Tapping, clacking. When the warm and dry Wind of Dreams shakes the Sudowoodo in my garden, that's all I hear. Constantly. Clacking and tapping. Fortunately for me—and for my sanity—the Wind of Dreams blows only infrequently. Two or three days of unending tapping of the false branches, then months of peace.
Being a reclusive sort of person, I cannot fill these two or three days with the inane babble of other people. And since plants and Grass Pokémon make for quiet companions, their noise fails to drown out that clacking. My Sudowoodo are rather lazy creatures—perhaps a better word is "cautious"—and thus the only times they move are when they must seek food and when the Wind pushes them against each other.
In the past, I've tried various experiments to keep the Sudowoodo from making such an incessant noise during the few windy days, but they've failed. The false foliage on the imitation trees rattles just as loudly as the tapping of the branches. I've learned to live with it.
The Wind of Dreams is a persistent creature. Yes, I think of it as an entity. The grey stone wall surrounding my retreat is no barrier to it. Somehow, I think it likes the attention it gains from irritating me.
I've always been a solitary person, all I ever wanted was to sit in my garden, to spend my life peacefully in a quiet place. When I dream, I am a tree, unmoving and unmovable, but a part of me is in everything. It is only during the days of Wind that these dreams change.
She stood on the peak of a mountain. The entire world stretched below her, but she could see no way down. She couldn't even tell how exactly she had reached this place.
"Perhaps the wind carried me," she mused, the Wind snatching the words from her lips and swirling them around. She caught distorted echoes of the sentence, most of them nonsense, except for a final repetition. "Perhaps wind me."
"But there's nothing to echo from!" she shouted. The Wind, however, was done with its game. The air was still, and she was alone again.
Another Wind Dream. Lately they've been worse than usual, and I'm getting somewhat sick of them. The person who I am in the dreams isn't really me. That person might have been me, if things had been different. But things happened the way they did, and I am the person I am because of those events. The Wind seems to like playing with "what ifs" and "could have beens."
So what do I do when those Wind Dreams become too much? I've tried nearly as many solutions for this as for the Sudowoodo problem. So far, I haven't come up with anything that works. Tonight was different. I decided that since the Wind has made itself an uninvited guest in my house, I would invite myself into its house. I headed outside.
The only active Sudowoodo in my garden—"active" meaning that it sometimes moves if I ask it to move—is conveniently placed next to the garden wall. Avoiding the nightly dance of the Vileplume and watching my steps for stray Oddish, I made my way to that particular tree.
"Hello Flim-Flam," I fondly greeted that active Sudowoodo. It twitched its branches, acknowledging my presence. "Would you give me a lift?" The fake leaves rustled, then it lowered one of its cold branches. Stepping onto the mobile stone, I balanced myself against the trunk. The branch lifted smoothly into the air. When it was level with the top of the wall, I thanked the Sudowoodo and hopped onto the broad top of the wall.
"Well what do you want tonight?" I addressed the open sky. The Wind whispered in the rock-shard leaves, and I could hear the not-so-distant song of the Vileplume. My garden could probably use the aid of a handy Bulbasaur or a helpful Chikorita, but I made do without them. "So you're going to just breeze on around me, eh?" The Wind made no response.
"I know you're no innocent zephyr. I've been putting up with you and your noise for too long for me to believe that heap of Muk slime! Well? What do you want?" The vague noise I heard could only have been called "guilty." Feeling pleased with my progress, I continued to scold the errant Wind of Dreams.
"No good response? Well isn't that just dandy. Don't you have anything better to do than to torment an old lady on an irregular basis?" The wind continued its guilty sound. "I thought so. Get on with it then, and leave me alone!"
The night was abruptly silent.
Deciding that silence meant obedience, I clambered back onto Flim-Flam's handy branch, carefully balancing myself as he lowered me to the ground. "Thanks pal," I told the tree, patting his rough stone bark.
((Old? You? Never!)) Startled, I looked around. There was no one around except Sudowoodo.
"Pardon me?" I asked the air around me. Nothing. Yawning, I figured that it was probably just my imagination getting the better of me. Pretending that a pesky wind is a creature probably stretched my creative boundaries.
"Wait!" They didn't listen to her. Laughing, they ran off ahead, disappearing in the trees. She tried to run after them, but she was three years younger, and three years shorter. She couldn't possibly hope to keep up!
Glad that there was at least a trail to follow, she walked deeper into the woods. Maybe she could get home in time for the afternoon snack. But she wouldn't have been surprised if they had already eaten everything by the time she got there.
As she walked, she concluded that she couldn't trust them.
"Now why did you bring that up," I wondered irritably, rolling out of bed and glaring out the window. The Sudowoodo, once again, were tapping and clacking their branches.
There was not even a smidgen of doubt in my mind that the Wind of Dreams had dragged up that old memory. Thinking of it reminded me of similar occasions, and I angrily pushed them away. The Wind was addling my wits.
It is nearly impossible to sleep with a constant but randomized noise hovering in the background. The barking of Growlithe and the clacking of Sudowoodo are probably the worst. I've gotten used to the tapping sounds, but that doesn't help me sleep. So I figured that since it was already five in the morning, I might as well make some tea and get started on the day's work.
I've noticed that I need less sleep as the years pass. My very infrequent visitors are somewhat in awe of this seemingly phenomenal ability, but they think it's just a symptom of having to be around people for a little while.
Trainers happen by from time to time. My home isn't on any of the major Gym Circuits, but freshly started trainers tend to stumble along, and they sometimes return on the way home. Just because I don't like people doesn't mean I am not a good hostess! Mother was very strict about manners and etiquette, about the only thing she took seriously, and I learned well.
I usually bribe these rare guests to keep them from mentioning me or my hidden retreat. Since the majority of them are Trainers, I've taken to making Technical Machines for their Pokémon. One per visitor. Usually, I'll give them a decent Grass move—though nothing too spectacular, or they might be asked where they had gotten the TM!
As I headed for my TM workshop, I wondered what had gotten me started on thinking about visitors. Tracing the train of thought, I decided that maybe I wasn't getting enough sleep after all.
Later, however, I called it intuition. The doorbells rang.
My "doorbell" is an old-fashioned contraption. You pull a hank of string, and little bells clang in most of the rooms of the house. A nice stately old cowbell rings in the garden. The bell that adorns the wall of my workroom is a deceptive little thing. It looks like it might be something to put on a Meowth, and that it wouldn't be too annoying, but when shaken, it could easily serve as a fire alarm. Thus, whenever I have a visitor, I am naturally hard at work in my workroom and am scared out of my wits when that darn bell rings.
Sighing, and muttering to myself about uninvited visitors, I made my way to the front door. I snatched my cane from its hook, then hurried outside to the front gate. A small boy was standing on the other side of the iron bars. Though it was dim, I judged his age to be around ten—another rookie.
"What do you want?" I demanded, using my best grumpy old lady voice.
The boy winced. "I'm sorry ma'am. My Hoppip was scared by the wind, and it jumped over the wall. May I come and fetch it?"
I looked levelly at the boy. I could remember when my younger brother was ten—he had gone on a Pokémon Journey himself and we never heard from him again. For all I knew, Donnel had been eaten by a crazy Rhyhorn, or he had married and settled down. This boy didn't look much like my brother, but he reminded me of him.
