"Heck. I'm sorry, Charmander."

"It's all right, Vivillon."

"How was I supposed to know that was a Sap Sipper Bouffalant?"

"Maybe by the way they inhaled the white grass like a Rotom-Mow."

"Then I tried to Bug Buzz the other one, but they had Soundproof…"

"Yeah, that was pretty unlucky."

"And then the Reckless Bouffalant tackled you into the cart, and all the grass flew everywhere…"

"I don't think we should worry about past mistakes."

"I've just been having a tough time keeping up— I mean, we've all been stretched so thin lately! Charmander, I'm so, so sorry that I screwed up the job for you."

"Woah, Vivillon, you make it sound like we failed completely. You're forgetting the most important part!"

"What's that?"

"We got to head home early, and Tepig and Rhyhorn still paid us."

"Charmander! Don't act so dense when we're already in trouble. What would Eelektross say?"

"What? He's not here right now, is he?"

"No, but don't let Diggersby catch you talking like that when— Shh, someone's coming! …Whew, it's only Rockruff."

"Hey. Have either of you seen Maractus?"

"No, but I heard that they went with Karrablast yesterday, so they'll probably be gone for a while."

"That's too bad. I have a package for them. From the village."

"Oh! Rockruff, I can fly that over to their place, if you want."

"I would be grateful, Vivillon. What have you been up to lately?"

"Me? Umm… The thing is—"

"Hey, Rockruff, have you ever heard the story of the stubborn Bouffalant?"

"Charmander…?"

"No, I haven't heard the story of the stubborn Bouffalant."

"Well…

"A looong time ago, there was a stubborn Bouffalant—the king of all the Bouffalant! He was the strongest Bouffalant to ever live, with horns as thick as stone trees and hoofprints as large as the craters of the moon. He was also a tyrant, who only thought of himself. Worst of all, he would never, ever rethink his decisions or change his mind. All the Pokémon in Tarst feared him, even the Talonflame.

"Yet there was one clever Bouffalant who dared to oppose this king. They rounded up all the other Bouffalant to—"

"Charmander, are you really going to tell Rockruff that whole story? You're going to talk his ears off!"

"Maybe I also don't want to talk about that other thing?"

"It's fine, Vivillon. I don't have anywhere I need to be. I didn't get the chance to hear a lot of Tarstian myths growing up."

"...OK then. You can keep going, Charmander."

"Thanks. Just bear with me, OK?

"Anyways, everyone agrees to the plan. The clever Bouffalant approaches the king, and says: 'O King, because you are so mighty and wise, your humble subjects have built a great estate in your honor, the seat of your new empire!'

"They told him how they had discovered a hidden land in the middle of Tarst with the richest soil in all the continent. As a surprise for their king, the Bouffalant had pooled their resources to develop this land into the most luxurious estate in the whole world! This estate would be the exclusive property of the king (they emphasized this part—exclusive!), and the rest of the Bouffalant would patrol its borders so that no other Pokémon could enter.

"Naturally, the Bouffalant king was enamored with this idea, and adopted it as whole-heartedly as if he'd thought of it himself. 'Since I am so wise and mighty, it's only fair that I should get the greatest share of the land, and an empire as well. You must lead me to this estate at once.'

"When the king arrived at the estate, he couldn't believe his eyes: there were boundless orchards and mushroom gardens just waiting to be harvested and storerooms overflowing with gummis. The king was absolutely furious that his subjects had hidden these riches from him, even though they were now offering them freely. He almost had the clever Bouffalant executed on the spot!

"Seeing the anger in the king's eyes, the clever Bouffalant said: 'O King, would it please you to hold a feast with your retinue before we begin your tour of the estate?'

"The king's thoughts immediately turned from rage to jealousy. 'Do not presume you have any right to feast at my expense! Have you already forgotten that all of this is mine? Begone, and begin the patrols!'

"The king's retinue left in apparent shame, though they were secretly happy to get away from him.

