The funeral wasn't as bad as Marissa had expected. True, it had been a long and uninspired service, and she had been forced to wear a starchy black dress which made her feel like a little kid and an old woman at the same time, but at least no one had expected much from her. She only had to sit quietly and listen during the service itself and endure the questions of distant relations with smiling good humor as the twelfth or thirteenth wrinkled aunt, uncle, or family friend asked her how school was going and told her what a pretty young woman she was, and reminisced about how the last time they had seen her she had only been this big.
Indeed, the hardest part of the funeral had come before it had even started. When the funeral director had been preparing the program with her parents, he had asked if Marissa would like to say anything about her grandfather. When she hadn't answered right away, she had felt the weight of his eyes, and those of her parents, on her. It was the expected thing of her, and no doubt they thought that she would go along just to make everyone feel better. They probably hadn't even expected much from her. Nothing profound was needed, just a few simple words, maybe a cherished a memory about her departed grandparent.
Except, Marissa didn't have any cherished memories of her grandfather.
And so she had simply said, "No, thank you," and refused all of the unspoken requests for her to reconsider. Weddings might be another matter, but nobody wants to make a scene about a funeral. It's more enjoyable to squabble in the midst of a celebration than as part of an already somber affair.
Marissa and her family lived clear on the other side of the region from where her mom grew up, and where her grandfather had lived. Sunnyshore City was home for her, while Canalave City was a place she never felt comfortable in. Both were on the coast, but the grim, industrial bustle of her mother's hometown was nothing like the pleasant, sun-kissed beaches to which she had escaped. Familial duty had forced Marissa to endure yearly car rides across Sinnoh to visit her grandfather for his birthday, and for what? The old man had remained a stranger to Marissa, and now that he was dead, that would never change.
They had wanted her to talk about memories of her grandfather, but Marissa didn't have any positive feelings about those visits. He had given her gifts and she had accepted them, but for both of them the ritual always had possessed a dutiful air about it. Somehow Marissa had always found a way to get rid of those tokens, from the hard candies he had pressed into her hand to the dolls with cold plastic skin that she had conveniently forgotten at a hotel or a rest stop on the journey homeward.
Maybe it was harder for her mom, who had at least known Marissa's grandfather before he had become a gnarled old man. But for Marissa, he had always been an unfamiliar and even fearsome presence. His sagging jowls and beady little eyes had frightened her so much as a little girl, and even as she grew older and learned better and better how to conceal her feelings, her skin still crawled with revulsion at the sight of his wizened figure. Was that the fate that awaited her parents, and even her someday? Her young mind recoiled at the thought.
Before he had needed to move to a living facility – a development which had necessitated that Marissa and her parents make an additional trip to Canalave City that year – Marissa's grandfather had lived in the same house that he had moved into after getting married. Even though a whole family had lived in it once, by the time that Marissa had come to know it the whole house had a sterile quality to it. Her grandfather had maintained his daughter's old room with the fastidiousness of a museum caretaker. It could have been Marissa's room, if she had ever spent the night there, but even as a young girl, Marissa had been steadfast in her refusal to spend a night in that old house. Her discomfort didn't come from any of the classic markers of a haunted house, in fact the house was immaculate. But that sterility made it feel like a hospital, almost as much as the facility to which they took Marissa's grandfather after he fell in the shower when she was twelve.
After that, the visits continued but Marissa saw even less of a point to them. It was like she had an entire life which she put on pause for a week to trek across the region with her family. Marissa chose to keep those visits to her grandfather as removed from the rest of her life as possible. She answered the questions that her grandfather asked her without offering any details or impressions. Every visit he would start off trying to coax her out of her shell, but he would always give up after a few half-hearted attempts.
Maybe that made Marissa a bad person. She thought it might, but it wasn't a worry that kept her up at night. In truth, she had separated her grandfather off into his own isolated compartment of her life so effectively that she hardly ever thought of him at all outside of those yearly trips to Canalave City.
Would that change now that he was gone? Marissa doubted it, and seemed easy to believe that this funeral would be as neatly sequestered in the same box that held her other memories of her grandfather. "Gone, but not forgotten," was a phrase Marissa had heard the pastor use several times during the service, and that sounded like an acceptable outcome to her.
