Once they were inside, the brothers took a seat at the booth furthest from the door, and Hibiki took his first look around. The place was a bit tight, but cozy enough, with a couple other dining tables, and a single counter near the door where a burly-looking waiter stood wiping a beer mug with a rag. A single gasoline-powered generator sat against the wall, chugging like a train engine and providing electricity for the overhead lamps. A television hung just above the waiting counter, and the screen featured a newswoman with the subtitle “OBNS” just underneath.
I hope they’re not still talking about us, thought Hibiki, feeling a bit paranoid. Nobody seems to have given us a second glance, but what if they show our faces on the screen?
His view of the television was blocked a moment later by woman in black clothes, whom he didn’t acknowledge for a few seconds until he realized she was standing at his table. Was she their waitress? But she was dressed so nicely . . .
“Hello boys,” she said in a dull and faraway voice, looking as if she wasn’t paying attention to them at all. “What can I get you?”
Kenta looked down at their table, then back at the woman. “I’m not sure, uh . . . Yuki?” he said. Hearing her name, the waitress snapped back to reality, and Hibiki looked at her name tag where Kenta had been looking. (“Hi! My name is YUKI.”)
“We don’t have any menus,” explained Kenta kindly. “If you have any, could we please check them out?”
“Oh, yes. Certainly. Sorry,” apologized Yuki in a soft-spoken voice. She turned around, eyes to the floor. “I’ll be right back.”
Kenta watched her as she went, pity showing in his eyes. “Something’s not right with her,” he said quietly to Hibiki. “She seems upset. I wonder if something bad happened to Wes.”
Nothing ever goes as planned, thought Hibiki, glancing back to see if he could spot Yuki again. But this just goes to show that there are other things happening in peoples’ lives outside of our own. He felt his own pang of pity, as Yuki came back and delivered two menus to their table without looking at either of them in the eye. Poor girl. I’m sure she’s not always this disoriented. What could have happened?
He ordered something cheap, immediately forgetting what it was. Kenta simply muttered “I’ll have what he’s having,” and with that, Yuki nodded and was gone again. But before their order was back, a rumble in the distance caught the brothers’ attention. Hibiki looked out the window to see a rapidly-approaching dust cloud, and moments later, a motorbike with a bizarre-looking floating engine had pulled up to the stop. A youth in his early twenties climbed off, and Kenta issued a sharp intake of breath at the sight of him. Gray-dyed hair. Reflector glasses. Perfect resemblance to the Snagger in Gonzap’s photograph. This had to be Wes. The only difference other than age was clothing; the rider was also wearing black from head to toe.
“Alright, this is it,” said Kenta softly, looking at Hibiki as the latter’s heart rate increased and his body tensed. “Let’s play it cool, and look for a good opportunity to get his attention.”
They watched Wes through the window until he had paced up the ramp and out of sight. He came through the doorway just as Yuki was returning from the back kitchen, and she gasped slightly and put aside her tray. Kenta and Hibiki peeked around the corner of their booth, but Yuki’s back was turned to them. Hibiki could make out Wes’s tired adult face, and as he watched, the man pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit up.
“You decided to work today after all?” he said softly, and Yuki’s head nodded in confirmation. “You shouldn’t have.”
“It keeps my mind off things,” said Yuki in a sad voice. Hibiki shook his head slightly. No, it doesn’t. It’s plain as day that you’re upset.
“I thought you said you were quitting,” she continued, looking at the cigarette. Wes bobbed his head, then turned back to the door without looking at her. “I know, I’m sorry. But I need one now. It helps calm me down.” He opened the door, and cast a glance back at Yuki. “I’ll wait for you. Come out when you’re ready.”
Yuki remained where she stood for a couple of seconds after Wes was gone, then turned to the counter to say something to her supervisor. Hibiki detected movement behind him, and looked up to see Kenta walking past. He glanced at the table, and saw that his brother had left some money at the center, even though they hadn’t eaten anything. Confused, he followed Kenta briskly out the door, and past Wes’s motorcycle in the opposite direction. Wes didn’t seem to see them, but stared blankly at his dashboard. Catching up so that he was walking right next to Kenta, Hibiki looked him in the eye.
