Chapter 12
Never Again / Ensouled
—July 22nd-25th
In the morning, Moriko followed as the mooskeg fairly skipped up the mountain road to Pyre's gym. Russ and Matt chatted behind her. She was uneasy; she'd persuaded the mooskeg to stay and fight the gym leader, but without a pokéball she had no control over its appearance on the field and wouldn't be able to perform switches if they were permitted. And it might decide to leave after a single blow, like most wild pokémon.
Well, she'd dug her hole deep enough. She needed to forget about the mooskeg and start thinking about her next pokémon. The mountains here were volcanic, reddish in places with oxides, and the air stank of sulfur from the hot springs. There were fire- and rock-types here, and it would be good to spend some time hunting.
They followed the road up through cuts in the stone. A cave led them into the gym's foyer; it was strung with mine lamps that gleamed bright and faintly reddish. The mooskeg seemed to lose her jaunty attitude, casting her gaze about irritably at the rock walls and ceiling.
"I am fighting the gym leader," she announced to the attendant, once they reached him.
To his credit, the man didn't blink an eye at this, and asked for the pokémon's name.
"Vleridin, Thuridin's get, who was Soradin's," the mooskeg said.
"And you'll be challenging at tier four?"
"Let him send his strongest, I will—"
"Tier four," Moriko interrupted, "for the three of us. His strongest is probably his first pokémon who's like level seventy," she added to the mooskeg.
"So?"
"You are level thirty-seven according to my pokédex."
"I don't understand the statement, and I won't respond to it."
The attendant took their licenses and registered them for the next three battle slots. Pyre was currently in a battle, and the attendant directed them to a waiting room. More mine lamps lit the space, which had a few chairs and locked tablets with subscriptions to this month's battle zines. The mooskeg—Vleridin—stood irritably in one corner, disliking the cave.
"I'm first," she said, "and then I'm leaving."
"Thank you for your help," Moriko mumbled.
There was a rumble behind the room's far door, and then a roar. Matt got up and opened it a crack, the battle noises suddenly coming in much more clearly.
"Wanna spy?"
They moved to the corridor to peek at the battle: Pyre was a distant figure directing a beautiful red-gold feline pokémon against an androgynous trainer with a gabite who was, frankly, stomping its opponent.
Fleetah, the sun cheetah pokémon. A fire- and electric-type, it evolves from servelos near level twenty-eight. It is able to match rapidash for speed. They were trained as sport hunters in a bygone era.
"Too bad about that type matchup," Matt commented. "It is a beauty."
The fleetah did everything possible to dodge the gabite's ground-type attacks. Its body was a twirling ribbon in metallic gold and bright crimson as it whirled and spun across the field, but its dragon-type opponent shrugged off its elemental attacks easily. Pyre recalled it before any of the gabite's lazy sandwhip attacks could connect, and the referee awarded his opponent the win.
The ref waved them forward while Pyre disappeared into his changing room. "Anyone want to go next," she asked, "or do you want me to pick?"
"I'm next," the mooskeg said from behind them. The ref nodded to her.
"Please head to the center of the ring when you're ready. We're doing one-on-one battles today: sudden death, no waiting." She winked.
Moriko followed the mooskeg onto the field. "Do you want me to—"
"Do absolutely nothing? Yes, that would be perfect. Wait—" Moriko started as Vleridin whirled on her suddenly. "Someone spoke to you about the battle and told you about the person battling, the red one. A different voice than yours or the other humans'."
Moriko held out her pokédex and pointed it at the mooskeg. "Mooskeg, the muskeg pokémon," it read aloud. "A water- and plant-type, it evolves from hippocalf near level 19 and into cernunnos with age—"
"It's a machine," she explained, silencing it. "It can recognize pokémon species and give information about them, and it records data about the individual pokémon it sees and adds them to a central database."
"Use it to tell me about the person I fight. " The mooskeg turned her head, watching the door Pyre had disappeared into. "I've never seen someone like either of those two who were fighting."
Moriko blinked. Not so sure now, eh? "The red one was a fleetah, like the 'dex said, and the other one was a gabite, a dragon- and ground-type. Fleetah are from the desert nearby, but gabite are from… from a distant land."
"How many days' journey?"
"The desert is a few days. It would be… weeks, and then you would have to cross the sea, to get to the place where gabite are from."
Vleridin was quiet at that a moment. "Lands beyond the sea… I have heard of such, from birds, from water-dwellers. How many kinds of people are there?"
How many types of pokémon. A voice that sounded like Matt's: implying pokémon aren't people? No… "No one knows. Thousands. Many professors and trainers try to learn about all of them."
Pyre came out of his rooms then, looking like he'd just showered.
"Alright, here we go. Do your best!" Moriko said, trying to be cheery.
Vleridin sniffed. "Please, get ready to watch a master at work." To Pyre: "Are you ready, red human?"
Pyre looked a little surprised, but nodded to the mooskeg. "Thanks for coming," he said politely. He was good-looking, with dark skin and fuzzy black-red hair close-cut, and he wore two crossed trainer belts on his hips like a gunslinger.
"Select your pokémon," the referee called out.
"Go, mooskeg," Moriko whispered, flicking out her fingers. She looked at the audience; there were a few people in the largely empty stands, and Russ and Matt were in the front row. Russ waved as she looked over, and Matt gave a thumbs-up. The ceiling was bare rock with hanging lights and the usual camera and energy detection setup.
Her attention snapped back to the field as Pyre's pokémon appeared in red light. It looked like a dinosaur with a rooster's head; it was covered in glossy, colorful feathers except for on its naked legs and thick, spined tail. It bobbed silently, turning its head to look at its opponent with one eye at a time.
Ignitrice, the cockatrice pokémon. A fire- and dragon-type pokémon, it evolves from chicatrice near level forty. They nest in active volcanoes and can often be seen bathing in magma or searching mountainsides for shiny stones or other treasures.
A dragon-type. Moriko had to close her eyes for a moment. Yes, this would happen. It was exactly what she deserved for keeping the mooskeg. So much for that type advantage.
"It's fire and dragon," she called out. "Water will do normal damage. Watch out for air-type attacks!"
The mooskeg flicked her tail stub to acknowledge this as the ref shouted.
"Begin!"
Vleridin glowed blue, her body surrounded by shimmering rings of water that sprayed outward and soaked the arena, setting up a faint mist. Her opponent squawked and raised a wing to cover itself.
"Aerial ace, Basil," said Pyre. The ignitrice bent its legs and leaped high in the air, hanging a moment at the top of the arc before disappearing into a silvery line of air-type energy. It slashed the mooskeg powerfully even as she sidestepped.
Vleridin gasped and kicked out with her hind legs as her opponent passed, catching it in the back with one hoof. It staggered as a wave of water rippled over the mooskeg's body, joining a blast from her mouth, and it was bowled over by her water pulse attack.
"Dragon tail," Pyre called.
The ignitrice righted itself, the mooskeg soaking it with a quick water gun. It started zigzagging toward her, leapt, and then pirouetted to strike her with its teal-glowing spined tail. She turned to catch the blow on her side and struck savagely with her antlers as her opponent rebounded. The cockatrice pokémon belched a reflexive gout of flame, but it was damped by the earlier water sport.
