get something and I had to wait, um, is Hakk okay?"

"Bah, he's had worse." He shrugged. "Yer name's Owen, eh?"

"Mhm."

"Right, right."

A silence that lasted a second too long forced Owen to look at something else. Before he could find something to say, the shadow laughed, sending a chill up Owen's spine.

"What're you so nervous about?"

"You know why."

"Aaaah!" And in a blink, he was beside Owen, patting his shoulder. "C'mon! Let's have some bread." In another blink, Owen was next to the table. A gust of ghostly wind blowing the red cloth off of the basket.

Trying to not panic, Owen took a piece of bread like a normal Pokémon and started to spread butter over his slice.

"So, Owen," he said, "I figure I'll introduce myself. I only got one name, real simple: Marshadow. It's my species, and I'm one o' a kind."

"Marshadow…" He'd heard that before in his studies. One of a kind. "Wait, you're a—"

"Aaah, yer a smart one." He winked with one of his orange eyes. "Yep. A Legend, in th' flesh! Er whatever I have. Oy, tell me." Casually, Marshadow snapped his fingers, and suddenly several clicks echoed across the room. "Cameras're off. Nobody c'n hear us. How old're you?"

Who was this guy?! He couldn't get a read on him at all, and even if he had Perceive, this wouldn't—

"You alright?" Marshadow asked.

"Yeah, I'm—bread."

"Nah, yer Charmander."

His tail flared and he grabbed the jam next. "I'm old."

"How far back, eh?"

"I don't know."

"Don't know."

Owen sighed lightly and collected himself. "Sorry, I don't really know how old I am because my memory still feels spotty. I thought at first that I was around, you know, four, five centuries or so. But recently I've been getting memories from even further back, and now it feels like there's a huge gap in between."

"Right, right. Sounds like yeh've got a real story." Marshadow wasn't making any motions to go for the bread. Was that just an excuse to sit down and talk? That smile on Marshadow was back. "Y'haven't really changed all that much, Owen. Still analyzing. Still gettin' reads."

Something about that sentence made all of Owen's analyses stop. Suddenly, he was just staring dumbly at Marshadow, a thousand thoughts tripping over each other, and ultimately none came forward.

"Bah, darn shame yeh fergot me. Gahi, too. Ah well."