“Wait . . . what’s going on? What are we doing now?”
“Hiding,” Kenta muttered back to him, heading for the rock where they had started. “It’s clear that Wes doesn’t want to talk right now. He has somewhere to be.”
“So we’re just letting him go?” Hibiki asked, dumbfounded, as they ducked behind their boulder. “What did we fly all morning for?”
“Don’t be silly,” said Kenta, watching beside Hibiki as Yuki came out of the Outskirt Stand, still in her black clothing. “If we had gone out just after her, it might have looked suspicious to someone. But if we waited, the sand might have covered that motorbike’s tracks. That, or the bike would outspeed Bolt. It looks darn fast.”
“So we’re going to tail them?” asked Hibiki, as the sound of Wes’s bike roared to life in the background. In a flash of light, Bolt was beside him. Kenta helped Hibiki onto the Salamence’s back. “We’ll follow them at a distance,” he said, “but let’s keep an eye on our shadow. If Wes detects something this big chasing him, he’ll assume we’re enemies. I’d rather keep things simple.”
***
Moving westward gave Hibiki a chance to see the land transform beneath him. What had started as a desert steadily became more green as time passed. Oasis became more and more commonplace, and trees became larger as water continued to frequent the area. By the time they had arrived in a place called “Agate Village,” the trees were so large that Hibiki was astonished to see doors and windows in them. He would never have suspected that people could live inside of trees. Kenta had told him of a place in Hoenn called Fortree City, but the citizens there resided in treehouses. This is dangerous, really, Hibiki thought. Here, the houses are the trees themselves . . . but wouldn’t hollowing them out increase the rate of rotting? Knock on wood.
Wes parked his motorbike near a bridge leading into the village, and helped Yuki out of the passenger cab on the side. Further back, Kenta, Hibiki, and Bolt dropped into a thicket. One minute after Wes and Yuki had crossed the bridge, the two brothers snuck out of their hiding place and headed in the same direction. Lowering their hoods, they approached the tree where Yuki and Wes had entered, which Hibiki noticed was the tallest tree at the highest point in the village. A scattering of elderly people were also making their way towards the tree, all of whom were wearing the same black clothing that Yuki and Wes had worn.
Kenta stopped and looked briefly at Hibiki, then motioned for him to change direction. A Pokémon Mart happened to be only a short hill climb away, and as they headed for this building instead, Hibiki noticed older folks coming out from there, too. As they entered through the door, the faint smell of incense greeted their nostrils. Two old women were in line at the register, and Kenta casually slid in behind them. Hibiki followed suit, once again wishing Kenta would communicate with him more, but now understanding what was going on. Kenta confirmed it for him.
“There’s a funeral for someone today,” he muttered in undertone, “and I think I know who it’s for. Check out that picture frame.”
On the counter, there was indeed a picture of a smiling old man with flowing white hair and wrinkly blue robes. He reminded Hibiki of a sorceror, minus the hat, and even the name above the picture sounded wizardly. “Rest in peace, Mithos Eagun,” it read.
“The face isn’t familiar, but I recognize that name,” whispered Kenta so that only Hibiki could hear. “Eagun was once known as the ‘myth trainer,’ because it was rumored that every time he battled, there would be a lightning storm overhead. He had an affinity with electric-type pokémon, you see. Back when pokémon battling was just becoming a sport, he had a rousing battle with Wataru Lance’s grandfather, Wataru Rod. They inspired many people to become pokémon trainers on that day.”
Wow, so this guy was really something, thought Hibiki. It’s too bad he lived in such an out-of-the-way place like this. He might have had more people come to his funeral.