Marissa endured the somber reception in the church's basement with its dry, storebought desserts and paper cups of coffee long enough to be polite. Then, she pulled at the sleeve of her mother's dress and told her that she wasn't feeling well, and would it be all right for her to sit outside and get some fresh air? Marissa told her mother that she was ready to go back to their hotel whenever her parents were. There was a look of sadness tinged by what Marissa thought might be understanding in her mother's soft brown eyes, but the permission was given in any case.
As she circled the church basement on her way to stairs, Marissa was careful to avoid eye contact with any of the other guests. She kept her eyes focused on her exit, looking for all purposes like a young woman on a mission, maybe performing a small but necessary task such as fetching more napkins for the dessert table. The last thing that Marissa expected was to be stopped halfway up the stairs by a middle-aged man in a rumpled suit who looked to be sweating in the stale air of the poorly ventilated building.
"Marissa? Marissa Hodges?"
"Yes?" answered Marissa stiffly. Her fingers closed around the wooden railing of the stairs and she thought for a moment about telling off the stranger, but that wasn't in her nature. Instead, she turned to the older man and asked primly, "How can I help you?"
"You've never met me before, but I'm a solicitor who worked with your grandfather. My name's Dutton, Nelson Dutton." He brought up his hand, but instead of offering it to Marissa, he plunged it inside the jacket of his suit and withdrew a handkerchief which he ran over his ruddy forehead. "Are you okay if we step outside, Miss Hodges? I'm afraid the coffee downstairs didn't agree with me."
Wordlessly, Marissa led the lawyer up to the main level of the church and then escorted him outside into the wet spring day. It was a little too damp for Marissa's tastes, but Dutton seemed to be grateful enough for the change of scenery for the both of them, and he stowed his now damp handkerchief with a professional smile. "Now then, Miss Hodges, I am the lawyer who was assigned to dispose of your late grandfather's estate. Do you understand what that means?"
Marissa nodded. "It's your job to hand out his things now that he's dead."
"Well, ahem, yes," Dutton said with a soft cough, "that's quite correct. Now, normally I would have scheduled a meeting with you and your parents to handle the estate, but having already spoken with your mother she told me that your family was planning to start driving back to, Sunnyshore City, I believe it was, first thing tomorrow morning." He waited for Marissa to acknowledge that this was all true with a nod before he continued, "Since there is not very much to allocate, I resolved, with your parents' permission, of course, to handle your section of your grandfather's inheritance here. Is that all right with you, Miss Hodges?"
"Yes," Marissa answered at once before she thought to add, "Does that mean that my grandfather left some money for me?"
Her tone was doubtful and her suspicion was only confirmed when Dutton shook his heavy head slowly and said, "I'm afraid not, Miss Hodges. Your grandfather's, ah, care sapped away much of his savings. His old home is being sold to settle some of his outstanding debts, with the balance of the sale going to your mother to do with as she sees fit." The solicitor waited for Marissa to say something, and when she didn't, he merely cleared his throat and said, "That is not to say that your grandfather didn't leave anything for you, Miss Hodges. During our discussions about estate planning, he made it clear to me that he wanted to make a gift to you that he believed you would appreciate."
A real tone of surprise entered Marissa's voice as she asked, "Really? He did?" She managed to tame her curiosity quickly enough so that the flash of interest in her eyes lasted only a second before she had it extinguished. "My grandfather and I were not especially close."
"I'm, ah, sorry to hear that," offered Dutton before he chose to rifle through the pocket of his jacket instead of continuing to study Marissa and her reactions. "Well, I had several conversations with him about you, Miss Hodges. He told me that you're quite the pokémon trainer."
"Maybe when I was younger," Marissa admitted. "I made it to the semifinals of the SInnoh League one year when I was still a traveling trainer, but that was a long time ago. I'm planning to study public administration when I start university this fall," she clarified though Dutton hadn't asked for an explanation.
"Well, that's very nice, Miss Hodges, but in any case, your grandfather thought that you might be interested in this." Dutton reached a hand into the inside of his jacket, thankfully on the opposite side of where he had produced and stowed his handkerchief, and brought out a poké ball.
He handed it to Marissa who turned it over in her hands with a frown before asking, "There's a pokémon in here, isn't there?"
"That's right," Dutton said with an indulgent smile. "A pretty rare one, too, if you don't mind my saying so."
Marissa didn't share the solicitor's good humor. "It's not a lucario, is it?"