"All right kid. What's your name?"
"Daneal, ma'am. What is your name?"
Well, the kid was a bit lacking in some of the more formal courtesies, but he was polite enough. "My name is Sulia Indachas. Come on in boy," I opened the narrow side gate. He nervously scampered in, then looked around. "Follow me, I'll take you to the garden. Your little Hoppip likely headed there."
The sky was still speckled with stars, and the Sudowoodo were still clacking and tapping, but the edges of the scattered clouds were rimmed with pink. Most boys Daneal's age would be asleep by now. Deciding that I was curious about this boy who reminded me of Donnel, I started a conversation.
"So what other kinds of Pokémon do you have?" I glanced behind me at the boy when he didn't respond right away. He was staring at the ground, his eyes obscured by a ridiculous baseball cap.
"None. I only have the Hoppip." He wasn't speaking very loudly, but thankfully my ears haven't been deteriorating with age.
"Oh." I tried to think of something else to ask. "How long have you been training?"
The reply came much more quickly. "Three days." He seemed proud of the fact.
"Did you start at a Professor's Laboratory, or are you headed there?"
"There isn't a Professor in Taupe Town. There isn't even a PokéCenter or a PokéMart! I had to get my Pokéballs from the grocery store." He made a disgusted face. "They don't sell any good brands though."
"So you managed to catch a Hoppip without any other help?"
"Uh." He didn't say anything for a moment. "Uh, yeah."
At that point, I decided to be suspicious.
We reached the garden. A low hedge separates the garden from the front lawn, and beyond various flowers, herbs, vegetables, and grass Pokémon lived in rock-edged beds. The dirt was covered by a thin layer of coarse sawdust, and since it was mid-spring, most of what was going to be growing this year was already well on its way.
"My garden doesn't like many people," I told Daneal as we passed the hedge. "So you stay right here and I'll ask around about this stray Hoppip." The boy nodded.
I headed for the Sprout trellis. "Hey, has anyone seen a Hoppip over here," I asked the Bellsprout and Weepinbell. They hadn't. I don't understand Pokémon languages too well, but I can get the gist of what most of them are saying. This wasn't going to be fun. The Vileplume were already sleeping off their midnight dance, and the Gloom and Oddish weren't in much better shape. Flim-Flam, rusting anxiously, reported no sign of any intruders.
Feeling even more suspicious, I headed for the wooden deck. Paras lived underneath in that dank and dim area, and although we generally avoided each other, it was a good idea to keep in touch, at least a little bit.
"Paaar," purred the leader of the small Paras colony. "Rass Parrras"
Finally, a positive answer. Two smaller Paras herded a tiny pink turnip into the brightening daylight. The turnip—Hoppip—looked rather upset at having been discovered and tried to retreat underneath the deck again. I propped my cane against one of the posts and grabbed the little pest.
"So you're this pesky Hoppip," I said to the squealing plant. "Now don't worry, you silly thing! I'm not going to hurt you." It seemed to calm down a bit. "I'm going to take you back to Daneal now, so I can get him out of my hair." The Hoppip began struggling again. "Do you want to go back to him?"
It squeaked at me. The little critter sounded afraid.
"Well, you don't have to go back if you don't want to. You can stay here if you like." It squeaked back, sounding much more happy. "That decides it." I carried the Hoppip over to Flim-Flam and tossed it up into the Sudowoodo's fake leaves. "Hide there until I get back," I told the little thing, then hurried back over to Daneal.
"Sorry kid," I lied. I'm a pretty good liar, when I find it necessary. "I asked the Sudowoodo and the Bellsprout and everything in my garden with eyes, nobody has seen a thing. Maybe it jumped in, then jumped right back out."
Daneal looked disappointed. I ignored his expression and escorted him back out to the front lawn.
"Well, I hear that Hoppip aren't very good to start with," I commented idly as we walked back to the gate. "I was never a Trainer myself, but I've known some, and Hoppip only know Splash and Synthesis when they're young. Pretty sorry, if you ask me." Daneal didn't say anything.
"Thank you for looking, ma'am," he told me as I closed the gate behind him. He turned around and walked away, down the narrow path toward the nearest town. I didn't feel sorry for him, somehow any resemblance he might have had to Donnel had vanished.
I returned to Flim-Flam. "Come out little one," I called to the Hoppip." It twirled out of false tree like a whirligig. I caught it and it chirped at me. "Well, what am I going to do with you now?" I placed it on the ground and it pranced around happily, performing some rather astounding leaps. Its green leaves sparkled abruptly, and I realized that the sun had come up.
"Well, you're a pretty little plant," I commented. Except for the Sudowoodo, I had little contact with the foreign Pokémon which lived on the Johto continent. It squeaked happily at my compliment and jumped even higher. It seemed to be playing with the Wind of Dreams. "You're pretty active too." I sighed. This little plant would probably be much better off with a Trainer.
Some species were like that. They led perfectly normal lives in their natural state, but only when properly trained did they ever reach their fullest potential. My Bellsprout and Oddish families were on the other side—wild members were nearly as adept at battling as their trained counterparts.
"I think I'll give you to one of my next visitors," I mused aloud. "You'll benefit from having someone to help you focus all of that extra energy."
The Hoppip froze mid-leap and plopped to the ground. It looked at me reproachfully then jumped to my shoulder, rubbing its aromatic leaves against my cheek.
((I think she likes you,)) a voice commented. I whirled around, but could see nothing but the Hoppip and the Sudowoodo. Flim-Flam had turned his stony visage toward me, and it seemed to be speaking. ((Yes, I'm speaking to you,)) he exclaimed, sounding a bit exasperated. ((You've understood me perfectly for months, you just haven't realized who it is that is speaking to you.))
"Oh." I couldn't think of anything to say.
((That Hoppip is really attached to you. She's glad that you saved her from that boy—he was trying to catch her because she sparkles.)) The Hoppip squeaked her agreement.
"What does being sparkly have to do with anything?" I asked faintly.
((Pokémon who are trained are usually much stronger than Pokémon who grow up wild. Wild Pokémon who sparkle are stronger than that—and they become even more powerful if they are trained.))
"All the more reason to find her a good Trainer as soon as possible," I replied, and the Hoppip squeaked in dismay.
((She already has a good Trainer.))
"Who? You just said that Daneal hadn't even captured her when she jumped the wall!"
((You.))
The voice echoed in the darkness. "You must chase it. You were born to chase it." She fled.
"Well, that made absolutely no sense whatsoever," I decided when I woke.
"Piiip?" the Hoppip chirped sleepily when I moved. I sat up, looking around. I was in the garden.
"How did I end up in the garden?" Flim-Flam was standing nearby, and I could hear several Magikarp carping in the pond. The Hoppip chirped at me again, and I remembered the decision made for me by the Sudowoodo and that irritating pink turnip.
((You fainted,)) Flim-Flam noted. ((I didn't quite expect that. Be glad you didn't hit your head when you fell!))
"So I'm going to be a trainer," I said quietly. It was something of a question, and Flim-Flam noticed it.