“I’m going to buy some incense for Eagun,” said Kenta, still in his quiet voice. Hibiki detected genuine emotion behind it. “I didn’t think I’d be paying respects today, but I’m going to make an exception, and then some.” Kenta turned to look Hibiki in the face, his expression unusually soft. “You’ll see what I mean later. Then we’ll get back to doing what we came to do.”
***
When Kenta knocked on the door to the Eagun residence, a frail-looking old woman with redded eyes and a tear-stained face answered the door. “Yes?” she said in a shaky voice, looking at the brothers in confusion, “can I help you boys with something?”
Kenta bowed to her with both hands pressed together, in a sign of respect. “I know you haven’t seen us before,” he said slowly, “but we heard the Myth Trainer was here. We were hoping we might see him one last time.”
“Oh- of course.” The old woman stepped aside, showing them into her home. “We figured the funeral would be mostly private,” she said, wiping her eyes with a tissue, “but bless your hearts for coming. You must have had to travel a long distance to get here.”
Kenta smiled gently at her, pulling out his incense, and Hibiki followed him to where the incense holders, and a group of mourners, were gathered. “That was Beluh Eagun,” he explained, lighting up his stick and placing it. “She was Mithos’s wife. They must have been together for more than eighty years.”
He sighed audibly, shoved his hands in his pockets, and chewed on his lip. The crowd had parted enough for Hibiki to see the open casket where Eagun lay, looking so peaceful that he might have been sleeping. There was, however, a subtle difference. Hibiki could not put his finger on it, but glancing from the old man’s body to a nearby picture frame of him smiling, he detected a distinct disparity from the living and the dead. The body, as real as it was, did not appear to him as a person. It was only a vessel.
“This could have been me,” Kenta said beside him, and Hibiki looked back at his brother, who still had the lifespark in his eyes. Kenta’s face was tight, and he seemed to be almost despairing. “I told you that I almost died in the mountains of Northeastern Kanto, from bleeding so long out of that bullet wound,” he said. The muscle in his jaw pulsed as he clenched and unclenched his teeth. “Here we are, right in the heat of the moment, living our lives to do some . . . some thing that will make it meaningful. But at any time, at any minute, we could just die, and that would be the end. It doesn’t have to be from old age either, you know?”
I hope they’re not still talking about us, thought Hibiki, feeling a bit paranoid. Nobody seems to have given us a second glance, but what if they show our faces on the screen?
His view of the television was blocked a moment later by woman in black clothes, whom he didn’t acknowledge for a few seconds until he realized she was standing at his table. Was she their waitress? But she was dressed so nicely . . .
“Hello boys,” she said in a dull and faraway voice, looking as if she wasn’t paying attention to them at all. “What can I get you?”
Kenta looked down at their table, then back at the woman. “I’m not sure, uh . . . Yuki?” he said. Hearing her name, the waitress snapped back to reality, and Hibiki looked at her name tag where Kenta had been looking. (“Hi! My name is YUKI.”)
“We don’t have any menus,” explained Kenta kindly. “If you have any, could we please check them out?”
“Oh, yes. Certainly. Sorry,” apologized Yuki in a soft-spoken voice. She turned around, eyes to the floor. “I’ll be right back.”
Kenta watched her as she went, pity showing in his eyes. “Something’s not right with her,” he said quietly to Hibiki. “She seems upset. I wonder if something bad happened to Wes.”
Nothing ever goes as planned, thought Hibiki, glancing back to see if he could spot Yuki again. But this just goes to show that there are other things happening in peoples’ lives outside of our own. He felt his own pang of pity, as Yuki came back and delivered two menus to their table without looking at either of them in the eye. Poor girl. I’m sure she’s not always this disoriented. What could have happened?