"Glare," said Pyre.
"Don't look!" Moriko said, as the ignitrice's eyes glowed yellow. A flash of power passed between the two pokémon and the mooskeg stood, held rigid, and took her opponent's following aerial ace attack hard.
"Try nature power!" Moriko heard herself saying, as Vleridin staggered upright.
"What good—" the mooskeg grunted, dodging another rush and pecking attack, "no plants even if—ungh—"
"We're in a cave!"
"Toxic, Basil!"
The ignitrice gurgled, and Vleridin flinched away, spattered by purple-black goo. She covered herself in a layer of water, trying to shed it, then bellowed as the ignitrice darted in suddenly, sinking its beak deep into her throat.
Moriko grimaced, her shoulders coming up. They formed a dreadful tableau, the mooskeg half rearing up and away, with her opponent gripping her shoulders with its forelegs in a parody of an embrace. Not again, she thought. I deserve this, trying to force—
A ripple went through the arena floor, and fist-sized chunks of rocks rose out of it, trailing sand as they flew toward the ignitrice.
It screeched as the rock-type attack caught it several smart blows in the stomach, and it released its opponent. A second salvo cracked it in the head as it skittered backward. It sat down heavily, dazed, and Pyre recalled it even as the mooskeg's final water gun attack came for it, more spray than stream.
"The match goes to Vleridin and trainer Moriko!" the ref called out. More quietly: "Oh boy—"
The mooskeg collapsed, her neck wound bleeding sappy ichor at an alarming rate. Moriko ran up and put a pad from her bag on the wound, spraying around it with hyper potion.
"Vleridin, I'm going to put you in a ball again—"
"No!" The mooskeg tried to stand, her hooves slipping on the sand, her neck gushing as she heaved.
"Just to get you to the pokémon center! You're dying! Stop moving!"
"Don't—dramatic—" She fell again, heaving, her eyes unfocused. "Actually… actually…"
Vleridin looked directly into Moriko's eyes as she got out a pokéball and pressed it lightly against the mooskeg's flank. "Temporary, okay? I promise."
"Never. Never again," she whispered, and glowed with white light.
x.x.x.x.x
Russ and Matt were on the arena floor with some healing items of their own, and Pyre was approaching as well, when the mooskeg started glowing.
Russ squinted. "Evolving?"
"Looks… no…" Matt muttered. "Oh jeez."
The mooskeg's form grew indistinct and seemed to ball in on itself—and then rushed toward Moriko, streaming into her chest.
Moriko leapt to her feet and fell again almost immediately, her legs collapsing.
"Mor! Are you okay?" Russ called.
She shook herself, looking around like she couldn't see anything. Russ ran over just in time to help her rise, and then catch her as she lost consciousness.
x.x.x.x.x
There is a woman in black on the path. She is searching for something.
Black-robed, barefoot, she kneels in the dirt, touches plants, smells the air.
She disappears, appears miles away. Searching.
There is a woman in black on the path. Light shines; space curves, folds.
A long form, black, winged, rushes above the treetops. Trees bow and creak in the wind.
There is no sound in the wood. Nothing stirs. They know what she is.
x.x.x.x.x
She dreams.
She swims, her body undulating in the cool water. She eats water plants, roots in the muck with her front legs, pushes off the ground where it is harder. She sees a wintris on the bank, slaps the surface of the water with her fishtail to alert others.
The adults protect them; it has happened that a goredile or raigar or caligriff come looking for a battle might eat its weakened opponent or prey on its young. It is a forbidden thing, a wrong thing, but it happens. It is an accelerated path to power, and power is precious.
She is grown, richly fed by the swamp and its energy. She has four legs, broad antlers, only a stump of a tail left. She feels as strong in the green forest as in the blue water.
She journeys, finds power: from the land, from battles, from hidden places. Even from blood; she is betrayed, and she lashes out. Why waste it?
She comes to the sea. They say it goes on forever. She enjoys the place where the sweet and the salt water mix, touches its power, and then—
x.x.x.x.x
Moriko awoke from a confused and confusing dream. It took minutes to get her bearings, a long swim to the surface of consciousness. She tried to rise, her limbs not working properly; the signal seemed to get lost on the way there. She might have fallen asleep again, to dream of waking and struggling to move leaden limbs.
A nurse finally came for her, and she looked at him blankly as he checked her pulse and shone a light into her eyes.
"You're doing a lot better," he said. "Do you know where you are?"
"A hospital? In… Russet Town?"
The nurse nodded, entering information into the tablet above the bed. "Your name?"
"Moriko Sato. Of Port Littoral. Where are Russ and Matt? I—my pokémon—something was wrong—"
"Do you want to see your friends? I can bring you your clothes, they've been washed."
Moriko nodded, feeling suddenly uncomfortable in the papery hospital clothing. "What day is it?"
"July 25th."
"I… lost some time…"
Moriko looked up to see Russ and Matt peek around the doorway and felt instantly relieved, even to see Matt. They drew chairs up to the bed, and she let Russ squeeze her dark hand between his pale ones. She closed her eyes and steadied herself, taking a deep breath.
"Guys, what… happened back at the gym?"
"Um…"
"Your mooskeg used your body as a pokéball," said Matt, leaning on his elbows, his chin on his folded hands.
Moriko considered this and looked at Russ. "The non-moon-language version, please."
"A pokémon," said Matt, putting his hands on his head to resemble antlers, "turned into energy," he made a B-movie bwoooo sound effect, "and hid itself," he covered his eyes, "inside you," he pointed at her, "and you were unconscious for two days." He slumped face-down onto the bed.
Moriko closed her eyes, raising her hands in a stop it gesture. "I don't—the mooskeg—Vleridin—she was bleeding—"
"We brought you to the hospital, and she reappeared and was taken for treatment. She's at the pokémon center now, but I don't think you can see her until the doctor makes sure your brain is okay," said Russ.
"I—yes, brain injury bad, do not want. But… how…"
"Yes?"
Moriko closed her eyes. "How do you use a person as a pokéball? If that is even what happened to me?"
"What do you remember?" Russ asked.
Moriko marshaled her memories: they'd gotten ready that morning, healed and energized the pokémon; the mooskeg had gone with them up the mountain and displayed a modicum of cooperation, and then… she'd received a serious injury in battle. Moriko had tried to recapture the mooskeg—temporarily!—and then… light, and strange dreams of water and dark woods.
"It's like something from a legend," Matt said, looking down, pinching the hospital bedsheet into mountains and valleys. "Solaris and Lunaris and the Endless Night. Did you ever wonder how human heroes kept their pokémon in ancient times?"
"They used… apricorns, I thought," Moriko said.
"Supposedly apricorns are a relatively recent technique as well. Long ago, heroes would befriend elemental spirits, and in exchange for care and mobility, the spirit would protect the human—and it would battle with other spirits to grow stronger. Maybe they lived inside the human's body."
"Then… if this is… a thing, why haven't I heard of it? It must happen accidentally?"
Matt shrugged. "Maybe you have heard of it, you just didn't know it by the story."
"Matt—cut it with the 'think for yourself' act—I'm so—"
Russ broke in: "Maybe no one talks about it because it's not something to be encouraged—it put you into a coma, didn't it?"