Dutton chose to interpret Marissa's question as an attempt at a joke, and his answering laugh was an equally feeble attempt. "Yes, as a matter of fact! Your grandfather told me that of all the pokémon that he had raised during his long and storied career, he thought that lucario were the best. Strong, smart, and loyal, he told me. He told me that he wanted you to have one as a companion."
"I already have my own pokémon at home," Marissa said and she tried to give the poké ball back to Dutton only for the lawyer to take a step back from her and put his hands up to ward her off.
"Oh, no, I'm sorry, I can't take it back from you," Dutton said with more surprise than apology. "It was your grandfather's wish that you have that pokémon."
Marissa kept her hand holding the poké ball extended for a while longer before she slowly let her arm drop to the side of her black dress. "That's it, then? He died and left me a lucario to take care of?"
"Well, yes, to put it simply."
"What if I don't want it?" Marissa asked. When she saw how uncomfortable her question made Dutton, she added, "For curiosity's sake."
Dutton absentmindedly ran a hand across his forehead and answered, "The paperwork has all been worked out ahead of time by my office. Your grandfather's pokémon will pass seamlessly into your possession once I get your signature on the form I have with me." He rummaged a bit in the same pocket which had held the poké ball before pulling out an official-looking piece of a paper with the name of a law firm printed on the top in a script so elegant it was illegible. "If you'll just sign here acknowledging your receipt of this pokémon, Miss Hodges."
Marissa had to put the lucario's poké ball into her purse to take a paper and pen that Dutton was pressing upon her. That small action made it feel inevitable that she would take custody of the pokémon her grandfather had left her, but she still hesitated before taking the receipt. There were no good surfaces upon which to sign the document in the church's parking lot, so, after giving it a cursory scan, Marissa laid the paper on the skirt of her dress and signed her name. Then, she handed Dutton back the receipt and his pen.
"Thank you," the solicitor said, and then he shuffled back and forth on his feet awkwardly. "Well, I suppose that I'd better be off, lots of work to do." He seemed to be waiting for Marissa to say something, but her attention was elsewhere, pointedly looking out over the parking lot of vehicles glistening with what was left of the day's earlier rainfall. "Your grandfather loved you very much, Miss Hodges," Dutton finally said, "I hope that you remember that when you think about what you'd like to do with the gift he left you."
"I'd better get back inside and find my parents to tell them about the pokémon we'll be bringing home with us," Marissa said coolly. "Thank you for assisting my grandfather, Mr. Dutton."
The man bowed his head and placed a crumpled hat on his head before wading into the parking lot in search of his car. Marissa was already back inside the church by the time that he had turned around to take one last look at her.
Some of the other guests were trickling out of the reception by now, and Marissa had to wait for the group of people hobbling up the stairs thinned out before she could reach the reception. As soon as the throng had cleared, Marissa squeezed her way down the narrow stairway and found her mother and father already starting to tidy up the reception hall, to make things a little easier for the church's volunteers who helped to organize this sort of event.
"Oh, hello, Marissa," her father said when he saw his daughter coming towards him, "you're just in time to help us. Would you mind sealing up those desserts? It sounds like the church can put them to good use after the services tomorrow."
"All right," Marissa said and she found the thin roll of plastic wrap and stretched it carefully over each of the plates of largely untouched cookies and brownies. Marissa's thoughts were not centered on the task at hand. Since neither of her parents made any move to ask her about her time outside, Marissa offered, "A lawyer found me and spoke with me in the parking lot outside of the church. He said that his name was Dutton and he worked on grandfather's will."
While Marissa's father continued his work of gathering isolated cups and plates of leftover feed for disposal, her mother stopped in the middle of folding tablecloths and asked, "What did he have to say to you, dear?"
Marissa finished sealing the tray in front of her, a glass serving dish which looked to be older than she was, and then pulled the poké ball that Dutton had given her from her purse. "He said that this was my inheritance, I suppose you could call it. A pokémon. A lucario."
"Oh. Your grandfather certainly loved his lucario, but I didn't know he still had one after all these years," Marissa's mother said. "Do you know how old it is?"
"No," Marissa replied with a shake of her head. "I haven't let it out or anything. I wanted to ask you what I should do with it."
"What do you mean?" her father asked. His work was done so now he strode casually over to his wife and daughter, his pace slowed only by the need to duck his head to avoid scraping it on the low, tiled ceiling of the church basement.
