18.
Old, New, Two in Blue
Three days passed before Kamado summoned Cyllene to Prelude Beach, alone.
The Commander's face betrayed nothing. It was that kind of serious — when not even his trusted counselor could read him. He hadn't looked at her during those days, and he didn't deign to look at her now. Simply rapped his huge knuckles twice upon her door and strode down to the beach in his singed black kimono beneath a gray dawn. Cyllene herself was already dressed in her gi and leggings and white bandana. She could feel the eyes of those who remained in the village, and tried not to think of what they might say if her superior weren't present.
"Sit," Kamado ordered when they reached the sand. The wooden rowboat wasn't bobbing against the dock like normal. Eiffel must have taken it out. He liked his morning missions to find specimens of Manaphy or Milotic.
"Sir," Cyllene replied, and sank to her knees. Her shoulder still twinged. There'd be an ugly scar if she chose stitches over leek juice, the matron had scolded.
"Give the leek juice to Rei," Cyllene had said, and then watched as Pesselle drew and plunged a full syringe of the remedy down the teenager's throat.
Horrible, she thought, when the matron daubed her cold bare skin and threaded the needle. A child doesn't deserve to be addicted. Rei doesn't deserve to be an orphan clinging to Eiffel in Hisui at all.
And what do I deserve? A reprimand from the Commander.
"Cyllene," Kamado said, breaking her out of her spiraling thoughts. He was staring at something off in the distance. Eiffel in the rowboat, or the hump of a Water Pokémon.
"Sir."
"Don't call me 'Sir' when you've proven you aren't loyal in that way."
"Kamado, then."
"Sorobū," he said. "My name is Kamado Sorobū, in the traditional order of Johto. My brothers and my son lost the family name when they burned to death. I had hoped to preserve it just a while longer, but then, who in Hisui would treat it with care?"
He brought his glare down on her, and the two stared at each other for a long moment. Cyllene had only planned to answer "Sir" to anything he told her. It was an odd way to begin a reprimand. But then, he had always been unconventional.
Kamado blinked slowly, his arms crossed and his nostrils flaring.
"Zisu informed me of the fight you two had right before the peacemaking. You confronted her about her plans to desert, and criticized her for it."
Cyllene shook her head. No need to lie about that little embarrassment. "That was a personal matter. She was concerned about her children's safety. She bears no ill will toward those who wish to remain in Hisui. Though I wouldn't be surprised if she's angry at me for ruining the peacemaking."
"And are you angry at Zisu?"
Cyllene answered carefully. "If… Zisu wants to leave for Gilderang… then that's her choice. It's what she thinks is right. But I'll not be going with her, and I'm hurt that she assumed I would want to."
"And is that because of your faith in the expedition, or your own wounded pride?"
This time, Cyllene took a pause. She curled her fingers up on her thighs, digging her nails into the fabric. Kamado wanted honesty, and her honesty especially, but what would he say to her behavior now? By losing her temper and riling tsubakI she'd nearly killed Zisu and fried what was left of the village. She'd nearly fried herself. She'd made Ginter…
Well, Ginter was an unstoppable force of something and would argue she didn't make him do anything at all, but that was another spiral she didn't want to go down.
"There's no right or wrong answer, Cyllene. I only want to understand your intentions for Jubilife. You undermined my authority and frightened the villagers. Is there something… happening… with you?"
Cyllene gazed into his hard, black eyes. Should she tell him about the voice? About the red eyes in the fire? Three times questioning her character? Three times crinkling in amusement as she floundered through life and its trials? Had it even been real? Or was it all instinct? Or could she say it was magic?
There was far too much talk of "magic" lately. Especially where it concerned an old merchant and a spell that went amp-amp-bay.
"Something very strange did happen to me while I was giving that speech," she said at last. "I heard a voice in my head, and it said my name. It was a deep, kind sort of voice. I think it's been following me around since the night of the fire."
"A voice?" Kamado said. He cocked one black eyebrow. "What did this voice tell you?"