"Not quite a coma," said a woman in scrubs as she entered the room. She was looking at a handheld while walking. "Dr. Inoue," she added, shaking Moriko's hand. "Moriko, I'm glad you're awake. I bet you're impatient to get going, but first I'd like to run through a neurological checklist to make sure you're alright. Could I ask you gentlemen to head out for now?"
"Sure," said Russ. "We'll wait outside. See you soon, Mor."
"I wasn't in a coma?" Moriko said later, midway through the doctor's checklist.
"No, someone in a coma is totally unresponsive," said Dr. Inoue. "Track the green dot with just your eyes… great. You were somnolent: you would give dreamy, mumbled responses to questions and even wander to the bathroom like a sleepwalker, but it's been about thirty-six hours since your friends brought you here."
"Oh… I don't… remember any of that."
"Read through this chart, enunciating clearly." The doctor passed her a handheld, the screen covered in innocuous sentences that grew into tongue-twisters.
"What you experienced has been documented a few times," she explained, when Moriko had finished. "Luckily you experienced a minor form—in more severe cases, it's referred to as 'possession'. Usually it's a ghost-type pokémon; they take control of a human or animal by turning to energy and suffusing the matter of the victim's body. They try to draw energy from them. It can usually be chased out by another pokémon, especially by losing a battle." She held up a small speaker to Moriko's ear. "Cover your right ear and repeat the numbers you hear…"
Later: "Why am I doing all this again?"
"In severe possession, there can be some nerve damage, since the pokémon effectively takes control. You had an altered level of consciousness as well. Since you're a trainer and going to go charging into remote wilderness as soon as you're released, I want to make sure you're in good shape."
"...Am I?"
Dr. Inoue finished typing on her handheld. "Yes. Tentatively, I suspect that your pokémon, since it was injured, drew a large amount of energy from your body, which you spent time replenishing while asleep. I don't think it had any opportunity to exert control based on our observations. You don't show any signs of physical disturbance, so I'm going to say you're clear to leave, but I recommend staying in town for a couple of days, having some good meals, and resting."
Moriko nodded. "I will. Supposedly I've been asleep for days, but I feel like I could sleep for more."
"Listen to your body, then, and take it easy. Do you need anything else? Your bloodwork looks good. Antihistamines? Contraceptives?"
Moriko shook her head. "I have an IUD that should be good for a while." Not that she'd ever felt much interest in putting it to the test, but it was nice not to have to worry about hormones or periods.
"Alright. I'll let your friends back in."
x.x.x.x.x
Moriko found Vleridin in the pokémon center yard, napping under a tree. She approached cautiously; the mooskeg opened an eye and flicked an ear. She sat down nearby—not touching, but far closer than she could have dared a few days earlier.
"I'm glad you're still here," Moriko said eventually. "Are you all right?"
"Better than ever," Vleridin said, tonelessly. Not sarcasm, though not sincerely either.
"I wanted to apologize. I—I'm sorry, I tried to manipulate you, I didn't—I considered your feelings only secondary, and—I'm sorry. It was wrong, and—whatever you need from me, just name it."
A short silence.
"You might be wondering," Vleridin said, more to the pine-needled ground than to Moriko, "why I haven't left yet. And the truth is, I needed to apologize to you, as well. I ensouled you without your permission—and that was wrong."
Moriko watched the other pokémon in the yard, milling in the hot tub in the cool air. Bugs were gathered around the lit lamps; cicadas sawed somewhere off in the dimness.
"What did… you do, exactly?"
"I became energy, as one does when one is weak, to recover and stave off death—but there in the cold stone there was nowhere to settle in, for one such as me: no green life, and no rich water. And so."
"Would you have died, otherwise?"
"Defenseless, I could have been drunk up by my opponent, or scavengers, and lost—or drifted formlessly trying to reach the trees outside, or water somewhere in the earth. It was not my only option but it was… safest. And you… gave me energy," the mooskeg said, wonderingly. "It was a… rare thing."
"I had a dream…" Moriko said, studying the ground. "I was… there was water, ponds, swamps, a wood…"
Vleridin shifted, looking embarrassed. She curled her neck, facing away from Moriko. "Yes. I was… You struck my memories… and I struck yours."
My memories? What did you…
"I walked on two legs," Vleridin added, after a silence, "and I felt useless rage and insatiable longing; long loss and deep mourning."
Moriko's stomach tightened. Don't, she thought, don't say—you didn't—
"And… I saw the world," Vleridin said, looking her in the eye, and Moriko stopped. "A spinning sphere, the vastness of my forests a tiny patch upon it, and I understood that sight, that bird's viewpoint, that you had tried to demonstrate to me with your colored screen.
"Let us say that we are quit," the mooskeg said, "both having committed some wrong upon the other, both having apologized—and propose a new arrangement: let us travel together, and visit strange places to see strange peoples, and take whatever strength may be found there.
"But we will walk as equals, and you will not trap me, nor take control from me—never again."
x.x.x.x.x
Moriko sighed, rejoining Matt and Russ in the pokémon center cafeteria. They had both started in on their large helpings of curry.
"That went well, surprisingly," she said, stirring her own food, "but now I have to worry about a thousand-kilo pokéball-shy pokémon."
"Considerably less cute when she wants to ride on your hat, I take it?" said Russ.
"I'll get strong carrying her, at least."
"Ripped like Jojo's Johto Journey," Matt added. "We'll have to work on our poses."
"I was surprised when she didn't immediately leave the 'center and then kept coming back to the yard in the evenings," Russ said. "Changed her mind about you?"
"…No, I don't think so," Moriko said lightly. She carefully didn't think about the memories she'd seen. "But now I'm useful to her: she got a taste of the wider world and new opportunities and opponents. I expect her to leave when her mood changes again, to be honest."
"Did the doctor say what happened to you, exactly?" Matt asked quietly.
"She said it looked like possession," Moriko replied. Matt went very still at that. "She made me go through a neurological checklist and said my scans looked fine, so she let me go."
"I have heard of similar," Matt said after a moment. "Ghost pokémon, though, not water and plant."
Moriko glanced at him. Thank you for sharing something, for once. "That's what the doctor said." She chewed a bite of food reflectively. "Did you guys get your badges? Where is mine, now that I say that? It didn't go wrong, there, at the end?"
Russ fished in his pockets and turned out an enameled, stylized campfire pin, with red-orange flames above a couple of creased logs. "The Pyre Badge—named after the gym leader, or vice-versa, we can't say."
"I can't keep all these aliases straight," Moriko said, pinning it to her belt. She left a space between it and the Seed Badge for the missing Venom Badge; closest to the buckle was the Dust Badge, won five weeks and a million years ago.
Matt held his Pyre Badge up. "We both lost when we came back after you went to the hospital. I want to say we were distracted, but actually Pyre is fairly shrewd—or just lucky—picking secondary types for his pokémon."
"He used a fire- and electric-type against that trainer we saw first, though, and she had a ground-type," Moriko pointed out.
"Unlucky," said Matt.
"I used Conall," said Russ, in between bites, "psychic- and ground-type, should be fine at a fire gym—but Pyre used a geysard, a fire- and water-type. It was close; Conall could sense it through the steam, but it flooded him out anyway."