((Yes, I think you were meant to be a trainer.)) I shook my head.
"No, I was meant to stay at home and keep my garden and my house in order. I was meant to lead a quiet life away from people and to—and to..." I couldn't think of what else. Somehow, saying it aloud made a difference. I could no longer defend the way I had been living. It seemed hollow now, purposeless. Perhaps that was why the wind had irritated me so—it had a purpose while I had an empty life without meaning.
((It took you long enough to see the truth,)) Flim-Flam commented wryly. ((The way you've been living better suits retired folks))
"But I'm old enough to be retired!" I protested feebly.
((Old? You? Never!))
I glared at the fake tree. It seemed to be fond of that particular phrase. "Okay, so maybe I'm not quite as old as I pretend," I admitted. "But I'm still no spry youngster who can walk all day and dance all night!"
((There are ways around those difficulties.))
"And what about the Hoppip. You probably heard me say it earlier—young Hoppip have no offensive attacks. What could I possibly do with it until it learns more?" Inside, I agreed with the Sudowoodo—I would go on this silly journey for this Hoppip—but sheer stubbornness kept me arguing.
((The Hoppip isn't your only Pokémon. Look around you—your garden is full of us.))
I didn't need to look around to realize that the darn rock tree was correct again. I had plenty of Pokémon! Although a shade unbalanced, I could easily build a decent team from my assortment of Magikarp, Sudowoodo, Bellsprout, Oddish, Paras, and the Hoppip.
"All right you disgustingly clever stack of wannabe gravel," I growled at the Sudowoodo. "You win. But we are not leaving today."
((I wasn't expecting it. You need to prepare.))
"Well, let's take care of this first," I told the Hoppip as we headed back to the house. "You need a name."
The Hoppip squeaked and leapt into the air, twirling on the playful Wind of Dreams. Recalling my argument from the previous night, and the silly plant's tendencies, I decided on a potential name.
"How about Zephyr?" The creature squeaked again and danced with the air gleefully. "Well, I guess it doesn't take much to keep you happy, you silly turnip."
We reached the house, and Zephyr hopped playfully up the back stairs behind me. "Wipe your... uh... roots as you come in dear," I instructed the Hoppip as we entered. "I don't need dirt on the floor." Zephyr squeaked—I guessed that the sound meant she was laughing.
If I haven't said it yet, I'll tell you about it now. I'm a very settled person. So settled, in fact, that I have no camping gear and no luggage. I have a few baskets used for carrying vegetables in from the garden, and several old handbags from the days when I would visit the nearby town. So I decided that the first order of business would be to obtain some camping gear. Being a trainer means sleeping outside on the ground more often than not, and my old bones need some protection from the elements.
Just because I could afford to live by myself in a good-sized house in the middle of a forest doesn't mean I'm rich though. My house and wall was built by a team of Machamp and Golem which belonged to one of my few friends. Gero and I had been best friends as children, then he had gone on a Pokémon Journey. His family did not approve, so I talked my parents into letting him stay with us when he was in town. Out of gratitude, he had set his team of PokéMasons to build my house.
"You gave me a home all those years," he had laughed, It's the least I can do to return the favor!" He had later married another Trainer, and I haven't spoken with him since then.
Thinking of Gero makes me sad, and usually thoughts of him lead to thoughts of other people best forgotten. I pushed my mind away from those thoughts and set it to the task at hand.
I knew that camping gear—in addition to the items I would need as a Trainer—could be rather expensive. I had a few moderately valuable items around the house that I could sell. Most of them only carried bad memories, so it wouldn't hurt to part with them.
So to start with, I went around the house, gathering those items in one of my vegetable baskets. A beautiful necklace Thedor had given to me, before he lost to the Elite Four and vanished. A sapphire ring that my sister had bought before she died in a car accident. The flawless quartz sphere my mother had used during her year as a "psychic medium." Baubles and trinkets and knick-knacks that I never wore, never used, and kept hidden away. By the time I was done, my basket was getting rather hefty, and I decided that the items inside would likely fetch enough money to get me started. I knew I couldn't rely on winning money from other Trainers, so I set a few of the smaller and more valuable trinkets aside to bring with me for emergencies.
I knew I couldn't bring Zephyr with me to the town. Daneal was likely there. Although I had only known the pest for part of a morning, I didn't like the idea of being away from her. I decided to leave her in the care of the Paras, since they had handled her so well earlier, and would ask Flim-Flam to escort me to the town. He could use the exercise, and I was planning on taking him along on the journey anyhow.
((Are you sure I can keep up?)) Flim-Flam asked nervously as I led him toward the gate.
"You're probably just as slow as I am," I told the silly Sudowoodo. I looked around for my cane, then remembered that I had left it near the deck when I had grabbed Zephyr. I hurried over to retrieve it, then returned to the waiting statue. I don't like repeating myself, so I think of Flim-Flam as all sorts of vague representations of himself. Statue is probably as farfetched as I get though. "Farfetch'd," I thought aloud, "I think that's a type of Pokémon."
I shook my head. Speaking my thoughts aloud is okay, as long as I'm alone. But I don't need rumors of insanity following me around, so I should probably keep a leash on my tongue.
As I closed the gate behind me, I whistled loudly in a complicated sequence. It sounds almost like the chirping of Pidgey, but much more complex. Elaborate security systems can be tampered with, but my Sudowoodo are well trained. As Flim-Flam and I walked down the path, I could hear the clattering sounds the other Sudowoodo made as they marched into position around the house.
I don't visit the town much. I can't even remember its name half the time—it's another color, some obscure shade of blue or green. Virescent, I think. I remember looking it up once, the entry for it was "In the state of becoming green." I thought it was rather poetic. Ironically, the residents of Virescent "City" are anything but poetic! They tend to have exaggerated opinions of themselves, thus the "City" where it should rightfully be classified as a town or village.
((I'm glad you invited me along,)) Flim-Flam admitted as we traveled. ((I might be a bit slow, but in case we run into anything on the way to or from this town, I'll be able to protect you.))
I found the idea of being protected by a large, noisy, fake tree rather amusing, but I didn't really want to hurt Flim-Flam's feelings, so I nodded. "Thanks old friend," I told him. "I hope you aren't needed though." The Sudowoodo agreed with my sentiment.
We reached Virescent without anything eventful happening. I counted three Pidgey and a Rattata in the forest around us, and Flim-Flam told me that he heard a family of Nidoran in the bushes near the path.
The town —excuse me—the city was a sprawling community of scattered houses in a cleared—out valley. Valley is probably the best word for this geographic region, though it seems more like a place that has been scooped out. There is a very small stream which runs through the center of this so-called city, and for some silly reason, the main street of the town runs on either side of this stream.
The shops and other important urban businesses are clustered around this stream, and countless bridges span the rivulet separating the two sides. The whole system makes no sense, but I suppose no one is willing to make the effort to move to the other side—they are probably all waiting for everyone on the other side to move over to their own side. No sense at all. Of course, sensibility isn't the norm in this town.
I picked a side of this divided street and started looking for a pawn shop. Most of the other pedestrians were limiting their view to their current side of the stream, and I know that looking on both sides made me stand out. But it wasn't very likely that I wouldn't stand out, being escorted by an oversized Sudowoodo as I was!