"During the speech, it said to be myself. And it's unnerving, because as soon as I started speaking from my feelings, I started to feel… good. Really, really good. But I'm sure everyone's afraid of me now. Or thinks I'm desperate, or crazy. Professor Laventon won't even speak to me. I don't know what his problem is."
"Then you'll find out what it is and dismantle it."
She struggled to respond. She did not want to deal with the naturalist. Especially after his last-minute suggestion to show her his homeland. What, as his little wife? No, he'd say. As his bedfellow. Sleeping on the floor, while Rowlet took all the pillows—
"Here are my intentions, Sorobū. I want the villagers to make their choice. Everything I said that night was genuine. It was all from my heart. It all came so naturally once I started. Almost like I'd rehearsed it. Like I'd said it all before in a dream."
Kamado didn't flinch. His point of interest had dipped below the waves, and he gave her his full attention now.
"You believe it's right that Galaxy Hall burned because the expedition is meant to fail."
"It has failed," Cyllene said simply.
"But you won't go with Zisu to Gilderang."
"No, I won't. I'm going to live in the waste, where no one can perturb me and the universe of human drama can needlessly expand someplace else."
Kamado gave a surprised huff at that statement. He reached into the black chester coat always slung over his shoulders and pulled out something smooth and clean and midnight-blue, tossing it down into her lap. Cyllene took and unfolded it. It was a new Survey Corps uniform jacket, just her size. Anthe had used the finest stock of fleece for the collar and cuffs — dyed a slight blue and fluffed to perfection. A silvery-pink plum blossom within a crescent moon was embroidered on the left breast — resembling the real flower more than a minimal emblem. And on each sleeve was a…
Jagged golden G?
"Anthe didn't have enough black thread to finish the insignia. She improvised."
Cyllene rubbed her thumb over the appliqued letter. The Galaxy Team insignia resembled a G at a glance, but was cut and pocked with black shapes so the initials of its founders' homelands were also visible within. It was the symbol which Galaxy Hall had borne above its front doors, and all officers wore proudly on their sleeves.
The insignia on Cyllene's new sleeves was just a golden G. Italicized, with its serifs sharpened into spikes. Cautiously, Cyllene slipped the jacket on while Kamado watched. She'd need the belt from her quarters to keep it snug, but for now it was weighty and warm on her aching shoulder.
Kamado spoke:
"In three days' time, a Kantonese naval ship will arrive on this beach. When it comes, I will torch Jubilife Village and see that everyone is set on a safe passage to the southern kingdoms. You'll then be free to do as you wish."
Cyllene wrinkled her nose. "Is this an ultimatum?"
"Prove to me in these three days that Hisui is not a deadly waste, and I will spare the village. The ship will also bear supplies, clothing, and rations to last the winter. But the villagers won't know this and won't need to if their need to escape overpowers any lingering curiosity."
She grabbed the limp sleeve of his coat. "This is reckless and evil."
"It's not evil. It's leadership. It's listening to the demands of my people."
"Not everyone wants to leave Hisui. Not me. Not… not Eiffel."
"You and the mad professor can live in the waste together and sort out your differences," Kamado said. He was marching back up the path toward his doomed settlement now.
"I will save Jubilife from ruin," he continued. "You can sit and muse on the universe until the ground you're standing on falls into the sky."
"You can't do this."
"And there's something else I want you to consider as well. I found it when you teleported me deep under the burned-out wreckage the other night. It should've been delivered to your quarters while we've been talking. When you know what it means, we'll talk again."
Cyllene scoffed. "Oh, what, is it a beer bottle? I'm not an alcoholic. I just never throw them away. I like to put flowers in them, and agates."
"YOU'LL STOP SMART-ASSING AND ACT LIKE THE CAPTAIN I MADE YOU, OR YOU'LL BE MISSING MORE THAN YOUR EYEBROWS BY TOMORROW! CAPISCE!?"
"Aye, Sir!"
"AT EASE!"