"The Bouffalant king feasted on berries, mushrooms, and delicious gummis. He had to admit that this easy lifestyle suited him better than ordering everyone else around all day. In fact, he was so delighted with the riches of his estate that he got a bit carried away. When he came to, he realized that he'd emptied the storerooms, leveled the orchards, and trampled the fungus gardens.

"The king stomped up to the border of his estate and bellowed:

" 'Subjects! Your king calls for you! I order you to restock the storerooms and tend the fields!'

"The clever Bouffalant hurried over. 'Very well, your highness, do you reverse the order banning all others from your estate? The farmers, haulers, chefs, craftsmon, and laborers would be eager to join you. Your estate looks very beautiful from out here.'

"The king hadn't considered that getting help would mean letting the other Bouffalant onto his (in his mind) hard-won estate. The king dismissed the clever Bouffalant. He would find food some other way."

"I always wondered, if the king was so used to ordering everyone around, why would he care if the other Bouffalant lived with him? All the most selfish Pokémon I know love having company."

"C'mon, Vivillon, it's an allegory."

"It's an old explorers' tale, is what it is."

"Please don't interrupt.

"Next, the king of the Bouffalant searched his land for Pokémon to hunt. This was easy work for a Pokémon with his ferocious might. One day, however, the king was shocked to find that there were no more Pokémon on his estate, not a single Patrat or Petilil!

"The king stomped up to the border for a second time and demanded to speak to the clever Bouffalant.

" 'O King,' the clever Bouffalant said, 'Your loyal subjects have worked tirelessly to fulfill your order that no one be allowed to enter your estate.' (A lot of Pokémon had been allowed to exit, but they chose not to mention that.) 'Shall we end the patrols and allow the wild Pokémon back onto your lands, to set down roots and build nests? And, while we're on the topic, there are hundreds of petitioners out here, Pokémon who have heard of your great wealth and seek your charity. Should we let them in, too?'

"Once again, the king balked at the suggestion that he would have to share his estate with anybody else. He ordered the clever Bouffalant to get back to work, and to double the patrols for good measure. The Bouffalant king muttered to himself as he walked away:

" 'Ha! My enemies have all been turned away, and my subjects obey my every command, even without constant threats of execution. Truly, I am a great king.'

"He was too stubborn to admit he was starving.

"The king of the Bouffalant started to eat grass. Although grass is the natural diet of a Bouffalant, the king had previously considered it beneath him to bow his head to graze. At this point, he was so hungry that he exhausted the grass entirely before it could regrow. Once the grass was gone, he started to eat the leaves from the trees, knocking down trunks with his mighty horns or bounding to reach the highest canopies.

"The king was now so caught up in his own delusions that he didn't even try to consult with the clever Bouffalant. Instead, he looked out on the barren fields of dirt and exclaimed:

" 'Who but a king could reshape the very earth? This is the fertile soil from which my mighty empire will grow!'

"Soon, even the dirt was gone. There was absolutely nothing left of the verdant estate. The land was dead. Not a morsel of food remained… so the Bouffalant king began to eat himself!"

"What?!"

"Yep, he ate his own hair with a Munch!, and bit his own flesh with a Chomp! He gobbled up his own hooves and gnawed on his own bones. With one last sickening crunch, the Bouffalant king disappeared forever! Only his horns remained.

"And to this day, in the middle of the Great Desert that was once his estate, the Bouffalant's Horns still stand as a monument to the ancient king's stubborn pride."

"I— What— Charmander, where'd you get that ending from?! In the version I heard when I was a kid, he just starves to death…"

"Just a little twist I heard somewhere."

"I thought it was an interesting story, Charmander. You have a real talent for speaking. I couldn't tell which parts you memorized and which parts you made up on the spot."

"Thanks!"

"But what was the point of the story?"

"Uhh… the point?"

"Yes. Are you implying that I'm stubborn? Or that Vivillon is? I'm a bit confused."

"The point… is that… I'm hungry?"