Moriko checked her pokédex: a geysard was a striped purple-and-red iguana-like pokémon, constantly expelling jets of steam that it used for attacks and camouflage.
"And Maia faced a habadryad—fire- and fairy-type, but it got her with plant-type attacks. She was pouting for days."
Moriko winced at the picture the pokédex drew up: a grotesque, gnomish-looking humanoid pokémon covered in leaves and peppers, the juice of which combusted on contact with air. "But you guys went back?"
"That's right, after we thoroughly studied his known roster on the global terminal," said Russ.
"It was the usual assortment of regional and foreign pokémon in the sort of large stable that a gym leader has to maintain." Matt started listing pokémon, counting them off on his fingers. "Charizard, camerupt, arboar, antepard, pyrant, hellion, tigerlitly—but he's gradually phased out the ones that aren't a nasty surprise to trainers rolling with water-, ground-, or rock-types."
"Tyranikea, rock/fire, easy water or ground-type KO; Oxhaust, fire and steel, easy ground-type KO, et cetera—unseen for months or years," said Russ. "But he's kept the more unfortunate combinations: fire/electric, fire/water, fire/plant and such."
"So we didn't bother trying to match up types, with this implication that such a choice might backfire, and played defensively. I used Dzalar and won against his fleetah," said Matt.
Dzalar was Matt's new svarog, that fire- and plant-type boar that had been trying to burn down the forest a few days before, now well-recovered if he'd used it in a gym battle. Moriko hoped, anyway.
"And Sylvia won against his arboar!" Russ said.
"Nice!"
"I confess I was sweating and waiting for him to suddenly produce his long-inactive antepard and hit her with an ice-type attack, at which point I would have quit pokémon training in disgust," he added.
"I think we should cheat more often," Moriko said. "Losing takes so much time."
Matt shrugged. "It feels… unsporting, somehow."
"I wanted to look at Lord Ironhelm's listing so bad," said Russ.
"Ooh, the next guy. Steel-type specialist. Should we look now?"
Russ hummed, sliding his pokédex back and forth, deciding.
"I'll tell you what I know: He keeps an actual fucking castle and hosts reenactments from the so-called medieval period, which I'm reasonably certain only existed in stories," Matt said dryly.
"We saw old pictures from when Pyre started out," Russ said, conspiratorial. "He rolled with pokémon like houndoom, hellion, and trademark magpyre and ravurn as his team, and dressed like a vampire."
Moriko barked a laugh at the picture. "His cosplay needs work. I far prefer this to whatever drugs Belladonna was on, though. Gym leaders!"
Russ grinned. "It's the lack of challengers outside of the summertime. Boredom and cabin fever take over, and suddenly their pokémon are quarrying twenty thousand tons of stone and putting up mall swords and tapestries."
"Or pretending to be really spooooky," said Matt. He waggled his fingers.
"Way too spooky for me," said Russ.
"Good thing we are all perfectly sane," said Moriko. "Ha, ha."
"Ha," said Matt.
Russ wagged a finger at them. "I am perfectly sane; everyone else, however, is insane, and trying to steal my magic bag."
"It's not insane to try to steal that bag," said Moriko, pickpocketing his pokédex. "It's magic."
"The bag isn't magic and it smells," declared Sylvia. The borfang had evidently grown bored of the yard; she proceeded to mess up his hair by licking, to his dismay. "You humans busy being boring?" she said, when Russ managed to push her off. "When are we leaving?"
"When Moriko has rested," Russ said, his hands disappearing into her ruff as he scratched her neck. "We'll hang around for a couple days, and go to the hot spring and look for pokémon and stuff."
"Boring," said Sylvia, unfurling one wing to be groomed as well. "Spray a potion on it, Mor, and let's ride."
"Would if I could." Moriko smiled ruefully at the borfang, who stalked back and forth, a motion more feline than canine, to let Russ pet her down her long spined back and wood-textured tail.
"I'll get us all supplies if you give me some money—oh!" Matt snapped his fingers. "Moriko, I heard you had…"
Moriko stared at him for a moment before starting and digging in her bag pockets, pulling out Angela's storage device.
It felt strange, having it. She'd hated the devices and Angela and her friends so ferociously, and tried to see the virtue in not having one. But now…
Well, she felt a little giddy, and she hated it.
"It's you with the magic bag after all," Russ said, taking the storage device and exploring its functions, the projection casting a pale blue glow on his face.
"It still works, right?" Moriko asked. "She didn't give me a broken one as a trick?"
Russ smiled, a bit sadly. "Looks like it."
Matt cleared his throat. "How are they doing? How is your friend Dave?"
"My mom and Prof. Willow have sent me about fifty emails each, but there was one from Vic in there about how Dave's regen treatments were proceeding in Porphyry. I think he's doing okay, he should be as good as new if the regeneration goes smoothly," Russ said.
"How about Ophelia?" Moriko heard herself ask. She thought of Thalassa Heights, and the long, sterile corridors deep underground, where Liona's brother had been taken.
"She was sent to a specialty clinic in Unova, they're saying. They don't know what happened. Killer pokémon are usually a little different."
Moriko drummed her fingers on the tabletop in the ensuing silence. "What did Prof. Willow say about it?"
Russ shrugged. "She was super confused, from what I could tell in text. I think she was going to pursue it back to the breeder. You can't give kids pokémon that are just going to snap for no reason." He started pulling the paper napkin into shreds.
"I'm sure it was a one-off," Moriko said, looking at Russ and at Sylvia, who was listening to them talking, her expression alert. "It wouldn't happen to us. Right?"
"Uh-uh," the borfang said. "Never."
Moriko clapped Russ on the shoulder. "See?"
Russ kissed Sylvia noisily on her forehead, and she giggled and licked his face. "Mor," he said presently, "Angela sent me an email too, and she said that she hopes you'll call her. She said—she's going to school in late August, and she might not see us back in PL. She didn't want to leave things so weird. She wanted to help you back at the beginning of the journey."
"Yeah sure she did, that's why she tried to make you ditch me then," Moriko said, incredulous.
Russell smiled, uneasy. "It was a misunderstanding, she—"
"Russ, seriously?"
Matt interrupted, picking up the storage device. "This means we can cross the deep desert. There are rare pokémon there and strong ones," he said, eager. "The kinetic battery charges as you walk. These civilian models, though—they're slow, slower than a ball. Different system. We need to plan for theft or failure: we'll keep water sources and towns in mind when we plan the route, and we have our water pokémon."
"I heard the first ones used to explode in a nuclear fireball if the containment failed. True?" Moriko asked.
Matt laughed. "Come on, do you think they'd sell them at the pokémart if they did?"
"It'll be good to travel a little lighter," Moriko said to Russ. "I can't wait to head out."
x.x.x.x.x
Two men are in the desert.
They are not men, and the land knows. It shrinks from them.
One is steel and black ichor; the other a shadow, trailing flame.
Nothing stirs. Anything they see, they will destroy utterly—drink its power, no matter how minor.
They dispatch servants: sad, trailing things briefly useful; hooks cast, mines buried.
They have followers: desperate and hateful, wide-scattered on dark pilgrimages.
They are wrong things. They beg to be put right.