Like a whirlwind he was gone, while Cyllene was left staring out at the water. It was a chilly morning. Still no rain, but at least the sunlight was dampened beyond gray cotton. She pushed the brass buttons of her jacket into their notches and listened to the faraway lightning. The hole in the sky was bruised again. And now, about every hour, a small tear would open up elsewhere in Hisui, leaking out purplish bubbles of world-distorting illusions that covered areas up to a mile wide. The trees that appeared in the Fieldlands under one such distortion had been real, said a few Diamond Clan explorers brave enough to enter. And when the tear healed up and the trees vanished, a man was missing too.
And Kamado was now going to torch the village to test Cyllene's pride!
But that was silly. She wasn't trying to be cocky or condescending. She wasn't stubborn for stubbornness' sake. She'd been telling the truth. The expedition had failed! People were dying! She should want to leave Hisui. She should want to watch her quarters go up in smoke.
Oh, but wasn't all that a bit cowardly, when the waste hadn't killed her yet?
Why couldn't it be her expedition? And her rules? And her universe?
Or something.
Something was making a very loud, crunchy scraping noise not far from where Cyllene was standing. Like it had just crashed into the rocks too hard and was now swirling in the windy waves.
And that'll be the great Professor Eiffel Laventon, furious that he missed his chance of loving me.
Cyllene's eyes widened.
This was not her fantasy world.
She sprinted down the beach in the direction of the noise. She hadn't bothered with any socks, and the spray nipped at her ankles where it flared up from cold, dark waters. Rippling. Leathery in the wind.
Where the beach thinned to a strip, the rocks began. Jagged, sharp, and oddly cubic in places where some ancient tribe had quarried and cut them for constructing long-ruined fortresses in the north. Like platforms, they layered upon each other, while deciduous trees stood out sparse and crooked on the bank like sad-looking relics. A Pachirisu chattered up above, braving the elements. Cyllene felt the slick of wet Wurmple thread on one lichen-licked rock and cringed.
There. She saw something drifting. Something that could very well have made that kind of crunching clunk. Cyllene clambered up and over the rocks to reach another secluded sandbar on the other side. Usually it was five or six feet underwater, but with the drought it swarmed dry with biting flies and was teeming with sea gravel and the treasure of freshwater agates washed down in mountain streams. Beyond that lay greater promontories slowly eroding as the tides came in day after day.
The rowboat wasn't ruined, but it was badly cracked. Half-sunk, it looked like, with the sagging, waterlogged form of a human aboard. Cyllene grimaced as she unbuttoned her new jacket again and hung it on an aspen bough with her gi. She pressed one sandaled foot into the freezing water, then the other, only woven bamboo protecting her feet from the sharp rocks and shells beneath.
She waded out until the cold bit her stomach, then rose to her chest. Her heels dug in as the rippling current made her legs rock. But she was so close now. Close enough to see the person in the wreck wasn't Eiffel at all.
It was Ginter.
And he wasn't conscious.
"Ac-curs-sed," she bit with chattering teeth, gripping the splintered oar still locked in its guide and starting to pull the wreck inward. Her legs quivered, powered by the forcing of breath. Her stomach burned as she fought to keep upright. Twice she flew backwards, weightless in the water as the rippling waves drew the wreck backwards, toward the open sea. When the water was back down to her waist, she gave up with hauling all of it and wrapped her arms around Ginter's chest, pulling him down into the water.
Bad idea. He was still wearing the pack, and with her frozen arms he weighed a ton.
Huffing and puffing, at last she made it to shore, where she drug him over to the same tree where her gi was hanging, sitting him up against the trunk and taking off his cap to see him better. He stirred when the sun streamed down between a crack in the clouds to light his face. His chest thrust upwards as he let out a gurgling cough. His skin was gray-pale, and his hair and beard were choked with sand.
His coat and apron billowed heavily about him, like his body was no more than a thin reed within.
"You're supposed to be in the infirmary!" Cyllene barked, not knowing what to do with herself now. There was no way to haul Ginter up over the rocks again. And he wouldn't want to teleport. But she wasn't going to leave him here.