Marissa held the poké ball between her fingertips with exaggerated indifference. "I mean that since I'm going off to university in the fall I don't know if I should bring a pokémon along with me. I wasn't planning on bringing along any of the pokémon I already have, after all." She pretended that the idea had just occurred to her and asked, "Besides, what if my dormitory doesn't allow for pokémon?"
"I'm sure that your school will have a place for people to keep their pokémon," Marissa's mother said automatically, before asking, "But you don't meant to say that you would give this pokémon away, do you?"
The older woman, so like Marissa with her long brown hair and her somber eyes, looked uncomfortable, and that uneasiness proved to be contagious. "I mean, I didn't ask for this pokémon," Marissa said, trying not to sound petulant. "I don't know if I want to take that on with everything else that's going on in my life right now."
"Why don't you at least meet the pokémon your grandfather left you?" her father suggested softly. "You can spend some time getting to know the lucario today before we have to go back home. At least try to give the gift a chance before you turn it down. It was important to your grandfather, after all."
"I suppose," conceded Marissa. The poké ball in her hand felt heavier now and she put it back in her purse without looking at it. "It sounds better than spending the rest of the day reading by the hotel pool," she offered with a halfhearted shrug.
Marissa's parents looked relieved and her mother told her, "There's a park a few blocks west of here. Why don't you go there with your new pokémon and get to know it better? We'll finish up here, go back to the hotel and change, and then pick you up for a late lunch. How does that sound?"
Marissa's answer was a verbal shrug, "It sounds fine to me. West, you said?"
Marissa found herself walking along the unfamiliar streets of Canalave City following the directions that her mother had given her. She had been coming here since she was a little girl, but she had hardly seen anything of the city besides the same route from the hotel in which she and her family always stayed to her grandfather's house and, later, the nursing home. Marissa's view of the whole city had been tainted by the association with her grandfather, she thought, as the same type of sights which should have put her at ease such as skylines and cozy little neighborhoods were tinged by the same kind of melancholic detachment through which she had always viewed these trips.
At least the park was easy to find and deserted save for a few young families supervising children clambering over an aging play structure and a set of swings with metal chains which clinked merrily. It was as fine a place to get to know a new pokémon as any, so Marissa found herself a shady spot under a tree far enough away from the families enjoying the park that she wouldn't disturb them. Then, after taking a deep breath and murmuring a half-conscious prayer, Marissa tapped the release mechanism of the poké ball with her index finger.
Even though she knew what to expect, the sudden flash of light made Marissa jump but she mastered her surprise by the time that the pokémon which had been contained in the poké ball took shape in front of her. The lucario was a little on the smaller side for its species, if Marissa remembered correctly, but its telltale blue and black fur and upright stance were typical. When it saw Marissa, the lucario tensed up and growled at her.
That made Marissa pause. Did her grandfather leave her an untamed or unruly pokémon? Did he think that she was such a good trainer that it wouldn't be a problem?
Fortunately, a man approached Marissa and her new lucario before the pokémon could do anything else threatening. He was surprisingly well-dressed for someone bringing his son to the park, wearing a midnight blue suit and a wide brimmed hat which kept the sun out of his face. For a moment, Marissa found herself wondering if he had been at her grandfather's funeral, but the little boy holding onto the man's hand was dressed in much more casual clothes and had dirt and scrapes crisscrossing his bare legs. "Excuse me, miss," the man said, "but I couldn't help but notice your fine looking lucario. I'm Riley," he said, and then paused as if waiting for Marissa to make some connection which never occurred to her.
Instead, Marissa only said, "My name is Marissa. It's nice to meet you, Riley." She looked at the pokémon bristling next to her and said, "I only just received this lucario, so I'm afraid I don't know its name yet."
"His name," Riley corrected her with a gentle smile. "I'm sorry to intrude, but I have a bit of experience with lucario."
"You and my grandfather both," Marissa said. "He's the one who gave me this lucario. I was just at his funeral, hence my outfit."
Riley looked taken aback and he offered a customary, "Well, I'm sorry for your loss, Marissa," only to frown when she shrugged off his words. "So, this pokémon belonged to your grandfather, huh? Well, I can tell that he had a pretty strong bond with his previous owner."
That earned Riley a skeptical look from Marissa. "And how do you know that?"
"I just do," Riley said with a smile. "Like I said, I have a bit of experience with lucario."
"Well, if you know so much, can you tell me what his name is?"
Despite the sarcastic challenge in her question, Riley squinted and studied Marissa's new pokémon with an intensity that made the lucario shy away. Then, Riley smiled broadly and said, "This little fellow's name is Laiko."