Never Again / Ensouled
—July 22nd-25th
In the morning, Moriko followed as the mooskeg fairly skipped up the mountain road to Pyre's gym. Russ and Matt chatted behind her. She was uneasy; she'd persuaded the mooskeg to stay and fight the gym leader, but without a pokéball she had no control over its appearance on the field and wouldn't be able to perform switches if they were permitted. And it might decide to leave after a single blow, like most wild pokémon.
Well, she'd dug her hole deep enough. She needed to forget about the mooskeg and start thinking about her next pokémon. The mountains here were volcanic, reddish in places with oxides, and the air stank of sulfur from the hot springs. There were fire- and rock-types here, and it would be good to spend some time hunting.
They followed the road up through cuts in the stone. A cave led them into the gym's foyer; it was strung with mine lamps that gleamed bright and faintly reddish. The mooskeg seemed to lose her jaunty attitude, casting her gaze about irritably at the rock walls and ceiling.
"I am fighting the gym leader," she announced to the attendant, once they reached him.
To his credit, the man didn't blink an eye at this, and asked for the pokémon's name.
"Vleridin, Thuridin's get, who was Soradin's," the mooskeg said.
"And you'll be challenging at tier four?"
"Let him send his strongest, I will—"
"Tier four," Moriko interrupted, "for the three of us. His strongest is probably his first pokémon who's like level seventy," she added to the mooskeg.
"So?"
"You are level thirty-seven according to my pokédex."
"I don't understand the statement, and I won't respond to it."
The attendant took their licenses and registered them for the next three battle slots. Pyre was currently in a battle, and the attendant directed them to a waiting room. More mine lamps lit the space, which had a few chairs and locked tablets with subscriptions to this month's battle zines. The mooskeg—Vleridin—stood irritably in one corner, disliking the cave.
"I'm first," she said, "and then I'm leaving."
"Thank you for your help," Moriko mumbled.
There was a rumble behind the room's far door, and then a roar. Matt got up and opened it a crack, the battle noises suddenly coming in much more clearly.
"Wanna spy?"
They moved to the corridor to peek at the battle: Pyre was a distant figure directing a beautiful red-gold feline pokémon against an androgynous trainer with a gabite who was, frankly, stomping its opponent.
Fleetah, the sun cheetah pokémon. A fire- and electric-type, it evolves from servelos near level twenty-eight. It is able to match rapidash for speed. They were trained as sport hunters in a bygone era.
"Too bad about that type matchup," Matt commented. "It is a beauty."
The fleetah did everything possible to dodge the gabite's ground-type attacks. Its body was a twirling ribbon in metallic gold and bright crimson as it whirled and spun across the field, but its dragon-type opponent shrugged off its elemental attacks easily. Pyre recalled it before any of the gabite's lazy sandwhip attacks could connect, and the referee awarded his opponent the win.
The ref waved them forward while Pyre disappeared into his changing room. "Anyone want to go next," she asked, "or do you want me to pick?"
"I'm next," the mooskeg said from behind them. The ref nodded to her.
"Please head to the center of the ring when you're ready. We're doing one-on-one battles today: sudden death, no waiting." She winked.
Moriko followed the mooskeg onto the field. "Do you want me to—"
"Do absolutely nothing? Yes, that would be perfect. Wait—" Moriko started as Vleridin whirled on her suddenly. "Someone spoke to you about the battle and told you about the person battling, the red one. A different voice than yours or the other humans'."
Moriko held out her pokédex and pointed it at the mooskeg. "Mooskeg, the muskeg pokémon," it read aloud. "A water- and plant-type, it evolves from hippocalf near level 19 and into cernunnos with age—"
"It's a machine," she explained, silencing it. "It can recognize pokémon species and give information about them, and it records data about the individual pokémon it sees and adds them to a central database."
"Use it to tell me about the person I fight. " The mooskeg turned her head, watching the door Pyre had disappeared into. "I've never seen someone like either of those two who were fighting."
Moriko blinked. Not so sure now, eh? "The red one was a fleetah, like the 'dex said, and the other one was a gabite, a dragon- and ground-type. Fleetah are from the desert nearby, but gabite are from… from a distant land."
"How many days' journey?"
"The desert is a few days. It would be… weeks, and then you would have to cross the sea, to get to the place where gabite are from."
Vleridin was quiet at that a moment. "Lands beyond the sea… I have heard of such, from birds, from water-dwellers. How many kinds of people are there?"
How many types of pokémon. A voice that sounded like Matt's: implying pokémon aren't people? No… "No one knows. Thousands. Many professors and trainers try to learn about all of them."
Pyre came out of his rooms then, looking like he'd just showered.
"Alright, here we go. Do your best!" Moriko said, trying to be cheery.
Vleridin sniffed. "Please, get ready to watch a master at work." To Pyre: "Are you ready, red human?"
Pyre looked a little surprised, but nodded to the mooskeg. "Thanks for coming," he said politely. He was good-looking, with dark skin and fuzzy black-red hair close-cut, and he wore two crossed trainer belts on his hips like a gunslinger.
"Select your pokémon," the referee called out.
"Go, mooskeg," Moriko whispered, flicking out her fingers. She looked at the audience; there were a few people in the largely empty stands, and Russ and Matt were in the front row. Russ waved as she looked over, and Matt gave a thumbs-up. The ceiling was bare rock with hanging lights and the usual camera and energy detection setup.
Her attention snapped back to the field as Pyre's pokémon appeared in red light. It looked like a dinosaur with a rooster's head; it was covered in glossy, colorful feathers except for on its naked legs and thick, spined tail. It bobbed silently, turning its head to look at its opponent with one eye at a time.
Ignitrice, the cockatrice pokémon. A fire- and dragon-type pokémon, it evolves from chicatrice near level forty. They nest in active volcanoes and can often be seen bathing in magma or searching mountainsides for shiny stones or other treasures.
A dragon-type. Moriko had to close her eyes for a moment. Yes, this would happen. It was exactly what she deserved for keeping the mooskeg. So much for that type advantage.
"It's fire and dragon," she called out. "Water will do normal damage. Watch out for air-type attacks!"
The mooskeg flicked her tail stub to acknowledge this as the ref shouted.
"Begin!"
Vleridin glowed blue, her body surrounded by shimmering rings of water that sprayed outward and soaked the arena, setting up a faint mist. Her opponent squawked and raised a wing to cover itself.
"Aerial ace, Basil," said Pyre. The ignitrice bent its legs and leaped high in the air, hanging a moment at the top of the arc before disappearing into a silvery line of air-type energy. It slashed the mooskeg powerfully even as she sidestepped.
Vleridin gasped and kicked out with her hind legs as her opponent passed, catching it in the back with one hoof. It staggered as a wave of water rippled over the mooskeg's body, joining a blast from her mouth, and it was bowled over by her water pulse attack.
"Dragon tail," Pyre called.
The ignitrice righted itself, the mooskeg soaking it with a quick water gun. It started zigzagging toward her, leapt, and then pirouetted to strike her with its teal-glowing spined tail. She turned to catch the blow on her side and struck savagely with her antlers as her opponent rebounded. The cockatrice pokémon belched a reflexive gout of flame, but it was damped by the earlier water sport.