Ginter grunted. He shivered with cold worse than she did, pawing at the chest of his apron and breaking out into another terrible hacking fit. His whole body jerked with each release. Snot and sweat and dirt dripped down his face. His blue eyes were bloodshot — irritated by the salt, and crusted with sleep.
"Please tell me you weren't off to find Lord Electrode and try shocking him to death."
Ginter heaved. His spine dipped, and a watery puddle of puke soaked the sand between his legs.
"Is that a yes or a no? The Nobles sleep during the day. They're only out hunting sleepwalkers when there are sleepwalkers to hunt."
"I… I wasn't…" the old man rasped. "Wasn't…"
He shook his head, scarred lips rolling up as he grit his crooked yellow teeth. Cyllene bristled. The old man looked worse than he had after the battle with Lord Electrode. He'd been shaken, then. Crying and ashamed of it. In so much pain he was incoherent, stringy muscles all over his body convulsing with residual static when the matron undressed him.
Ginter had drifted in and out of consciousness for the past three days, never saying a word when awake. Only eating, or taking whatever medicine he would accept. (Like Cyllene, it was never the leek juice.) Most assumed he was finally starting to pass. If what he'd taught Rei about electricity and heartbeats was true, then it made the most sense his body was out of rhythm, and his brain was shutting down.
Yet here he was. Not anywhere near the matron's corner of the sparring hall. Soaked to the bone. Puking out his guts. Looking absolutely wasted and deathly.
"Where were you trying to go?" Cyllene demanded.
Both hands were clasped against his chest now. His breath came in panicked wheezes. He'd been caught. He'd been saved, but he'd been caught. And he was in no shape to travel anyway. Let alone by himself.
"C-c-coast-lands…"
"The Coastlands?"
"I wanted… t-to s-see… th'... Coastlands."
"Ginter, the Cobalt Coastlands are on the other side of Hisui."
Ginter managed a nod. Then puked again. His stomach was growling. He wriggled uncomfortably at the noise, then craned his neck to look longingly past her, out at the blue-black waves.
"You should be in bed. Comfortable."
"No," Ginter whined. "I… I have… t-to… I… c-can't… I don't… wanna… m' n-not ready…"
For the second time that morning, Cyllene sank to her knees. She reached out and brushed her thumb along his beard to scrape some of the bile away. Her own face twisted in pain at the sight of him. Ginter was her guide through the cobwebby forest. Her breakfast friend. Her crafty coot who painted his Poké Ball blue. Her hero who shined bright as lightning. He'd warned of this, and it was still too sudden to bear.
She flinched when he reached out and grabbed her right hand in both of his. His skin was downright clammy. His pulse was all out of order. Wheezes had grown to slow, even gasps, throat gurgling with phlegm.
Ginter was frightened at his fate.
She couldn't just watch him die in front of her…
Then she remembered something. Something crazy. Something that was maybe starting to check out with the curses and the kings and the amp-amp-bay.
"You'd watch me die, wouldn't you, madwoman. You probably will. My special medicine is running out…"
"...I have medicine from a wondrous, far-off region… No one dies of consumption there…"
"...Needed some clean air… also to stop rationing my medicine. It took a toll on me. I won't do it again…"
"Very special…"
Cyllene shook him off — because in his panic, he couldn't let go — and as gently as she could, she wrestled his arms out of the straps of his pack.
She pulled it near her. Her heart began to pound as she pulled leather out of loops and let buckles click and slide free. With all the quickness and fury of lightning in the night, Cyllene lifted the flap of Ginter's forbidden pack and tore out the biggest, thickest thing she could get her frozen, shaking hands around.
She was instantly and utterly baffled.
For it was a very old and very worn blue jacket.
the part of you nobody knows...
~N~
There's a lot to unpack here, trust me. ;)
Published by Syntax-N on FanFiction . Net and by scrivenernoodz on Ao3 September 5th, 2023. Please don't repost. Thanks for reading!