I eventually found a rather respectable-looking pawn shop. Most shops in this line of business aren't very respectable, but this fellow's shop looked clean, ordered, and I hoped he wouldn't try to swindle me!
After I entered this pawn shop, I glanced around, quickly taking inventory of the shop's stock. I might be able to find some secondhand gear at a decent price here. I didn't see much that interested me though, so I made my way to the counter with my basket. Flim-Flam, who had followed me inside, stood over in the corner. The owner didn't seem to mind his presence.
"Hello," he greeted in a friendly manner. Well, I suppose he wouldn't have many loyal customers if he wasn't friendly to them, but I decided that his friendly act was good enough to suit me. "Can I help you with something?" He glanced at Flim-Flam.
"Well, I need some sort of the gear that a Pokémon Trainer would use." He nodded. "I don't have much money, so I figured I'd start here and sell off some old items from around the house."
"Ahh," he said, nodding again. "Is your son or daughter starting out soon?"
"No," I told him. "I am." I tried to sound dramatic and impressive, but I don't think he noticed.
"Ahh, okay then. That's a bit rare, most people start training in their pre-teens." He shrugged, and I shrugged back. "Well, as it so happens, I have some secondhand adult-size gear in one of my storage rooms. The stuff I keep out here is mostly for the children. I believe we can settle on an agreeable barter, for both of us?" He raised his eyebrows to emphasize the question.
"That sounds good to me," I replied, placing my basket on the counter. "Go fetch the gear and I'll look it over before this deal goes any further."
Frowning slightly, I suppose because he wanted to get a glimpse at what was concealed under the innocent red-and-white checked cloth, the man turned and walked into the back room. I took the opportunity to peek at my assorted items, and hoped that the guy wouldn't try to swindle me too much.
An old grandfather clock stood off in a corner. It was a really beautiful piece of artwork, fancifully carved in vines and flowers, with Bulbasaur and other grass Pokémon hiding in the foliage. As I was waiting, the clock chimed eleven o'clock. A small mechanical Farfetch'd slapped a little gong with his leek, alternating with an adorable mechanized Bulbasaur, who whipped the other side of the gong with his vines. I was really quite taken with this clock, so I studiously ignored it when the owner of the shop returned.
"Well Mrs.—ah..." He trailed off, and I knew he was waiting for me to supply my name.
"It is Miss," I emphasized. "My name is Sulia Indachas."
"Oh. Well, my name is Fred Saimer. And here is that gear I mentioned." He opened the chest he had taken from the back room, and pulled out several faded items. "Some aren't as bright as the newer ones," he commented, placing them on the counter next to the chest, "but they are all in good working order."
All told, he had four complete sets of Trainer gear. I was surprised to see how many different items were necessary enough for Trainers on the road to be considered "standard." There were the expected camping back packs, with hooks and loops and extra straps and pockets. Three of them weren't very big, but they looked like they could hold a lot. The larger one looked a bit cumbersome, so I decided to pay less attention to it at first.
All of them came with their own sleeping bags. Mr. Saimer unrolled each of them in turn, showing their length, comparing it to my height, and pointing out the features and the condition of the seams, zippers (if applicable) and the material itself. They were all plain, in faded earthy colors, as if the previous owners had been sensible people. The sets also each included an assortment of camp cooking gear. All of them boasted canteens and tripods and tin kettles, with eating utensils and tin plates and cups. Two of them had little metal cooking sheets which, I assumed, were to be placed near the fire to toast items. The other two had smaller frying pans which could fit into the kettles for storage.
I was quite impressed with all of the extra items, from solar-powered flashlights—they charged while you walked and were supposed to be good for up to five hours at night—to a strange cell phone/radio/map device that Mr. Saimer claimed was a pretty new item which had only come to him because its previous owner had broken it. He demonstrated the fact that it was now in perfect working condition, and admitted that his brother was a wizard when it came to fixing mechanical things. Not all of the sets had originally come with these items, but he told me that I'd be able to mix and match if I chose.
"I can't sell you a Pokédex," he sighed at one point. "You can only get one from a Professor, and you have to get your license from one as well. Your best bet would be to head to either Pallet or New Bark Town. There are professors in some other towns too, who will be able to get you either item, but Professors Oak and Elm are by far the most respected." I nodded, reminding myself to remember this information.
"Well, I've seen what you've got," I told him once I was done inspecting everything on the counter. I had already made my decisions regarding some of them. "So I suppose it's my turn to trot out some of the items I'd like to trade." Mr. Saimer laughed at my comment.
I whisked the checked cloth off the basket, and put some of the doo-dads on the counter. "I've collected some rather inane stuff over the years, and I'm getting sick of the clutter," I said rather nonchalantly, trying to avoid thinking about the memories associated with some of those items. I swear, Mr. Saimer's eyes lit up like little candles when he saw mother's sphere.
"Miss Indachas," he gasped, "I think that little bauble would cover anything you chose from this counter." Then he seemed to come to his senses. "Well, at least, most of it."
"What, this old thing?" I asked innocently, holding the stupid rock up. "It's just some quartz my mother picked up somewhere. She thought she was psychic, and spent a whole year doing nothing much except gaze soulfully into this ball." Acting on a slight whim, later I called it another premonition, I clutched the sphere to my chest and sighed dramatically. "Mother really loved this thing." Mr. Saimer winced.
"Well, just set aside what you're interested in," he told me, "and we'll decide if it's worth that pretty quartz ball." I put the ball back in the basket—to keep it from rolling away—and turned back to the Trainer Gear.
I quickly shuffled through the items, setting aside a faded charcoal backpack, the two-pan cooking set that came with it, the longest sleeping bag, which happened to be a horrible shade of rust, that nifty machine Mr. Saimer called PokéGear, one of those solar-powered flashlights, and two canteens.
"I think that will do," I decided. "And if you like, I'll toss in this hand-carved Vulpix. My dad made it, and I don't think it's worth much, but it might sell." I held out a small wooden fox, with a peacock fan of tails. It was rather crude, but it was obviously a Vulpix, and Mr. Saimer's eyes lit up again. I knew I had him in the palm of my hand, right next to that little carving.
He seemed reluctant to trade so much stuff for just two items, but I suppose he felt that the quartz sphere and the carved Vulpix were worth it, for the next words out of Mr. Saimer's mouth were "It's a deal!" He held out his hand, and I shook it firmly with my own—the one that was not holding the little Vulpix!
I passed over the sphere and the Vulpix, then packed up my new gear. Well, it wasn't new, but it was new to me. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you," I told Mr. Saimer. "I might just make my way into town more often once I settle down again." His returning smile looked a bit strained, but by the way he stroked that sphere, I suppose he wouldn't regret my leaving.
I sold him a few of my other belongings, for a little below what I knew to be their actual value. I figured that it would probably leave him feeling that he had made up for some of what he had lost on the Trainer gear.
Now that I had some actual money, Flim-Flam and I headed toward the actual PokéMart. I have never had occasion to enter one of these buildings before, so I really had no clue what to expect. I sort of imagined a quaint little shop with a few children poking around at the items on the shelf, and a friendly old gaffer smiling toothlessly at them, selling Pokéballs and Potions.