"Glare," said Pyre.
"Don't look!" Moriko said, as the ignitrice's eyes glowed yellow. A flash of power passed between the two pokémon and the mooskeg stood, held rigid, and took her opponent's following aerial ace attack hard.
"Try nature power!" Moriko heard herself saying, as Vleridin staggered upright.
"What good—" the mooskeg grunted, dodging another rush and pecking attack, "no plants even if—ungh—"
"We're in a cave!"
"Toxic, Basil!"
The ignitrice gurgled, and Vleridin flinched away, spattered by purple-black goo. She covered herself in a layer of water, trying to shed it, then bellowed as the ignitrice darted in suddenly, sinking its beak deep into her throat.
Moriko grimaced, her shoulders coming up. They formed a dreadful tableau, the mooskeg half rearing up and away, with her opponent gripping her shoulders with its forelegs in a parody of an embrace. Not again, she thought. I deserve this, trying to force—
A ripple went through the arena floor, and fist-sized chunks of rocks rose out of it, trailing sand as they flew toward the ignitrice.
It screeched as the rock-type attack caught it several smart blows in the stomach, and it released its opponent. A second salvo cracked it in the head as it skittered backward. It sat down heavily, dazed, and Pyre recalled it even as the mooskeg's final water gun attack came for it, more spray than stream.
"The match goes to Vleridin and trainer Moriko!" the ref called out. More quietly: "Oh boy—"
The mooskeg collapsed, her neck wound bleeding sappy ichor at an alarming rate. Moriko ran up and put a pad from her bag on the wound, spraying around it with hyper potion.
"Vleridin, I'm going to put you in a ball again—"
"No!" The mooskeg tried to stand, her hooves slipping on the sand, her neck gushing as she heaved.
"Just to get you to the pokémon center! You're dying! Stop moving!"
"Don't—dramatic—" She fell again, heaving, her eyes unfocused. "Actually… actually…"
Vleridin looked directly into Moriko's eyes as she got out a pokéball and pressed it lightly against the mooskeg's flank. "Temporary, okay? I promise."
"Never. Never again," she whispered, and glowed with white light.
x.x.x.x.x
Russ and Matt were on the arena floor with some healing items of their own, and Pyre was approaching as well, when the mooskeg started glowing.
Russ squinted. "Evolving?"
"Looks… no…" Matt muttered. "Oh jeez."
The mooskeg's form grew indistinct and seemed to ball in on itself—and then rushed toward Moriko, streaming into her chest.
Moriko leapt to her feet and fell again almost immediately, her legs collapsing.
"Mor! Are you okay?" Russ called.
She shook herself, looking around like she couldn't see anything. Russ ran over just in time to help her rise, and then catch her as she lost consciousness.
x.x.x.x.x
There is a woman in black on the path. She is searching for something.
Black-robed, barefoot, she kneels in the dirt, touches plants, smells the air.
She disappears, appears miles away. Searching.
There is a woman in black on the path. Light shines; space curves, folds.
A long form, black, winged, rushes above the treetops. Trees bow and creak in the wind.
There is no sound in the wood. Nothing stirs. They know what she is.
x.x.x.x.x
She dreams.
She swims, her body undulating in the cool water. She eats water plants, roots in the muck with her front legs, pushes off the ground where it is harder. She sees a wintris on the bank, slaps the surface of the water with her fishtail to alert others.
The adults protect them; it has happened that a goredile or raigar or caligriff come looking for a battle might eat its weakened opponent or prey on its young. It is a forbidden thing, a wrong thing, but it happens. It is an accelerated path to power, and power is precious.
She is grown, richly fed by the swamp and its energy. She has four legs, broad antlers, only a stump of a tail left. She feels as strong in the green forest as in the blue water.
She journeys, finds power: from the land, from battles, from hidden places. Even from blood; she is betrayed, and she lashes out. Why waste it?
She comes to the sea. They say it goes on forever. She enjoys the place where the sweet and the salt water mix, touches its power, and then—
x.x.x.x.x
Moriko awoke from a confused and confusing dream. It took minutes to get her bearings, a long swim to the surface of consciousness. She tried to rise, her limbs not working properly; the signal seemed to get lost on the way there. She might have fallen asleep again, to dream of waking and struggling to move leaden limbs.
A nurse finally came for her, and she looked at him blankly as he checked her pulse and shone a light into her eyes.
"You're doing a lot better," he said. "Do you know where you are?"
"A hospital? In… Russet Town?"
The nurse nodded, entering information into the tablet above the bed. "Your name?"
"Moriko Sato. Of Port Littoral. Where are Russ and Matt? I—my pokémon—something was wrong—"
"Do you want to see your friends? I can bring you your clothes, they've been washed."
Moriko nodded, feeling suddenly uncomfortable in the papery hospital clothing. "What day is it?"
"July 25th."
"I… lost some time…"
Moriko looked up to see Russ and Matt peek around the doorway and felt instantly relieved, even to see Matt. They drew chairs up to the bed, and she let Russ squeeze her dark hand between his pale ones. She closed her eyes and steadied herself, taking a deep breath.
"Guys, what… happened back at the gym?"
"Um…"
"Your mooskeg used your body as a pokéball," said Matt, leaning on his elbows, his chin on his folded hands.
Moriko considered this and looked at Russ. "The non-moon-language version, please."
"A pokémon," said Matt, putting his hands on his head to resemble antlers, "turned into energy," he made a B-movie bwoooo sound effect, "and hid itself," he covered his eyes, "inside you," he pointed at her, "and you were unconscious for two days." He slumped face-down onto the bed.
Moriko closed her eyes, raising her hands in a stop it gesture. "I don't—the mooskeg—Vleridin—she was bleeding—"
"We brought you to the hospital, and she reappeared and was taken for treatment. She's at the pokémon center now, but I don't think you can see her until the doctor makes sure your brain is okay," said Russ.
"I—yes, brain injury bad, do not want. But… how…"
"Yes?"
Moriko closed her eyes. "How do you use a person as a pokéball? If that is even what happened to me?"
"What do you remember?" Russ asked.
Moriko marshaled her memories: they'd gotten ready that morning, healed and energized the pokémon; the mooskeg had gone with them up the mountain and displayed a modicum of cooperation, and then… she'd received a serious injury in battle. Moriko had tried to recapture the mooskeg—temporarily!—and then… light, and strange dreams of water and dark woods.
"It's like something from a legend," Matt said, looking down, pinching the hospital bedsheet into mountains and valleys. "Solaris and Lunaris and the Endless Night. Did you ever wonder how human heroes kept their pokémon in ancient times?"
"They used… apricorns, I thought," Moriko said.
"Supposedly apricorns are a relatively recent technique as well. Long ago, heroes would befriend elemental spirits, and in exchange for care and mobility, the spirit would protect the human—and it would battle with other spirits to grow stronger. Maybe they lived inside the human's body."
"Then… if this is… a thing, why haven't I heard of it? It must happen accidentally?"
Matt shrugged. "Maybe you have heard of it, you just didn't know it by the story."
"Matt—cut it with the 'think for yourself' act—I'm so—"
Russ broke in: "Maybe no one talks about it because it's not something to be encouraged—it put you into a coma, didn't it?"