"You told that entire story. About a Bouffalant that eats themselves. To ask to get dinner."

"...Yes."

"Charmander. Have you been hit very hard on the head recently?"

"Ha ha, I don't remember anything like that happening, right, Vivillon?"

"Nope, definitely not! But I could also go for some food."

"...Sounds good. Let me put my bags away, and I'll meet you two at Braixen's."

"OK, see you there."

"Bye, Rockruff!"

"..."

"..."

"Weird choice of distraction, but thanks."

"No problem. You could've just told me to shut up, if you wanted to."

"Nah, you were on a roll, that was some impressive rambling."

"Want to pay for my dinner, since I clearly have a concussion and it's all your fault?"

"Hold on, I thought you said we weren't worrying about past mistakes!"

"Wow, you aren't going to help out your poor, injured guildmate? That's very stubborn Bouffalant of you, Vivillon. Do you want to look like a stubborn Bouffalant in front of Rockruff?"

"Go eat a raw egg, Charmander."

Noibat pressed his meal closer to his chest as he walked past a Ribombee. The thought of the butterfly Pokémon seeing him with their dead kin made him very uncomfortable. Actually, he hated the idea of any Pokémon seeing him with his food—Noibat only ate in the shelter of his cave. It was probably all in his head; the Galvantula and Ribombee didn't seem to mind who or what he ate. Unlike the Swoobat and the Unfezant, they lived entirely separate lives from their unevolved counterparts.

Sadly, Pokémon preying on other Pokémon was more than a throwaway line in the Pokédex, it was a fact of life: the Woobat hunted the Joltik, the Galvauntula hunted the Woobat, and the Swoobat and Galvantula hunted each other. Mandibuzz could be seen patrolling above the black plateau at all hours of the day and night. The vulture hadn't approached Noibat since their first encounter, but that didn't stop them from tormenting him in other ways. He would often see Mandibuzz in the early mornings, dangling some poor Woobat over the edge of the canyon by their wings like a macabre pendulum.

Noibat threw a rock at a Cutiefly, trying to scare off the Mandibuzz that circled in his head. Crash! The rock missed and disappeared into one of the thorny thickets that lined the canyon. It took Noibat a second to register what he'd done.

Oh no! That was the rock that Maggie gave me!

Noibat dropped his two Cutiefly, unslung the bottle from his shoulder, and dove into the thicket. He wasted a few minutes searching for Maggie's rock in the half-light of the undergrowth, thorns scratching his wings and catching in his fur.

As Noibat emerged from the thickets empty-handed, he realized he'd made another mistake. In his haste to find the rock, he'd forgotten that he wasn't alone in the canyon. An Emolga was messing with his stuff! One of his Cutiefly was already tucked under the flying squirrel's wing, and with the other hand they poked curiously at the shiny bottle.

'Hey! Don't touch that!' "Crrrrrrrk!"

The Emolga froze for a second. Then they stuffed the whole Cutiefly into their cheeks with comical speed.

VAAAAM!

It was too late. The Emolga had flown off with half his food.

Damn it! I'm such an idiot.

Noibat noticed that his ears were drooping for real. Out of all the differences between a Noibat body and a human body, his ears were the part he was most self-conscious of. They were so… weirdly active: they would perk up when he saw a storm coming in, fall when Mandibuzz flew overhead, and boom reflexively in response to danger. He would rather just smile and frown like a normal person. Noibat smooshed the offending ears against the trunk of a tree.

Come on. You're an adult. You can deal with losing a bug and a rock.

Noibat tried to enjoy the relatively mild weather on his trip back to the yellow plateau, more of a bake than a roast. It had been cooler lately, to the point that the temperature in the shadow of the plateau was downright comfortable. He thought about changing his sleep schedule yet again.

Noibat double-checked his route as he arrived at the yellow plateau: it was after the morning rotation but before the noon rotation, so he had to go west. Taking an extra half-lap around the plateau was not something he needed today.