The reality of the modern PokéMart was something else entirely. I heard that there are some absolutely massive structures in a few yellow cities—I can't remember their names, but I believe that both cities are named after a shade of yellow—which carried just about anything (and everything) a Trainer could dream of using. The Virescent Town—ahem—the Virescent City PokéMart was placed at a small crossroads right smack in the middle of the town. The building wasn't huge, but it was much larger than I had expected!
Once I entered, I realized that my quaint notion of the PokéMart was as far from reality as one could get. The building wasn't packed with Trainers, though most of them were children, everyone seemed to be on very important business, with no time for visiting or friendly chatting. There were two clerks at the counter, both serious-looking young men with glasses. They looked very similar to each other, and they took care of their customers mechanically. I wasn't terribly impressed by them, but I decided that perhaps one of the older children could help me figure out what I needed to start out with.
"I'm telling you Petey," a little boy with black hair exclaimed near one of the displays, "Nakipco makes the best PokéBalls!"
"No way," another boy replied, sounding like his patience was being worn away quickly. "Silph Co. makes the best. Everyone knows that!" I guessed that this boy was 'Petey.'
"Nuh uh! Nakipco does! I'll prove it to you! You get your stupid Silph balls and I'll get my Nakipco ones, and we'll see which of us can catch the most Pokémon!"
Petey shrugged. "Fine by me, Rick. Six each, and full health?" The boy called Rick nodded and picked up a shrink-wrapped package with six brightly-colored balls in it. Petey selected a package of blue-and-white balls, I saw on the label that they were called "Great Balls." Curious about the results of this experiment, I followed the boys to the counter. I hadn't picked up anything yet, and these boys looked like they could give me a good example of which brand really did work the best.
I noticed that Rick's Nakipco balls cost him about six dollars, plus some change. Petey's Silph Co. balls ran him about seven dollars, and a few pennies. So, not much of a price difference. I followed the boys out of the shop and before they could get too far, I hurried to catch up with them. Flim-Flam made a disgruntled sound and tried to keep up.
"Hello," I told them when they noticed me. "My name is Sulia. I heard your argument, and I wanted to see for myself how it turns out."
Petey smiled and pushed his reddish hair out of his eyes. "Hello ma'am. That's a nice Sudowoodo you have there! I'm Pete, and this is Rick. He's my cousin." He made a face at the shorter boy. "He's from out of town."
"Well, so am I," I told him. "So where are you headed for now?"
"There's a big field where nothing's growing this year, it's at the end of Crows Street. Pidgey and Rattata live there, they are really easy to find. Mollie said she saw a Sentret and a Stantler out there too, but she's only six, and was probably making it up."
"Mollie's his little sister," Rick informed me. "She's pretty dumb."
"Now that wasn't too nice," I admonished. "By the time she's your age, she could be smarter than you!" Rick shrugged. I supposed he was at the 'Girls are Yucky' stage.
Before too long, we reached the field Pete had described. Sure enough, the place was absolutely teeming with Pidgey and Rattata.
"We'll meet back here in an hour," Pete told Rick. "If you don't use all of your Pokéballs in that time, you can have another fifteen minutes. If you use all of them before time's up, just head back here anyhow." He turned to me. "Ma'am, you can come with me, or you can wait here if you like." Rick nodded and headed off to the right. The grass and weeds were tall enough to keep us from seeing him.
I shrugged. "I don't know much about this Trainer stuff. I'd like to watch if you don't mind."
"Not at all, ma'am. I'm not too good at it myself, my Mom only finally just decided to let me go on my journey when she heard that Rick's mom is letting him go. She's keeping me at home until tomorrow though." He sighed. "I hope I beat Rick at this. He's been absolutely impossible the whole visit, bragging about the Squirtle the Professor in his town gave him, and his PokéDex and all of that nifty gear he has."
"I know the feeling," remembering some pesky relations from my own childhood. "So what exactly is involved in catching Pokémon?"
"Well, I've seen all of the shows on the subject. The basic way to catch a Pokémon is to attack it with your own, then when it's really weak, throw a Ball at it. Most of the time it works, but sometimes they'll break the ball and you'll have to try again. It's supposed to be really hard to catch high-level Pokémon, and it's nearly impossible to catch a lot of Pokémon without weakening them first. I don't have a Pokémon yet, so I can't do things the proper way." He sighed. "Where did you get that Sudowoodo?" he asked abruptly, gesturing at Flim-Flam.
The fake tree was trailing behind us. I had secured the backpack to him, and he was holding my basket for me, and I could hear him muttering to himself about silly humans. "I bought him," I admitted. "He came with about two dozen Sudowoodo I purchased for my garden. Flim-Flam is the friendliest of the group, and the most active."
Pete laughed. "I guess that means there isn't a hidden grove of Sudowoodo for me to catch to impress Rick." He shrugged. "I should probably get to work," he told me. "I have a feeling that if I do manage to beat Rick in this, he'll want to battle with our new Pokémon right away." He sighed again
I looked around at the Pidgey hopping around in the tall grass, and the Rattata chasing each other playfully. A quick gleam of something greenish caught my attention, and I pointed silently. It was a small round bird that didn't look like a Pidgey. It also sparkled, like Zephyr.
Pete saw the little bird as well and glanced at me questioningly. I shrugged, and pointed at it again. He sighed silently, and tentatively threw the PokéBall.
There was a loud smack as the ball hit the bird. It vanished in a leaping pillar of red light, which was sucked into the ball. A small button on the ball blinked several times and it rocked back and forth as the bird attempted to escape. The ball seemed to be made of sterner stuff, and won the "battle."
"I don't know what it is," I admitted when Pete picked up the ball. "I was told, though, that Pokémon which shine become much stronger than other Pokémon."
"Oh." Pete sounded happy. "Well, I'll bet Rick's Pokédex can identify it for us."
We continued walking through the grass, and Pete caught three more Pokémon—two Rattata and a large Pidgey. One of the balls broke on the Pidgey, but the second held fast. Left with only one ball, Pete and I kept our eyes peeled for anything that wasn't another Rattata or Pidgey!
We found something eventually. I nearly stepped on it! Hissing at a pair of Pidgey, which were frantically guarding their nest, was a large purple snake. "It's an Ekans," Pete whispered. "Maybe if the Pidgey can get in a good hit, I'll be able to catch it! It looks like it'd be too tough to catch at full health!"
One of the Pidgey pecked at the snake, which turned its head to attack back, while the other slapped it with its wings. The Ekans shook its head, looking a bit dazed, and Pete threw his last ball. He closed his eyes and crossed his fingers as it collided with the snake, while I watched. The Ekans disappeared, and the ball rolled away from the nest, wobbling. The Pidgey both looked relieved to see that their enemy had vanished. They proceeded to lift their nest with their legs and flew to a more secure location.
"Well," Pete said when he picked up the ball. "I guess that's that." We headed back to the meeting place, and I hoped we didn't see something that looked like it needed catching.
We found a scowling Rick at the edge of the field. He was holding two Pokéballs, and I supposed that meant the rest had shattered. I think he was probably expecting to catch at least four.