"Not quite a coma," said a woman in scrubs as she entered the room. She was looking at a handheld while walking. "Dr. Inoue," she added, shaking Moriko's hand. "Moriko, I'm glad you're awake. I bet you're impatient to get going, but first I'd like to run through a neurological checklist to make sure you're alright. Could I ask you gentlemen to head out for now?"
"Sure," said Russ. "We'll wait outside. See you soon, Mor."
"I wasn't in a coma?" Moriko said later, midway through the doctor's checklist.
"No, someone in a coma is totally unresponsive," said Dr. Inoue. "Track the green dot with just your eyes… great. You were somnolent: you would give dreamy, mumbled responses to questions and even wander to the bathroom like a sleepwalker, but it's been about thirty-six hours since your friends brought you here."
"Oh… I don't… remember any of that."
"Read through this chart, enunciating clearly." The doctor passed her a handheld, the screen covered in innocuous sentences that grew into tongue-twisters.
"What you experienced has been documented a few times," she explained, when Moriko had finished. "Luckily you experienced a minor form—in more severe cases, it's referred to as 'possession'. Usually it's a ghost-type pokémon; they take control of a human or animal by turning to energy and suffusing the matter of the victim's body. They try to draw energy from them. It can usually be chased out by another pokémon, especially by losing a battle." She held up a small speaker to Moriko's ear. "Cover your right ear and repeat the numbers you hear…"
Later: "Why am I doing all this again?"
"In severe possession, there can be some nerve damage, since the pokémon effectively takes control. You had an altered level of consciousness as well. Since you're a trainer and going to go charging into remote wilderness as soon as you're released, I want to make sure you're in good shape."
"...Am I?"
Dr. Inoue finished typing on her handheld. "Yes. Tentatively, I suspect that your pokémon, since it was injured, drew a large amount of energy from your body, which you spent time replenishing while asleep. I don't think it had any opportunity to exert control based on our observations. You don't show any signs of physical disturbance, so I'm going to say you're clear to leave, but I recommend staying in town for a couple of days, having some good meals, and resting."
Moriko nodded. "I will. Supposedly I've been asleep for days, but I feel like I could sleep for more."
"Listen to your body, then, and take it easy. Do you need anything else? Your bloodwork looks good. Antihistamines? Contraceptives?"
Moriko shook her head. "I have an IUD that should be good for a while." Not that she'd ever felt much interest in putting it to the test, but it was nice not to have to worry about hormones or periods.
"Alright. I'll let your friends back in."
x.x.x.x.x
Moriko found Vleridin in the pokémon center yard, napping under a tree. She approached cautiously; the mooskeg opened an eye and flicked an ear. She sat down nearby—not touching, but far closer than she could have dared a few days earlier.
"I'm glad you're still here," Moriko said eventually. "Are you all right?"
"Better than ever," Vleridin said, tonelessly. Not sarcasm, though not sincerely either.
"I wanted to apologize. I—I'm sorry, I tried to manipulate you, I didn't—I considered your feelings only secondary, and—I'm sorry. It was wrong, and—whatever you need from me, just name it."
A short silence.
"You might be wondering," Vleridin said, more to the pine-needled ground than to Moriko, "why I haven't left yet. And the truth is, I needed to apologize to you, as well. I ensouled you without your permission—and that was wrong."
Moriko watched the other pokémon in the yard, milling in the hot tub in the cool air. Bugs were gathered around the lit lamps; cicadas sawed somewhere off in the dimness.
"What did… you do, exactly?"
"I became energy, as one does when one is weak, to recover and stave off death—but there in the cold stone there was nowhere to settle in, for one such as me: no green life, and no rich water. And so."
"Would you have died, otherwise?"
"Defenseless, I could have been drunk up by my opponent, or scavengers, and lost—or drifted formlessly trying to reach the trees outside, or water somewhere in the earth. It was not my only option but it was… safest. And you… gave me energy," the mooskeg said, wonderingly. "It was a… rare thing."
"I had a dream…" Moriko said, studying the ground. "I was… there was water, ponds, swamps, a wood…"
Vleridin shifted, looking embarrassed. She curled her neck, facing away from Moriko. "Yes. I was… You struck my memories… and I struck yours."
My memories? What did you…
"I walked on two legs," Vleridin added, after a silence, "and I felt useless rage and insatiable longing; long loss and deep mourning."
Moriko's stomach tightened. Don't, she thought, don't say—you didn't—
"And… I saw the world," Vleridin said, looking her in the eye, and Moriko stopped. "A spinning sphere, the vastness of my forests a tiny patch upon it, and I understood that sight, that bird's viewpoint, that you had tried to demonstrate to me with your colored screen.
"Let us say that we are quit," the mooskeg said, "both having committed some wrong upon the other, both having apologized—and propose a new arrangement: let us travel together, and visit strange places to see strange peoples, and take whatever strength may be found there.
"But we will walk as equals, and you will not trap me, nor take control from me—never again."
x.x.x.x.x
Moriko sighed, rejoining Matt and Russ in the pokémon center cafeteria. They had both started in on their large helpings of curry.
"That went well, surprisingly," she said, stirring her own food, "but now I have to worry about a thousand-kilo pokéball-shy pokémon."
"Considerably less cute when she wants to ride on your hat, I take it?" said Russ.
"I'll get strong carrying her, at least."
"Ripped like Jojo's Johto Journey," Matt added. "We'll have to work on our poses."
"I was surprised when she didn't immediately leave the 'center and then kept coming back to the yard in the evenings," Russ said. "Changed her mind about you?"
"…No, I don't think so," Moriko said lightly. She carefully didn't think about the memories she'd seen. "But now I'm useful to her: she got a taste of the wider world and new opportunities and opponents. I expect her to leave when her mood changes again, to be honest."
"Did the doctor say what happened to you, exactly?" Matt asked quietly.
"She said it looked like possession," Moriko replied. Matt went very still at that. "She made me go through a neurological checklist and said my scans looked fine, so she let me go."
"I have heard of similar," Matt said after a moment. "Ghost pokémon, though, not water and plant."
Moriko glanced at him. Thank you for sharing something, for once. "That's what the doctor said." She chewed a bite of food reflectively. "Did you guys get your badges? Where is mine, now that I say that? It didn't go wrong, there, at the end?"
Russ fished in his pockets and turned out an enameled, stylized campfire pin, with red-orange flames above a couple of creased logs. "The Pyre Badge—named after the gym leader, or vice-versa, we can't say."
"I can't keep all these aliases straight," Moriko said, pinning it to her belt. She left a space between it and the Seed Badge for the missing Venom Badge; closest to the buckle was the Dust Badge, won five weeks and a million years ago.
Matt held his Pyre Badge up. "We both lost when we came back after you went to the hospital. I want to say we were distracted, but actually Pyre is fairly shrewd—or just lucky—picking secondary types for his pokémon."
"He used a fire- and electric-type against that trainer we saw first, though, and she had a ground-type," Moriko pointed out.
"Unlucky," said Matt.
"I used Conall," said Russ, in between bites, "psychic- and ground-type, should be fine at a fire gym—but Pyre used a geysard, a fire- and water-type. It was close; Conall could sense it through the steam, but it flooded him out anyway."