He ordered something cheap, immediately forgetting what it was. Kenta simply muttered “I’ll have what he’s having,” and with that, Yuki nodded and was gone again. But before their order was back, a rumble in the distance caught the brothers’ attention. Hibiki looked out the window to see a rapidly-approaching dust cloud, and moments later, a motorbike with a bizarre-looking floating engine had pulled up to the stop. A youth in his early twenties climbed off, and Kenta issued a sharp intake of breath at the sight of him. Gray-dyed hair. Reflector glasses. Perfect resemblance to the Snagger in Gonzap’s photograph. This had to be Wes. The only difference other than age was clothing; the rider was also wearing black from head to toe.
“Alright, this is it,” said Kenta softly, looking at Hibiki as the latter’s heart rate increased and his body tensed. “Let’s play it cool, and look for a good opportunity to get his attention.”
They watched Wes through the window until he had paced up the ramp and out of sight. He came through the doorway just as Yuki was returning from the back kitchen, and she gasped slightly and put aside her tray. Kenta and Hibiki peeked around the corner of their booth, but Yuki’s back was turned to them. Hibiki could make out Wes’s tired adult face, and as he watched, the man pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit up.
“You decided to work today after all?” he said softly, and Yuki’s head nodded in confirmation. “You shouldn’t have.”
“It keeps my mind off things,” said Yuki in a sad voice. Hibiki shook his head slightly. No, it doesn’t. It’s plain as day that you’re upset.
“I thought you said you were quitting,” she continued, looking at the cigarette. Wes bobbed his head, then turned back to the door without looking at her. “I know, I’m sorry. But I need one now. It helps calm me down.” He opened the door, and cast a glance back at Yuki. “I’ll wait for you. Come out when you’re ready.”
Yuki remained where she stood for a couple of seconds after Wes was gone, then turned to the counter to say something to her supervisor. Hibiki detected movement behind him, and looked up to see Kenta walking past. He glanced at the table, and saw that his brother had left some money at the center, even though they hadn’t eaten anything. Confused, he followed Kenta briskly out the door, and past Wes’s motorcycle in the opposite direction. Wes didn’t seem to see them, but stared blankly at his dashboard. Catching up so that he was walking right next to Kenta, Hibiki looked him in the eye.
“Wait . . . what’s going on? What are we doing now?”
“Hiding,” Kenta muttered back to him, heading for the rock where they had started. “It’s clear that Wes doesn’t want to talk right now. He has somewhere to be.”
“So we’re just letting him go?” Hibiki asked, dumbfounded, as they ducked behind their boulder. “What did we fly all morning for?”
“Don’t be silly,” said Kenta, watching beside Hibiki as Yuki came out of the Outskirt Stand, still in her black clothing. “If we had gone out just after her, it might have looked suspicious to someone. But if we waited, the sand might have covered that motorbike’s tracks. That, or the bike would outspeed Bolt. It looks darn fast.”
“So we’re going to tail them?” asked Hibiki, as the sound of Wes’s bike roared to life in the background. In a flash of light, Bolt was beside him. Kenta helped Hibiki onto the Salamence’s back. “We’ll follow them at a distance,” he said, “but let’s keep an eye on our shadow. If Wes detects something this big chasing him, he’ll assume we’re enemies. I’d rather keep things simple.”
***
Moving westward gave Hibiki a chance to see the land transform beneath him. What had started as a desert steadily became more green as time passed. Oasis became more and more commonplace, and trees became larger as water continued to frequent the area. By the time they had arrived in a place called “Agate Village,” the trees were so large that Hibiki was astonished to see doors and windows in them. He would never have suspected that people could live inside of trees. Kenta had told him of a place in Hoenn called Fortree City, but the citizens there resided in treehouses. This is dangerous, really, Hibiki thought. Here, the houses are the trees themselves . . . but wouldn’t hollowing them out increase the rate of rotting? Knock on wood.
Wes parked his motorbike near a bridge leading into the village, and helped Yuki out of the passenger cab on the side. Further back, Kenta, Hibiki, and Bolt dropped into a thicket. One minute after Wes and Yuki had crossed the bridge, the two brothers snuck out of their hiding place and headed in the same direction. Lowering their hoods, they approached the tree where Yuki and Wes had entered, which Hibiki noticed was the tallest tree at the highest point in the village. A scattering of elderly people were also making their way towards the tree, all of whom were wearing the same black clothing that Yuki and Wes had worn.