"Hi Rick," Pete said amiably. "I managed to catch five Pokémon! What about you?"
"I caught a Rattata," Rick mumbled, fuming. Then his expression brightened. "And a Mankey! It's strong too, I bet it could beat whatever you caught!" I glanced at Pete, who shrugged in an 'I told you so' sort of way.
"All right Rick," he replied, "Let's battle then. What you just caught against what I caught." He looked at me and winked, then turned back to his dark-haired cousin. He threw out a Pokéball, and one of the Rattata appeared. It shook itself and looked around. Rick sent out his own Rattata, which seemed a bit larger.
"Quick attack!" Rick shouted at his mouse.
"Rattata, try a Tail Whip," Pete suggested. Rick's Rattata flashed at its opponent, who shook its tail madly. The littler Rattata grunted as it was hit, and Pete exclaimed "Now Tackle it!" The Rattatas collided again and it looked like Rick's took a lot more damage than it dealt.
"Tackle it you stupid thing!" Rick shouted.
"Hit it first with a Quick Attack!"
Again, the mice ran into each other, and Pete's seemed to have the upper hand again. The other Rattata fell over and I decided that it looked hurt enough to need some rest and healing. Rick saw this as well and reluctantly called back his rat.
Rick sent out his Mankey, which made short work of both of Pete's Rattata. It had a bit of trouble against the Pidgey but managed to succeed. Pete sent out his Ekans next, and it looked like the snake would win, especially once it poisoned the Mankey, but a karate chop killed that idea.
Pete looked worried as he sent out that strange bird.
"Whazzat!" Rick shouted. "Those don't live around here!" He whipped out his PokéDex and aimed it at the creature.
"Natu," the machine chimed. "This specimen is at level five. It knows Peck, Leer, Drill Peck, and Confuse Ray."
"Hey!" Rick shouted again. "Don't tell Pete what it knows!" But it was too late. "Mankey! Hit it quick with a Karate Chop!"
"Natu, use a Confuse Ray! It'll hurt itself!" The little greenish bird sent out weird beams from its beak. The Mankey tried to withstand the attack, but it was tired from defeating four other Pokémon. Eventually it shook itself and spun around, looking totally bewildered. It fell over and smacked itself in the forehead. I tried not to laugh at the poor creature's plight. A quick Peck from the Natu sent the Mankey into unconsciousness.
At that point, Rick said several words that a boy his age really shouldn't have known. He called back his Mankey and threw out a third Pokéball. Out popped a Squirtle.
"Squirtle! Use Bubble!" Before Pete had a chance to protest, the blue turtle attacked his Natu.
"Natu, try another Confuse Ray!" Pete said anxiously, hoping that the tiny bird was up to the task. To me, it looked just fine, and its Confuse Ray hit the Squirtle squarely.
The blue turtle pulled itself into its shell, whimpering. "Don't just sit there!" Rick yelled. "Tackle it!"
"Go ahead and Drill Peck it," Pete told his Pokémon. The tiny Natu hopped up to the Squirtle, who was still hiding in its shell. When the turtle finally emerged, the bird pecked fiercely at its head.
"Squiiiirrr!" wailed the turtle, and it pulled back into its shell so quickly that it flipped over. All of Rick's shouting and urging couldn't help the Squirtle right itself, so furiously, he recalled it. He stormed away.
Thinking over this battle, I felt that I had just seen the sort of thing that happens in all of those lame Pokémon Soap Operas. Two rivals, each starting out on their Pokémon Journey. One of them is kind and treats his companions well, while the other is a snide uncaring brat who only cares about winning.
"I wish Mom hadn't insisted that I go on my Journey with someone," Pete said after Josh was gone. He picked up his Natu and scratched its chin. The bird peeped happily. "The only other person who is going on a Trainer Journey tomorrow is Rick."
I didn't say anything, though I saw Flim-Flam's silent gestures at me to do so.
"Miss Sulia," Pete asked after he placed his Natu on his shoulder. "Have you seen the Virescent Pokémon Center?"
"No," I admitted. I had never had a chance to visit one in the past, and I was worried that my quaint notions about it were about to be tossed out the window.
"Well, come along then," he said, and led the way back into town.
The PokéCenter building was not nearly as impressive from the outside as the Mart had been. It had a constant flow of traffic—people tended to hurry in and saunter out. I supposed this was because they were in a hurry to heal their Pokémon and after that resumed normal paces.
Inside, the wall opposite the door was one huge counter. Three pink-haired ladies in nurse uniforms stood behind the counter at intervals, each next to large machines, and partnered by pink poofballs. As we got closer, I realized those "poofballs" were Pokémon! The space between the counters and the doors was devoted to comfortable chairs, sofas, and tables, with doorways leading to halls on either side. Impressed with the layout, I followed Pete up to the left-side counter.
"The right side counter is for emergencies," Pete told me as we got in the sort line. "The middle counter is for sick Pokémon—poisoned, paralyzed, stuff like that. This one is for Pokémon that have been hurt in battles, or who need a refresher."
"Oh. Do you have to go to the separate counters if different Pokémon have different problems?" I felt kind of silly for asking what seemed so obvious to the boy, but I felt that I needed to know.
"No. If it's an emergency, your seriously injured Pokémon will be healed, and the rest in your group will get help. If one of your Pokémon is paralyzed or burned or something, get in the middle line, and everyone will be healed together. This system isn't used everywhere, but I hear it's pretty efficient if your town can afford ten nurses!"
The line wasn't very long—in fact, there weren't lines at the other counters—so we reached the nurse fairly quickly. "Get back in your ball now, Natu," Pete told his little bird. The Natu peeped again, and flashed into its ball.
"Hello, welcome to our Pokémon Center," the nurse said. "We're here to heal your Pokémon back to perfect health! Do you want to have your Pokémon healed?" Pete nodded and handed her the five Pokéballs. "Just one moment." She tossed the balls into the machine, which whirred and clicked for a moment. Several lights flashed, and the balls came back out. The nurse gave them back to Josh and smiled emptily.
"Thank you. Your Pokémon are fighting fit! We hope to see you again!" Josh and I exchanged glances. "Hello, welcome to our Pokémon Center," the nurse repeated, gazing emptily at me. "Your Sudowoodo looks worn out, do you want us to heal it?" I looked at Flim-Flam, who shrugged.
((Sure, let's see what this is like.)) He took off my backpack, and handed me my basket, then waddled up to the counter. The nurse hit a button on the machine, and Flim-Flam vanished. The contraption clicked and whirred again, then Flim-Flam appeared again. ((That was weird!)) he exclaimed, shaking his branches. He looked a lot better though, his false leaves were brighter and he stood straighter.
"Hmm, you look healthier now, Flim-Flam," I told him, ignoring the Nurse's spiel for the people who were next in line. "Maybe I'll take all of the other Sudowoodo in for a checkup!" Flim-Flam shrugged.
"Come on," Pete said. "I forgot to buy some stuff at the Mart, and I need to get more balls for tomorrow!" Flim-Flam and I followed him back to the PokéMart.
It was less busy at the Mart now. I supposed it was because it was a little bit after one in the afternoon, and everyone was eating lunch. The two clerks looked bored now, and one was them was talking to a purple-haired girl in a miniskirt.