Moriko checked her pokédex: a geysard was a striped purple-and-red iguana-like pokémon, constantly expelling jets of steam that it used for attacks and camouflage.
"And Maia faced a habadryad—fire- and fairy-type, but it got her with plant-type attacks. She was pouting for days."
Moriko winced at the picture the pokédex drew up: a grotesque, gnomish-looking humanoid pokémon covered in leaves and peppers, the juice of which combusted on contact with air. "But you guys went back?"
"That's right, after we thoroughly studied his known roster on the global terminal," said Russ.
"It was the usual assortment of regional and foreign pokémon in the sort of large stable that a gym leader has to maintain." Matt started listing pokémon, counting them off on his fingers. "Charizard, camerupt, arboar, antepard, pyrant, hellion, tigerlitly—but he's gradually phased out the ones that aren't a nasty surprise to trainers rolling with water-, ground-, or rock-types."
"Tyranikea, rock/fire, easy water or ground-type KO; Oxhaust, fire and steel, easy ground-type KO, et cetera—unseen for months or years," said Russ. "But he's kept the more unfortunate combinations: fire/electric, fire/water, fire/plant and such."
"So we didn't bother trying to match up types, with this implication that such a choice might backfire, and played defensively. I used Dzalar and won against his fleetah," said Matt.
Dzalar was Matt's new svarog, that fire- and plant-type boar that had been trying to burn down the forest a few days before, now well-recovered if he'd used it in a gym battle. Moriko hoped, anyway.
"And Sylvia won against his arboar!" Russ said.
"Nice!"
"I confess I was sweating and waiting for him to suddenly produce his long-inactive antepard and hit her with an ice-type attack, at which point I would have quit pokémon training in disgust," he added.
"I think we should cheat more often," Moriko said. "Losing takes so much time."
Matt shrugged. "It feels… unsporting, somehow."
"I wanted to look at Lord Ironhelm's listing so bad," said Russ.
"Ooh, the next guy. Steel-type specialist. Should we look now?"
Russ hummed, sliding his pokédex back and forth, deciding.
"I'll tell you what I know: He keeps an actual fucking castle and hosts reenactments from the so-called medieval period, which I'm reasonably certain only existed in stories," Matt said dryly.
"We saw old pictures from when Pyre started out," Russ said, conspiratorial. "He rolled with pokémon like houndoom, hellion, and trademark magpyre and ravurn as his team, and dressed like a vampire."
Moriko barked a laugh at the picture. "His cosplay needs work. I far prefer this to whatever drugs Belladonna was on, though. Gym leaders!"
Russ grinned. "It's the lack of challengers outside of the summertime. Boredom and cabin fever take over, and suddenly their pokémon are quarrying twenty thousand tons of stone and putting up mall swords and tapestries."
"Or pretending to be really spooooky," said Matt. He waggled his fingers.
"Way too spooky for me," said Russ.
"Good thing we are all perfectly sane," said Moriko. "Ha, ha."
"Ha," said Matt.
Russ wagged a finger at them. "I am perfectly sane; everyone else, however, is insane, and trying to steal my magic bag."
"It's not insane to try to steal that bag," said Moriko, pickpocketing his pokédex. "It's magic."
"The bag isn't magic and it smells," declared Sylvia. The borfang had evidently grown bored of the yard; she proceeded to mess up his hair by licking, to his dismay. "You humans busy being boring?" she said, when Russ managed to push her off. "When are we leaving?"
"When Moriko has rested," Russ said, his hands disappearing into her ruff as he scratched her neck. "We'll hang around for a couple days, and go to the hot spring and look for pokémon and stuff."
"Boring," said Sylvia, unfurling one wing to be groomed as well. "Spray a potion on it, Mor, and let's ride."
"Would if I could." Moriko smiled ruefully at the borfang, who stalked back and forth, a motion more feline than canine, to let Russ pet her down her long spined back and wood-textured tail.
"I'll get us all supplies if you give me some money—oh!" Matt snapped his fingers. "Moriko, I heard you had…"
Moriko stared at him for a moment before starting and digging in her bag pockets, pulling out Angela's storage device.
It felt strange, having it. She'd hated the devices and Angela and her friends so ferociously, and tried to see the virtue in not having one. But now…
Well, she felt a little giddy, and she hated it.
"It's you with the magic bag after all," Russ said, taking the storage device and exploring its functions, the projection casting a pale blue glow on his face.
"It still works, right?" Moriko asked. "She didn't give me a broken one as a trick?"
Russ smiled, a bit sadly. "Looks like it."
Matt cleared his throat. "How are they doing? How is your friend Dave?"
"My mom and Prof. Willow have sent me about fifty emails each, but there was one from Vic in there about how Dave's regen treatments were proceeding in Porphyry. I think he's doing okay, he should be as good as new if the regeneration goes smoothly," Russ said.
"How about Ophelia?" Moriko heard herself ask. She thought of Thalassa Heights, and the long, sterile corridors deep underground, where Liona's brother had been taken.
"She was sent to a specialty clinic in Unova, they're saying. They don't know what happened. Killer pokémon are usually a little different."
Moriko drummed her fingers on the tabletop in the ensuing silence. "What did Prof. Willow say about it?"
Russ shrugged. "She was super confused, from what I could tell in text. I think she was going to pursue it back to the breeder. You can't give kids pokémon that are just going to snap for no reason." He started pulling the paper napkin into shreds.
"I'm sure it was a one-off," Moriko said, looking at Russ and at Sylvia, who was listening to them talking, her expression alert. "It wouldn't happen to us. Right?"
"Uh-uh," the borfang said. "Never."
Moriko clapped Russ on the shoulder. "See?"
Russ kissed Sylvia noisily on her forehead, and she giggled and licked his face. "Mor," he said presently, "Angela sent me an email too, and she said that she hopes you'll call her. She said—she's going to school in late August, and she might not see us back in PL. She didn't want to leave things so weird. She wanted to help you back at the beginning of the journey."
"Yeah sure she did, that's why she tried to make you ditch me then," Moriko said, incredulous.
Russell smiled, uneasy. "It was a misunderstanding, she—"
"Russ, seriously?"
Matt interrupted, picking up the storage device. "This means we can cross the deep desert. There are rare pokémon there and strong ones," he said, eager. "The kinetic battery charges as you walk. These civilian models, though—they're slow, slower than a ball. Different system. We need to plan for theft or failure: we'll keep water sources and towns in mind when we plan the route, and we have our water pokémon."
"I heard the first ones used to explode in a nuclear fireball if the containment failed. True?" Moriko asked.
Matt laughed. "Come on, do you think they'd sell them at the pokémart if they did?"
"It'll be good to travel a little lighter," Moriko said to Russ. "I can't wait to head out."
x.x.x.x.x
Two men are in the desert.
They are not men, and the land knows. It shrinks from them.
One is steel and black ichor; the other a shadow, trailing flame.
Nothing stirs. Anything they see, they will destroy utterly—drink its power, no matter how minor.
They dispatch servants: sad, trailing things briefly useful; hooks cast, mines buried.
They have followers: desperate and hateful, wide-scattered on dark pilgrimages.
They are wrong things. They beg to be put right.