Before Marissa could express her disbelief, the lucario standing next to her barked and wagged its long tail. "How did you guess that?"
"I didn't guess," Riley said with a laugh and a tap of his finger against his temple. He left Marissa without an answer for a moment longer before he admitted, "I read his tag, see?"
Sure enough, there was a gleaming piece of metal hanging around Laiko's neck with his name engraved on the flat surface. Marissa smiled, and that smile turned into a small chuckle when Riley's son tugged at his arm and whined, "Dad, can we please go? I want to play on the swings."
"Just a minute, Sol," Riley said and then to Marissa, he said, "I just wanted to see if you need any help with your new pokémon. It can be hard adjusting from one trainer to another for any pokémon, especially one as sensitive as a lucario. That your grandfather died is even worse. Laiko here is going through a lot." Riley smiled at Marissa, one that stood in sharp contrast to Dutton's air of flat professionalism, and added, "Maybe you two can help each other out."
Laiko closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against Riley's hand, who stiffened briefly and then relaxed into the point of physical contact. Both Laiko and Riley closed their eyes and something passed between them. Whatever they were experiencing seemed to have an effect on Sol, too, as the dark-haired boy's eyes closed as if in a trance. But Marissa felt nothing, and she felt with sudden vehemence like she was a stranger interrupting an intimate gathering.
"Maybe you want to have him then," she said to Riley when the man finally pulled his hand off of Laiko's head. "He seems to like you well enough."
"No, that's not what your pokémon wants," Riley said without reproach. "He thinks that he wants to get to know you better, but he's still unsure. He wants to trust you, but it's hard for him since your grandfather passed away. Some part of Laiko passed with him."
Marissa listened to Riley's explanation politely before asking, "You learned all of that just from petting him? It seems rather hard to believe."
Before Riley could answer, Sol tugged on his clothes again and said, "Dad, you said just a minute."
"Go to the swings, buddy, I'll be right behind you. Go on!" After Sol had finally been persuaded to leave, Riley spread his hands and said apologetically, "Kids, what can you do?"
"What you did with Laiko, understanding what he's thinking and feeling, can that be taught?" Marissa asked as if the interruption hadn't happened.
Riley lifted his blue hat to scratch his head. "Well, yes and no. Some people can be taught, but they need to have a, well, let's call it a knack for it."
Marissa's brown eyes met Laiko's red ones and she said, "It seems to me that Laiko would be happiest with someone who had that ability. I'm guessing my grandfather had it. Maybe you can help Laiko find a trainer with that talent."
"Sensitivity to auras usually runs in families," Riley remarked before he asked, "Why are you so resistant to keeping Laiko, Marissa?"
"It's just," she started to say, and then stopped herself before starting again, "I didn't know my grandfather that well. I can't help but feel like his leaving Laiko to me is a kind of imposition that I've had no say in. I'm being asked to do a good job raising a pokémon I've never raised before, and I don't have any recourse without looking ungrateful. I'm not trying to be ungrateful, I simply don't understand why he left me his lucario. I don't understand why it was so important to him."
Laiko surprised Marissa by grabbing her hand and pressing it against his forehead. His fur was short and bristled against her palm, but Marissa felt something else tickling her as the lucario leaned into their contact. It wasn't a physical sensation but something else, though it still made the back of Marissa's ears itch. Marissa felt herself suffering some kind of heartbreak, which came on so suddenly that Marissa tried to close her eyes and push the feeling away. When she did so, Laiko stepped back and let Marissa's hand go so that it hung in the air like the outstretched limb of a classical statue.
"What was that?" Marissa asked. Her previous mood was asserting itself again, but she still felt wary at the sudden surge of emotions that she had been dealt.
"That was Laiko trying to make a connection with you," Riley said. "Listen, I've got to run after my kid, but if you want my help developing that spark, give me a call." He deftly pulled a card out of his pocket and handed it to Marissa before running after his son, making Sol shriek with delighted laughter.
Marissa held the card in her hand without looking at it. Her eyes were trained on Laiko's and she saw the lucario studying her just as intently. "Maybe it wouldn't hurt to take care of you," she said to the blue-furred pokémon, "at least until I have to go to college." When Marissa saw the pokémon shrink back from her clarification, she frowned. Working through her grandfather's death probably would hurt, she decided, but maybe that was what it would take for Laiko to heal.