"Well, what do you suggest," I asked as we entered. "I'm starting my journey tomorrow and need some supplies too." Pete shot me a startled look, which I loftily ignored as I picked up a wire shopping basket. He rolled his eyes to the ceiling and led me to a bright display.
You already have a Sudowoodo," he told me, "But I don't think you have any Pokéballs. Like I proved earlier, Silph Co.'s balls are probably the best. They have several levels of strength. The normal Pokéball, then Great Balls and Ultra Balls." He lowered his voice. "There's supposed to be a Master Ball too, it's supposed to let you catch anything, full health! No matter what level it's at! But there are only a few, and only Master Trainers can get one!" He continued at a normal tone. "The Pokéballs are cheapest, a pack of six costs about seven dollars. They're good for catching low-level Pokémon, and most Trainers tend to start out with them. Great balls cost a bit more. They catch Pokémon more easily than the normal Pokéball, and can catch higher-level Pokémon as well. Most stores charge ten dollars for a pack of six Ultras. Except for the Master Ball, these are the best, and if it's weakened enough, you can catch a Pokémon at almost any level!"
I absorbed this knowledge. It was detailed enough that I didn't have many questions. "So why don't more Trainers start out with Ultra Balls if they're that much better?"
"Well, most Trainers officially start out in areas where the local Pokémon are at pretty low levels. Around here, they range from levels five to fifteen. A Pokéball can catch Pokémon up to level twenty-five without too many problems. Sure, you have to weaken them more, and about one in three will likely break, but it's not really a bad deal."
"What about Pokémon that you have which weren't caught in a ball?"
"That happens sometimes." He glanced at Flim-Flam. "From what I heard, they'll just go into a ball on their own most of the time. Sometimes people make friends with wild Pokémon, or hatch their own from eggs."
So at the Pokéball display, I picked up one package of Great balls and two packages of Pokéballs. The normal ones were red and white. I glanced at the yellow-and-white Ultra Balls, but decided that I wouldn't really need them for a while.
"Next are Potions," Pete intoned. He was starting to sound like an encyclopedia. "Normal Potions heal about twenty 'hit points.' Those are an imaginary measurement of health that a Pokémon has. I think they based it on experiments or something. If I'm not confused about it, a Level 5 Pokemon has twenty hit points. A PokéDex is supposed to be able to estimate these things." He shrugged. "Super Potions bring back, um, about fifty hit points I think. I can't tell them apart beyond that. There's several different brands, and they all do the same thing. I hear that certain human drinks will accomplish the same thing though, but in different increments." I picked up a package of six Potions and another of three Super Potions, hoping to save them for emergencies.
"There are also healing items. Antidote cures poison. The rest sort of explain themselves! Burn heal for burns, Ice heal for freezing, Paralyze heal for paralysis. Full Heal will fix any of those problems. Full Restore will bring your Pokémon up to full health and it will cure any status effect." Based on this advice, I picked up two of each item except Full Heal and Full Restore. They were a bit too pricey and going to a PokéCenter could probably do the job just as well.
"Revive will bring around a fainted Pokémon," Pete told me at another display. "It won't have full health though. Max Revive does the same thing, but the Pokémon is brought back up to full health." He sighed. "You can't buy Max Revive though." The Revives were pretty expensive, but I figured they could come in handy, so I picked up two of them.
"Is that everything?" I asked as we headed back to the front of the store. Pete had picked some items as he was explaining them, and he was looking like he was considering putting some of the things back.
"No, there's still the food to think about." He sighed. "Different Pokémon like different foods though. A PokéDex could tell me what to feed them but I don't have one." Next to the checkout counter was a row of small bags. Each bag had a bright picture on the front of what the food was, and a Pokémon. I suppose the Pokémon was an example of what would eat this food. I spotted a picture of a Rattata with some nuts and berries on one package, and pointed it out to Pete.
"Hey, that'll work!" he exclaimed, and put two of that kind in his basket. He found another bag that appeared to have bird feed. It had a Pidgey pictured on the front, and we figured it would do for the Natu as well. The Ekans was a bit harder to shop for, but we finally decided on a bag that was labeled "Protein Rich Carnivore Kibble" which had a picture of chicken legs and a small dog-like creature prancing happily. "That's an Eevee," Pete explained, when I asked about the picture.
I picked up some Fertilizer Food for my plants, and a special grain mixed with sand for Ground and Rock types. I also found sample-sized bags for various other types and picked up one of each, just in case.
"I hope that's everything," I groaned, plopping my basket onto the counter. "Some of this stuff really needs repackaging!" The clerk wordlessly began ringing me up. Pete was taken care of by the other clerk. One good thing about these clerks, they were very efficient. In a short amount of time, everything was bagged up and I had to pay. The price astonished me, but the money I had gained from my visit to the pawn shop was more than enough to cover it.
Pete winced when his total was displayed, but counted out the required money. As we left the store, my stomach started talking to me.
"Pete, do you know of any good restaurants around here? Somewhere to sit down and eat?"
((I'm hungry too,)) Flim-Flam chimed in.
"That's a good idea, Miss Sulia," Pete replied, thinking a moment. "There's a Big Meowth Burger down that way," He nodded ahead a ways, and I could see a huge shiny Meowth statue leaning its head over the sidewalk. "They let you bring in your Pokémon, as long as they aren't too big!" We headed toward it, and entered just as the lunch rush was ending. I found a table near a window, plopped my bags down, divested Flim-Flam of his burdens, and went to look at the menu.
Pete had already gone ahead to order, so I took my time looking at it. They had the usual fast-food fare; Hamburgers, Cheeseburgers, variations on the standard Chicken, Fish and Roast Beef sandwiches, as well as something called the Big Meowth Mouth. I think this was the restaurant's specialty or something.
These people obviously catered to Trainers. There was a sub-menu devoted entirely to meals designed for Pokémon. There were special meal packages designed to fit any type, even two hastily-tacked on menus for Darkness and Steel types. I decided to give Flim-Flam some choice in his meal, and hurried back to him.
"Would a Geodude Meal sound good for you?" The false tree pondered this question for an amazingly short period of time.
((Sure,)) he replied. ((Can I get a side of fries too?)) he asked plaintively. I sighed, nodded, and went back to the ordering line. Pete was cooling his heels over near the soda fountain.
"Hello," I told the lady at the register. She smiled vacuously at me. "I'd like a Hamburger Combo meal thingie, and uh, I don't want onions or tomatoes on the hamburger." She nodded and pressed a few buttons on her register, which clicked and whirred. I realized that I had sounded like an absolute idiot, and tried to make my next statement come out better. "I'd also like a Large-size Geodude meal, with a side of fries."
As she pressed more buttons, she grinned at me. "I've never met someone who actually liked the Geodude meals," she commented, sounding almost casual. "They're full of clay and sand!" Her joke was unexpected and had me gasping for air before I could laugh at it. "Just head on over there," she gestured to where Pete was fidgeting with his drink, "and we'll have your order up in just a moment."
A nice young man handed me my paper cup as I reached Pete, and gestured graciously at the soda fountain. I suppose they must pay these kids well to act so happy to be there and friendly to the customers.