Kenta stopped and looked briefly at Hibiki, then motioned for him to change direction. A Pokémon Mart happened to be only a short hill climb away, and as they headed for this building instead, Hibiki noticed older folks coming out from there, too. As they entered through the door, the faint smell of incense greeted their nostrils. Two old women were in line at the register, and Kenta casually slid in behind them. Hibiki followed suit, once again wishing Kenta would communicate with him more, but now understanding what was going on. Kenta confirmed it for him.
“There’s a funeral for someone today,” he muttered in undertone, “and I think I know who it’s for. Check out that picture frame.”
On the counter, there was indeed a picture of a smiling old man with flowing white hair and wrinkly blue robes. He reminded Hibiki of a sorceror, minus the hat, and even the name above the picture sounded wizardly. “Rest in peace, Mithos Eagun,” it read.
“The face isn’t familiar, but I recognize that name,” whispered Kenta so that only Hibiki could hear. “Eagun was once known as the ‘myth trainer,’ because it was rumored that every time he battled, there would be a lightning storm overhead. He had an affinity with electric-type pokémon, you see. Back when pokémon battling was just becoming a sport, he had a rousing battle with Wataru Lance’s grandfather, Wataru Rod. They inspired many people to become pokémon trainers on that day.”
Wow, so this guy was really something, thought Hibiki. It’s too bad he lived in such an out-of-the-way place like this. He might have had more people come to his funeral.
“I’m going to buy some incense for Eagun,” said Kenta, still in his quiet voice. Hibiki detected genuine emotion behind it. “I didn’t think I’d be paying respects today, but I’m going to make an exception, and then some.” Kenta turned to look Hibiki in the face, his expression unusually soft. “You’ll see what I mean later. Then we’ll get back to doing what we came to do.”
***
When Kenta knocked on the door to the Eagun residence, a frail-looking old woman with redded eyes and a tear-stained face answered the door. “Yes?” she said in a shaky voice, looking at the brothers in confusion, “can I help you boys with something?”
Kenta bowed to her with both hands pressed together, in a sign of respect. “I know you haven’t seen us before,” he said slowly, “but we heard the Myth Trainer was here. We were hoping we might see him one last time.”
“Oh- of course.” The old woman stepped aside, showing them into her home. “We figured the funeral would be mostly private,” she said, wiping her eyes with a tissue, “but bless your hearts for coming. You must have had to travel a long distance to get here.”
Kenta smiled gently at her, pulling out his incense, and Hibiki followed him to where the incense holders, and a group of mourners, were gathered. “That was Beluh Eagun,” he explained, lighting up his stick and placing it. “She was Mithos’s wife. They must have been together for more than eighty years.”
He sighed audibly, shoved his hands in his pockets, and chewed on his lip. The crowd had parted enough for Hibiki to see the open casket where Eagun lay, looking so peaceful that he might have been sleeping. There was, however, a subtle difference. Hibiki could not put his finger on it, but glancing from the old man’s body to a nearby picture frame of him smiling, he detected a distinct disparity from the living and the dead. The body, as real as it was, did not appear to him as a person. It was only a vessel.
“This could have been me,” Kenta said beside him, and Hibiki looked back at his brother, who still had the lifespark in his eyes. Kenta’s face was tight, and he seemed to be almost despairing. “I told you that I almost died in the mountains of Northeastern Kanto, from bleeding so long out of that bullet wound,” he said. The muscle in his jaw pulsed as he clenched and unclenched his teeth. “Here we are, right in the heat of the moment, living our lives to do some . . . some thing that will make it meaningful. But at any time, at any minute, we could just die, and that would be the end. It doesn’t have to be from old age either, you know?”