The cave was totally unrecognizable. Once it became clear that the Woobat's cave wasn't just a temporary shelter, Noibat started to fill the empty space with all kinds of junk. There were four piles of stones: one for throwing stones, one for hitting stones, one for gifts from Maggie, and a pile of sharp stones for carving.

That rock would've just gotten lost in the pile anyway. I don't need to feel sorry for throwing it.

Oh, who was he kidding. He would be missing that rock for days.

Next to the rock piles was a neat stack of dry sticks, all carried by hand from the canyon. It was nice to know that he would have plenty of wood if he ever figured out how to start a fire or make a functional spear.

Noibat also collected garbage. The bottle was no longer the only man-made object he owned: he'd found an old plank of wood just sticking out of the sand, then scraps of fabric, a corroded metal disk—all obviously useless, but Noibat didn't care. It meant that somebody else had been to the scrublands at some point.

There were a few other odds and ends: flowers from the black plateau, a dented green cauliflower that somebody had been wailing on with a rock, a small piece of fulgurite from some past thunderstorm… His cave wasn't cozy, but he'd made it his own.

Noibat carefully set the heavy bottle on the uneven floor. Carrying several pounds of water all the way from the black plateau was a real pain in the butt, but it definitely beat going there every time he got thirsty. What would he do without that bottle? He was lucky that the Galvantula had rescued it from who-knows-where—the glass was too smooth to have been in the desert for long. If only he'd grabbed some other tools on his way out of the spider's den.

Noibat glanced at his second most prized possession: his net, another acquisition from the Galvantula. The net had been abandoned on the scree the night after a thunderstorm, its amber beads still slightly glowing with electricity. Noibat had been forced to pull it back to his cave with a stick in order to avoid getting shocked. The net was an impressive piece of webwork, a fine yet sturdy mesh with rocks sewn into the hem at regular intervals, perfect for dragging a Woobat out of the sky. Noibat had torn out the heavy rocks and repurposed the net as a sort of bag. The bottle stored his water, the net stored his food.

Food. It was time for dinner. Perhaps the less that is said about Noibat's meal preparation, the better—he certainly didn't like to think about it. Instead, he thought about his future plans. Plans for the bottle and net. Plans he'd been practicing for. Plans of escape.

Noibat didn't keep track of time in the scrublands. Hunting Joltik, navigating the dungeon, trading with the Tranquill—these ordinary days just accumulated like the garbage in his cave. If his amnesia had flared up somehow and erased half his memories of this period, Noibat would have been none the wiser.

In a way, Noibat's amnesia was actually his only source of new experiences. He would catch glimpses of cities and highways in the winding desert, bonfires and airplanes in the dancing aurora, birthdays and graduations in the swirling Woobat. Maggie and the flock stood in for all kinds of things: family gatherings, field trips, pets, or just regular birds. One time, when Noibat was about to leave the shady canyon, he had the strangest conviction that when he stepped out into the sunshine, he would find himself back in his hometown, a few blocks from his house. It made him want to cry.

The frustrating part was that these isolated memories didn't really mean much on their own. It was difficult to put into words: he always knew how he felt about each memory, or how he was supposed to feel, but that wasn't enough. He wanted context. He wanted a past. For now, it was like trying to extrapolate a whole symphony from a snatch of music on the radio.

Noibat was finished with his dinner now; the scraps were cleaned, the leftovers stored away. It was almost noon. Time to go to bed.

Back at the canyon, when Unfezant's eyes were closed… I could've sworn that it reminded me of someone…

A disappointed parent? A long-suffering teacher? He couldn't remember. It was becoming harder and harder to come up with new memories as the days blurred together.

Somehow, Noibat still had hope. He could be patient. Maybe today had been a mixed bag, but he wasn't starving to death anymore. Things would change. He would get out… Right?

As the dry season gave way to the wet season, Noibat's persistence was finally rewarded. The wheels of his life began to turn again, for better or for worse.