"I shouldn't have ordered those chicken nuggets," Pete groaned in passing. "Nobody ever orders them, so if someone does, they have to thaw them out and cook them and everything!" He refilled his drink.
It had been ages since I had met an actual soda fountain, but this one seemed just like the ones I remembered. I filled my cup partly with ice, then fully with something carbonated and caffeinated. That's one of the things I miss most about society—caffeine and carbonation!
"Ma'am?" The smiling young man pushed a laden tray at me. As I headed over and was about to place my cup on it, Pete whisked the tray out of reach, then carried it over to my seat. Grumbling about pesky boys and their manners, I walked to the table, where Flim-Flam was already tearing into his Geodude meal. Pete smirked at me as he headed back to waiting.
I opened my piping hot hamburger and inspected it for traces of tomato or onions. No sign. Then I poured my finger-burning fries onto the wrapper, and sat back to wait for my lunch companion. The hamburger had cooled to an edible temperature by the time the boy showed up.
"Ugh," he said as he sat down. "Well, at least the nuggets are warm! Come on out guys!" He pulled all of his Pokéballs off his belt and released his friends. "It's chow time!" The Natu and Pidgey made themselves comfortable on a special stand designed for Bird Pokémon, while the others settled themselves on the floor nearby.
Each Rattata got its own bowl of seeds and berries, and the Ekans was presented with a few of those chicken nuggets, with a warning about the heat, and a special sauce for Poison types. The birds were happily pecking at their bird feed by the time Pete got around to his own meal.
"So you're going on a Journey tomorrow too?" Pete asked between mouthfuls. At least he wasn't asking during mouthfuls!
"Yes," I told him. "I recently acquired a Pokémon, and it deserves to be trained. She refuses to consider going with another person though."
"Wow. You're just going on a journey for that Pokémon? What is it?"
"Well, not just for her. I'm going to wander around the cities, I suppose, see the sights, and find out what that blasted Wind wants!"
"Wind?" Pete sounded confused, and more than slightly suspicious.
I realized that I was well on my way to convincing Pete that I was a senile old lady. Senility doesn't run in my family, at least not until very old. My grandmother had lived to be ninety-five and was never senile until the very end. I sighed, facing a dilemma. I didn't want to taint my friendship with this boy by lying to him, but I didn't want to make him think I was just another crazy old lady. In the end, I decided to lie, but liberally slather it with truth.
"Well, I normally have dreams that I don't remember when I wake up. But whenever it's windy out, I have really strange dreams, and I remember these ones clearly. Lately these dreams have been focusing on me performing some service for the Wind. You know how sometimes in dreams you know what's going on, even though you don't know why?" I waited for Pete's nod. "Anyhow, I decided when my little friend came along this morning that she would be a good excuse to wander around, because part of what the Wind seems to want in these dreams is that I'm supposed to be traveling."
Pete nodded again. "Okay. That sounds strange, but I guess you're allowed to be strange." He grinned, scratching his Natu's chin. "We're all allowed to be strange sometimes, you know!"
This boy was sometimes remarkably mature for someone his age. I have heard all sorts of things about "old souls" before, but I had never believed them until now. If anyone I had ever met truly had an old soul, Pete was the one.
"Do you think that I can go with you on your journey tomorrow, if it's okay with my mom?" His Natu hopped onto his head and peeped, looking around.
"I thought you were going with Rick?" Pete made a disgusted face.
"I'd really rather not. We fight all of the time, and we have totally different training methods. His Mom doesn't have any problems with him being by himself. I think my Mom will like you though."
I promised to think about it, though I had already decided that as long as it was okay with his mom, I'd be delighted to have some human company. This sentiment somewhat surprised me, seeing as I have done my best to avoid other humans for over ten years!
"Hey, that's a nifty Natu you have there," a familiar voice exclaimed. I didn't need to turn my head to recognize Daneal. When I did, I noticed that he had succeeded in catching something; a grumpy-looking male Nidoran was clutching his shoulder. He didn't seem to recognize me.
Flim-Flam glared stonily at the boy. I have never seen him react this way to a person before.
"Thanks," Pete replied. He didn't seem to notice my reaction to the boy, nor the way the Sudowoodo had stiffened at Daneal's approach. "I caught her about two hours ago." The Natu peeped again. "Haven't come up with a good name for her yet though."
"I'll trade you my Nidoran for it," Daneal said eagerly. "I always wanted a Natu!" To me, he sounded perhaps too eager. He still hadn't noticed me or Flim-Flam.
"Uh, no thanks," Pete replied. "She's the first Pokémon I ever caught, and I sort of like her. What's your name?"
"I'm Daneal," he replied. "Are you sure you don't want to trade that Natu?"
"Yeah, I'm sure," Pete replied. "My name is Pete. Now that we've been introduced, why do you want my Natu?"
"Um." Daneal glanced at the green bird, who glared at him. "My mom had a Xatu when she was a Trainer," he replied after a moment. He looked uneasy. "She'd love it if I got a Natu to train."
"I think she'd like it more if you caught your own," Pete told him. "I found this one over in the field at the end of Crows Street. There might be others." The Natu peeped and fluttered her wings.
Daneal had to be happy with that, because Pete turned back to his meal. The boy frowned and sullenly left the restaurant.
"He didn't recognize me," I said, somewhat surprised.
"What?"
"Daneal. He's the one who was chasing Zephyr this morning."
"Is Zephyr that Pokémon you, uh, acquired today?"
"Yes. Daneal banged at my door at around five this morning, claiming that his Hoppip had leapt the wall and was in my garden. When I hunted her down, she was terrified at the thought of going back to this boy, and I found out that that he had not actually captured her, he was just chasing her." I noticed Flim-Flam had calmed down slightly. "There is something… something not quite right about that boy. I've never seen Pokémon react that way to a person."
Pete laughed. "Yeah, Tatter dug her claws into my scalp when he suggested trading. It was all I could do to keep from yelping." The newly-named Natu peeped happily and started rearranging Pete's hair to make a nest for herself. "Hey you pesky bird!" Pete exclaimed, rolling his eyes in an attempt to look at her. "My hair is already a mess, it doesn't need your help!" He reached up and pulled her down.
((He doesn't smell right,)) Flim-Flam commented when the subject returned to Daneal. ((I'm not a Psychic type, but we're all sensitive in a way. He is…)) the Sudowoodo paused. ((Empty.))
"How can a person be empty?" Pete asked, when I translated for him.
"I think Flim-Flam means emotionally empty." I remember that feeling. I had been like that when my sister had died, but not just emotionally. I had been truly empty for weeks, too stunned and depressed to even react. To this day, I can't remember what snapped me out of it, but even now, if there's anything I fear, that thing is nothingness.
"Miss Sulia?" Pete touched my hand. "Are you okay?"
I shook myself. "I'm okay," I told him. "I know what it's like to be empty." He tried to get me to elaborate, but I refused to say any more.
((There is some hope for Daneal,)) the Sudowoodo said abruptly. ((But for now, be glad that you are no longer empty, and that means that somehow, something will shake him out of his emotional deadness. But until then…)) Flim-Flam shuddered.
